Free The Singing River by R.K. Ryals

something onto the camera. Suddenly, he cursed when it fell off. River chuckled.
    I risked a quick glance at him. “So you know the legend?”
    “Some of it. I ran across it doing a project for school a few years back. Why don’t you tell me?”
    By the current of amusement running just beneath his words, I had a feeling he knew the legend, but I humored him anyway.
    “There were two enemy tribes, the Pascagoula and the Biloxi. The Pascagoula were peaceful people, while the Biloxi were not. Anola, a Biloxi princess, fell in love with Altama, the chief of the Pascagoula. Despite being betrothed to a chieftain of her own tribe, she ran away with Altama to live amongst his people. Her flight caused a war between the two tribes.”
    I paused, my gaze moving up to River’s chin. His dark eyes were on the water beyond the trees, but his gaze slid down to mine at my silence.
    I didn’t look away. “The Pascagoula swore that they would either save the couple or die with them. The Biloxi were fierce, and they outnumbered the Pascagoula. The Pascagoula, being afraid they were going to be enslaved by the Biloxi, decided death would be a better fate. Together, they sang a death chant, and with women and children leading the way, walked into the Pasacagoula River, the dark waters welcoming them into its embrace.”
    River’s face was too close again, and I looked away, my gaze moving to Marley.
    “There’s another version that involves a mermaid,” I said.
    River chuckled. “Like Ariel?”
    I grinned. “Something like that.”
    It was past midday now, and the sun was brutal through the trees. Sweat dripped down into my back and between my breasts.
    “You going to set that camera up?” River called down to Marley.
    The older man looked up with a scowl. “If I could figure it out,” he groused. “You could always help.”
    River chuckled again, brushing past me to the stairs, his arm rubbing against mine. I tried not to think about the funny way it made me feel. My palm went to my stomach.
    Leaning against the door, I watched as River helped his uncle, the heat becoming so unbearable both men eventually pulled their shirts over their heads. The older Brayden had a paunch, his chest hair full of grey, but he didn’t seem to mind his physique. Men didn’t much care in this kind of heat. River, on the other hand, looked like he worked out. Alot. If I didn’t know he was a Brayden, I could picture him as a cowboy, his muscles moving as he fixed a fence, jeans slung low on his hips.
    His gaze moved up to mine, and I hastily glanced away.
    “I think that’s it!” Marley said, his voice full of excitement. “Let’s get it set up.”
    I moved down the stairs, following them as they stepped toward the woods, the camera between them. Beyond the trees, the landscape opened up, the river wide and dark. There was a sand bar behind the cabin, and the river was shallow a few feet in. I stepped out of my flip flops and moved into the water, my eyes closing as my toes dug into the soft sand.
    “It’s going to be better to set the camera up near the bend over there, especially for audio,” I called out, my eyes still closed.
    “How do you know?” River asked.
    I didn’t look behind me. “The same way you knew it wasn’t going to rain,” I teased.
    Truth was, I had a thing for the river. I’d grown up spending a lot of time in creeks and river beds. My father had loved to fish, and I still went often with my cousins. I knew everything from baiting a hook and gutting a fish to ways to ease poison ivy. Mostly, I just loved the river; loved the way the water felt against my toes, the way the leaves would fall down onto the water, the swirling eddies carrying them down river.
    I thought about the canoe on top of the truck.
    “Have you ever canoed before?” I asked Marley.
    The older man stood, his face dripping sweat, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose.
    “I’ve never had much need to, but I figure it can’t be