“Casey?” Dalton says. “I have this.”
There is a bear standing over my head, looking down, face barely a foot over mine. Not the juvenile who’d knocked me down. Its mother.
A growl off to my side. One that has the mother bear’s head jerking up, and a moment of sheer relief that vanishes when I see what she’s looking at. Storm facing off with the young bear that tripped me.
“Eric?” I say, just loud enough for him to hear. “Call her back. Please.”
He hesitates, and I know what he’s thinking. Storm has the mother bear distracted as she faces off against the cub. Let the dog draw her away, and he’ll protect her once I’m safe.
Shoot the bears. Save Storm. Save me.
Wait, I heard two shots, and I don’t see any blood, don’t hear a whimper of pain. The shots were mine. I realize that now. When I fell, I’d fired, and neither bullet hit, because as easy as it is to say “I’ve got this,” there is a split second between pulling the trigger and the bullet hitting a target, and if that target is no longer where you aimed …
“Storm,” I say, louder, my voice firm. “Storm, back. Back.”
She retreats toward Dalton. The young bear only leans forward, nose working, still curious but not approaching as Storm retreats. The mother bear turns her attention back to me.
I’ve used the distraction to raise my gun as high as I dare, but it’s not quite right. She looks down at me. Her jaws open, and I see teeth as long as my fingers. Saliva drips onto my face. Her breath is hot, stinking of raw meat.
“Casey?” Dalton says. “I’m going to shoot.”
“No.”
“Yes, damn it. Now on the count of three, bring your gun up—”
“Wait.”
He swears, a ragged stream of profanity.
“I’m okay,” I say, and my voice is oddly calm. Am I in shock? If I am, then I might be making a terrible mistake.
“I’m okay right now,” I say. “I’m going to aim my gun. If she attacks, shoot.”
His laugh is almost shrill. “Yeah, that’s pretty much a given, Butler. She moves another millimeter toward you, and I’m pulling this fucking trigger.”
“Remember there are still two other bears. Is someone watching them?”
“I’ve got the first cub in my sights,” Leon says. “It’s staying back.”
“And I’m keeping an eye on this one,” Moses says. “Your dog is, too.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Now let me raise my gun.”
Again, I move it millimeter by millimeter. The bear doesn’t even blink. Her face is upside down over mine, jaws open just enough for me to see teeth that could rend flesh and crunch bone. I don’t think of that, though. I channel Dalton, and I force myself to see her, really see her. The gleaming thick fur and bright, intelligent eyes. She’s barely out of hibernation and thinner than she’ll be later this year, but she glows with health, a far cry from any bear I’ve seen in captivity. I listen to the sound of her breathing. I inhale the musky scent of her. I feel her hot breath on my face.
I will never be this close to a grizzly again, and so I will frame this moment in memory because I will survive to remember it. My gun is now high enough that one pull of the trigger will end the threat. I will survive, and I will look back with wonder and awe, and so I force myself to experience that now, slowing my heart rate and sharpening my focus.
If she wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead. Same as Moses. I’ve seen bear attacks in movies, where you get between a mother and her cubs and she attacks like an avenging angel. That isn’t what’s happening here.
Her cubs are not babies. She is not starving. She’s not at full weight or energy yet either, and she is intelligent enough to know that this will be no easy kill. Five humans and a dog. The odds are not strongly enough in her favor. So she is thinking. Considering. Assessing. And all we need to do is make one wrong move, one wrong noise, and she will attack. But for now … Breathe. Just breathe.
Her eyes lock on mine. As for the gun, it is a mere extension of my puny, clawless hands. It’s my eyes that she watches, as if knowing that’s the key to dealing with humans. Watch the eyes. Their true weapon lies behind it.
I keep my eyes wide and clear and calm, even when a string of drool hits my brow.
“Casey?” Dalton says.
“I’ve got this.”
“I don’t like—”
“I know. Has she moved?”
Hesitation. Then a reluctant “No.”
“Am I on target?”
A grunt now, frustrated that I’m being calm and logical when everything in him itches to pull his trigger. I know that because it’s what I’d be doing if he were the one lying here.
Just let me shoot, damn it. Forget the other bears. This is the one with her jaws a foot above your face. Let me shoot.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, as much to the bear as to him. “Everything is okay.”
The bear huffs. It’s a soft sound, though. Discomfort and mild stress.
“You want this to be done as much as I do, don’t you?” I say. “You want to walk away with your family, and I want to walk away with mine, and we don’t quite know how to do that.”
Her eyes flick, but she doesn’t move.
“Casey?” Dalton says. “This is a stalemate.”
“I know.”
“We need to end it.”
“Not yet.”
I swallow as carefully as I can. As hard as I’m struggling to stay calm, anxiety strums through me. Focus. Just focus and stay in the moment.
“Do the cubs have an escape route?”
“Yes. The first is to your left. No one’s near it. Storm’s watching this one, and he’s still too fucking curious but…”
“He’s calm?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s wait.”
Dalton grumbles under his breath, but he knows that if he were lying here, he’d say the same. The situation is temporarily under control.
“You can go,” I murmur to the bear. “No one will stop you. Take your babies and go.”
Of course she can’t understand, but I’m hoping the tone of my voice will tell her I’m not a threat. I continue talking, just as I would to a suspect holding a weapon on me. She stays right where she is, hot breath streaming down on me, jaws closing and then cracking open, drool dripping. I think I see a change in her eyes, a gradual easing of tension. Then, just when I’m sure I’m imagining it, she huffs and swings her gaze on Dalton.
My heart stops. My finger tenses on the trigger. I’ve had it there the whole time. This isn’t a situation like with Sophie where my finger stays clear until I decide to shoot. I might not get that extra moment if she attacks.
When she looks at Dalton, my finger tenses reflexively, but she only eyes him. Storm comes next, the bear’s gaze assessing the canine. Then she checks the first cub, the one safely on my other side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it clawing at a dead log. It’s grown bored of the situation and started digging for a grub snack. Its sibling shows signs of the same boredom, having sat down to scratch its ear.
The mother bear huffs one more time before letting out a grunt that almost has me pulling the trigger before I realize she’s calling to her cubs. Then she lumbers to my left, so close her hairs brush my leg as she passes. Another grunt to get their attention, and she continues into the forest, the cubs falling in line behind.
I don’t move. I don’t even think I breathe. I lie on my back, gun aimed at the spot where I last saw them. Everyone stays perfectly still, listening as the bears lumber through the forest. It is only when the sound fades to the softest rustle of distant foliage that I sit up, and then Dalton’s there, lifting me up into a hug so tight I can’t breathe and I don’t want to. I collapse against him, my entire body quivering, and he just keeps murmuring “Okay, okay, okay,” like a mantra, as much for himself as for me.
You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s okay.
I take a deep s
huddering breath, and he does the same, our exhales in perfect syncopation. Storm nudges my leg, whining, and I reach down to pat her head while Dalton keeps his arms locked around me. At least a few minutes pass before he sets me on the ground, and we both holster our weapons.
“I got to see a grizzly up close,” I say. “Really, really close.”
He lets out a shaky laugh and smiles, arms going around my shoulders in a squeeze. “You did.”
“It was awesome.”
“Not quite the word I’d use.”
Another hug, and then I catch a glimpse of Angus and remember we aren’t actually alone here. I straighten, and Dalton takes my hand and turns toward the settlers—
There is a gun pointed at us.
Leon’s rifle, pointed right at us, Moses beside him, arrow nocked and aimed at Dalton.
TWENTY-SIX
I spin fast, hand going for my gun, certain the bears are emerging from the forest, but Moses says, “Miss Casey? Please don’t do that,” and my hand stops and I see no sign of any bears behind us.
“What the fuck?” Dalton says. “What the actual fuck?”
“Please lift your hands,” Moses says.
“You’re shitting me,” Dalton says. “Tell me you’re shitting me, because if you are actually holding a gun on my wife after she just risked her life—”
“Calm down, Eric,” Moses says. “Please calm down.”
Dalton sputters, unable to even respond beyond a few half-formed profanities as his face purples with rage.
“What’s going on here?” I ask slowly.
“We need your help,” Moses says.
“Our help?” Dalton’s voice rises, booming through the forest. “You want our fucking help? Pretty goddamn sure we did just help you. Saved your fucking life and Casey nearly got killed doing it. I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t actually give a fuck. You have five seconds to lower those weapons and apologize, or as far as I’m concerned, the First Settlement is as much a threat as the fucking hostiles. Do you understand me?”
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Eric. Not you. Not Casey.”
“Then lower your fucking—!”
“We need one of you to come with us. As our guest.”
An unintelligible string of profanity from Dalton.
I lift a hand to stop his tirade. “We have been through this bullshit before with Edwin, when he wanted a hostage to ensure our help finding a killer … a killer who, I will point out…”
I turn and look straight at Leon. I don’t need to say another word. The look on his face—the guilt and pain—almost makes me regret bringing it up. Almost.
“This is not how you get our assistance,” I say. “We allowed it that one time, only because someone volunteered. Apparently, that set a dangerous precedent. I understand Edwin wants this problem with the hostiles resolved, but we do not need the incentive of a hostage. Tell him—”
“You tell him,” Angus cuts in. “Better yet, give him back and give Felicity back, and we won’t need to take any hostages.”
“What?” I say.
“Fuck,” Dalton mutters. “Let me guess. Edwin and Felicity haven’t returned from Rockton, and you think we’re holding them hostage.”
Moses shoots a look at Angus. “We are not accusing anyone. All we know is that my daughter and my father-in-law went to Rockton and didn’t return.”
“Daughter…” Dalton breathes. A quick glance at me. “Fuck.”
“Okay,” I say. “Everyone’s freaking out and we all need to calm down. Yes, Edwin and Felicity came to Rockton. We spoke to them, and they left.” I lift my watch. “Almost four hours ago—half a day.” I look up at Moses. “I understand that you’re worried, but think about it. What possible reason would we have for taking them hostage?”
“Yeah,” Dalton says. “Best way to deal with complaints is to lock the person up. Then go investigate the case they came to complain about. Makes perfect sense.” His hard gaze sweeps the trio. “Edwin is an asshole, and I don’t want him around a minute longer than necessary.”
“Then you’ve hurt them,” Angus says. “You’re a very angry man, and you lost your temper and hurt them and now you’re holding them captive.”
“A very angry man,” Dalton mutters. “Nah, kid. Right now I’m a fucking furious man. Because the assholes we just saved turned their weapons on my wife—two minutes after she escaped a grizzly bear.”
“Nobody in Rockton hurt Edwin or Felicity. I think you two”—I nod to the men—“know that. You realize they left town of their own free will. The problem is that they’ve gone missing, and if you return home and say so, people will presume we took them. You need to be able to say you crossed that off the list first, by coming home with me in tow as a hostage.”
“Except you don’t actually need to do any of that,” Dalton says. “You could just thank us for saving your asses and then tell us what happened, and let us help you figure out a solution. All that works a helluva lot better when you aren’t holding a gun to our heads.”
“We need leverage,” Moses says. “Whether you have Edwin and Felicity or know something about their disappearance or can help us find them. You will do none of those things without cause.”
“Interesting hypothesis,” Dalton says. “You know the problem with a theory? It remains theoretical until you actually fucking test it. You refuse to collect the empirical evidence required to make this one anything more than a goddamn theory.”
A look passes behind Moses’s eyes. It’s the same one Dalton gets on hearing unfamiliar words—that mingling of confusion, shame, and anger—and I’m about to cut in when Dalton says, “Test your damn hypothesis. Ask us for our help. See what you get.”
“Make him stop talking,” Angus says. “This is what he does. He talks and he talks and he talks, with big words to make us feel small.” He steps forward, knife raised. “Stop talking.”
“Or what?” Dalton says, meeting his gaze.
“I’ll make you stop. By cutting your tongue from your head.”
Dalton’s gray eyes chill. “So your sister wasn’t the only—”
Angus lunges, knife flashing. Dalton’s fist slams out, hitting him in the arm, knocking the knife aside, and then, in a blink, he has Angus in a choke hold and I have my gun out, and there is a moment of chaos—everyone shouting—and then silence. Utter silence as everyone freezes into place.
Dalton has Angus on his knees, arm around his neck. Leon points the rifle at Dalton. I point my gun at Leon. Moses’s bowstring is taut, weapon aiming first at Dalton and then at me and then back. It is as Moses pivots, trying to choose a target, that he stops, shoulders tensing, a sharp hiss of breath whistling through his teeth as he spots something. He pivots his bow—
“Don’t,” Anders says.
“Hey, Will,” I say. “Nice timing.”
He stands behind Leon, his gun to the back of the man’s head. His gaze darts my way, a smile chasing it. “It’s all about the timing, Case. And knowing when you’re shit at sneaking up on people, so you wait for a bit of noise to cover your advance.”
A throat-clearing to my left reveals Sebastian pointing a rifle at Moses. I look at the gun, and then I look at Anders, who shrugs. While Dalton had agreed to let Sebastian try militia duty, I’d suggested not being too quick to give him a weapon. Apparently, not knowing the boy’s background, Anders had decided to ignore that advice. We’ll have to talk about this later.
For now, though, I must admit that Sebastian is doing exactly what I’d expect. He’s calm and collected, pointing that rifle at the correct person, finger off the trigger, the barrel steady, no sign of nerves. I’m not sure Sebastian has nerves, though he can fake them when it’s in his best interests. His true self is this—terrifyingly coolheaded.
“I decided to take the kid on patrol,” Anders says. “We heard shots earlier and came running to find these guys holding you at gunpoint.”
“We’re fine. Just shaken.”
&n
bsp; “Well, you’re lucky, because we spotted grizzlies. Three of them. They were off in the distance, though.”
My lips twitch, but I say nothing.
Dalton looks at his deputy. “You almost done? Or do you want to chat about the weather before you get this asshole to point his rifle away from my fucking head?”
“It is nice weather, isn’t it? Bit cooler today, but the sunshine makes up for it.”
Dalton glares at him.
Anders only grins and shrugs. “I’m the deputy, boss. It isn’t my place to give orders while the sheriff is right here and not physically inhibited from giving them himself.”
Dalton grunts and shakes his head. “Leon? Aim that fucking gun somewhere else.”
Moses lowers his bow, but Leon only tenses.
“Yeah, that’s a bad idea,” Dalton says. “You’ve now got a third gun trained on you, Leon, one held by a young man without a whole lot of experience in trigger control.”
Leon’s gaze swings left, and he gives a start, seeing Sebastian for the first time. He doesn’t lower his rifle, though, just says, “I’d appreciate it if you release my boy first, Eric.”
Dalton grunts. “Not actually how this works when you’re outgunned, but I’m gonna let you have this as a sign of good faith.”
He kicks Angus’s knife to his father’s feet and then gives the young man a shove in the same direction. Angus scrambles up and spins on Sebastian.
“You,” Angus says. “This—this is the boy I told you about.” He swings on Moses. “The one who’s been wooing your daughter.”
“Wooing?” Sebastian’s brows shoot up as he lowers the rifle. “Is that like flirting? Or more like dating?”
Angus’s face purples, and amusement dances in Sebastian’s eyes. I shoot Sebastian a warning look, but he only grins my way.
“Either way,” Sebastian says, “it’s incorrect. Felicity and I are friends. You just don’t like that because you’re the one who wants to go a-courting … and she’s not interested.” He slings the rifle over his shoulder and holds out a hand to Moses. “You’re Felicity’s dad, then? Nice to meet you. I’m Sebastian.”
A Stranger in Town Page 22
