The bear swung around again, distracted by the shout as Preacher had hoped. Dog was safe for the moment.
But only for the moment. If the bear killed Preacher, the big cur would be next.
Lorenzo’s rifle boomed from the top of the bank. The bear stumbled a little as the ball smashed into its chest. “Die, you son of a bitch!” Lorenzo yelled. “Why won’t you die?”
Preacher dodged aside as the grizzly swiped at him with both paws. He avoided the first blow, but the second one clipped him on the left shoulder and sent him rolling again. Fiery pain rippled down Preacher’s arm from the gashes torn by the creature’s claws.
Summoning up all the strength he could, Preacher surged back to his feet. He wouldn’t have time to reload once he pulled the triggers. He had to save his shots until he was sure they would do the most good.
The bear charged him. Preacher spun away from the attack. As the bear lumbered past him, Preacher took a chance.
He jumped on the bear’s back.
He looped his left arm around the bear’s neck and tried to get his legs around the creature’s thick body. As he burrowed against the thick, rank-smelling fur, he struggled to get the barrel of the pistol in his right hand against the creature’s ear—another way to its crazed brain. The bear flailed around so much the gun muzzle kept slipping away from where Preacher wanted it before the mountain man could pull the trigger.
A claw hooked in his buckskin shirt without puncturing his flesh, but it was enough of a grip for the bear to tear him loose and fling him away. Preacher went rolling helter-skelter across the ground just as Dog had a few moments earlier. When he came to a stop, he tried to force his muscles to work, but his brain was too stunned. He rose slightly but slipped down again.
The bear lumbered toward him like a furry avalanche, it’s angry roar reminding Preacher of the
A shaggy gray shape darted between Preacher and the grizzly. Dog was back on his paws, and he planted himself firmly in the bear’s path, snarling and growling his defiance as he got ready to protect his friend to his last breath and last drop of blood.
The bear stopped a few feet away and roared again. Preacher saw shadows moving and looked up to see Lorenzo standing at the edge of the wash, lining up a shot with his rifle.
“Don’t!” Preacher croaked. “Hold your fire, Lorenzo!”
The old-timer didn’t lower his rifle, but he didn’t press the trigger, either. He looked at Preacher and said, “What do you mean, don’t shoot?”
“You ain’t gonna kill him. You’re just gonna make him mad.”
“Looks to me like he’s already mad.”
As if to prove it, the bear bellowed again.
Breathing hard, Preacher said, “Look at him. He’s tired and hurt bad. He don’t want this fight any more than we do.”
It was true. The bear was swaying more than normal when standing on its hind legs. The beady little eyes were dim with pain and confusion. Since it hadn’t attacked again, Preacher wondered if he could wait it out. Maybe the bear was finally about to collapse and die.
Instead, the great beast abruptly wheeled around and started to move away. It dropped to all fours and picked up speed as it swung along the bottom of the arroyo.
“Preacher?” Lorenzo shouted. “What do I do now?”
“Let him go,” Preacher muttered. “Just let him go.” To the big cur, who was straining to bound after the grizzly, he added, “Dog, stay.”
As Preacher pushed himself into a sitting position, the bear disappeared around a bend in the wash. Preacher struggled to his feet, retrieved his rifle, and managed to get hold of the rope, which still dangled into the wash from Horse’s saddle.
“I’m gonna tie this around Dog,” he said. “Horse can lift him outta this hole and then pull me out the same way.”
“But the bear—”
“The bear’s done for,” Preacher said. “You reckon he’d do that if he didn’t know it was over?”
Lorenzo scratched his jaw. “Well, I dunno. Maybe not. What’re we gonna do?”
“We’re gonna go back to the wagons, and tomorrow we’re headin’ to Santa Fe.”
Preacher might not be a superstitious man, and he knew it was going to bother him to let the bear go after making that promise to Roland Bartlett, but he was beginning to think of the grizzly as a force of nature, just like the tornado that had almost wrecked the caravan earlier in the journey. Some things it was a waste of time to fight. A smart man picked his battles.
And God help him, Preacher was done with that one.
CHAPTER 19
Dog didn’t care much for having the rope tied around him like a sling and being lifted out of the wash by Horse. He whined as he began to rise into the air.
“Up you go,” Preacher told the big cur. Lorenzo waited atop the bank for him.
Preacher had checked Dog for injuries and found some deep scratches where the bear had grabbed him and flung him away. The mountain man had some medicine made from roots and herbs in his saddlebags that would
