Grizzly Fury

“Hell,” Fargo said, and reined around. “Light a shuck!” he shouted, and galloped into the woods. Bethany flung her arms around his neck and bleated like a stricken lamb. Fargo glanced back.

Wendolyn was trying to turn his horse but it was giving him trouble. It saw the grizzly rushing toward them and wheeled on its own. Instead of following the Ovaro, though, it bolted in a different direction.

The grizzly stopped and looked after each horse and chose to pursue Wendy’s.

Fargo reined after them. The Brit was a good rider but it would take considerable skill to stay ahead of Brain Eater, as he had learned the hard way. He heard the bear roar and the crash of undergrowth. Wendy was shouting but Fargo couldn’t make out the words.

Bethany began crying into Fargo’s neck and whimpering.

Fargo couldn’t take the time to comfort her. He concentrated on riding and only on riding. He glimpsed a gigantic brown form and would have lashed the reins for the Ovaro to go faster were it not that he had to hold on to Bethany or she would fall.

Wendy had stopped yelling. Fargo lost sight of the bear. He continued in the direction they had been going and was startled a minute later when a roar split the wilds from off to the east. He reined down the mountain and after several minutes drew rein to listen and look.

Bethany had stopped crying and was gazing fearfully about with tear-filled eyes. “Where are they?” she whispered.

Fargo didn’t know. It was quiet—too quiet. “They have to be near here.” Scouring the terrain, he rode on. He was tempted to call Wendy’s name but the grizzly might hear and come after them.

Bethany pressed her cheek to his. “I’m scared.”

“So am I.”

“You are? But you’re a man and you have guns.”

“I bleed like anybody else,” Fargo said.

“Ma liked you,” the girls said out of the blue.

“I liked her, too.”

“She said if she didn’t have Moose she wouldn’t mind being your woman.”

“Did she, now?” Fargo was listening intently.

“Would you have liked Ma to be?”

Fargo looked at her. “Any man would.” He was rewarded with a smile.

The faint crack of what might be a limb put an end to their talk. Fargo descended another quarter of a mile but saw only birds and a squirrel. He began a broader search. They entered a stand of mixed pines, the trees so closely spaced that he couldn’t see more than a dozen yards. A groan caused him to draw rein.

“Did you hear that?” the girl whispered.

“Shhhh.” Fargo positioned her so she was on his left hip and he could get at his holster quickly if need be.

Another groan rose.

Fargo went past more trees. Suddenly the Ovaro shied. There, in the grass, lay the Brit, his hat gone and a deep gash on his forehead. His elephant gun was a few feet away. Fargo didn’t see his horse—or the bear.

Sliding off, Fargo lowered Bethany. “Stay close,” he cautioned. He needn’t have bothered. She glued herself to his leg.

“Wendy?” Fargo said, kneeling. He lightly slapped the hunter’s cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Wendolyn’s eyes opened and he winced and said, “Bloody hell.”

“What happened? Where’s Brain Eater?”

“Gone, I hope.” Wendy rose onto his elbows and gingerly placed a hand on the new wound. “The brute chased off after my horse.”

“You jumped off to save yourself?”

Wendy started to shake his head and winced. “I wish I could claim to be that clever. But no, I was knocked off by a tree limb.”

“It may have saved your life,” Fargo said. “You don’t look too bad off.” The gash wasn’t bleeding and there wasn’t any other wound that he could find.

“It didn’t do my head any favors.” Wendy sat up, with help, and hung his head in misery. “I feel sick. It wouldn’t surprise me if I had a concussion.”

“You’ll be all right, mister,” Bethany said. “We’ll fix you.”

Wendy looked at her and smiled. “I’d almost forgotten about you, child. Now there are the three of us but only one horse.”

“We’ll look for yours,” Fargo said. He picked up the elephant gun and had Wendy climb on the Ovaro. Then he handed up the rifle and went to lift Bethany.

“No,” she said. “I want to be with you.”

“I need my hands free.”

“I like you,” she said.

“It’s for your own good.”

“Please.”

Fargo looked at the Brit, who shrugged.

“I remember Fanny saying that you have a way with the ladies.”

“Who’s Fanny?” Bethany asked.

“A friend.” Fargo held her on his left hip and the reins in his right hand and followed a trail of crushed grass and brush. It went for almost a mile, to the crest of a ridge. There, the tracks diverged. The hoofprints went on down the mountain toward the creek while the bear’s tracks bore to the south into heavy forest. “Your horse got away.”

“Good for him.”

Bears were fast over short distances but lacked stamina. Fargo imagined that Brain Eater was holed up somewhere, resting and licking her wounds. That reminded him. “I know you hit her when you shot.”

“Yet she didn’t go down.” Wendy ruefully regarded his elephant gun. “I’ve dropped bull elephants and cape buffalo with one shot but not this bloody bear.”

“Grizzlies are tough,” Fargo said.