I fumbled in my small duffel bag, and felt for the vest I sometimes wear fishing.Slipping it on, I pulled my cell phone out of the end pocket of the d...ffel bag, and slipped it into my vest, and snapped the flap closed.I put my shorts back on, that I wore yesterday, and found my wading shoes; I grabbed my worms, and artificial salmon eggs, my spinning rod and reel, and left camp.I wanted to be alone for a while, and think.I walked up river again, to where I had been fishing before, and this time. Their old ¾ ton 4X4 Dodge pickup was lumbering and straining to make it up some of the steep grades on Skinner’s Mountain, but they’d made this trip before and Chester knew the old truck would still make it up the mountain this time.Chet and his younger sister, nine year old Rena, were sitting between their mom and dad, leaning forward, looking over the dash, watching the road ahead.On the steep downhill grades, Chester let the old truck run, getting up speed to help it make it up the next. More

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