Rose sat in the jump seat behind the passenger seat, affording her a good view of the maniac Ronnie entrusted their lives to. Frank firmly believed his state of the art radar detector would warn him of any approaching speed traps and the eight cylinder Ford flew up the highway at stomach churning speeds. “So Blondie, you been fishing before?” he called over the blaring sound of country-western music.
“Um…no, not in a boat.”
“You’re baiting her hook, Cuz,” he said to Ronnie. “I hope she doesn’t get seasick.”
“Of course not.” She turned in her seat. “You don’t get seasick, do you?”
“No but I might get carsick if he keeps driving like this,” Rose said low enough for only Ronnie to hear.
“He’s trying to make up for lost time.”
“We’ll make up a lot of time if we’re all in the hospital.”
“I’ll slow him down,” Ronnie assured, turning back in her seat. “Hey Frank, you know the troopers have those laser detectors now. You can’t avoid them. Look, the trooper station is a mile up the road. You don’t want to get caught again this year, do you?”
The speedometer slowed to a reasonable speed just as they did indeed pass a waiting trooper hiding in the tree covered median. “Damn, they’ve got more of them out this year,” he said, keeping a better eye on his speed. Rose dared a glance at the dashboard, pleased to see only two digits near the end of the orange needle. Snaking her right hand around the seat, she gave Ronnie’s arm a gentle squeeze of thanks.
When they arrived at the boat ramp, Frank backed up to the dock, stopping the boat a few feet from the waterline. “We’d better get her in before I put the boat in the water.” They exited the truck and Frank climbed up into the twenty-two foot long, top of the line Ranger Bass Boat. Ronnie picked Rose up and after dropping the cane off in the truck, lifted the young woman into Frank’s beefy arms. A few seconds later Rose was seated on one of the cushioned benches.
“Here. You’d better put on a jacket. Ronnie will kill me if you become bait.”
“I thought there weren’t any dangerous fish in this river?” Rose asked as Ronnie started the truck up and backed the boat into the water.
“There aren’t, although the bullheads can give you quite a sting.”
“Don’t you go scaring her,” Ronnie called from the truck. She gathered the various poles and tackle boxes from the back and passed them to Frank before untying the boat and moving the truck to the parking area. He had the motor running and ready to go by the time she returned.
“Okay ladies, hang on now. It’s time to go fishing.” He backed away from the dock and pointed up the river. “Let’s just see what four hundred horses can do on the open water.” The water behind them churned and the bow raised up as he gunned the engines. Rose looked nervously at Ronnie. “Please tell me he doesn’t drive a boat like he drives that truck.”
They stopped several miles upstream with the main motor pulled up in favor of the trolling motor. Ronnie baited Rose’s line first, then her own. Frank set up a couple of lines for himself and took up a position at the bow of the boat, settling himself into one of the upraised swivel chairs. Ronnie helped Rose into one at the stern and took the one next to it for herself. The early morning sun was beginning to lighten the sky and as expected the fish were jumping. Frank quickly made the first catch, a small-mouthed bass that barely made it over the limit. It landed in the holding tank with the hopes of being culled later.
“Having fun?” Frank asked.
“Just dandy,” Ronnie replied, sending her line out once again.
“Hey!” Rose held her pole in a death grip. “I think I’ve got something.” The tip of her pole dipped once, then twice, then a high whining sound filled the air as the fish took off, taking her line with it. She heard Ronnie’s pole hit the deck followed immediately by strong arms wrapping around her to help steady the pole.
“Start bringing back your line,” Ronnie said, her breath ticking Rose’s ear. “Don’t let him get any slack or he’ll wiggle off.” Rose found her lover’s hands covering hers and together they worked the spirited bass.
“Got a lunker there, eh?”
“Feels like it, Frank,” Ronnie replied. “Sure is bigger than that minnow you tossed in there a few minutes ago. Better grab a net for this one.”
The fish tried again to escape, nearly succeeding in pulling the pole free from Rose’s hand. “Oh Ronnie, it’s too strong. You take the pole.” She tried to hand the rod over but the black-haired woman refused it.
“No, you can do this,” Ronnie said as she released her grip and stepped back, leaving Rose to handle the feisty bass on her own. “That’s it, keep the line taut, wear him down.”
“Oh my, he feels so big,” the young woman exclaimed, the line still tugging hard with the fish’s attempts at freedom. Suddenly it jumped straight out of the water, showing them all what Rose was up against.
“Holy shit,” Frank exclaimed. “Hang on, I’ve gotta get the big net.”
“You’ve got a monster there,” Ronnie said, standing at her lover’s side. Thinking that her cousin was not looking, she reached over and put her hand on Rose’s shoulder, stroking it lovingly. The bass finally tired and allowed itself to be brought alongside the boat where Frank scooped it up in the net.
“Son of a bitch. What a big fucking fish,” he said happily, sticking his hand into the gills to hold it up so they could see it.
“Nice language, Frank,” Ronnie admonished, looking at Rose pointedly.
“Oh, she’s heard it before,” he said, drawing a glare from his cousin. “Hey Blondie, you sure caught one hell of a large mouth here. I should have brought a camera.”
“Look how big he is,” Rose said. “Can he go back now?”
“Back?” Frank laughed. “Honey, this isn’t the kind of fish you throw back. This is the kind you take to the taxidermist and have mounted.”
“Mounted?” She turned to Ronnie, who was busily removing the hook. “I don’t want to keep it.”
“I can’t believe how big he is,” the executive said. “Rose, are you sure you don’t want to make him into a trophy? He’s a beaut.”
“I’m sure.”
“Do you want to even touch him before I throw him back?” She held the wriggling fish up in front of Rose’s face.
“No,” she practically shrieked, shoving at Ronnie’s arm. “It’s big and it’s beautiful and I want it to go back in the water please.”
The Cartwrights exchanged looks before Ronnie bent down and set the fish into the water. She baited Rose’s hook again and they returned to fishing.
“He’s not mad because I threw the fish back, is he?” Rose asked once Frank was out of earshot.
“Mad? No, not mad. Shocked, but not mad.”
“Are you mad?”
Ronnie turned to face her. “You are so gentle it’s amazing.” Rose felt the warmth of her lover’s palm on her cheek. “No, love. I’m not mad. I can’t believe you let a prize-winning catch like that go back, though. You are definitely not the fishing type.”