Grizzly Fury

About an hour before dawn Cecelia had come around. The first thing she did was ask for her children. The second was ask for water. Moose held a cup to her lips and she gratefully swallowed. She thanked him and passed out again.

Fargo leaned against his saddle and wearily rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hand, she was staring at them.

“What was that I just heard?”

“Cecelia!” Moose beamed and bent and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do for you? Anything you need me to do for the kids?”

“You can hush,” Cecelia said. Gritting her teeth, she shifted and touched the bandage. “No wonder I hurt like the dickens. That critter took a sizable chunk out of me.”

Before anyone could stop her, Bethany threw herself at her mother and hugged her tight. Cecelia grimaced in pain but didn’t scold her.

Sobbing, the girl said, “Oh, Ma. I was so scared. I thought you’d die.”

“So did I,” Moose said, earning a stern look from Cecelia. “Well, I did, and it helped me make up my mind.”

“About what?”

“Us leaving,” Moose said. “This is no place for you and yours. I’m taking you back to town.”

“The blazes you are,” Cecelia said. “I’m not givin’ up my share of the bounty for you or anybody else.”

“The money be damned, woman. You matter more.”

Cecelia was set to voice an angry reply, but stopped. Her features softened and she said, “That’s plumb sweet of you. But I’m a grown woman and can do as I please.”

“You used to, you could.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’re together now. We ain’t married yet but it’s the same. You said so yourself. And if we’re together then I have a say and my say is that I’m getting you and the kids out of these mountains.”

“But the bounty . . .”

“We’ll make do without it. I don’t earn a lot but it’s enough that we won’t go without clothes on our backs or food in our bellies.”

“We’d lose your share, too.”

Fargo had heard enough. “Both of you get full shares whether you’re here or not.”

“Why would you do that for us after I whomped on you?” Moose asked.

Shrugging, Fargo looked at Cecelia and her kids. “Figure it out yourself.”

“It’s awful kind,” Cecelia said, “but I’ve never shirked a job my whole life.”

“You’ve lost a gallon of blood,” Fargo recited. “Your rib is busted and the bear cut you so deep I had to stitch you with Wendy’s fishing line. It’ll be a week or two before you’re back on your feet and you won’t be yourself for a month or more. I wouldn’t call that shirking.”

“Listen to him,” Moose said.

Cecelia tried to sit up but couldn’t. “I reckon I have to give in. But not ’cause you want me to. I can’t protect my young’uns, the state I’m in.”

“You can’t travel, either,” Fargo said. “Not today, anyway.”

Moose agreed to stay with her while Fargo and the rest went after the male grizzly. They headed out within the hour. Tracks on the other side of the stream pointed due north. Once in the woods the sign was scarcer but Fargo stuck to the bear’s trail.

Noon came and went.

Fargo was in the lead, Wendy behind him, then Bird Rattler, Red Mink and Lazy Husband. Wooded slopes funneled them to the mouth of a gorge.

The tracks showed that the bear had gone in—but hadn’t come out.

Fargo eyed the high walls and shadows. “I don’t like it. It’s a good spot for the bear to jump us.”

“The brute probably went on out the other side,” Wendy said.

“I should go on ahead while you wait here.”

“Nonsense, my good fellow,” the Brit disagreed. “Why should you take all the risks? We’ll all go in and if you’re right about the bear it will be too bloody bad for him.” Wendy patted his elephant gun.

Against his better judgment Fargo gigged the Ovaro. The still air and the blazing sun turned the gorge into an oven. He was sweating profusely before they went fifty feet. Vegetation was sparse. The tracks in the dust showed that the grizzly had wandered from one side of the gorge to the other.

Wendy removed his hat and wiped his brow with a sleeve. “I say, it’s deuced hot. Reminds me of the time I crossed the Sahara Desert.”

“From the sounds of things, you’ve been most everywhere,” Fargo idly remarked.

“Not really,” Wendy said. “I’ve hunted on most every continent but there’s so much I haven’t set eyes on yet.”

“Did you hunt a lot as a boy?”

“Hardly at all. My passion came to me later in life.”

The Blackfeet had spread out and were three abreast, Bird Rattler in the center. He and Lazy Husband had arrows nocked. Red Mink held a lance.

“Is there anything you’re passionate about?” Wendolyn asked. “Something you couldn’t give up if you tried and you’re not about to try.”

“Women,” Fargo said.

“I can take them or leave them. You ask me, they’re more of a nuisance than they’re worth. A man has to cater to their every wish. And they’re so emotional. I knew a woman once who would burst into tears at the drop of a feather and she’d drop the feather.”

“They have their good points.”

A bend hid the next stretch.