Grizzly Fury

Leroy bleated and struggled. “Put me down, goddamn you!”

“I can’t stand mean,” Moose said, and threw Leroy onto a table. Its legs splintered, and the table and Leroy crashed to the floor with Leroy stunned and nearly unconscious. Moose wheeled on the others, who were riveted in amazement. “Anyone else want to be chucked?”

All four raised their arms and backed off shaking their heads.

“Darn mean people, anyhow,” Moose said.

Wendy smoothed his jacket and smiled. “I’m grateful for the assistance, Mr. Taylor.”

Fargo offered his hand.

Moose looked at it and at him, and beamed. “Does this mean we’re friends too?”

“Friends,” Fargo said, and nearly had his arm shaken off when the big man enthusiastically pumped it.

“I like having friends,” Moose said, and laughing, he clapped Fargo on the back.

Fargo thought it a wonder his spine didn’t break. Moose Taylor was ungodly strong.

“I say,” Wendy broke in. “How about I treat both you chaps to drinks for coming to my rescue?”

“I like drinks,” Moose said.

“I’d like to,” Fargo said, “but I’m in the middle of a card game.” He returned to the table and sat and no sooner was he dealt a new hand than Wendy and Moose were on either side of his chair. “You want something?”

“Friends stick with friends,” Moose said.

The game resumed and Fargo had about forgotten they were there when he was dealt a full house.

Behind him, Moose chuckled. “Oh, that’s a good one. If I was playing cards I’d bet all I had.”

The other players folded.

Fargo glanced up in annoyance. Wendy looked embarrassed by Moose’s mistake. Moose, though, was smiling in serene and earnest innocence.

“Hell,” Fargo said. He stood and gathered his winnings. “How about I treat both of you?”

Moose made space for them at the bar just by stepping up to it. The bartender brought a bottle of Monongahela and was filling their glasses when murmuring broke out and Fargo turned to see Cecelia Mathers march into the saloon with her brood in her wake.

“What the hell?” the bartender said.

Cecelia looked around, then came straight toward the bar, parting those in front of her as the prow of a ship might part the sea.

Fargo figured she hadn’t taken no for an answer but it wasn’t him she came to see. She halted in front of Moose and put her hands on her hips.

“If it can’t be him it might as well be you.”

“Ma’am?” Moose said.

“I need a partner to go after Brain Eater,” Cecelia said, and jerked a thumb at Fargo. “I asked him but he’s already got one. So now I’m askin’ you.” She paused and glanced at the Englishman. “Wait a minute. How about you? I’m not particular, and they say you have a rifle that can drop a buffalo with a single shot.”

“I’m sorry, madam, but I hunt alone.”

“Then it’s back to you,” Cecelia said to Moose. “How about it?”

“How about what?”

“Aren’t you payin’ attention? How about partnerin’ up with me to hunt the griz.”

“You and me?”

“They say you’ve killed a heap of bears so you must be good at it.”

Moose squared his wide shoulders and puffed out his enormous chest. “A heap is about right.”

“Then will you or won’t you?”

“Won’t I what?”

Cecelia rose onto her toes so her face was inches from his.

“Is there somethin’ the matter with you?”

“I ain’t been sick in years,” Moose said.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious about being sick,” Moose said. “I don’t like to throw up.”

Cecelia took a step back. “Enough about sick. Will you or won’t you be my partner? We’ll split the bounty fifty-fifty. In return, while we’re on the trail, I’ll do all the cookin’ and such. I’ll mend any socks you have that need darnin’. And do whatever else you say needs doin’. Does that sound fair?”

“Gosh,” Moose said. “You’d be just like a wife.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Cecelia said. “I admit you’re big and good-lookin’ but I’ve got my young’uns to think of. I can’t just latch on to anybody. For all I know, you’ve got habits I can’t abide.”

“Habits?” Moose said.

“Do you spit a lot?”

“Mostly I just swallow.”

“Do you snore?”

“I never heard me snore so no.”

“Do you belch and cuss and pick and scratch at yourself all the time?”

Moose seemed mesmerized by her boldness. “I reckon I belch now and then. But I don’t try to do it every day or anything. And I don’t cuss much except when I stub my toe or that time I accidentally shot my own foot. Lost half my little toe and I’d have sworn that rifle wasn’t loaded when I started to clean it. As for picking and scratching, I ain’t no chicken.”

“My Ed used to always be pickin’ lice off and scratchin’ himself down low,” Cecelia said. “And then he’d just throw the lice without squishin’ ’em. If I told him once I told him a thousand times to squish his lice.”

“I only scratch when I have fleas and I don’t get fleas unless I have a dog and I don’t have a dog right now as the last one got old and died on me,” Moose said.

Cecelia nodded. “You might do, after all. All right. You can tag along.” She turned to go.

“Where are we going?”

“To my room to talk about bein’ partners. I’ve got to tuck these young’uns in. Come along, now.”