by Jon Sharpe
“I’ve noticed that about you Yanks. Moose, God rest his soul, had an atrocious stink. And those Blackfeet had a peculiar smell about them, as well.”
“That was the bear fat.”
“I beg your pardon?” Wendy said.
“Some tribes rub bear grease in their hair to make it shine. One uses red clay. In the Southwest there’s a tribe that’s fond of smearing their hair with pulp they dig out of a cactus. Another uses buffalo shit sometimes.”
“My word. That’s barbaric.”
“By your standards,” Fargo said.
“Here now,” Wendy said. “By any standard, to use buffalo excrement in one’s hair is despicable.”
“Some use piss.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that you’re making this up. No one in their right mind would do that.”
Fargo was about to say that people made do with what was on hand when he sensed movement in the rain. He looked, and a tingle ran down his spine.
Something was coming toward them.
Fargo stayed still. Whatever it was, odds were it hadn’t seen them. Wendy went to speak and Fargo put his finger to his lips and then pointed at the vague shape in the rain. All they could tell was that it was big.
The thing stopped in front of the hollow.
Fargo placed both hands on his Sharps. Whatever it was, it knew they were there.
Wendy motioned at his elephant gun and at the creature and pantomimed shooting it.
Fargo shook his head.
Wendy silently mouthed the words, “Why not?”
As if to answer him, the rain parted and the Ovaro stuck its head under the overhang.
“I’ll be damned,” Wendy said.
Fargo’s joy was boundless. Reaching up, he patted the stallion’s neck. “It’s good to see you again.” The stallion nuzzled him and he scratched around its ears and under its jaw.
There was more movement, and a second and third horse clustered at the opening.
“Our lucky day,” Wendy beamed, patting one.
Thunderstorms in the high country swept in swiftly and just as swiftly swept off to the east. Already the rain was slackening and the lightning flashed less.
Fargo stayed put until the drizzle dwindled to random drops. Emerging, he led the Ovaro and another horse over to the spruce. Wendolyn brought the third. When Fargo bent and picked up his saddle blanket, he said, “Going somewhere?”
“Bethany,” was all Fargo had to say.
Two hours of daylight remained, enough for them to sweep in a wide circle. The rain washed away any tracks the girl made but Fargo had to try. Twilight was falling when he reined toward the meadow.
“I kept hoping Brain Eater will have another go at us,” Wendy said.
“Be careful what you hope for.”
Gathering enough dry wood to last the night took a long time. For supper they had coffee and beans. Fargo was ravenous and had two helpings. He was spooning up the last of the sauce when Wendy cleared his throat.
“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?”
“God,” Wendy said.
“Bethany,” Fargo said softly. “I’m afraid it’s just the three of us—” He got no further.
The girl’s face disappeared and racking sobs came out of the hole. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Wendy sat on a small boulder and leaned on his elephant gun. “I’ve never wanted to kill anything as much as I do this bloody beast.”
Fargo waited for Beth to cry herself out. It was a long wait. When all he heard were sniffles, he turned to the hole. “Bethany? You need to come out now.”
She didn’t respond.
“Please.”
“Go away,” Bethany said.
“Not without you. You can’t stay here by yourself. You’ll starve or the bear will get you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Ma is gone. Abner’s gone. Thomas is gone.” Bethany mewed in despair. “I’m all alone.”
“There is Wendy and me. We’ll see to it that you get to town and we’ll find someone to look after you.”
“Who? There’s no one left but me.”
“Come on out.”
“No.”
Fargo sat back. He was trying to be patient with her but Brain Eater was out there somewhere. “Bethany, your ma wouldn’t want you to do this. She didn’t tell you to run so you could hide in a hole and die. She wanted you to live.”
“What’s the use?” the girl said plaintively.
“You die and there will be no one to remember your ma. How good she was. How much she cared for you. There will be no one to remember Abner and Thomas. Is that what you want?”
“I loved my ma.”
“And she loved you.”
“I loved my brothers too.”
Her face reappeared, her cheeks and chin wet from her crying. “You won’t let the bear kill me, will you? It tried and tried but couldn’t reach me.”
Fargo glanced at the crushed vegetation below. That explained the grizzly’s tantrum. “We’ll do all we can to protect you.” He spread his arms and smiled. “Please come out.”
Suddenly she was pressed to his chest and sobbing anew. She clung to him with her face in his shirt, her small frame racked by violent shaking.
Wendy coughed and looked away.
Fargo held her until she became quiet and still. “Beth?” he said softly.
She didn’t reply.
Fargo leaned down. Exhaustion and hunger and sorrow had taken their toll; she was sound asleep.
“I’ll be,” Wendy said.
“This changes everything.”
Wendy nodded. “We can’t very well go off after the bear with her to look after. We’ll have to take her to town and come back.” He sighed. “It could be weeks before we find the bear again.”
“It can’t be helped,” Fargo said.
“Any idea who you can leave her with?”
“There’s a church. Maybe the parson will know of someone.” Fargo carried her down the knoll. He had Wendy hold her while he mounted, then the Brit handed her up. She was so small that he could hold her in one arm.
“Look at her,” Wendy said, smiling. “The little angel.”
Fargo reined around.
“You know,” Wendy said as they rode. “Since we’re going back anyway, we might as well spend a few days resting up. I can have that bath. Is there anything you’d like to do?”
Fargo thought of Fanny. “Yes.”
“We’ll buy more supplies and return to the fray refreshed. What do you say?”
By then they had reached the meadow. Wisps of smoke rose from the embers of their fire. The third horse was where they had left it, grazing.
Behind the horse, just coming out of the trees, was Brain Eater.
The very instant that Fargo set eyes on the giant grizzly, she roared and charged. The sorrel burst into flight. For a split second only the picket pin slowed her. But that moment proved costly. The pin came out and the sorrel was in flight but the bear was on her. Iron jaws ripped her flank. A front paw caught her rear leg. The sorrel stumbled and the bear was on her. The horse squealed at the impact. Meat-eater and prey crashed to the ground. Frantic, the sorrel tried to rise but the bear’s maw closed on her throat.
Fargo’s Sharps was in his saddle scabbard and he couldn’t grab it with Bethany in his arm.
Wendy, though, snapped the elephant gun to his shoulder. He took careful aim, saying, “I’ve got you now, you ungodly brute.”
Brain Eater hadn’t noticed them yet. She was tearing and ripping at the sorrel. Blood spurted like rain, soaking the bear’s head and hump.
Tiny fingers clutched at Fargo’s buckskin shirt. Bethany was awake and frozen in terror.
Fargo wondered what Wendy was waiting for; he probably wanted to be sure of a kill shot. But if he took too long and the grizzly spotted them—
Brain Eater looked right at them and let out a loud woof of surprise. A chunk of horseflesh and hide hung from her mouth. Dropping it, she started over the horse toward them.
Wendy fired. The two-bore boomed and bucked, and so did his mount. He grabbed at the saddle to keep from being thrown and almost dropped the elephant gun.
Fargo’s gaze was glued to the bear. She had stopped as if she’d slammed into a wall. He thought the slug hit her in the chest but he couldn’t be sure. She looked down at herself and then at them. Roaring, she charged.
“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.
