Moose was down, his body convulsing. Brain Eater swatted at his head.
From behind the bear, Bird Rattler rushed. He had a lance. He drove it into her for fully half its length and wrenched it out so he could drive it into her again. But with a hideous roar Brain Eater wheeled. Her paw caught the warrior across the face, her claws shearing through Bird Rattler’s eyes and nose and lips.
Fargo fired. He aimed at the heart. Only a heart shot would drop her quick. But he must have missed because she spun and saw him and charged. Skipping backward, he dropped the Sharps and resorted once again to his Colt. He fired, nearly tripped, and fired once more. She was almost on top of him. He threw himself to one side just as a paw slammed into his leg. Upended, he described a high arc that ended with the thud of his body on the ground. A black pit sucked at him and he fought to stay conscious.
Bethany was screaming.
Thomas bawled, “Ma! Ma! Ma!”
A gun cracked.
Fargo pushed but had no strength. The black pit consumed him, and there was only silence.
Something was crawling on his face.
Fargo opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t. Sunlight seared them like burning flame. They watered and his vision blurred and he shut them. The prickle of tiny legs left his cheek and a fly buzzed his ear. He was aware of the smell of the earth under his cheek, and another smell. His head hurt.
His chest and leg hurt worse. He couldn’t get his mind to work as it should, and in his befuddled state he was unsure where he was or what had happened.
A whimper reminded him.
Fargo tensed to rise, and caught himself. The bear might be nearby. He cracked his lids and saw what was left of Bird Rattler a few yards away. The warrior’s head had been split like a melon and his brain was gone.
The whimper was repeated.
Fargo slowly turned his head. Cecelia was on her back, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, her fingers hooked as if she were scratching at the air. Blood framed her in a pool.
Fargo gambled. He raised his head. Brain Eater was nowhere to be seen. Bodies were, though. Bird Rattler. Lazy Husband—his brain had been eaten, too. Moose. Abner, with half a head. A smaller pile of mangled flesh and shattered bones must be Thomas.
A legion of flies swarmed them.
Fargo pushed to his knees. He had been out for hours. The sun was straight overhead. The front of his shirt was torn and he had claw marks on his chest. His left leg had deeper cuts and was slightly numb. When he stood the leg nearly gave out. He shuffled over to Cecelia and nearly stepped on her intestines.
The grizzly had ripped her open from sternum to hip. That she had lasted as long as she had was a tribute to her will.
Fargo eased down, gently clasped her hand, and said her name.
Cecelia’s eyes opened. They were mirrors to horror beyond reckoning. She tried twice to say something and managed, “Skye?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? It wasn’t your fault.” Cecelia swallowed and winced.
“Why am I still alive?”
“Why are . . . either of us?” Cecelia weakly rejoined. “The bear . . . ate their brains . . . and then left.”
Fargo needed a gun. The grizzly might come back. He started to turn but she gripped his hand so tight, it hurt.
“Wait. You have . . . to save her.”
“Who?” Fargo said, and knew the moment he asked.
“Beth. She got away . . . I think. I told her to run. She went that way . . .” Cecelia tried to point toward the stream. “You must find her.”
“I will,” Fargo vowed.
“I don’t have any kin who would take her,” Cecelia gasped. “Get her to an orphanage. Or a minister or a priest.”
“I’ll see she’s taken care of.”
Cecelia smiled and closed her eyes. “Thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have long left.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.”
“No,” Cecelia said. “Forget about me. Find Bethany. She must be scared to . . .” She stopped and inhaled.
“For what it’s worth, you’re a fine mother,” Fargo sought to ease her regret. “You did what you thought best.” He squeezed her hand but she didn’t squeeze back. “Cecelia?” He pressed his fingers to her wrist; she had no pulse. “Damn.” He slowly stood and surveyed the slaughter. He saw his Sharps. As he was reloading it he remembered the horses.
They were gone.
Fargo went over to where they had been tied. There was no blood, which told him they ran off and weren’t killed. He’d trained the Ovaro to come when he whistled and he whistled several times but the stallion didn’t appear. He moved to the stream and hollered for Bethany over and over, with the same result.
Kneeling, Fargo undid his bandanna. He soaked it and washed each of his cuts to reduce the risk of them festering. He washed his face, wrung the bandanna out, and retied it. Standing, he shouted for Bethany and whistled for the Ovaro, and shouted louder. He was about to turn when the undergrowth to his left crackled. Snapping the Sharps to his shoulder, he aimed at moving brush.
Out of the thicket shuffled Wendolyn. His shirt and pants were ripped and stained with blood and he had cuts on his upper arm that could use stitches. He was holding his elephant gun limply at his side. He mustered a lopsided grin and said, “Miss me?” His legs started to buckle.
Fargo caught him and lowered him onto his back. “I figured the bear got you, too.”
“I never heard it,” Wendy said. “I had just got done buttoning up and it was on me.” He stopped. “Wait. Did you say ‘too’? How many of the others?”
“All of them except you and me and maybe the little girl,” Fargo informed him.
Shock made the Brit paler than he already was. “No,” he said. “Not that remarkable woman and her adorable boys.”
“Here,” Fargo said, undoing his bandanna again. “Let me clean you up.”
The blow to Wendy’s head had cut half an inch deep. Fargo cleaned the slashes and the other wounds and cut a strip from Wendy’s shirt to use as a bandage. The Brit lay quiet until he was done.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself be taken so easily.”
“A grizzly is a ghost when it wants to be.”
“I should have been at your side. Together we could have saved them.”
“Or you could be lying over there with your brains eaten out.”
“I never expected . . .” Wendy paused. “I thought bears were blundering, noisy beasts. Of all the animals I’ve hunted, this grizzly of yours reminds me most of a tiger. Its stealth belies its bulk and its cunning is second to none.”
“That pretty much describes a grizzly, all right,” Fargo said.
“I’ve underestimated my enemy and now those poor people have paid for my mistake.”
“Quit beating yourself over it.”
Grimacing, Wendy sat up. “This beast has to be stopped. We have to kill this blighter.”
“Dead as dead can be,” Fargo agreed.
22
They spent the better part of an hour searching for Bethany, yelling her name until they were hoarse. Then they attended to the bodies. The best they could do was cover them. All except Cecelia. Wendolyn insisted on burying her even though they had nothing to dig with except branches and rocks. They scooped a shallow grave and Wendy bowed his head.
