Take Me to the River Read Online Free Page B

soon.
    This was going to take a while. Roxanne lifted only one foot at a time. I gained an insight into how Rio entertained himself.
    You wouldn’t have known this house had been resurrected from a ruin. The thick stone walls were plastered smooth and painted white as cream. The window frames were turquoise blue. The floors were smooth concrete with a light blue tint.
    We took our coffee mugs and a couple of bagels outdoors to a patio table under a “ramada,” as Rio called it, a shade break of thatch supported by four poles. This early, we weren’t in dire need of shade. The morning air was almost too cool for T-shirts and shorts. I let out a massive yawn and said, “I could’ve slept another six hours.”
    Rio shrugged. “If you don’t have AC, you have to take advantage of the cool part of the day or you’ll go mental.”
    My finger went to my swollen lip. “Conenose bug got you,” Rio said. “It’s also known as Mexican bedbug, or assassin bug. Nasty sucker.”
    â€œI didn’t see any. Are they tiny?”
    â€œNot at all. They’re half an inch long, sometimes longer. Mostly they prey on insects. Their long beak injects saliva with a toxin that dissolves tissue, then sucks the insides out of the insect.”
    â€œYour assassin bug mistook my lip for an insect?”
    â€œUnfortunately, they also snack on mammals. With humans, they usually go for the lips, which is why they’re also known as kissing bugs. They’re a royal pain. You never know when it’s happening because the first thing they do is inject an anesthetic. Something else they inject makes your heart start racing, but only when they’re done and gone. That’s when you wake up.”
    Just then, the sun began to rise over the Chisos Mountains. The first rays fell on a covey of quail darting across the flagstones behind Roxanne, who was climbing over the doorsill again. A roadrunner with a lizard in its mouth ran the length of the low wall that ringed the patio. It was the first I’d seen outside of a cartoon.
    We headed back to the house for more coffee, not that I needed any. Stepping over Roxanne, who was headed for the bookcases, I checked out the art and photos on the walls while Rio was pouring. What caught my eye first was a piece of art the likes of which I’d never seen—a large hubcap painted in bright acrylics with a geometric design around the outside and a river scene at the center. A Mexican boy was sitting on a ledge and watching the Rio Grande as it wound through a canyon.
    My eye caught the signature at the bottom of the hubcap. “Ariel painted this!”
    â€œI told you she was an artist. Her hubcaps are all over West Texas.”
    We started in on some cold cereal. A spiral-bound guidebook on the bookcase caught my eye, the mile-by-mile guide to the Lower Canyons of the Rio Grande. This was the section of the river I’d come out to paddle. I jumped up and brought it back to the table.
    The guidebook contained photographs of canoes running the biggest rapids. I was riveted, but it was a tantalizing what might have been.
    Rio wasn’t saying a thing, which was understandable under the circumstances. As I set it aside I said, “Those Lower Canyons look plenty challenging. It would’ve been a blast. Sorry if I drooled all over your book.”
    Rio had a look in his eye. “Maybe we can still go for it.”
    â€œReally? How’s that? You got my attention.”
    â€œIt’s a week-long trip . . . wouldn’t that be awesome, just the two of us?”
    â€œNo question,” I said, putting aside for the time being my first thought, which had to do with my parents. “You really think we could?”
    â€œI don’t see why not. The only problem is, I don’t have enough money saved up. I could swing the groceries, but there’s a lot of driving involved. Another one of Ariel’s gigs is