THE SMALL RANGERS

Episode 6: The Low Water

August had been dry.

Walt was already at the east dock. A few oak leaves floated along the shoreline, and pale stones sat above the water where the lake had covered them earlier in the summer. He ran WATCHFUL’s stern rope through one paw. “Dry.”

Ellis came down the path carrying the ranger log. He looked at the dock post, where a dark stripe marked where the waterline used to be. “Six weeks.” He opened the notebook. Six weeks below normal rainfall. Lake level inspection. He closed it.

Walt pulled the starter cord. WATCHFUL’s motor caught on the first pull. “Good.” Ellis climbed aboard. They headed south.

The lake was quiet. More bank showed along the east shore than on the previous patrol. Old pine roots reached into the clear water like fingers.

They tied WATCHFUL at the east dock.

The wooden dock ladder no longer reached close enough to the water. The lowest rung hung high above the surface, too far for an easy step from a small boat.

Ellis looked at the gap. “Too high.” Walt didn’t answer.

He opened WATCHFUL’s stern locker and reached behind the red fuel can. He pulled out a heavy metal bracket with two wooden rungs attached to it. The bracket was dark from past seasons.

Ellis brushed one finger across the worn paint near the mounting bolts. “It fits every year.” Walt nodded once. “When it has to.”

He fitted the frame against the bottom of the dock ladder and tightened the hand bolts until they drew snug. The extra rungs reached down into the water, right where the boat rested.

Walt stepped carefully onto the new lowest rung. He waited. Shifted his weight. Nothing creaked. “Holding.”

Ellis opened the notebook. East dock ladder extended. Access restored. He closed it.

Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to add.

By early afternoon they were back at the main dock. Walt refueled WATCHFUL from the red can stored in the stern locker. The motor clicked softly while it cooled in the shade. He tied WATCHFUL to the second cleat and checked the stern rope one last time.

Ellis brushed a little dust from the notebook before slipping it into its canvas case.

The dark waterline still marked the dock post. Below it, the new rung waited where the lake was now.