The grizzly lunged back and forth, roaring out its defiance and anger. Suddenly it turned and ran straight at one of the wagons, crashing into the vehicle, causing it to shudder. Ripping off the canvas cover, the bear reached for the man inside and jerked him out of the wagon bed.
That grizzly was a damn smart critter, Preacher thought. Either that or guided by blind luck and instinct. The bullwhackers had to stop shooting for fear they would hit the man grabbed by the bear.
The bear lurched away from the wagon and threw the man among the livestock. The oxen were milling around in instinctive terror because of the grizzly’s presence and would trample the bullwhacker if someone didn’t reach him quickly.
Preacher darted into the press of oxen and reached the man’s side. He bent down to grab his arm and pulled him to his feet. The man was only semiconscious.
Preacher hauled him out of danger and looked around for the bear. Not seeing the grizzly, he shouted, “Where’d the varmint go?”
Several men leaped down from the wagons where they had taken shelter and ran toward Preacher. “It got out of the circle and ran off!” one of them said. “We tried to kill it, but it seemed like it didn’t even feel the shots!”
“Build the fire up bigger,” Preacher snapped. “Get one started on the other side of the circle. I don’t want that damn thing gettin’ close to the wagons again without somebody seein’ it!”
The bullwhackers hurried to carry out those orders. While they were doing that, Preacher went over to the last place he had seen Leeman Bartlett.
He found Roland sitting on the ground, cradling his father’s bloody, ravaged body, rocking back and forth in shock and grief. Tears rolled down the young man’s face. Casey knelt beside Roland with a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to know she was there.
Preacher looked at Casey with a question plain on his face. She shook her head. Bartlett was gone, which came as no surprise considering the amount of terrible damage done to him by the bear’s claws and teeth.
“Why?” Roland moaned. “Why did that monster do such a thing? My father never hurt it! My father never hurt anybody!”
Preacher hunkered on his heels on Roland’s other side. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That varmint’s crazy. Loco even for a bear. Somethin’ drove it out here on the prairie in the first place, and the way it followed us all those miles just ain’t normal. A bear’s brain ain’t very big, but this one’s big enough to hold a powerful lot of hate.”
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Roland choked out. “I just can’t believe it.”
“I reckon you don’t want to be thinkin’ about this right now, Roland, but you’re the boss of this wagon train now.”
Roland’s head came up as he glared at Preacher. “You think I
“I know you don’t,” Preacher said. “But you got responsibilities.”
“No. You’re in charge.” Roland’s voice held a bitter edge. “My father listened to you and took your advice on everything. Every time there was trouble, you gave the orders. You’re in charge, Preacher.”
Preacher wasn’t going to waste time arguing. Roland was too grief-stricken to be giving orders, anyway. Later on, he would be able to see the situation more clearly.
Preacher squeezed Roland’s shoulder and repeated, “I’m sorry about your pa.” Then he straightened and looked around. He saw the bullwhackers had followed his orders. The campfire was blazing brighter, and a fire burned on the other side of the circle, too. The light from the flames extended out from the wagons.
“I want a man on guard at every wagon,” Preacher said. “How bad are those other two fellas hurt?”
“Charley’s back is ripped up pretty bad,” one of the men replied. “We’ll clean it up. I think he’ll be all right. Pettigrew’s just shaken up from bein’ tossed around by that bear.”
Preacher nodded. He was glad to hear the other injuries weren’t too serious. Leeman Bartlett’s brutal death was plenty bad enough by itself.
When Preacher was satisfied the camp was well-guarded, he motioned for Lorenzo to follow him and returned to the place where Roland still sat, holding his father’s body.
“Casey, why don’t you take Roland into one of the wagons?” Preacher suggested. “Lorenzo and me will take care of his pa.”
Roland looked up at him. “What are you going to do? There’s nothing anyone can do for him now!”
“That ain’t true. We’ll clean him up, get him ready to be laid to rest proper-like in the mornin’.”
Casey said, “Preacher’s right, Roland. Come with me.”
For a moment, Roland looked like he was going to argue. But then he sighed and eased his pa’s body to the ground. He stood up shakily and allowed Casey to take his arm and lead him toward one of the wagons.
Preacher waited until the two of them had climbed into the vehicle, then said to Lorenzo, “Can you rustle up a blanket?”
“To wrap Mr. Bartlett in? Sure.”
“I know which wagon his gear is in. I’ll see if I can find him some clothes that ain’t all tore up and bloody.”
By the time half an hour had passed, they had Bartlett’s body cleaned up, dressed in fresh clothes, and wrapped in a blanket as it was laid out under one of the wagons. First thing in the morning, they would dig a grave and give him a proper burial.
“I never did expect to see that damned ol’ bear again,” Lorenzo said as he and Preacher looked out at the night where the fearsome creature had vanished. “Why do you reckon it’s followed us all this way?”
Preacher shook his head. “I don’t know. Somethin’ wrong in its head, more than likely. Just plumb loco, like I said earlier. But I do know one thing.”
