Armstrong asked if I needed a stretcher. I spat out more creek water and told him no, I just needed him to help me get up. The frigid water stank and I seemed to be lying in a pool of muck. Marla’s beautiful fur coat was streaked with dirt and half soaked, and now felt like a suit of lead weights. My back hurt and I had scratched up one side of my face where it had dragged across some gravel. Otherwise, I assured him, I was okay, just embarrassed. His look said, Which you should be.
Tom appeared almost immediately and lifted me to my feet. Once he had me on firm ground, he brushed off some of the debris I’d accumulated in my roll down the hill. Then he held me at arm’s length for an assessment. His eyes were filled with a grimness and fear that scared even me.
“Goldy, I’m taking you home
