“It’s not going to be easy.” The look on Noah’s face made me think “not being easy” wasn’t the worst of it.
“And?” I asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Noah’s jaw set. “It’s a two-person job.”
While the osprey pathetically struggled and the spectators gawked, Noah and I returned to the Jeep to gather supplies, the familiar climbing gear I’d just been learning to use now being repurposed for wildlife rescue.
Back at the shoreline, Noah pointed to the dead branch. “One person needs to get up there, cut the line. The other person has to catch the bird when it drops.”
I stared at the osprey, my stomach churning. “Won’t it fight when someone grabs it?”
“That’s why we need a towel. Cover its head, keep it calm.” Noah glanced at the water below the tree. “Catching from the water will be easier, but if you’ve never handled an injured animal before ...”
“I’ll climb.”
“No, Sam. I wasn’t suggesting you have to do either.” Noah pulled out his duct-taped flip phone. “I’ll call Diego. He can ...”
I put my hand on Noah’s arm, feeling the tense muscle. “You said yourself it doesn’t have much time. It’s got to be me. I can help. Iwantto help.”
It seemed Noah wasn’t sure if he believed me, phone still in hand.
The osprey, hopelessly snared and dangling on the fishing line, gave another half-hearted lurch. “Besides, I’m lighter than you and Diego. That branch looks ready to snap.”
Before Noah could protest, I reached out and took the climbing harness from his arms. “My grandmother Gigi had this gigantic oak tree in her backyard growing up. I used to climb that thing all the time.”
I wasn’t trying to be brave. The truth was, the tree wasn’t all that intimidating. The main trunk was huge, with a gradual lean out over the water. Sprawling branches sprang out in all directions about ten to fifteen feet up. Climbing it would be a lot easier than climbing the rock wall.
Noah looked at the tree again, as if he were actually considering my proposal. “If I throw a rope up over that branch there, I can pull you most of the way up.” Noah pointed at the tree where the first big branch twisted away from the trunk. “From there, it’s fairly level.” Noah nodded, beginning to see how it could work. “Worst case, just wrap both legs around the branch and scoot.”
“Noah, I can do this.”
“Okay.”
I stepped into the harness, trying to remember which strap went where from our practice session. Noah’s hands were suddenly everywhere, adjusting straps around my thighs, checking the fit at my waist, tugging the buckles snug.
“I’ll pull you up as far as I can,” said Noah. “Then stay on the main trunk until you reach the branch with the fishing line.”
Once my harness was secure, Noah pulled out his knife with the edge that looked like shark teeth. He slipped it back into a leather sheath, then strapped it onto the harness so it would be easy to reach. “Cut the line as close to the bird as you can manage. I’ll be right below it with the towel. And Sam …” Noah’s voice made me pause. “Please. Just be careful.”
His eyes locked on mine, a mix of emotions making my breath catch. For once, I didn’t have a witty comeback.
Noah pulled his shirt over his head, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the task at hand. I’d seen shirtless men before. I’d even dated a CrossFit instructor once.
But Noah …
Lean muscle rippled across his shoulders as he kicked off his boots. Mountain-man strength that came from actual work. A scattering of freckles dusted his collarbone. A thin white scar curved along his ribs.
Noah grabbed a large towel from his Jeep in nothing but apair of tight black shorts. I forced myself to look away, checking the knife strapped to my harness as a distraction. “Ready?” Noah asked.
“Yep!” I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Bird.
Focus on the bird.
I followed Noah to the edge of the lake, watching as he waded into waist-deep water with the towel draped over his neck. He wrapped his end of the rope in his fists while I took my position beside the tree.
“On three,” Noah called up, looping the rope in his hands. “Ready?”
