Grizzly Fury

“There’s still the matter of the fifth hunter,” Rooster said. “Who did you have in mind?”

Cecelia shrugged. “We ain’t given it much thought. You have any idea who might be worth a damn?”

The batwings creaked and into the saloon strolled Wendolyn Channing Mayal, his elephant gun, as he called it, in the crook of his elbow.

“I think I do,” Fargo said.

They didn’t get to leave at first light as they wanted. Word spread that the mayor had called for a meeting of all the bear hunters the next day at noon. Since there wasn’t a building big enough to hold all of them, the meeting was to take place in the middle of the street.

Fargo remembered the mayor saying there were about fifty but the mayor underestimated by thirty to forty. The street was jammed with as diverse a group of humanity as he’d ever seen.

The clerk with his squirrel gun, some Swedish immigrants and their wives, a man in a stovepipe hat who claimed to be a chimney sweep, of all things.

Mayor Petty had a crate placed at one end of the street. Carefully climbing on, he flailed his arms to get everyone’s attention. Gradually the hubbub quieted. Clearing his throat, he began.

“All of you are probably wondering why I’ve called this gathering. The reason is simple. Gold Creek is fit to burst at the seams and you are the cause.”

Someone in the crowd hollered, “What did we do?”

“You showed up,” the mayor replied. “More of you than we ever reckoned would.”

“If you didn’t want anyone to come, you shouldn’t have posted a bounty,” someone shouted.

“I’m not assigning blame,” Petty said indignantly. “I’m merely pointing out that you have strained our meager resources to the breaking point.”

“Your what?” a man yelled.

“Since we only have one hotel and a handful of boardinghouses, most of you are camping on the outskirts,” Petty said. “You’re planting yourselves where you please. You’ve trampled gardens. Killed poultry that doesn’t belong to you. One of you even stole wash from a clothesline.”

There was laughter.

“It’s not funny. Not even a little bit,” Petty said. “We will have order or all of you will leave.”

A man in a derby cupped a hand to his mouth. “I’d like to see you make us.”

“I’ve already sent word to the army,” Petty revealed. “I expect a patrol to arrive before another week is out.”

“Oh, hell,” someone said.

“Until then, the following rules will be abided by.” Petty counted them off on his fingers. “One. All saloons will close at midnight—” He had to stop for the boos and insults. When they subsided, he said, “I repeat: All saloons will close at midnight. There will be no drinking in public. Anyone caught with a bottle will be fined. There will be no discharging of firearms in the town limits. Anyone caught doing so will be fined. There will be no accosting the ladies of our town. Anyone who imposes on them will be fined. There will—”

“You going to fine us for breathing, too?”

Petty was unruffled. “There will be no spitting tobacco except into spittoons. Anyone caught spitting in the street will be fined.”

“God Almighty,” a man said.

“Those of you who make fires are not to leave them untended. We almost had a forest fire because someone walked off and left his fire burning.”

A bear hunter seated on a hitch rail called out, “I bet anyone who lets a fire burn will be fined.”

There was more mirth.

“Very well. Be this way,” Petty said. “The complete list is posted at my office. I advise each and every one of you to memorize it.”

The meeting broke up.

Rooster summed up his feelings with, “Did you ever hear so much hogtwaddle in your life?”

“What I want to know,” Cecelia said, “is whether we head out now or wait until mornin’?”

“We’ve already lost half the day,” Fargo said. “It might as well be tomorrow.” He had an ulterior motive which he didn’t mention.

“Whatever you chaps decide is fine by me,” Wendolyn said. “I’m just thankful you invited me.”

“You might not be before this is done,” Rooster said.

9

Fanny had on a green dress that made her breasts bulge and clung to her long thighs. She smelled of lilacs. Each time she stopped behind Fargo’s chair and ran her fingers through his hair, he had to force himself to concentrate on his cards.

Along about ten o’clock one of the players lost his last dollar and got up. His empty seat was promptly claimed by someone.

Fargo didn’t pay much attention to who had sat down until the man addressed him.

“Remember me?” Leroy asked. Behind him were two of his friends.

“I make it a point to remember jackasses.”

Leroy’s spite oozed from every pore. “You have a mouth on you, mister. Someone needs to shut it.”

“The last time you tried it didn’t turn out well.”

“Moose and that foreigner ain’t here,” Leroy said. “It’s just you.”

“Enough gab,” a townsman said. “Are we playing cards or aren’t we?”

Play resumed. Fargo paid no mind to Leroy’s constant glaring. He won big with a flush and again with a full house.

“Lucky bastard,” Leroy muttered.