Two Rivers Anthology Book Eight

Part 7: Unanswered Questions

Folks would have to admit to the irony about the Tempest of ’23. A deluge of rain and smothering of snow after years of drought, the water couldn’t have fallen on a more grateful landscape—or people—but the beneficence arrived with a great deal of violence at a great deal of cost.

That Betty Norbert hadn’t showed up for work on a day of very bad weather wasn’t the only bad news that March morning in Two Rivers. Beyond the flattened roofs, collapsed buildings, there had been reports of many residents hopelessly stranded inside homes engulfed by snow, far up impassable roads whose crossings were overwhelmed by creeks. Now their food and medicine were running low. With electricity and telecommunications on the blink, the sinews of our community were stretching to the breaking point.

Hearing Betty might be in trouble galvanized The Gang of Four into action. With the emergency shelter to be opened at The Peter & Paul Church, Reverend Steve headed out to take care of the details. Jeremy called Sally at the deli and the two began organizing food for the shelter.

Though we ourselves wanted to immediately get up a search party for Betty, we thought it best to let Deputy Jack take charge and organize an official search, so I headed to the telephone exchange where he’d gone earlier. Meanwhile, brothers Nick and Noel set off immediately down Highway 49 on a first-look, driving their large dual-wheeled crew cab Dodge Ram.

I thought the truck, by the way, impractical to maneuver in current road conditions. I had my restored World War II Willy’s Jeep with its canvas top and heavy-duty winch in front. I know I’m probably the only woman in Two Rivers that has a winch and knows how to use it. I’m proud of that! I have unstuck many a car, trailer and farm tractor. I just cable the back end to a tree and hook up to the foundered vehicle and presto the winch does the rest.

Up at the telephone exchange, I found Deputy Jack and company repairmen taking cover under the little covered patio. Built by the late owner Rennie Selleck as his office outdoors, the spot had a pretty little view of the town in the ravines below where the Empire and Rancheria rivers met. You could see Main Street and Battery Street, the hotel, The Pick & Pan Saloon and other landmarks.

The locally-owned Two Rivers Telephone & Telegraph Co. always responds quickly to downed lines and whatnot, but things were out of control that day. Cell service was spotty and several of the Sheriff’s Department radio repeaters maintained by the phone company were down, hampering the dispatch of officers.

A big concern, too, was the condition of Highway 49. From our location, we could see below where the Empire and Rancheria rivers joined in town. It was a torrent of water—and downstream conditions were obviously much worse. We had already heard reports of huge debris dams forming on the rivers, dangerously backing up the water flows. The snow by then had turned to sleet, and rain was predicted for all day.

“If these debris dams break…” I said, my voice trailing off.

All of us standing there knew what it would mean. The raging waters would inundate homes and businesses toward Quartzite and threaten to completely cut off easy access to Two Rivers by overwhelming highway bridges. It became obvious, then, that we should quickly organize a formal search party for Betty.

The deputy and I drove back downtown, and we tolled the bell at the firehouse to call out volunteers. Within a half hour, a dozen citizens had gathered. Deputy Jack led the way. I took up the rear, with contractor Rex Jenner riding shotgun, but we didn’t get very far.

A mile out of Two Rivers, we found a large landslide of boulders and trees blocking the highway, with rock still tumbling down. On the other side, were Nick and Noel Norbert, stranded after their truck had slid off the road into a ditch. Apparently, the slide had just happened and they were lucky not to have been caught in it. Over the roar of the nearby river, Nick shouted, “What do we do about Betty?”

Indeed, standing in the slushy road amid the boom of boulders careening downstream, I wondered in a larger sense what to do about Betty. Numerous times I’d come upon her Subaru Legacy on this same stretch of road—and she nowhere to be seen. Once, when Marnie and I went to visit newspaper editor Mack Boyd in the Reno hospital, we saw her scrambling up the side of the highway. She carried an over-size tote bag—stuffed with a large object. When we stopped to say hi, she became aggravated, clutching the bag closer—as if she didn’t want us to see what was inside. As we drove away, I asked Marnie if she could tell what Betty was trying to hide.

Marnie had said incredulously, “It looked like a cake pan.”

But now, on this stormy, stormy day, I was excessively worried about my friend Betty—a bookkeeper who was nearing retirement age and not at all the outdoors type. Had she stopped again to do whatever she was always doing and now gotten into trouble? Slipped into the river? Got caught in a landslide? Or had she plunged off the roadside in a car crash?

A native Californian, H.A. Silliman grew up in the Gold County and currently lives in the northern outback. Past stories from the Two Rivers Anthology can be found at hasilliman.weebly.com. All characters are fictitious or fictionally portrayed. ©2023 H.A. Silliman