"What're you doing?"
Naomi looked toward the pond.
"Trying to identify something."
He followed her gaze.
"Looks like a log."
"Maybe."
She held up the rope.
"But logs don't usually have straight metal edges."
Dale laughed.
"You planning to fish it out?"
"Just see whether it's loose."
He shook his head.
"You're determined to find something wrong with this pond."
Naomi looked toward the enlarged shoreline.
"Something is wrong."
Dale didn't answer.
Then Otis and Emmett arrived to inspect the cattle.
They saw the rope and immediately began laughing.
Within minutes, the three men were standing on the bank watching Naomi try to catch whatever lay beneath the water.
The first throw missed.
The second caught.
Naomi felt the hook snag.
She pulled.
Nothing happened.
Then the rope tightened.
She adjusted her footing, stepped into the shallows, and tried again.
The object moved slightly.
A low metallic sound traveled through the rope.
Naomi stopped.
Then pulled once more.
The sound returned.
This time louder.
Behind her, Otis laughed.
"She's hooked a whole tractor."
Naomi ignored him.
She kept her hands around the rope.
Then the tension increased.
For one moment, she thought the hook had caught a submerged root.
But the force wasn't steady.
It pulsed.
Tightened.
Then relaxed.
Almost like a machine responding to pressure.
She looked toward the water.
And saw the first circular ripple.
Now the black object was rising.
The pond's surface bulged around it, then broke into rings of muddy turbulence.
Water spilled from the curved shape.
A dark triangular edge emerged.
Then another section of black metal.
Naomi stared.
The object looked too smooth to be stone.
Too rigid to be a tree.
And far too large to move simply because she was pulling on a rope.
Then the ground cracked beneath Otis.
He shouted.
His right boot sank into a soft depression near the shore.
Dale grabbed the back of his overalls.
"Get back!"
The heavyset rancher stumbled toward him.
A section of muddy bank collapsed into the water where he'd been standing.
Naomi's heart hammered.
She released the rope immediately.
The hook remained caught somewhere beneath the surface.
The loose end whipped toward the water.
She tried to step backward.
But her boot sank into the mud.
For one terrible second, she couldn't move.
Then the pond made a deep, hollow noise.