Three Cousins
E-Mail   by STEVE KING AINSWORTH  Bio/Address
Death Row, San Quentin

from WRITINGS FROM DEATH ROW a collection of Short Stories

    THE THREE COUSINS' SHADOWS were elongated in front of them as they pedaled their bicycles along the puddled macadam road. They were headed towards the raised line of the levee on the horizon. The sunrise at their backs cast bright golds and reds on this winter morn.
    Zachary, Curtis, and Dustin had lived together since Curtis' and Dustin's parents had been killed in a car crash a couple of years before. At twelve, Zachary was the oldest by one year and Dustin was the youngest at ten, but none were smaller than the rest and if you did not know better, they looked similar enough to be blood brothers - except for Dustin's unruly head of blond curls. The other two had the straight brown hair of their respective fathers. They pedaled in earnest, with fishing poles slung across their backs swishing the air over their heads like lancers of yore.
    A recent winter storm had passed and the road glistened in the reflective light. Curtis' bike did not have a rear fender so a rooster tail of water sprayed up behind him. Zachary and Dustin tried to keep ahead of him so they would not catch a face full. With a hoot, Curtis broke into the front and the rooster tail caught Zachary. He swerved and almost unbalanced Dustin.
    Laughing, Curtis zigzagged across the road trying to catch them both in the spray.
    "Wait a minute, Curtis. I got something in my eye," Zachary said, slowing some.
    Curtis pulled over and slowed to come abreast just as Dustin and Zachary stood and pumped real hard, bursting ahead and the game was on again.
    "He always goes for that old trick, Zachary," Dustin purred as he and Zachary maintained a safe lead of Curtis.
    Soon all three young boys tired of the spray and chase and settled into the routine of cycle travel, not saying much to each other as they rode three abreast and listened to the morning sound of nature's awakening.
    At each bird song they would shout in unison the owner's name. "Meadowlark! Magpie! Mockingbird! Sparrow!" Then the harsh cackle of a cock pheasant would chatter from the adjoining field. Off in the distance some maligned banty rooster would crow a challenge and the boys would chuckle. The morning sun was warm on their shoulders where it could hit around the poles and knapsacks. The work of pedaling was causing them to sweat a little under their warm winter clothing. They knew as they sat by the river's edge fishing they would be happy for having worn them.
    The cousins knew that the sturgeon and other fish would be moving through the Delta, heading for the bay and the herring spawn. With the two spin casting rigs, they would fish for catfish and striped bass. The other rod was old Uncle George's Japanese bamboo. A short stout rod with a 4/0 reel. This the cousins would rig up for sturgeon or old diamond sides  as the locals called them.
    It was a lucky rod and the boys always took it with them no matter if one of them would always have to sit and watch its tip and line while the other two were casting spoons, plugs, and bait to and fro.
    Uncle George had caught a two hundred nineteen pound white sturgeon on that old bamboo and had taught the boys how to rig and set it. Uncle George was dead now ... he was not the boys' real uncle, but had been a hand on their farm for more than their young lives and always seemed to be there. Zachary's pa said he had been there as long as he could remember too, but had heard that Uncle George was once a commercial fisherman on the Bay back when Jack London was stealing oysters - whatever that meant. Anyway, before Uncle George died he showed the boys the exact spot where he had hooked that big diamond-sided sucker. That was where the three cousins were headed this morning.
    As the boys neared the incline of the levee they slowed. When they reached the top, they were surprised to see a half-dozen or so boats drift-fishing slowly down the river with the current. It was early February and not many fishermen were usually out at this time.
    "Probably some wang-zoom fishing report from Hap's Bait Shop," Curtis commented.
    Hap's was at the bridge a couple of miles up river. He was always saying crazy things to lure customers when the sports reporters up in the cities would call a couple of times a week for weather, river, and fishing conditions. If the boys were lucky, those boats would be by their spot and gone by the time they were ready to set up and not cast a spell on old Uncle George's luck.
    The macadam road turned east down the levee top towards the bridge. In the other direction the levee road was dirt, and a chain was strung across to prevent unwarranted incursions.
    The boys lifted their bikes over the chain. The dirt road was damp, but not real muddy. The ruts had some puddles, but the youngsters pushed their bikes around them along the levee top.
    A shout from one of the boats caught their attention and they looked out on the river to see one of the fishermen fighting a fish, his pole bending and bobbing in static arcs as the fish strained against the hook. The other fishermen were pointing from their boats as a nice size striper broke the river's surface in a boil. The boys stared as the fisherman began to pump the rod and reel the fish in. The striper tail walked and jumped trying to shake the hook loose, the swivels on the line flashing in the sun.
    It's a good one," Dustin uttered.
    "He will probably lose it if he keeps horsing' em," Zachary commented.
    "Yeah," chimed in Curtis, "let's go."
    "No, let's watch 'em ... see what they do next," Dustin said.
    Just then the fisherman's line snapped and he fell ass-end over teapot back into the boat.
    "I figured that!" Zachary guffawed as the boat's motor started up and it headed up river.
    "Watch now, they will all go up if they don't get a strike pretty soon," Curtis said, leading the other two off.
    The boys reached their spot a few minutes later and began to put their gear together. The remaining boats drifted past and around the long bend.
    The spot was well-hidden from the levee road, with laurel bushes and some driftwood offering a good wind break and shelter for the boys to set up the lucky rod.
    Dustin and Zachary got the spin casters rigged. Dustin would plug along the bank with an old wood and Zachary had decided to use some salted thread fin shad for bait. Dustin took off and Curtis and Zachary could hear the whiz of his casts as he worked his way up river along the bank. He would go up about earshot, then start back, pass, and go about the same distance down river past the spot. The cousins had their fishing routine, and except for flipping off man for the right to set up the lucky pole, only the person doing that would change. Curtis had won the odd man toss and was busy preparing the old bamboo rod.
    Zachary set up a stone cairn a few yards downstream, cast out his spinner with the dried thread fin shad, set the drag, placed a jingle bell on the rod tip. He then stuck the butt end into the rocks and propped the rod upright with a forked stick of driftwood. Now he headed back to the spot to start a small fire in the old rock-lined pit that was fashioned there.
    "Eight ounces should do, don't you think?" Curtis asked as he slid the sliding sinker on the fifty-pound test monofilament line. This was more to himself than anyone else. He tied a large swivel on below that, setting the butt end of the bamboo pole into the piece of two-inch pipe that was embedded in the levee bank. Next he rummaged through his knapsack for his leader box. Finding it, he opened it and the coiled leaders sprang out. Selecting one, he took it to the water's edge and dipped it in, letting it unravel and straighten out. It was a good six feet long and quite strong. He ran his fingertips along its length feeling for any cracks or worn spots. Finding none, he returned to the rod and tied the leader loop through the eye of the swivel. To the bottom of the leader, he squeezed on a couple of 1/4-ounce split shots. These would keep the leader straight as it lay on the river bottom. There were three locking snap swivels on the leader so next, Curtis got out his hook leaders and repeated the dipping process and inspected them carefully. Then he snapped the hook leaders in place on the three locking swivels.
    Snapping twigs, Zachary looked on when, sure enough, all the boats that had drifted by came roaring up the river headed towards the bridge.
    "There they go," said Zachary, pointing as Curtis looked up, the boats' wakes undulating toward shore.
    Curtis pulled some slack from the reel and laid the leader line flat out on the ground in preparation.
    "This is the part I hate," he said, unwrapping a brown oily package. "Smells just like shit."
    The Limburger cheese was ripe as Curtis began to knead three small balls around No. 3 treble hooks that he had tied to the hook leaders. Next he wrapped each ball in light cheesecloth, tying them shut with thread and trimming the excess with a razor blade.
    Zachary moved upwind as Curtis again patted some additional Limburger around the cloth balls. They were now about an inch and a half around, not too big and not too small. Taking his fishing rag and wiping his hands, Curtis reeled in the slack so that the aromatic offering swayed in the breeze from the rod's end.
    "All set," Curtis said, putting away all the gear and washing his hands.
    Zachary yelled for Dustin who came running. As Zachary and Curtis looked on, Dustin withdrew from his knapsack a package of balloons.
    "It will take two, Dustin. I put eight and a half ounces on this time," Curtis said as Dustin selected two bright yellow balloons and began to blow them up.
    After Dustin tied the balloons shut, he handed them to Curtis who twisted them around the fishing line above the eight-ounce slider. Next, Curtis set the star drag real light. Holding the balloons and line, he took off at a walk up river a hundred yards. The other two boys got their slingshots out of their knapsacks and started picking up small pebbles.
    "Get ready, get ready!" Curtis yelled as he carefully tossed the balloons and line out into the current. The two yellow domes bobbed along as Curtis ran back to the rod to let out more slack so that the balloons would carry the bait further out into the river.
    "Now!" he shouted as the other two let go with their slingshots. Both missiles passed over the balloons, skipping across the water's surface.
    "Hurry!" Both Dustin and Zachary were taking aim and letting go. Both balloons popped and Curtis slowly reeled in the slack as the sinker took hold on the bottom. The line was taut now and Curtis set the star drag real light before flipping the clicker on. Pulling out about eight feet of line, he then set the pole back in the pipe stand.
    Just then all three cousins heard the jingle bell ringing on Zachary's rod. Zachary ran over to it and carefully removed the bell before setting the hook. Dustin and Curtis looked on as Zachary reeled in a too small striper. Zachary got the hook out of the fish's mouth and carefully released him into the water, telling him to go get his papa. Baiting up again, Zachary cast and reset his pole.
    Dustin picked up his rod and started throwing out his plug as he worked down river.
    Curtis squatted down to the side of the bamboo rod in the pipe and watched its tip and the line intently.
    "Are you holding your tongue right?" Zachary asked, as he warmed his hands over the small fire.
    Two hours later, they could hear Dustin working his way back to them. Soon he came up and sat by the fire with Zachary watching Curtis watch the bamboo pole.
    Then the boats started drifting past with shouts of "any luck?" The boys shrugged their shoulders and lifted their hands in the negative. The boat of fishermen did the same as they went by, probably cussing old Hap for their bad luck.
    The two boys at the fire heated up a can of water and made some instant cocoa and took a cup over to Curtis who did not look too warm.
    He had to watch the line as a sturgeon was a bottom feeder and would suck in that bait like a vacuum cleaner and slowly move on barely pulling on the line. With the line on a light drag, it would slide through the sinker as the sturgeon moved off. This movement is what Curtis was looking for.
    Hopefully, the sturgeon's sensitive mouth would not feel the line or the hooks hidden in the cheese and would start digesting the bait before he did. Then the hook would be too far down his gullet for him to spit out.
    The boys broke out the mayonnaise and jelly sandwiches they'd packed for lunch, made cocoa, and relaxed.
    All froze as a covey of valley quail moved through the laurel bushes. They watched quietly in rapt attention as all three were interested and intrigued by the creatures of nature.
    The little band of birds, their top knots bobbin', pecked their way through the brush and down to the water's edge. Each took a turn getting a drink as one old cock stood lookout.
    A slight clicking sound diverted Curtis' attention from the quail. He looked at the line being slowly pulled from the reel. He signaled the other boys. At their movement the quail burst into the air, their stubby wings thumping loudly, startling the boys with their sudden sound.
    The cousins gathered around the bamboo pole and watched. Click, click, click, click, click. The reel sounded, as whatever was pulling the line moved down river.
    "How much has gone out?" Zachary and Dustin asked.
    "Not enough," Curtis replied as he slightly tightened the star drag on the reel.
   Click, click, click. Then suddenly it was a long cliiiiiiiccck as the line strung out. Curtis jumped up, grabbed the pole and jerked back! Cliiicck, cliiicck. The reel sounded. Curtis flipped the star drag tighter and pulled back on the rod again, setting the hook. The fish pulled harder taking the line with it. Curtis was being pulled towards the water and the other boys grabbed him.
    "Loosen the drag a bit, Curtis, and we will move you back up the pipe," Zachary said.
    Curtis did and all three moved back so that Curtis could sit on the ground and brace his feet against the pipe.
    "It feels like a big one, boy, he's still taking line," Curtis grunted. All three watched in amazement as yards of line came off the reel.
    "Can you stop him?" Dustin gasped.
    Curtis tried to tighten the star drag again but the line kept going out.
    'Curtis, you're going to have to walk down river with him and get some of that line back," Zachary said, moving off to get his spin cast in and out of the way.
    Curtis got up and started walking down river, reeling in line as he went. The fished seemed to have stopped after a while and Curtis sat back down bracing himself against some rocks... he couldn't make any real headway against the fish. He'd reel in a few yards, then the fish would give a little tug and get it back.
    Dustin and Zachary both were quiet as all three sat among the rocks trying to think of something to do.
    Curtis strummed his thumb across the taut line above the reel like a guitar string. Cliiicck, cliiicck, cliiicck. The fish evidently felt the vibrations on the line and started to move. This time it headed back upstream. Curtis went with it, even running some as the fish moved faster.
    The other two followed. As they passed through the spot they picked up their canteens.
    Again the fish had stopped. This time it was in an eddy close to the bank. Curtis was here with most of the line back. He was braced against a tree breathing heavily.
    "Hey, one of you take the rod for a bit, my arms are tired and I got to pee."
    "Alright, give it to me," Zachary said, easing beside Curtis to take over. The rod transfer complete, Curtis collapsed on the ground.
    As he lay there panting, Dustin handed him his canteen. He drank deeply, quenching his thirst. Then he stood up to pee. A golden stream arched out into the river.
   Cliiicck, cliiicck, cliiicck-. "Stop, Curtis," Zachary said. "He can feel it and don't like being pissed on."
    Curtis led the stream subside and zipped up. Squatting at the river's edge, he rinsed his hands and threw some water into his face.
    "Dustin, why don't you climb that tree with the overhanging branch and see if you can see the fish," Curtis said.
    Dustin scrambled up the tree and eased himself out into the overhanging branch.
    "Can't see nothin'," Dustin said as he stared into the eddy's depth.
    "Stay up there, he may move in a minute," Curtis instructed, quickly drinking some more water.
    Zachary kept the line taut while Dustin held on to the branch above the water.
    Shaking his arms to relax them, Curtis told Zachary he was ready to take the rod again. They switched positions carefully. The fish moved slightly.
    "See anything?" they both chimed as the reel clicked.
    Dustin just shook his head and all three stayed alert for the fish's next move.
    Suddenly they were surprised to hear water rushing. A farmer was opening a sluice gate on the other side of the small eddy Click, cliiicck, cliiicck. The fish moved off towards the sluice gate.
    "There it is!" Zachary shrieked.
    All looked as the big diamond-sided sturgeon rolled over the gate. The farmer jumped back with a start.
    The fish must have been twelve feet long. Its five rows of diamond-patterned scutes gleamed in the air as it flopped along the spillway and tumbled into the irrigation canal with a great splash.
    Curtis released the star drag, line singing from the reel as the fish swam away Curtis ran along the canal bank in frantic haste, running around the eddy's bank and over to the sluice gate, passing the rod through, almost losing it as the fish swam madly down the canal.
    The farmer, Dustin, and Zachary gave chase, whoopin' and hollerin' at Curtis not to lose it. They were a sight! Curtis, the bamboo rod pulling him through the farmer's field; the farmer, his hat flying off and his arms waving like a scarecrow's as he ran after Curtis; Dustin and Zachary, stumbling and falling as they tried to catch up to Curtis.
    With a spray of water, the fish turned. Curtis was headed back towards them. The farmer stopped. Dustin and Zachary stopped. Curtis rushed past. The farmer ran back to the sluice gate and began to screw it shut.
    All motion stopped as the fish did. It was in a pool at the foot of the spillway.   All four humans could see the giant prehistoric fish. Its skin gleamed a mottled green in the water. Its head moved back and forth. It had to weigh over five hundred pounds. Its great tail swished side to side slowly.
    Well boys, you sure hooked a big one. How you plan on getting him outta there?' the farmer chuckled.
    "Gosh mister, we don't know," Curtis replied.
    "You oughta block the canal so he can't swim away Then we all can figure out what to do, eh?" suggested the farmer.
    Curtis held the rod as the others started throwing some rocks and dirt into the canal to form a dam. The fish moved in agitation as the rocks splashed in.
   "Do it easy boys, this monster's movin'!" Curtis shouted.
    Soon they had the canal blocked, and the fish was trapped in the pool beneath the spillway. Curtis let out some slack on the line and set the rod down.
    "Hey, do you think its full of caviar? What are we going to do with it? Can't none of us lift it out of the water. Be a shame to let it die without showin' it to your pa, Zachary."
    "Well, you got to do something. Can't leave him in there forever," the farmer mentioned, scratching his head and looking at the fish in amazement.
    "Okay, Dustin, you and Zachary go back to the spot and collect the gear and bikes. Bring it all here. I'll call Zachary's pa if you'll let me use your phone," Curtis said, looking at the farmer.
    "Sure, come on," the farmer said, leading Curtis off towards the white farmhouse just visible through the trees off in the distance.
    "Think the fish will be safe?" asked Dustin.
    "Sure. Can't go nowhere. Come on," said Zachary who was already heading down river to get the gear.
    Curtis was excited on the phone, and Steve, Zachary's pa, had to tell him to slow down. He had thought at first that one of the boys had drowned or been swept away. Curtis finally calmed down and told Steve about the fish and where it was. Steve said he would come and that they should let some fresh water through the sluice to give the fish fresh oxygen. Curtis said he would and that Steve should hurry.
    After hanging up the phone, Steve thought a few moments, then picked it up again. Dialing the number for the University at Davis, he asked to be put through to Doctor Williams, who headed a sturgeon research and recovery program. Getting the doctor on the line, Steve told him of the boy's catch and where it was. Doctor Williams thanked him and said that he would be there with a team to see what could be done.
    Steve got into his truck and headed over to the farmer's property to look at the fish and tell the boys about Dr. Williams.
    The three cousins, the farmer, and Steve were all sitting on the canal bank looking into the water when a whole line of vehicles came bumping and rattling along the canal bank. They pulled to a halt before them.
    Doctor Williams and about a dozen students emerged from the vehicles and crowded around the pool to look at the fish. After a cursory inspection, Dr. Williams asked the boys if they would consider letting him have the fish for scientific study. At a nod from Steve, the boys agreed.
    Doctor Williams then issued a series of instructions to the gathered students, and soon the area was a hub of activity. One of the students, notebook in hand, started questioning the boys about the events of the catch. Curtis responded, telling everything except old Uncle George's secret bait and the location of the spot, just giving a general idea of where the fish was first hooked. The student wrote it all down and seemed satisfied as he walked off.
    Two students had unpacked a portable video camera and battery pack and were taping the whole scene. The boys grinned broadly as the camera panned them.
    Out of courtesy, Dr. Williams asked the boys to stick around and follow the events as he and his students prepared to deal with the fish. just from her size, Dr. Williams was pretty sure that the fish was a female full of roe.
    First he cut the hook leader loose, and then entered the waist-deep pool with two of his students who had a black cloth tube with them. They approached the fish gingerly so as not to get it excited. Sturgeon are pretty docile, This one, despite its size, was relatively calm. Feeling along the underside, the doctor indeed felt the lumpy signs of a female with eggs. The great fish was full of caviar, and this was what the doctor wanted. After the doctor caressed the fish, the two students eased the black cloth tube over the fish's snout and back along it head where they positioned it over the fish's eyes. The doctor explained that this would further calm the fish.
    "Radio the research vessel. Get an E.T.A.," he ordered a student standing near a vehicle festooned with antennae.
    Talking to everyone, but the boys in particular, he explained that the University research vessel was on its way. They would then try to remove the sturgeon from the canal and place in a tank on board the vessel for transport. He hoped to surgically remove the eggs at the University, and then sew up the fish and release it back into the river.
    The boys were astonished that the doctor was going to release the fish, but were pleased as the doctor further explained the program to them and invited them to come along on the research vessel and observe the whole process.
    The doctor instructed some of the students to dismantle the dam a little to let more water out of the pool. At the same time he told another to let more fresh water over the sluice. Soon the water in the pool was kept at a steady knee-deep level. Other students tied a thick rope around the fish's tail, and still others got a green net stretcher out of one of the vehicles. This they put under the fish and loosely tied it to it.
    A student handed the doctor a syringe with a needle at its end. The doctor explained that it was a prepared injection of antibiotics that would help protect the fish from infection during the surgery, and from any bacteria that it might be exposed to from human contact. The boys winced as the doctor pushed the needle into the fish's side. Not being overly fond of injections themselves, they could sympathize with the fish as a shudder seemed to run through its body.
    The growl of a powerful marine engine announced the arrival of the research vessel. The boys watched as the craft backed into the eddy, its name, Lisa, in gold letters across its transom. Students at the stem were wrestling a large plastic tank into position while others were letting out some winch line with a four comer harness sling.
    "Jack, get the hand pump and hose," ordered the doctor.
    Jack, a student, appeared at the sluice gate with pump and hose. The doctor and the two students in the water flipped the fish over on its back and tightened the net stretcher. Jack handed the hose end to the doctor and started to pump water from the river through the hose. When he got a good stream going, the doctor inserted the hose into the sturgeon's mouth. He explained that the water would run over the fish's gills and provide oxygen while the transfer was made. Once in the tank, an aerator would provide plenty of oxygen.
    The hook leader line was sticking out of the fish's mouth alongside the hose as they fastened the winch harness to the stretcher frame.
    "Alright now, everyone not doing something vital, step aside," the doctor ordered.
    Six students would help guide the stretcher up the spillway and over the sluice gate. Jack was on the pump. Three men stood at the transom to guide the sling over the stem and into the tank. The doctor would be giving the signals to the winch operator. The video crew positioned themselves around the action to get the best possible pictures.
    The three cousins looked on in awe as Zachary wondered in a whisper if all this hullabaloo wouldn't jinx old Uncle George's luck.
    It didn't take long to get the fish moving once it left the pool. All could see its incredible size. Everyone oohed and aahed as it was quickly transferred to the tank.
    There with the fish upside down, suspended in the tank, the doctor removed the hose, then stuck his hand into the fish's mouth. Reaching into the fish up to his elbow, he soon emerged with the treble hook in hand. All three cousins smiled as the doctor held it up and tossed it to Curtis.
    Steve and the boys loaded the bikes and gear into Steve's truck. Then the boys boarded the Lisa for the trip to the University dock. Steve would pick them up there later.
    At the dock, the tank was off-loaded and hurriedly wheeled off to one of the lab buildings. The three boys toured the University research area. They saw tanks of fish: sturgeon, striped bass, and steelhead. There were ponds of fingerlings and some larger sizes. In one building they saw jars of fry, their egg sacks still attached. A student, whom the doctor assigned to accompany them, explained all of it to them and answered all of their questions.
    As they watched, a computer operated machine spewed pellets of food into a pond. Fish broached the surface in a feeding frenzy, gulping down the pellets.
    Soon a student came to get them. They were escorted into a large room that resembled an operating room. There on the table lay their big fish. Again a hose was in its mouth and there was a stream of water running from beneath the table.
    The doctor was there with his students. As the video equipment lit up the table, he began to cut open the fish's belly. Reaching into the incision, the doctor began to remove a mass of eggs. These he put into a jar of water at his side. A student there, was massaging a small male sturgeon which caused it to spew sperm into the jar. Another student was stirring the mixture of eggs, sperm, and water with a large stiff feather. The doctor explained to the boys what was going on.
    Having removed all the eggs, the doctor started sewing up the fish, whose gills were moving in a relaxed manner. The doctor explained that the sutures would dissolve in time and the fish would never know what had been done.
    The fish was then winched off the table and back into the tank. The boys followed it as it was rolled out to the dock, where it was winched into the water. The doctor and some students were in the river and they untied the harness, stretcher, and tail rope. Then they flipped the fish over and removed the black cloth tube covering its eyes. With a swish of its mighty tail, the fish took off.
    Standing there in awe and relief, the three cousins were happy that the big fish was free. They, with Uncle George's luck, had learned a lot about nature and conservation. And now with that caviar safely in those jars, there would be many more fish for them to catch in their lives.
    The doctor gave them a copy of the video tape and a sheet of statistics about their catch as Steve patted the boys' shoulders and told them he was proud of them, and that the video would provide them with proof of the big one they let get away. 

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