Grizzly Fury

Fargo reflected on how Brain Eater almost had him. He owed his life to the Ovaro—yet again. He gave the stallion a pat. Later he would strip it and rub it down and see that the stallion had plenty to drink and ample rest.

Now that Fargo had seen Brain Eater with his own eyes, he had a better idea of what the people of Gold Creek were up against. He’d known the bear was big. He just hadn’t appreciated how big.

Fargo wasn’t so sure that luring it to the meadow was a good idea. Cecelia didn’t realize the degree of danger she and her brood were in.

A low growl punctured Fargo’s reverie. He glanced behind him, thinking Brain Eater was after him again, but nothing was there. The growl was repeated, off to his right, and he swiveled, his hand swooping to his Colt.

It was a bear, all right.

But a different one.

13

Fargo drew rein. He remembered the two sets of eyes at the meadow. He remembered Mrs. Nesmith saying that the bear that killed her family wasn’t Brain Eater, but smaller. This one had a lighter coat, especially around the head and neck. It also had razor teeth and claws as long as Fargo’s fingers. When it growled again and moved toward him, he flew for his life.

He wanted to beat his head against a tree for being so careless. He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed it until he was much too close.

This new bear was quicker than Brain Eater and was after them like a hound let off the leash after a coon. It roared as it charged. A raking paw nearly caught the Ovaro.

Fargo swore. Slicking the Colt, he twisted and fired. The slug drilled the ground in front of the grizzly. He thumbed back the hammer to shoot again but the bear veered and broke off the chase and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Some bears were scared of guns; the noise sent them scurrying.

Fargo didn’t stop. He had escaped two bears in as many minutes and he would be damned if he would push his luck. He stayed at a gallop until he was sure neither was after him.

It was a long ride to the meadow and his friends. The sun had been down for more than an hour when the glow of their fire told him he didn’t have far to go.

Rooster was the first to spot him, and came running with his rifle. “About damn time, pard. I was commencing to worry.” He cocked his head. “You and that horse of yours look awful peaked. And did it rain where you were?”

“I could use some coffee.” Fargo’s buckskins were still damp and uncomfortable in the growing chill of the high-country night.

Cecelia had his cup full and held it out to him. “Here you go,” she said as he dismounted.

“Where have you been, my good man?” Wendolyn asked. He was holding his teacup and saucer and was as impeccably dressed as ever in a hunting outfit that included a wide-brimmed hat with a high crown that he had told them was popular with big-game hunters in Africa.

Fargo hunkered by the fire for the warmth. He swallowed half the cup before he launched into a recital of his day. They listened with intense interest. No one interrupted. When he was done he drained the rest of the cup and promptly refilled it.

“So the two bears are sticking close to one another?” Rooster said thoughtfully. “Maybe the smaller one is her cub.”

“Too old,” Fargo said. Cubs stayed with their mothers for a year or so, two years at the most. The smaller grizzly looked to be twice that.

“Now and then a cub doesn’t want to go off on its own no matter what.”

“Then where this Brain Eater goes, the smaller one follows,” Wendy said.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Cecelia said.

Moose, who hadn’t uttered a word since Fargo arrived, roused and said, “What?”

“We have to kill both of them.”

“There’s no bounty on the smaller griz,” Rooster said.

“So what?” Cecelia countered. “It’s killed people, the same as the big one. And it will go on killin’ unless it’s stopped.”

“I daresay I have no objection,” Wendy said. “Two bears are twice the sport and twice the fun.”

“Fun?” Rooster said, and snorted.

“We can always sell the hide for money,” Moose said. “It won’t be a lot split five ways but it will put a little extra in our pokes.”

“A fine notion,” Cecelia said, smiling warmly at him.

Then she turned to Fargo. “How about you, Skye? What do you say?”

“We kill both.”

“This hunt is getting complicated,” Rooster groused. “Killing the big one will be hard enough.”

Cecelia asked Bethany to get her a clean plate and ladled squirrel meat onto it. She added a slice of bread and handed it to Fargo, saying, “Here you go. You must be awful hungry after the day you’ve had.”

“I’m obliged.” As he speared a morsel with his fork, Fargo noticed Moose staring at him.

“Back to these bears,” Wendy said. “You Yanks have more experience with the brutes. How do you suggest we go about it?”

“Very carefully,” Rooster said.

The next morning the men were in position by sunrise. They waited throughout the day while Cecelia cooked and her children played and made a lot of noise.

Neither grizzly showed.

That night the men and Cecelia took turns keeping watch and maintaining the fire.