Empty Promises

locked. They were having a restless night with Rusty jumping on them and whining. They finally got up, made their way down to the Clackamas River by flashlight, and gave the dog a drink of water. Then they returned to the car and settled down for the night.
    They woke at six the next morning. It was Friday, July 23. The park ranger said there was a spot available inside the park now and he directed them to the campsite. Robin cooked breakfast while Hank fished. But he had no luck, and they swam in the hot springs instead. There were people all around them, including the families they’d met the night before, and Robin felt safe enough when Hank headed farther upriver to try his luck again.
    The only bad moment she experienced was when a man yelled at her for letting Rusty swim in the springs. “They’re for people, not dogs,” he complained. “You could get slapped with a $500 fine.”
    “He’s probably cleaner than you, most likely,” she’d called back, as she tugged the collie out of the water.
    Hank was gone fishing a long time, at least two hours, and Robin began to worry. When he finally showed up, he was grinning and soaked to the skin. “You almost lost me,” he laughed. “I was helping some of those Russians ford the river with a rope and I hit a sinkhole and started going under some white water—until I grabbed a branch and got my footing.”
    Robin had been so worried that she was mad at him at first, but she relented. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologized. “I thought something had happened to you, and I got scared.”
    Hank Marcus was a big man—6 feet tall, 185 pounds. He was fully capable of taking care of both of them. He soothed Robin, pointing out all the people around them, saying there just wasn’t anything for her to be so afraid of. She was timid without him, though, and tended to worry far more than she needed to.
    It was a good afternoon. They frolicked in the hot springs and talked to the Russian families. One of the men made a pass at Robin as he carried her across the river and she deliberately stepped on his boat, swamping it. Later, Hank laughed when she told him what she’d done. He wasn’t jealous of her; he had no need to be.
    But Hank was disappointed with the trip so far; he still hadn’t caught any fish, so they broke camp and headed up the road to give it another try. Robin cooked a late lunch while Hank tried out the new fishing spot. They said grace before they ate, as they always did.
    That evening, while it was still light out, they drove farther and farther downstream looking for signs of fish in the river. They passed a lone man fishing and asked him if the fish were biting. He shrugged and said, “I haven’t caught anything all day.” So they kept on driving.
    They came upon another fisherman, who told them he had only caught three fish all afternoon, “and they weren’t keepers.” But he told them he’d heard that a truckload of fish had been dumped into the Colawash River earlier in the week. “Ask about that up at the ranger station,” he suggested.
    Hank and Robin were undecided whether to stay or head home. Their gas was getting dangerously low now, and they hadn’t found any good fishing at all. For Hank’s sake, Robin suggested they try just one more spot before going home.
    The road they chose took them deep into the woods as the long shadows of evening closed over them. They came upon a small boat-launch area near the North Fork Dam and stopped to watch some children playing in the river. They were parked at the side of the road when a red pickup pulled up. It was an old truck, road-worn and mud-covered, with a broken tailgate and a crumpled bumper. The lone occupant was a short youngish man. He left his engine running as he got out and ran up the fish ladder.
    Hank Marcus went over to talk to the stranger. Robin waited in their car; the windows were open, and she could hear snatches of their conversation. Hank was telling the man that the fishing prospects seemed to be nil in the area. “All we found were a couple of suckers,” he said.
    The stranger didn’t even turn to look at Hank. He mumbled something and kept staring out at the river. But when Robin got out of the car and walked toward the two men, the man turned to look at her and she felt his eyes burning into her. “It was almost as if he’d never seen a woman before,” she recalled. “He lit up like a Christmas tree.”
    Suddenly he smiled and turned back to