Lake of Fire by Linda Jacobs

Author:Linda Jacobs [Jacobs Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781605428468
Publisher: Medallion Press, Inc.
Published: 2007-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

The path through the pines was steep, as advertised. The reduced party of four—Laura, Cord, Hank, and her father—followed Burke Evans as he ferreted out the most stable spots to place one’s feet. By the time the trees opened and the river above the falls was revealed, no one had resorted to sliding on their posterior.

They went down a little farther to the flattened area behind a stout rail, and the full impact of the canyon struck.

Stretching for miles, the gorge cut twelve hundred feet into rocks made rotten by the invasion of hot mineral-laden waters. Downstream, the walls of weathered rock rose in elevation so that the canyon deepened. Steep slopes topped with cathedral-like spires had been carved by wind and water into jutting shapes … here resembling busts of the heads of ancients, there a woman or man toiling beneath a burden.

Promontories capped in crimson and swathed in broad streaks of mustard, rust, and ochre marked where iron-rich waters had stained the pure white walls. As the mineral-rich zones graded into country rock, there were washes of charcoal, lemon yellow, and all shades between.

Thermal seepage from deep in the earth continued, a steaming stream of water appearing like magic halfway up the canyon wall.

The river that powered the trenching ran swiftly. High country snowmelt poured in a clean green flood to the brink of the cliff, then plunged through the narrowed neck over three hundred feet in a white roar. Below the falls, the river continued on its way, an emerald strand woven with white water.

On the other side of the gorge, Burke informed, it was possible to take a trail equipped with wooden stairs and railings down to the base of the falls on a tour guided by “Uncle Tom” Richardson.

Laura moved to the brink of the precipice, spray dampening her face and hair.

She noted it was not Hank’s but Cord’s hand that steadied her; she laughed into the wind created by the torrential cascade. She wasn’t certain what had transpired above, but she wanted to believe Constance and Cord had parted ways.

The wind lifted a strand of her hair and blew it back into Cord’s face. She fought the urge to lean against his chest and look up at the summer blue sky through the clouds of mist, then succumbed. With his support, she lifted her face; the drifting spray made the rock walls look black a hundred feet above the falls. Constantly shifting prisms of color shimmered out of reach but seemed so brilliant she imagined flying through the rainbow like the fishing ospreys.

“Look there.” Cord tapped her shoulder and pointed out a hawk tracing lazy circles. As they watched, the bird flew into the gossamer veil and disappeared into a curve of indigo light.

Hank studied her and Cord narrowly from across the observation area. His suit had dust on it from where he’d been leaning against the split-log rail. “Too bad Constance and Hagen decided the trail was too steep.”

“Yes,” Laura’s father answered, so faintly he was difficult to hear over the falls’ roar.

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