Free Deadly Currents by Beth Groundwater

pole.”
    “What’s RICD?”
    “The Recreational In-Channel Diversion right established for the Salida Water Park. It’s only for 250 CFS, and—”
    “That’s nothing,” Mandy knew the best flows for rafting the river were between 1500 and 2200 cubic feet per second. “250 CFS isn’t even enough to support the trout population. What recreation does that support?”
    “It doesn’t matter what the amount is, because it’s the most junior water right on the Arkansas now. When it comes time to dole out limited water in a drought situation, everyone else’s rights will be satisfied first anyway.”
    “How would donating more water rights for recreation help?”
    Steve tucked his oar handles under his thighs and leaned on his knees. “Water rights are ranked by issue date, with the oldest ones issued having the highest priority. Because the RICD was granted in 2006, it’s the youngest, and thus the lowest ranked. Most agricultural water rights were granted in the late eighteen hundreds, when ranches and farms first got established in the valley.”
    “So if King or Fowler donated the agricultural rights for recreation, then they’d have higher priority, and during a drought, some water would have to remain in the river for boating and fishing.”
    “Right. Then the lawsuits would start flying, because farmers with dying crops and homeowners with dying lawns would argue their needs are more important than those of the boaters and fishermen.”
    And how can you quantify the need of people to reacquaint themselves with the natural world they live in, to feel the flow of life around them, and to reenergize with that flow like Mandy was doing now? “Did Tom King feel the same way as Nate Fowler about the issue?”
    “I don’t think so. I never talked to him directly about it, but Nate said Tom King’s planned project included a golf course, which uses a heck of a lot of water.”
    As she was about to ask for more information about the Water Issues Board, Steve said, “Would you look at that?”
    A skinny, middle-aged guy with a gray ponytail and wearing faded, sagging swim trunks loped down the concrete steps. He had an inner tube slung over his shoulder. No companions, no PFD, no water bottle, nothing. He stepped into the water then paused to observe a trio of river guides herd their gaggle of tourists into the appropriate rafts.
    “You talk to him, Mandy.” A smile twitched across Steve’s lips. “See what you can do. I’ll observe.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    Mandy loosed her stern line and swung the cat out into the current. After a couple of deft strokes, she had positioned herself next to the man and hopped out into the shallow water. She heaved her cat up onto the bank then held out her hand to the tube rider.
    “Hi there. My name’s Mandy Tanner, Arkansas River ranger.”
    The man hesitated, then shook her hand, but didn’t give his name.
    “You waiting for some friends?” Mandy asked.
    “Nope.”
    “So you intend to float down by yourself?”
    “Yep.”
    The guy had been real communicative so far. “You know this section has class III and IV rapids, right?”
    “Yep.”
    “Everyone on the river in the Arkansas Headwaters Recreation Area is required to wear a PFD. You got one?”
    “Nope.”
    She glanced at Steve and got a blank look in response. PFDs were required, but most rangers preferred to convince private boaters to wear them than flex their muscles and issue citations.
    Mandy waved a hand at the procession coming down the steps. “I’m sure one of these outfitters has an extra PFD you can use. Cost you only a few dollars for the day, I bet. It could save your life.”
    A scowl crossed the man’s face. “Got no money. Left it in the car at Stone Bridge. I rode my bike here.”
    Great. Taking out at Stone Bridge meant the man intended to run Siedel’s Suckhole, the meanest rapid in the canyon, one the outfitters avoided on their half-day trips. After seeing rafts mangled from