Anne Duquette - Her Own Ranger

In the Everglades, nature made the rules, not man. Nature determined what you ate, when you slept and the temperature when doing either. Few modern amenities existed for those in canoes.

One became a creature of the wetlands like all the others. Life continued for the fittest, the strongest, the bravest, the wisest, for male and female alike. Carson knew it wasn’t right for a man to accept a woman as second-best to the land. He’d been taught family was sacred. The bond between a man and a woman should be at least as great as that between a man and his home.

Like any healthy man in his mid-thirties, he’d had his share of relationships. But, none had ever meant enough to him to give up this life. One woman, a Seminole from Big Cypress, had wanted him to move to Miami with her; that was the closest he’d ever come to marriage. It wasn’t close enough.... So he accepted no women in his life except close friends, like Adoette, or kin, like Deborah. Maybe things would change once these poachers were apprehended. But until then...

“Next time, Mother, stay home,” Ray was saying. “Playing tourist is bad enough. Having you watch me in this getup is insulting.”

“Quiet down, Ray. Sound carries, remember?” Carson reminded his cousin.

“Yeah, Ray,” Adoette added in a whisper. “Someone could be listening.”

“Doubt it. I haven’t seen any evidence of poaching activity here. Can’t we turn around? This is a lost cause for today.”

He’s probably right. “Let’s give it another half hour, then call it quits. We’ll be home before sunset.”

“Hallelujah,” Ray said. “I’m starving. And I’m not providing our poachers with this target any longer.” Ray snatched off the Disney World hat with such violence it landed in the back of the canoe near Carson’s shoes. “There. If they want a target, it won’t be these mouse ears. Let ’em aim for something else.”

Carson bent over to move the hat away from his feet. “Ray, shut your—”

He was never able to complete that warning. The sound of a gun’s report cracked over the water just then, the force of a bullet hitting Carson in the shoulder, knocking the air from his lungs and throwing him out of the canoe.

Adoette screamed as a second shot rang out. Ray’s hoarse shout was followed by the splash of the canoe being deliberately overturned.

Carson knew his body was in shock because of the way his muscles were frozen. No pain had yet registered in his shoulder wound.

If this was a Tarzan movie, I’d be fighting the man-eating alligators.

But it wasn’t a Tarzan movie. And alligators weren’t man-eaters. They only attacked prey in a certain size range; full-grown men far exceeded that range. Without oxygen, he sank like a rock in the murky waters.

Gators weren’t the danger he needed to fear. Drowning was.

This is so stupid. I’ve been swimming all my life, and I’m drowning. I didn’t even take a poacher with me.

He tried to move his arms, but could only move one. He kicked his legs, hoping to move upward, toward the surface, but couldn’t. No sunlight penetrated the inky depths. His chest remained frozen in that sickening, winded condition. He had no buoyancy with empty lungs.

Damn! Time to pray. Please, please, please... was all he could manage. It was enough.

A hand gripped his own—a woman’s, not a man’s. If he could, Carson would have laughed. Adoette, my friend, you’ve just paid me back for all those swimming lessons I gave you when we were kids. Once barely able to wade without hysterics, she’d been, according to Ray, the only person in the history of the Seminole tribe afraid of water. But thanks to Carson’s patience, Adoette now swam. She swam well enough for both of them.

Air! I have air! He gulped in precious oxygen as his head broke the water’s surface. Carson took two more deep breaths. Only then did his eyes roll and his head fall limply onto Adoette’s wet shoulder. He withdrew from the world.

CARSON AWOKE IN IS AUNT’S chickee—the traditional summer dwelling built without walls. Deborah’s was located a tactful distance for privacy from his own family chickee. His shoulder had been treated with traditional medicines and was being wrapped. It also throbbed like hell.

“Ouch! That’s hurts!” He jerked in the hammock serving as his bed.

“I told them to call you a medi-chopper, but no, Mom here settled for the local rattles-and-bones man,” Ray scoffed.

Adoette scolded Ray. “You’d insult your own mother and our healer? Natural plant medicine is just as good as—”

“I want the best for him, and penicillin beats swamp weeds, hands down. Not that our healer here understands English, so I’m not insulting him. Hey, cuz,” Ray said, dismissing Adoette from the conversation. “How are ya?”

Ray’s rough brusqueness disguised his true concern. If Carson didn’t ache so much, he’d smile. The two cousins were like brothers, their close bond cemented years ago. Carson managed a faint smile, allowing Ray to relax.

“Good thing I tossed off those mouse ears and you reached for them,” Ray said, “or you’d be fish food now.”

Adoette shivered in horror. “How can you say that, Ray?”

“Well, it’s true.”

She pushed Ray aside to come closer to the hammock. “Are you okay, Carson? Does it hurt much?” She took his hand in a motion that barely swung the hammock but moved his shoulder slightly—enough to make his stomach lurch at the pain.

Carson managed to swallow a gasp. “Not much. Thanks for pulling me out, little turtle.” He used her old nickname. “I owe you.”

“You were the one who taught me to swim.” Adoette squeezed his hand. “I hope you heal fast.”

“He’d heal a lot faster if you’d stop yanking him around,” Ray said. “Can’t you see you’re hurting him?”

Adoette started, and dropped Carson’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes.

Ray, you can be such a jerk, Carson thought. If I didn’t feel so lousy, I’d kick some sense into you. Adoette only cries when you’re around.

“Lucky for you the bullet came out easily,” Ray happily informed him.

“Let me see it.”

“There’s no need for that,” Deborah fussed.

“Let me see it. ”

“Save your breath,” Ray said. “I’m with you. I’m sending this slug to your boss at the station. If—when—we catch the poachers, the ballistics match should get them an attempted murder charge, too.”

“Just guard that bullet,” Carson said weakly. “So far, it’s the only new evidence we have.” He settled more comfortably into the hammock. “It might even match the bullet that killed my father.”

“But the NPS will have to send that bullet to Miami for testing,” Adoette pointed out. “It’ll take weeks to get the results.”

“I can wait,” Carson said. “Anyway, I should be recovered well before that. Thank God the bullet didn’t do more damage.”

“Stop it, right this instant!” Deborah interrupted them sharply. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

Adoette nodded. “Deborah’s right. Concentrate on getting better first. You’ll be up and about soon. That really will heal quickly. Deborah says it’s just a furrow.” Adoette pointed to his shoulder. Just the nearness of her finger to his wound caused sweat to break out on his forehead. That must be some furrow. Feels like I could drive an airboat through it.

“I’m tired,” he said in his native tongue.

“You two—out. He needs rest.” Deborah placed herself between Carson and the others in a protective maternal pose.

“Thanks again, Adoette. Later, Ray.” Carson’s eyes closed. He sighed in contentment as Deborah smoothed his forehead with a gentle hand.