Grizzly Fury

Fargo’s temper snapped. He’d tried to reason but Moose was too mad to listen, and Fargo would be damned if he was anyone’s punching bag. As Moose sprang, he twisted and drove his right fist into the pit of Moose’s stomach. Moose grunted and folded but stayed on his feet. Fargo remedied that with two swift blows to the ear that caused Moose to fall to his knees. Instantly, Fargo skipped in and swung a solid right to the chin. He almost broke his hand but Moose swayed and his eyelids fluttered and he keeled onto his side.

“You did it!” Wendy whooped.

Fargo wasn’t so sure. He poked Moose a few times. The bear hunter didn’t move but he did groan. Fargo went to the Ovaro for his rope.

“Is that necessary?”

“You saw him,” Fargo said. He bound Moose’s wrists and was doing the same to his ankles when the night disgorged the three Blackfeet.

Bird Rattler would make a good poker player. He showed no surprise at seeing Moose on the ground. “We use big white as bait now?” he dryly asked.

“We should, the jackass,” Fargo said. He had a welt on his temple and his head hurt like hell. “Any sign of the woman and her little ones?”

“We not find,” Bird Rattler reported. “Come back. Wait for sun.”

“I’ll make coffee,” Fargo volunteered. He needed sleep but the fight had his blood racing. And it wouldn’t hurt to sit up a while and see if Cecelia showed.

Bird Rattler started to lead his horse off and the other two did the same.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fargo asked.

“Make our fire,” the Blackfoot said.

“Like hell. From now on you sit with us and share our food.”

“Maybe him not want,” Bird Rattler said, indicating Moose.

“I don’t give a damn. After what he just did he doesn’t have a say.” Fargo looked around for the coffeepot. It had been knocked a good ten feet from the fire. Retrieving it, he headed for the stream. He wasn’t expecting company but he got some.

“I’d like a word,” Wendolyn said.

“What’s stopping you?”

“You are. You’re in a bit of a snit and I can do without having my head bit off.”

“So long as you don’t take a swing at me we’ll get along fine.”

“Very well, then. The issue is this.” Wendy paused. “I’m having second thoughts. We’ve lost your friend and now possibly Mrs. Mathers and her children. I have to ask. Is five thousand dollars worth all these lives?”

“We quit now, Rooster died for nothing. I’m seeing it through no matter what you or anyone else does.”

“I didn’t say I was bowing out,” Wendy said quickly. “In case you haven’t heard, we British are famous for our stiff upper lips.”

Fargo reached the stream and squatted to dip the pot in the water.

“I heard something,” Wendy whispered. “There.” He extended his elephant gun toward the other side.

All Fargo heard was the babbling of the water. He had about decided it was nothing when a plaintive cry came out of the darkness.

“Help us, please.”

Fargo dropped the pot and splashed across. Three small faces peered at him from atop the bank.

“Up here, mister,” Abner said.

“Hurry,” Bethany begged.

“She’s hurt real bad,” Thomas added.

Fargo scrambled up and over and nearly stepped on Cecelia. She was on the ground, a hand pressed to her side, her skin like chalk. Her eyes were shut. “Cecelia?” he said, but got no answer.

“She passed out,” Abner said. “We didn’t know what to do.”

“Help her,” Bethany begged.

Fargo carefully moved Cecelia’s hand, and grimaced.

Behind him Wendy said, “My word. I’ll go heat water and cut bandages.”

“The bear did it,” Bethany said, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It came out of nowhere,” Thomas said.

“Brain Eater?” Fargo figured.

“No,” Abner answered. “It was the other one. The small bear. The male.”

“It knocked Ma down and clawed her,” Thomas said.

“She threw fire in its face,” Bethany said.

“Stand back,” Fargo directed. Easing his hands under Cecelia, he gently lifted her and carried her down the bank. She didn’t stir. Her head lolled against his chest and once she groaned. The children trooped after him.

The Blackfeet made room as Fargo set Cecelia down near the fire. The bear’s claws had caught her across the ribs. Bone gleamed from torn flesh. She had bled so much that her dress was stiff with dry blood.

“When did it attack you?” Fargo asked Abner as he felt for a pulse; it was pitifully weak and erratic.

“About noon,” the oldest said. “Ma made soup and we were sittin’ down to eat.”

“We ran and hid,” Thomas said. “The bear didn’t come after us. It wanted the food.”

“Will she live, mister?” Bethany anxiously asked.

Fargo honestly couldn’t say.

19

“We’re leaving and that’s that,” Moose announced.

The sun had been up for an hour. Fargo yawned and stretched and yearned for sleep.

Moose had behaved himself when he came to and saw that Cecelia was hurt. After Fargo untied him, the big hunter hovered over her with her hand clasped in his. The kids sat close to him and fell asleep with their heads on his leg.