Free Wicked Eddies by Beth Groundwater

of Silverthorne.”
    After Wally reached them and introductions were made all around, Mandy had a chance to study him. Red-haired and freckled, his looks were quite a contrast to Ira’s darkly tanned middle-European features. Wally also had a pasty softness about him that made her think he wasn’t a practiced outdoorsman.
    â€œIt’s good to see you’ve found a new teammate for the tournament,” Steve said to Ira, who frowned.
    â€œUnfortunately,” Wally replied. “I’m not as familiar with this river as the Blue. Ira’s been giving me a crash course today.”
    Mandy heard an opening and took it. “Speaking of crashing, we couldn’t help but see your fall. These cobble bars can be awfully slippery. Do you have a telescoping walking stick that you can use as a third support while you’re moving around?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou might find one at one of the fishing supply stores in Salida,” Mandy said, trying to keep her tone light. “In the meantime, I’d strongly suggest staying in water no deeper than your calves. Those waders can be awfully dangerous if they fill up with water.”
    Wally pursed his lips, obviously unhappy being given advice by a woman in front of the two other men.
    Mandy turned her attention to Ira, the man she really wanted to talk to. “I’m always being asked by tourists where the good fishing spots are on the upper Arkansas. Got any suggestions?”
    Ira pshawed. “You think I’m going to give away my secret spots to any yahoo from New York or Chicago?”
    Mandy forced out a light laugh. “Of course not. I’m asking wher e you would tell them to go, where they might have a good chance of hooking a fish, but not disturb your secret spots.”
    â€œIn that case, I’d say Stone Bridge, where you two probably put in, or Vallie Bridge downriver. Vallie also has the benefit of the campground if they want to stay overnight.”
    â€œYou ever camp there?”
    Ira gave her a sharp glance, but Mandy kept her face impassive. “Yeah, the campsites aren’t bad. You get some shade from the willow trees. The section upstream from there that’s in the competition has some good holes. But I usually fish well downstream of there, and I ain’t telling you where.”
    Downstream of the campground was outside of the competition area, but who’s to say he didn’t venture upstream, too? “I found Howie Abbott in one of those campsites.”
    Ira’s mouth opened in a little “o”, then he clamped his lips shut and started fiddling with his reel. “Didn’t know you were the one who found him.” He shook his head. When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed. “I sure hope he didn’t suffer much. He was a good fishing buddy.”
    An overall sense of awkwardness settled on the group, with none of the men looking at anyone else.
    â€œI think his death was quick,” Steve said, filling the silence. “Sorry for your loss.”
    â€œDid you know Howie well, Ira?” Mandy asked.
    â€œFished with him off and on for the past six years,” Ira replied. “He’s a hard man to get to know, very private, and kinda gruff most folks would say. He was sure fishy, though. May not have been able to read people real well, but he had a sixth sense about where fish were likely to be biting.”
    â€œI’ve heard he could rub people the wrong way. Did you ever have any problems with him?” When that question drew a suspicious glance from Ira, Mandy smiled. “I’m just trying to get a handle on his personality.”
    â€œWell, when we disagreed about something, like where to fish or when to move on to another spot, his temper could flare up, but I could hold my own. At the end of the day over a few beers, everything would be forgotten. I’ll miss him.” Ira shook his head and gazed off into the distance.