off.”
“They can?” Cecelia said. “Then why not kill two deer and bleed them? Or even three?”
“What do we do with all that meat?”
“Leave what we don’t eat to rot.”
“No, we dry it and smoke it for jerky,” Fargo proposed.
Between the blood and the venison, he reckoned it just might work.
Rooster excitedly rubbed his hands together. “This is the best idea we’ve had yet. Let’s get to it at first light.”
With the rising of the sun they split into hunting parties. Bird Rattle and his friends went off in one direction, Moose and Wendy in another, Fargo and Rooster yet a third. Usually they saw a lot of deer but by midmorning they hadn’t seen one. When Rooster drew rein in disgust, so did Fargo.
“Figures,” the old scout complained. “There’s never a deer around when you want to shoot one.”
Fargo was about to say that the others might be having better luck when he spied gray coils winding skyward over a mile away and half a mile lower down. “Smoke.”
“Got to be whites. Redskins are smart enough not to let folks know where they are. Should we have a look- see?”
The smoke was thinning by the time they crossed a ridge that overlooked a picturesque valley.
“Yonder, near those trees,” Rooster said, pointing. He rose in his stirrups. “Do you see what I see?”
Fargo did. Shucking the Sharps from his saddle scabbard, he gigged the Ovaro. They descended through heavy timber to the valley floor.
The Ovaro nickered.
“Side by side,” Fargo instructed. “You cover left, I’ll cover right.”
“I’ll watch our backs too.” Rooster’s horse shied and he had to calm it.
The valley was as quiet as a cemetery. Other than a butterfly there was no sign of life. A strong breeze rustled the grass.
“It can’t have been long ago if the fire’s still going,” Rooster said.
“No,” Fargo agreed.
“The damn thing could be anywhere.”
A patch of grass seemed to bulge and Fargo jerked his Sharps up. But it was only another gust.
“You’re twitchy, pard,” Rooster said, and chuckled.
“I’m fond of breathing,” Fargo said. The smell of the smoke was strong. So was another smell that was becoming all too familiar.
The fire was down to charred wood and glowing embers. Beside it lay a coffeepot on its side and an overturned frying pan. Packs had been torn open and the contents strewn about. A sack of flour had burst, spraying flour over what was left of a man who lay sprawled facedown. His clothes were in shreds but enough remained to show he had been wearing overalls with suspenders.
“It’s one of those would-be bear hunters,” Rooster said. “I can’t recollect his name but he makes his living as a store clerk.”
Part of the clerk’s head was missing. Gore oozed from the empty skull.
“Brain Eater,” Rooster said.
Fargo thought he was referring to the dead man’s head.
Then a gigantic shape lumbered out of the woods and growled.
16
“Shoot her!” Rooster cried, snapping his Sharps to his shoulder.
“No!” Fargo said. “Not yet!” He hoped the grizzly would rise onto her rear legs and give them a better shot at her vitals.
Rooster didn’t heed. His rifle boomed. Blood sprayed from the she-bear’s head and she recoiled. But the slug had only grazed her. Opening her maw, she let out with a tremendous roar.
“Ride!” Fargo bawled.
Rooster hauled on his reins but his horse had only begun to turn when Brain Eater slammed into it with the impact of an avalanche. The horse squealed and crashed down. Rooster tried to shove clear but his leg was pinned. He pushed at the saddle as his horse, kicking wildly, sought to rise.
Fargo raised his rifle. He didn’t have much of a shot; the grizzly’s flank was to him.
Brain Eater sank her teeth in the horse’s neck. The horse shrieked, and there was a
Rooster was still frantically trying to free himself.
“Lie still!” Fargo shouted. The bear might ignore him if Rooster pretended to be dead.
Instead, Rooster groped in his pocket. He found a new cartridge and fumbled at inserting it. He wasn’t looking at the grizzly.
Fargo fired just as Brain Eater’s mouth closed on Rooster’s head. Rooster screamed and tried to pull away. His eyes fixed on Fargo in terrified appeal, and then there was another, louder,
Transfixed, Fargo saw the grizzly stick her snout into the hole in Rooster’s head, and slurp. Rooster’s brain oozed out and she gobbled it down in quick gulps. Then she stepped back and turned—toward the Ovaro.
Self-preservation broke Fargo’s spell. Rooster was gone and if he stayed and made a fight of it, he was as good as gone, too.
Brain Eater exploded into motion.
Fargo fled. The stallion galloped toward the far end of the valley with the giant grizzly pounding in pursuit. Teeth gnashed; the bear was biting at the Ovaro’s tail. Fargo twisted and fired at the grizzly’s broad skull. He hit it, too, because a scarlet furrow blossomed. His slug, like Rooster’s, failed to penetrate.
But Brain Eater did slow and shake her head as if she were trying to clear it.
Fargo galloped on. When he glanced over his shoulder the grizzly had stopped. He didn’t. Not until he was in the trees.
Brain Eater was tearing at the dead horse. She ignored Rooster. Apparently the only part of a human she liked to eat were the brains.
Fargo stared at his friend, thinking of former times. “Damn.” Yet another he had lost. At the rate things were going, by the time he reached old age he wouldn’t have any friends left.
He had a decision to make. He could tuck tail and ride off, leaving the grizzly free to go on killing, or he could try to stop the slaughter once and for all.
Dismounting, Fargo tied off the reins. He could get closer on foot than on horseback. He reloaded and stalked along the tree line toward the bear. She was so intent on her feast, she’d forgotten about him.
Fargo moved from cover to cover with the speed of molasses. Any faster, and the movement might give him away.
Brain Eater was standing side-on. Fargo had a good shot if he could get close enough.
The grizzly gnawed at an eye socket. She seemed to like eyes as much as she liked brains.
Fargo raised his Sharps but didn’t shoot. Not yet. He needed to be certain. He skirted a small blue spruce and stopped dead.
Brain Eater was staring in his direction.
Fargo broke out in a sweat. Had she or hadn’t she seen him? He was too far from the Ovaro to reach it if she came after him.
Brain Eater resumed feeding. But something in the way she stood warned Fargo that she was suspicious and was keeping her eye on his vicinity. He took a step and she raised her head.
Fargo froze.
The grizzly raised her muzzle and sniffed. Shifting, she resumed filling her stomach.
