Grizzly Fury

“It can drop a bull elephant in its tracks but it has its disadvantages,” Wendy said. “The smoke, for one. After I shoot I can’t hardly see. It’s like being in a fog.”

“What’s the other?”

“The recoil,” Wendy answered, and touched his right shoulder. “If you’re not braced for it, it can spin you around or knock you on your backside.” He smiled wryly. “Or break your shoulder.”

“That’s some gun,” Fargo said.

“It has to be. I’ve gone after cape buffalo and hippopotamus and rhinos, as well as elephants. All are a lot bigger than your grizzlies.”

“It’s not the size—it’s the teeth and the claws.”

“Even there, I’ve hunted lions and tigers and other big cats. I know what to expect.”

Fargo looked at him. “No,” he said. “You don’t.”

10

The meadow was a five-acre oval bordered on the north by a stream and to the west, south and east by a crescent of woodland, mostly spruce with a few oaks.

“Not bad,” Rooster declared after they had drawn rein in the center. “The griz will have to come into the open and we’ll have clear shots.”

“Exactly as you wanted,” Wendy said.

Fargo had to admit the spot was perfect. “We have a lot to get done before dark. Let’s get to it.”

Moose helped Cecelia down and she bustled about overseeing her brood and setting up the camp to her satisfaction.

Each of them stripped their own horse. Fargo took a picket pin from his saddlebag and pounded it into the ground. He preferred a pin over a hobble; in an emergency he could pull it out and ride like hell that much faster.

Abner, Thomas and Bethany collected firewood while Cecelia kindled a fire. She took a coffeepot to the stream and filled it. She also filled a pot for the stew she was making.

The aromas made Fargo’s stomach growl. The smell would also serve as a beacon and bring in any bear that caught a tantalizing whiff.

Over an hour of daylight was left, and Rooster and Moose had just sat down to rest, when Fargo proposed they build a lean-to.

“What in the world for?” Rooster demanded. “I don’t mind sleeping on the ground.”

“It’s not for us. It’s for them.” Fargo nodded at Cecelia and the children. She was stirring the stew, and glanced up.

“No need to go to all that trouble on our account.”

“It will give you someplace to run to if the bear comes. He won’t charge you if he can’t see you.”

Cecelia gazed at her offspring. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have one, at that.”

They had brought an ax and Moose took it on himself to chop down saplings and cut the limbs they needed. A thicket provided the brush for the sides. When they were done it was eight feet long and four feet deep.

Although Rooster had complained, he walked around it and declared, “A damned fine job if I say so myself.”

The long day in the saddle had given them all an appetite.

There wasn’t a drop of stew left in the pot when they were done. Fargo had two helpings plus four cups of scalding hot coffee. Leaning back, he patted his belly and said contentedly, “You’re a good cook, Cecelia.”

“It’s not all I do good,” she said, and she looked at Moose and winked.

Moose blushed.

“Tomorrow we start on the blinds first thing,” Fargo announced. He wanted them in position and ready as early as possible.

“You’re not expecting the bear that soon, are you?” Wendy asked.

“There’s no telling.”

“It shows up, we’ll have it in a cross fire,” Rooster said. “It will be like shooting ducks in a barrel.”

“Except this duck fights back.”

About an hour after sunset Cecelia ushered her flock to the lean-to. She spread blankets and had them say their prayers, then kissed each on the cheek and came back to the fire. Sighing contentedly, she said, “This has been a fine day.”

“Doesn’t take much to please you, does it?” Rooster said.

“Any day that ends with a full belly and my kids healthy and happy is as fine a day as I can expect.”

They made small talk for a while. Cecelia rose and tiptoed over to the lean-to. When she returned, she was smiling. “They’re asleep, and I’ll whale the tar out of anyone who wakes them.”

“Does this mean we have to whisper?” Moose asked.

“No, just don’t do any shoutin’.” Cecelia clasped his hand. “Let’s you and me go for a stroll, shall we?”

“Now?”

“Why not?” Cecelia tugged but Moose stayed where he was.

“It’s night.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark?” Cecelia pulled harder and Moose reluctantly stood.

“I ain’t scared of nothing. I just don’t see no sense to it when we’ve ate and can relax.”

“There are ways and there are ways,” Cecelia said.

“You have plumb lost me.”

“Come along, infant.”

Rooster waited until they had ambled out of sight before he smirked at Fargo and said, “Walk, my ass.”

Wendy was sipping tea from a china cup. “Surely you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“She has a hankering to have her pump primed and Moose has the pump handle.”

“Here and now?” Wendy said in amazement. “There’s a time and a place for everything, old boy, and this certainly isn’t it.”

“You’d say no, I suppose?” Rooster scoffed.