“We’re together now. We ain’t married yet but it’s the same. You said so yourself. And if we’re together then I have a say and my say is that I’m getting you and the kids out of these mountains.”
“But the bounty . . .”
“We’ll make do without it. I don’t earn a lot but it’s enough that we won’t go without clothes on our backs or food in our bellies.”
“We’d lose your share, too.”
Fargo had heard enough. “Both of you get full shares whether you’re here or not.”
“Why would you do that for us after I whomped on you?” Moose asked.
Shrugging, Fargo looked at Cecelia and her kids. “Figure it out yourself.”
“It’s awful kind,” Cecelia said, “but I’ve never shirked a job my whole life.”
“You’ve lost a gallon of blood,” Fargo recited. “Your rib is busted and the bear cut you so deep I had to stitch you with Wendy’s fishing line. It’ll be a week or two before you’re back on your feet and you won’t be yourself for a month or more. I wouldn’t call that shirking.”
“Listen to him,” Moose said.
Cecelia tried to sit up but couldn’t. “I reckon I have to give in. But not ’cause you want me to. I can’t protect my young’uns, the state I’m in.”
“You can’t travel, either,” Fargo said. “Not today, anyway.”
Moose agreed to stay with her while Fargo and the rest went after the male grizzly. They headed out within the hour. Tracks on the other side of the stream pointed due north. Once in the woods the sign was scarcer but Fargo stuck to the bear’s trail.
Noon came and went.
Fargo was in the lead, Wendy behind him, then Bird Rattler, Red Mink and Lazy Husband. Wooded slopes funneled them to the mouth of a gorge.
The tracks showed that the bear had gone in—but hadn’t come out.
Fargo eyed the high walls and shadows. “I don’t like it. It’s a good spot for the bear to jump us.”
“The brute probably went on out the other side,” Wendy said.
“I should go on ahead while you wait here.”
“Nonsense, my good fellow,” the Brit disagreed. “Why should you take all the risks? We’ll all go in and if you’re right about the bear it will be too bloody bad for him.” Wendy patted his elephant gun.
Against his better judgment Fargo gigged the Ovaro. The still air and the blazing sun turned the gorge into an oven. He was sweating profusely before they went fifty feet. Vegetation was sparse. The tracks in the dust showed that the grizzly had wandered from one side of the gorge to the other.
Wendy removed his hat and wiped his brow with a sleeve. “I say, it’s deuced hot. Reminds me of the time I crossed the Sahara Desert.”
“From the sounds of things, you’ve been most everywhere,” Fargo idly remarked.
“Not really,” Wendy said. “I’ve hunted on most every continent but there’s so much I haven’t set eyes on yet.”
“Did you hunt a lot as a boy?”
“Hardly at all. My passion came to me later in life.”
The Blackfeet had spread out and were three abreast, Bird Rattler in the center. He and Lazy Husband had arrows nocked. Red Mink held a lance.
“Is there anything you’re passionate about?” Wendolyn asked. “Something you couldn’t give up if you tried and you’re not about to try.”
“Women,” Fargo said.
“I can take them or leave them. You ask me, they’re more of a nuisance than they’re worth. A man has to cater to their every wish. And they’re so emotional. I knew a woman once who would burst into tears at the drop of a feather and she’d drop the feather.”
“They have their good points.”
A bend hid the next stretch.
“A female can’t compare to the excitement of the kill,” Wendy went on. “When I’m looking down my barrel into the eyes of a charging rhino or tiger, I’m as close as mortal man can be to ecstasy.”
“If you say so.” Fargo would rather attain the heights of pleasure with a woman’s thighs wrapped around him.
“You don’t feel a thrill when you shoot a wild beast?”
“I only do it for food or to defend myself.”
They went around the bend. To the right was a thicket. To the left the stone wall had partially buckled, creating a ramp of stones and earth.
“You must have felt a tingle once or twice,” Wendy persisted. “Haven’t you ever been charged by a buffalo? Or a moose?”
“Both. And I could go my whole life without having it happen again.”
The three warriors were talking in low tones. Something had agitated them.
“Where’s your sense of adventure, man?” Wendy teased. “Where’s your zest for a challenge?”
Stones clattered. Fargo glanced back just as the male grizzly rose up at the top of the ramp. Uttering a thunderous roar, it was on the Blackfeet in less time than they could blink. Red Mink was nearest and his horse bore the brunt of the impact. Both mount and warrior crashed to the ground, Red Mink thrusting with his lance as he went down. The tip sliced into the grizzly’s shoulder but didn’t penetrate far enough to inflict much of a wound. The bear bit down on the horse’s mane and there was the
Bird Rattler let an arrow fly.
Fargo reined around and tugged on the Sharps. It was caught in the scabbard.
Red Mink made it to his knees and stabbed at the grizzly’s chest. He drew the lance back to try again but the bear’s claws flashed once, twice, three times, and Red Mink’s head was left hanging by a ribbon of flesh. Blood pumped in a fine mist.
Bird Rattler loosed another arrow.
The Sharps came free and Fargo jammed the stock to his shoulder.
Lazy Husband was trying to control his bucking horse.
The grizzly had both front paws on Red Mink. Two feathered shafts jutted from its body but it didn’t seem to feel the pain. Growling, it charged Bird Rattler, who was sighting down another arrow. Bird Rattler tried to wheel his mount but the grizzly reached it before he could break into a gallop. Flashing paws met the horse’s hide and blood spurted. The horse shrieked and staggered.
Fargo fired. He didn’t have a heart or lung shot so he went for the head and scored but the slug glanced off. He grabbed for another cartridge.
“God in heaven, man, move!” Wendy bellowed.
Fargo realized he was between the Brit and the griz, and reined aside.
The grizzly swung toward them. Blood flecked its maw and its front paws. Powerful muscles rippling, it barreled at the Ovaro.
An artificial thunderclap filled the gorge. The walls seemed to shake and dust rained down and the bear pitched into a slide that ended with its nose inches from the stallion’s leg.
“Son of a bitch,” Fargo blurted.
Wendy patted his smoking rifle. “I told you this beauty would get the job done.”
The two-bore was a cannon. The slug had shattered the grizzly’s skull. A hole big enough for Fargo to stick his fist in oozed gore.
“Easy as pie,” Wendy boasted.
“Brain Eater won’t be,” Fargo predicted. “She’s twice as big as this one.”
“And elephants are twice as big as she is. All I need is a clear shot and I’ll end her savage spree as easily as I ended the life of this one.” Wendy laughed and commenced to reload. “When you’ve faced down as many meat- eaters of all kinds as I have, a grizzly is—what’s that expression? Oh, yes. A grizzly is small potatoes.”
“You wish,” Fargo said.
