Grizzly Fury (19 page)

“There is Wendy and me. We'll see to it that you get to town and we'll find someone to look after you.”

“Who? There's no one left but me.”

“Come on out.”

“No.”

Fargo sat back. He was trying to be patient with her but Brain Eater was out there somewhere. “Bethany, your ma wouldn't want you to do this. She didn't tell you to run so you could hide in a hole and die. She wanted you to live.”

“What's the use?” the girl said plaintively.

“You die and there will be no one to remember your ma. How good she was. How much she cared for you. There will be no one to remember Abner and Thomas. Is that what you want?”

“I loved my ma.”

“And she loved you.”

“I loved my brothers too.”

Her face reappeared, her cheeks and chin wet from her crying. “You won't let the bear kill me, will you? It tried and tried but couldn't reach me.”

Fargo glanced at the crushed vegetation below. That explained the grizzly's tantrum. “We'll do all we can to protect you.” He spread his arms and smiled. “Please come out.”

Suddenly she was pressed to his chest and sobbing anew. She clung to him with her face in his shirt, her small frame racked by violent shaking.

Wendy coughed and looked away.

Fargo held her until she became quiet and still. “Beth?” he said softly.

She didn't reply.

Fargo leaned down. Exhaustion and hunger and sorrow had taken their toll; she was sound asleep.

“I'll be,” Wendy said.

“This changes everything.”

Wendy nodded. “We can't very well go off after the bear with her to look after. We'll have to take her to town and come back.” He sighed. “It could be weeks before we find the bear again.”

“It can't be helped,” Fargo said.

“Any idea who you can leave her with?”

“There's a church. Maybe the parson will know of someone.” Fargo carried her down the knoll. He had Wendy hold her while he mounted, then the Brit handed her up. She was so small that he could hold her in one arm.

“Look at her,” Wendy said, smiling. “The little angel.”

Fargo reined around.

“You know,” Wendy said as they rode. “Since we're going back anyway, we might as well spend a few days resting up. I can have that bath. Is there anything you'd like to do?”

Fargo thought of Fanny. “Yes.”

“We'll buy more supplies and return to the fray refreshed. What do you say?”

By then they had reached the meadow. Wisps of smoke rose from the embers of their fire. The third horse was where they had left it, grazing.

Behind the horse, just coming out of the trees, was Brain Eater.

 

The very instant that Fargo set eyes on the giant grizzly, she roared and charged. The sorrel burst into flight. For a split second only the picket pin slowed her. But that moment proved costly. The pin came out and the sorrel was in flight but the bear was on her. Iron jaws ripped her flank. A front paw caught her rear leg. The sorrel stumbled and the bear was on her. The horse squealed at the impact. Meat-eater and prey crashed to the ground. Frantic, the sorrel tried to rise but the bear's maw closed on her throat.

Fargo's Sharps was in his saddle scabbard and he couldn't grab it with Bethany in his arm.

Wendy, though, snapped the elephant gun to his shoulder. He took careful aim, saying, “I've got you now, you ungodly brute.”

Brain Eater hadn't noticed them yet. She was tearing and ripping at the sorrel. Blood spurted like rain, soaking the bear's head and hump.

Tiny fingers clutched at Fargo's buckskin shirt. Bethany was awake and frozen in terror.

Fargo wondered what Wendy was waiting for; he probably wanted to be sure of a kill shot. But if he took too long and the grizzly spotted them—

Brain Eater looked right at them and let out a loud
woof
of surprise. A chunk of horseflesh and hide hung from her mouth. Dropping it, she started over the horse toward them.

Wendy fired. The two-bore boomed and bucked, and so did his mount. He grabbed at the saddle to keep from being thrown and almost dropped the elephant gun.

Fargo's gaze was glued to the bear. She had stopped as if she'd slammed into a wall. He thought the slug hit her in the chest but he couldn't be sure. She looked down at herself and then at them. Roaring, she charged.

“Hell,” Fargo said, and reined around. “Light a shuck!” he shouted, and galloped into the woods. Bethany flung her arms around his neck and bleated like a stricken lamb. Fargo glanced back.

Wendolyn was trying to turn his horse but it was giving him trouble. It saw the grizzly rushing toward them and wheeled on its own. Instead of following the Ovaro, though, it bolted in a different direction.

The grizzly stopped and looked after each horse and chose to pursue Wendy's.

Fargo reined after them. The Brit was a good rider but it would take considerable skill to stay ahead of Brain Eater, as he had learned the hard way. He heard the bear roar and the crash of undergrowth. Wendy was shouting but Fargo couldn't make out the words.

Bethany began crying into Fargo's neck and whimpering.

Fargo couldn't take the time to comfort her. He concentrated on riding and only on riding. He glimpsed a gigantic brown form and would have lashed the reins for the Ovaro to go faster were it not that he had to hold on to Bethany or she would fall.

Wendy had stopped yelling. Fargo lost sight of the bear. He continued in the direction they had been going and was startled a minute later when a roar split the wilds from off to the east. He reined down the mountain and after several minutes drew rein to listen and look.

Bethany had stopped crying and was gazing fearfully about with tear-filled eyes. “Where are they?” she whispered.

Fargo didn't know. It was quiet—too quiet. “They have to be near here.” Scouring the terrain, he rode on. He was tempted to call Wendy's name but the grizzly might hear and come after them.

Bethany pressed her cheek to his. “I'm scared.”

“So am I.”

“You are? But you're a man and you have guns.”

“I bleed like anybody else,” Fargo said.

“Ma liked you,” the girls said out of the blue.

“I liked her, too.”

“She said if she didn't have Moose she wouldn't mind being your woman.”

“Did she, now?” Fargo was listening intently.

“Would you have liked Ma to be?”

Fargo looked at her. “Any man would.” He was rewarded with a smile.

The faint crack of what might be a limb put an end to their talk. Fargo descended another quarter of a mile but saw only birds and a squirrel. He began a broader search. They entered a stand of mixed pines, the trees so closely spaced that he couldn't see more than a dozen yards. A groan caused him to draw rein.

“Did you hear that?” the girl whispered.

“Shhhh.” Fargo positioned her so she was on his left hip and he could get at his holster quickly if need be.

Another groan rose.

Fargo went past more trees. Suddenly the Ovaro shied. There, in the grass, lay the Brit, his hat gone and a deep gash on his forehead. His elephant gun was a few feet away. Fargo didn't see his horse—or the bear.

Sliding off, Fargo lowered Bethany. “Stay close,” he cautioned. He needn't have bothered. She glued herself to his leg.

“Wendy?” Fargo said, kneeling. He lightly slapped the hunter's cheek. “Can you hear me?”

Wendolyn's eyes opened and he winced and said, “Bloody hell.”

“What happened? Where's Brain Eater?”

“Gone, I hope.” Wendy rose onto his elbows and gingerly placed a hand on the new wound. “The brute chased off after my horse.”

“You jumped off to save yourself?”

Wendy started to shake his head and winced. “I wish I could claim to be that clever. But no, I was knocked off by a tree limb.”

“It may have saved your life,” Fargo said. “You don't look too bad off.” The gash wasn't bleeding and there wasn't any other wound that he could find.

“It didn't do my head any favors.” Wendy sat up, with help, and hung his head in misery. “I feel sick. It wouldn't surprise me if I had a concussion.”

“You'll be all right, mister,” Bethany said. “We'll fix you.”

Wendy looked at her and smiled. “I'd almost forgotten about you, child. Now there are the three of us but only one horse.”

“We'll look for yours,” Fargo said. He picked up the elephant gun and had Wendy climb on the Ovaro. Then he handed up the rifle and went to lift Bethany.

“No,” she said. “I want to be with you.”

“I need my hands free.”

“I like you,” she said.

“It's for your own good.”

“Please.”

Fargo looked at the Brit, who shrugged.

“I remember Fanny saying that you have a way with the ladies.”

“Who's Fanny?” Bethany asked.

“A friend.” Fargo held her on his left hip and the reins in his right hand and followed a trail of crushed grass and brush. It went for almost a mile, to the crest of a ridge. There, the tracks diverged. The hoofprints went on down the mountain toward the creek while the bear's tracks bore to the south into heavy forest. “Your horse got away.”

“Good for him.”

Bears were fast over short distances but lacked stamina. Fargo imagined that Brain Eater was holed up somewhere, resting and licking her wounds. That reminded him. “I know you hit her when you shot.”

“Yet she didn't go down.” Wendy ruefully regarded his elephant gun. “I've dropped bull elephants and cape buffalo with one shot but not this bloody bear.”

“Grizzlies are tough,” Fargo said.

“If you ask me, this one is damn near indestructible.” Wendy gazed at the timber. “Do you think she's had enough or will she come after us?”

Fargo looked at Bethany. “I wouldn't relax just yet,” he said.

That evening they camped at the base of a cliff. To one side was a pile of boulders twenty feet high. To the other was the game trail they had followed down. That was likely how Brain Eater would approach, so Fargo sat facing the trail with the Sharps close to his right leg and the elephant gun close to his left.

Wendy was in no condition to shoot. The Brit had been nauseous and dizzy most of the day and now lay with his head propped on a rolled-up blanket, gazing glumly into the fire.

Bethany was curled up asleep under another blanket, only her hair showing.

Fargo added several pieces of wood to the fire. For supper they'd had pemmican and a few swallows of water. His canteen was only a third full so he hadn't made coffee. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“I hate this,” Wendy said. “I feel next to helpless. It shouldn't all be on your shoulders.”

“By tomorrow you might feel better,” Fargo tried to encourage him.

“I hope so.” Wendy hesitated. “I haven't said anything but I've been blacking out for short spells, half a minute or so. My mind shuts down and then I'm conscious again. I don't know what to make of it.”

Fargo hid his concern. The Brit needed a doctor and the only sawbones in five hundred miles was in Gold Creek. Even if they pushed hard it would take two days to get there. “Just take it easy.”

“I can help keep watch at least.”

“No,” Fargo said. All they needed was for Wendy to black out when Brain Eater was stalking them.

“I tell you, I—” Wendy's chin dipped to his chest. His chest rose and fell rhythmically in the measured breathing of deep sleep.

Fargo swore. They were in a bad way. Little water, not much food, one of them hurt severely and the other a small girl, only one horse between them and a killer bear somewhere near. “Can it get any worse?” he asked the air. He knew the answer.

The night crawled. Several times Fargo got up and paced.

Along about four in the morning he was overcome with drowsiness and his head lolled. He told himself that he must get up and move around, but the next he knew, he opened his eyes and squinted in the bright glare of the morning sun. It had been up a couple of hours.

Wendy and Bethany were still asleep.

Fargo stretched and stood. Birds were singing. Far below the blue of the creek stood out against the green of the woodland. Reluctantly, he woke the Brit. He had to shake him a while before Wendy's eyes fluttered open.

“Is that you, Yank? I was having the most wonderful dream.”

“How do you feel?”

“Too soon to tell.”

Bethany jerked at Fargo's touch, then sat up. She scratched her hair and looked around and said, “Oh.”

Fargo passed out more pemmican for breakfast. When they were done he boosted Wendy onto the Ovaro and swung Bethany up.

He slid the Sharps into the scabbard and held on to the elephant gun.

The slope below was treacherous. Fargo picked their way with care. The stallion, as sure-footed as it was, experienced a few slips and slides. He was glad when they reached the bottom.

Fargo gazed over his shoulder—and his blood became ice.

A giant form was silhouetted on top of the cliff. It was in shadow and the head and neck were indistinguishable from the dark block of body but there was no confusing it for an elk or some other animal.

Brain Eater wheeled and plunged into the forest.

It happened so fast, Fargo half wondered if he'd imagined it. But no, she was shadowing them. He continued on down. That she hadn't attacked was encouraging. She might hold off until dark.