A large group of people stood up on the Arizona bank, out of the danger. Even at a distance, Grant saw a couple of them cover their eyes with their hands. Another had his hands on top of his head. The group was large and Grant guessed they were the inhabitants of the trailer park. He imagined there would be lawsuits against the Bureau of Indian Affairs for not breaking the dam earlier.
Lloyd had been hovering, allowing them to witness the destruction below. Finally he looked over at Grant. Grant understood the unspoken question.
"Go ahead. I've seen enough. Head downstream toward the next one. Hopefully they listened to us and busted their dam already. I don't think any of us want a repeat performance."
Lloyd's reaction, as usual, was immediate. The helicopter banked and headed downstream.
Daniel Tahbo shifted the Massey Ferguson into high gear and his long black hair blew in the wind as the tractor accelerated. His father didn't like Daniel to use the high gear of the old tractor on gravel roads. The bumps would rattle the tractor to pieces. But Daniel's father worried too much. Everybody knew that. Besides, Daniel was already 15 years old. He would have his license in another year, and he had been driving tractors since he was eight. He could tell when the road was too rough. He knew where all the bumps were on the road, and could easily dodge them.
Daniel's father would not approve of this trip anyway. Daniel needed to hurry, hook onto the ditcher, and take it back to the house. If Daniel's father caught him, he would be furious, but after he made it home safe with the ditcher, and his father discovered it later, he'd be happy. Sure he'd still grumble and swear and tell Daniel he'd acted like an idiot, but he'd be pleased to have the ditcher just the same. Daniel would retrieve the ditcher and be home before the river flooded.
The three hundred acre Tahbo farm was part of the Colorado Indian Reservation, a small farm compared to most of the neighbors. They worked hard on their farm, too hard to lose the ditcher in the flood. Daniel had argued this fact with his father that morning, but his father was a stubborn man. His father believed in the old ways, simple and conservative, no unnecessary risks.
Although the Tahbo farm was small, it was good land, right next to the Colorado River, and only two miles south of the bluffs. The family had great water rights too, being so close to Headgate Rock Dam, where the canal was diverted from the river.
Daniel's father was nervous, with the terrorists and all. Ever since the bombing the day before, the farmers had talked of nothing else. Who blew it up? Why? When would the water reach the reservation? How bad would it flood the farms? How fast would the soil recover? Would the government help? If so, how much? His father had attended a meeting the night before at the high school with representatives from the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The officials had practically guaranteed that Headgate Rock Dam was safe, but his father did not believe them.
Daniel's father worried too much, especially when there was actually something real to worry about. His mother said that his father didn't sleep a wink last night, and Daniel believed it.
Daniel thought all farmers worried too much. They worried when it wasn't raining, then they worried when it was. They worried when the wind blew, or when it was too calm. They worried when crop prices moved. If the prices were stable, they worried that they would change in the future. Daniel didn't want to be a farmer. He didn't want to worry about anything. He liked driving better. Tractors were okay, but driving something big like bulldozers or excavators would be even better, maybe even an eighteen-wheeler. At least then, Daniel would be able to get off the reservation.
As Daniel approached the end of the gravel road, he slowed the tractor, choosing a slower gear. He could see the Colorado River just past the fields at the end of the road. He had never seen it this high or rough before. Usually the river floated lazily past the Tahbo farm, but today it filled the river bottoms, spreading out from its main channel and flooding the willows and grass that grew around the river. There was strength in the river today, a power that Daniel had never seen before.
The ditcher lay in the corner of the field at the end of the road. As he got closer, he noticed water on the road and around the ditcher. A small stream had washed through the bank of the river and now flowed right in front of the ditcher and out into the cornfield. Daniel pulled past the ditcher, stopped, then flipped the steering wheel and backed around toward it, stopping while the rear wheels were still on the gravel. He stared at the small stream and wondered how long it had been flowing past the ditcher. If the water had time to soak into the soft soil in the cornfield, the Massey Ferguson would get stuck in the mud. If the stream had only been flowing a couple of minutes, it would not have had time to soak in, and the small tractor would be fine. Daniel cursed his father for not buying a four-wheel drive John Deere tractor like the neighbors. If he had, getting stuck would not be an issue.
Daniel put the transmission in neutral and climbed down off the tractor, leaving the diesel engine idling. Walking around behind, he stopped and stared at the ditcher, so close and yet so far away. He felt reluctant to back the tractor into the mud. He had gotten tractors stuck before and his father always kicked his butt. Besides, this was no time to bury the tractor, especially if the flood materialized as his father expected it would. Better to sacrifice the ditcher than his father's tractor.
Wait. If he could drag the ditcher up onto the road, then hook it up, he wouldn't need to get the tractor in the mud. Daniel ran around the tractor to retrieve a small log chain stored in the tractor's toolbox. He returned a moment later, dragging the chain behind. He looked over at the ditcher, judging the distance.
For a moment Daniel didn't notice it. His eyes, after all, were focused only a few feet away at the ditcher. But his subconscious mind noticed something and sent a warning to his brain. Something on the horizon didn't look right. Daniel looked up. He blinked. His eyes must have been deceiving him. But blinking did not correct the problem.
Daniel saw a line of water that covered the whole valley between him and the canyons upstream. The wave was less than a mile from where Daniel stood, but it was hard to tell how high. It did not appear to be moving, but Daniel knew better. What could it mean? It could only mean that his father had been right to worry about Headgate Rock Dam. The dam had failed.
Daniel dropped the chain. He forgot about the ditcher. He ran around the tractor and climbed on it. He fumbled with the gears and selected high. Feathering the clutch, he attempted to go, but the gear was too high. He quickly selected a lower gear, popped the clutch, spun the steering wheel, and the Massey Ferguson leaped forward and headed back down the gravel road. A moment later, when the tractor had reached speed for the lower gear, Daniel crammed it into high gear. The Massey reacted, pouring black smoke from the stack.
Initially, he thought he could outrun it, but the gravel road headed east and crossed in front of the flood. For safety reasons, most tractors did not go much faster than twenty miles per hour due to poor handling characteristics. Daniel suddenly wished the Massey was an exception. He would gladly take the risk. Unfortunately, the Massey topped out at about nineteen. Daniel watched the approaching water on his left and forgot to watch for the bumps he had memorized. The tractor bounced through a large pothole, almost tearing the steering wheel out of his hand.
Daniel had only traveled a half mile before he saw the water breach the gravel road a hundred yards in front of him. The water hit the raised embankment of the road hard, curling upwards briefly before being pushed across by all the water behind. A few seconds later, the water was in front of the Massey Ferguson. Daniel steered into the water with the tractor still at full speed. Water sprayed everywhere and Daniel swerved to regain control. He had no choice but to clutch and shift to a lower gear.