Grizzly Fury

“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“We’ll look for the girl again. Yell our fool heads off and hope to hell she hears us.”

Wendy looked uncomfortable saying, “And if we don’t find her? How long do we keep at it? The day after, as well? A week? When do we say enough is enough and get to the business of destroying Brain Eater?”

“We owe it to Cecelia,” Fargo said.

“I know that. I’m only saying that as much as we would like to find the child, we must face the possibility that we won’t. The bear might have got her.”

“So long as there’s hope we keep at it.”

They took turns sitting guard. Wendy insisted on the first watch, saying he wasn’t tired.

Fargo lay on his side and tried to drift off but his mind was racing from all that had happened. He relived Bear Eater’s attack in his mind’s eye and couldn’t think of anything he could have done differently to save those who died.

Death came in many shapes and guises in the wild. It came without warning, without mercy. One moment a man was minding his own business and the next he was fighting for his life.

Fargo would have thought that by now he would be used to it, but he wasn’t.

An owl was hooting when sleep claimed him. It seemed not five minutes had gone by when a hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, and a voice was urgently whispering for him to wake up. He opened his eyes. “What is it?”

“We have company,” Wendy said.

Fargo sat up. He heard it right away: crashing off in the woods to the west. It sounded like a herd of buffalo were plowing through the vegetation but there were no buffs that high up. He laid a hand on his Sharps.

“What can it be?” Wendy asked. “I haven’t heard any gnarls or roars.”

As if to prove him wrong, an ominous growl was carried on the wind.

“Brain Eater,” Fargo said, and stood.

“You’re sure?” Wendy pushed up. “Why is she making all that noise?”

“You’d have to ask her.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Fargo had no idea what the grizzly was up to.

He’d never heard of a bear throwing a tantrum but that sounded like what she was doing. Or maybe, he mused, she was working herself up to attack them. Or—and the thought chilled him—she was deliberately making all that noise to draw them away from the fire.

The sounds went on for a while. Tree limbs snapping, brush crackling and popping. Now and again the bear growled. Finally the sounds subsided and the forest was quiet.

“I say, did she leave?” Wendy wondered.

Minutes dragged by and the silence continued.

Fargo sat back down and reached for his tin cup. He couldn’t go back to sleep knowing the man-killer might be watching and waiting for her chance to strike.

“I don’t mind admitting these grizzlies of yours wreak havoc with my nerves,” Wendy said as he reached for his own cup.

“They’ll do that.”

“Tigers, rhinos, lions, you name it, all behave in certain ways. Even rogue elephants are predictable. You know what to expect.” Wendy stared into the darkness. “But not these great bloody bears. No animal I’ve ever hunted on any continent acts like they do.”

Fargo was watching the Ovaro. It would alert him if the griz came close.

“I never know what Brain Eater will do next,” Wendolyn said. “She seems to delight in bedeviling us.”

“No seems about it,” Fargo said.

“It’s damned near demonic.”

“There’s only one thing you can be sure of with a grizzly,” Fargo said.

“What might that be?”

“That it will kill you dead.”

23

Fargo was curious. As soon as they were up and ate and saddled, he rode west into the trees. Fifty feet in he came on flattened brush and broken branches and trees with claw and teeth marks. Brain Eater’s tracks were everywhere.

“It’s as if she went berserk,” Wendy said.

Fargo dismounted and led the Ovaro by the reins. The griz had torn a five- to six-foot swatch at the base of a knoll. He followed the path of destruction and discovered it went completely around the knoll so that soon he was back where he started. The knoll was bare except for a jumble of boulders at the top. “Cover me.”

The two largest boulders were giant slabs that leaned against one another. Between them was a gap half as wide as Fargo’s shoulders. Hunkering, he peered in. He couldn’t see anything. He reached in and felt empty space. As he was drawing his hand out he thought he heard a sniffle. A tingle of excitement ran through him. “Bethany?”

The sniffle was repeated.

“Bethany?” Fargo said again.

“The girl is alive?” Wendy exclaimed, and was off his horse and up the knoll beside him.

Fargo motioned for quiet. Bending lower, he thought he detected movement. “It’s Skye, Bethany. You know me.”

The movement coalesced into a pale face streaked with tear tracks and dirt. “Skye?” she said timidly.

“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Fargo said. “Didn’t you hear us calling?”

Bethany nodded.

“Why didn’t you answer us?”

“I was scared.”

“Of the bear?”

Bethany nodded, and gulped.

“She’s gone. It’s just Mr. Wendolyn and me. It’s safe for you to come out.”

“Where’s my ma?”

“Oh,” Fargo said, jolted by the realization that she didn’t know.

“Where is she? Why isn’t she with you?”