01 January - the drowning at Los Gatos

the glorious opportunity

12:14PM CST, January 28th

Lake Road below Cooper's Hill, Leasburg, Missouri

("Jesus Criminy. It's friggin' freezing down here and I can't see where I am.")

For some moments in our lives, there are no guides and gauges to help us along. If we act at all, we are forced to move forward without understanding what is right or whether our choices will help or hurt. Although Ruth Huntington felt awkward about talking with so many people around, she was grateful to finally have something to do. At first, she spoke hesitantly and her voice alternated between a mumble and a monotone. "Earl, dear," she started. "Did I ever tell you that your head smelled like milk when you were little? Like sweet warm milk. Marty's head smelled that way, too. And you were such a wrinkly baby. I don't guess I'll ever forget that because I never saw a baby so wrinkled in all my life. But you filled out quick. Quick as a spark. You really did. It's like you were inside too long and wanted to come out. Honey, we'll get you up here soon. You just be brave, Earl. Be brave for your Ma."

Beside her, Avery was issuing more commands. He wanted someone to volunteer to enter the well. He wanted a slim man (not a child) – a man who could go down through the narrow opening and then come back up while holding onto the boy.

Gangly, seventeen-year-old Robert Prindle stepped forward. He was anxious to help and even more surprised that no one else fought him for this glorious opportunity. After all, what lay ahead was bound to be a great adventure. He'd go down into the well, scoop up the boy, bring him to the surface, and then everyone in town would smile at him all winter long or maybe for his entire life.

He crowed, "I hear people say that I'm the skinniest boy in three counties, so I'm the best man for this job." Then Robert put the rope over his head and under his armpits.

A group of sturdy men just took hold of the rope and pushed the younger Prindle boys behind them. The children fought for position at the tail end of the line like a litter of puppies nursing at the same nipple.

Avery called down to Earl, "Keep still, young man."

"I can't feel my fingers no more," Earl answered.

"I'm sure but move only if you have to. The young Prindle boy is on his way. You have to keep still for a few more minutes. A hundred people are waiting to see you. All of Leasburg is here."

Earl tried to imagine the crowd. He thought of scenes where people were milling about – warm summer scenes of his neighbors entering or leaving church, even warmer scenes of kids playing baseball on the fields around town, and the warmest scenes of all from the town festival in the middle of summer. It was Leasburg Days and there were carnival rides and food that his mother wouldn't let him buy. In the end though, Earl came back to the same thought. He wondered if anyone's hands would ever be as cold as his.

"Don't squirm, son," Avery said. "You have to keep still. Mr. Prindle is ready to come down for you now."

Almost immediately, Robert Prindle realized that the adventure ahead of him was more about mud and blood than anything glorious. After taking the first bold step into the well, the men holding the rope caught his weight and started lowering him down the shaft. What Robert thought would be a smooth ride was actually quite jerky. Each pivot point from his ankles to his knees and then his waist, elbows, and neck bounced his body against the frozen ground. When his head hit the inside wall of the shaft, mud got plastered over one side of his face. The last thing Robert saw before his eyes went underground was a woman's ankle. Her coat stopped mid-calf. But below that was smooth, soft, brown skin. It reminded him of the color of perfectly cooked pancakes.