Beneath a Winter Moon (4 page)

Only his arms worked. He gritted his teeth, mangled lips torn and half-frozen. He was close now,
only a few more feet
—but a new obstacle had come to stand in his way.

“You,” he tried to spit at the man, but the word was barely audible. “Bastard.” He had strained himself and the two syllables took so much energy that he almost lost consciousness.

“
Och
,” the man standing in the cave’s entrance said, “You poor devil.” He shook his head, and then looked out into the forest. “Tell me then, you poor dumb fool—where is it that you are
a’goin
?” A knife appeared in the hermit’s hand and he twisted the shiny, silver blade about, as he squatted down in front of the guide. “This is a special knife, you know. I had it made special, in some nice cutlery shop in
New York
. 1923, it was.” He tapped the blade of the knife on the guide’s head. "Pure silver, made from the holy water bowl from St. James Church on
Revere Street
." The guide flinched and closed his eyes, but said nothing.

"I suppose it's just one more offense that might lead me to hell." He sighed, and then chuckled. “What’s funny is that after I had the bowl melted down and fashioned into the beautiful blade that you see before you, I had it blessed by a priest from the same church!” He chuckled again and then frowned. "Two things could happen here, you see. I could turn and walk away right now, and—I know this will be hard for you to believe—you’ll live if I do walk away.” He smiled as the barely conscious hunting guide opened his eyes. The hermit nodded. “That’s right, you poor, poor fool. You’ll be right as rain within…” he paused and tugged at his long beard, “…oh, I’d say ten hours, as bad as you are ripped up. But you’d recover, and you’d be better than before.” The hermit laughed. “I had my appendix removed as a young man—would’ve died for sure had I not been the king’s man in those days—and be damned if the wee thing didn’t come back after my first change. So, I walk away and you come to my cabin when you’re ready…or go back to your own world and see what they think of the
new you
.”

The guide stared, not believing a word the man said, but listening just the same. Besides, he could barely move let alone argue with the crazy hermit.

“Or I could end your misery.” The hermit tapped the man on the head, again. “
I
wasn’t given a choice, you know. Nay, I never saw my attacker, and was never given the opportunity that I give to you now.” He lowered his face near the guide’s. “I know that
you
know just
what
I am.” He paused when he saw the look come over the guide’s mutilated face. “Oh, yes. You
do
know.” He rose back up to stand before the dying man. “You know what I am, and that means you know exactly what I mean. So, we need to get to it. I’ve got things to do…things of my own to prepare for. Could you
be
what I am, live the life I have, or are you brave enough to face death here and now?”

The guide wanted to reply. He had to reply…his very soul depended on it…but he could not summon the energy to part his lips. He was so close to death. He was so cold. He cried inwardly, sobbing in terror at death’s slow approach. He wished the beast had finished him.

“Well lad...
seein
’ that you can’t or won’t answer, I will just have to go on and make the decision for you.” He gently moved some of the dark strands of hair from the guide’s bloody eyes. “You poor, dumb fool.” The hermit looked at the knife, and then into the dying man’s eyes—and made his decision.

CHAPTER ONE

Thomas raised his glass and tapped it against those of his two companions. The pub was especially loud this night, as it was a Friday and the night before the fall hunting trips begin. Three ice-cold mugs clinked together, and Thomas gave a mock-salute before he brought the foamy, brown liquid to his lips. Thomas
Devereaux
was a man of average height and stature, with sandy brown hair and green eyes. He was in his forties now and his many years in the Army, most spent in the heat of South American sun, had given his face a dark, leathery look. He worked hard to stay healthy and for the most part, he had managed to stay trim and fit. The two men on either side of him were his long-time friends, Delmar Forsythe and Daniel Coahoma.

Delmar was a tall man, more than a few inches over six feet and sturdily built. He had a deep voice and a booming laugh, which he employed often. Daniel was quiet. He was tall and thin with facial features and dark skin that belied a Native American heritage but he would not say much about his ancestry. Delmar and Thomas had made many attempts to prod Daniel into naming his tribe, but Daniel insisted his only tribe was “American” and that was what mattered. Daniel’s friends knew better. They knew the area of
Idaho
that Daniel grew up in and that tidbit along with his looks and surname were enough to convince them that he was Native American. In the beginning, Thomas had been frustrated by Daniel’s evasiveness, feeling that it was rude and haughty, but as time passed, he let it go. Thomas and Delmar felt it was a little strange to be friends with someone for so many years without knowing their childhood background and all the accompanying stories, but they let it go.

Thomas was raised in south
Louisiana
, Delmar in
Seattle
,
Washington
. The three men became as close as brothers during their seven years together in the same small military unit. It was rare that any soldier remain at one post that long; much less in the same unit, even rarer still that all three had the rank of Sergeant. Nevertheless, they had spent those years together staying close both in and out of the field. Thomas had been the first to retire; taking an early retirement package after a parachute accident left him behind a desk. Daniel was second, leaving a year later at his twenty-year mark. Delmar stayed in another year, achieving the rank of Command Sergeant Major.

The three friends got together at least once a year for a hunting trip. Their favorite location was
Northwestern Canada
, where they had come each fall for the past six years. They made a vow that nothing short of extreme emergency would come between them and their annual hunt. After the second year, the scheduling became easier for the friends because Delmar took it upon himself to make all the arrangements. Delmar’s attention to detail rivaled that of an accountant, gathering and depositing their “hunting Trip” funds into a holding account and then using it to pay for everything. Thomas and Daniel could expect to receive an itemized list of every single expense down to the dime shortly after returning home each year.

Thomas was the group’s “fixer” and sometime jokester. His radio call-sign while in the Army had been MacGyver, and for good reason. He could adapt to most any situation, often where others could not see a way in or out. His practical jokes were legend among his family and friends.

Daniel was the mediator of the trio. Always calm, choosing caution above all else, Daniel could be counted on to settle the sometimes bitter disagreements between the three friends—and they had their share of disagreements over the years, some worse than others, but it was always Daniel who broached an amicable settlement.

“To the great Northern Grizzly!” Delmar raised his mug once more, and the glasses clinked again. “To the great Northern Grizzly,” Thomas and Daniel shouted in unison.

Their original plan was to hunt Moose and Elk. They had been forced to settle for a new hunting guides because this year’s influx of hunters into the region had almost doubled, and all of the guides that the companions were familiar with had already been booked. That had all changed one evening at Enoch’s Pub. The three friends had arrived early and sat down at the bar for a beer. Delmar had been oblivious to the mug that had been placed in front of him…the big man didn’t seem to notice anything other than the small television mounted over the bar. Thomas saw that Delmar’s attention was fixated on the small TV and the local news broadcast that shown upon the screen and so he shrugged and focused his attention on Daniel…the two friends trading insults about who was the best shot with a rifle. Thomas was winning, pointing out that he was the group’s only member of “The President’s One Hundred,” the top sharpshooters in the military, when Delmar interrupted their conversation with thundering howl of glee. He pointed at the television and yelled that they were no longer hunting for Elk and other game…they were now hunting for Grizzlies. Not only were they going to hunt bear, he insisted gleefully….they were going to hunt in ‘grizzly bear paradise.’ Thomas and Daniel gazed in the direction of Delmar’s pointed finger, which led to the small television. They saw a toothpaste ad. Daniel muttered a sarcastic, “
Uhuh
,” while Thomas laughed.

The big man explained that there was a small section of private land, over two thousand acres of mountainous terrain, nested between two
protected
wildernesses. Hunting was not allowed in those protected areas, and certainly not allowed on the private land…that is,
until now
. The government had reached a deal with the landowners (basically forcing them to sell) and lobbyists for the hunters and local outposts had negotiated a contract, which allowed the small section of the land open for hunting. Daniel and Thomas looked at each other and shrugged, not quite understanding. Frustrated, Delmar went on to say that, to the east and west were protected lands, to the north were mountains that were all but impassible, and to the south was a lake that stretched the entire length of this new hunting ground.

 “Don’t you see?” He had pleaded. “This tract of land is totally surrounded by areas that never see a single hunter…
ever
.” He explained that this formerly private section of land was too difficult to get into or out of due to the protected wildernesses on either side or the hideous terrain above and below. The only way to reach that land had been to trek through those protected forests and that made such a venture unattractive. Thomas and Daniel just stared, sipping their beer. At that point, Delmar had thrown up his hands. “I’ve always wanted to hunt somewhere like that, guys…I’ve always wanted it. You’ve heard me grumble about never getting into bear country or deep into the mountains.” He finished by saying that the only way to get in is by helicopter or to land a plane on the lake and make the trek north. Grumbling that he had had always planned to stalk a Grizzly, Delmar swore that if he did not act now, he would forfeit his best chance. He argued that other hunters would soon be lining up to get at the fresh, unmolested mountainous region and he went on to surmise that the wilderness preserves surrounding the land would eventually be expanded to engulf the small area, so, this year—this moment was their best chance to get up there and bag a monster Grizzly.

“By ‘their best chance’ you really mean your best chance,” Thomas had said, grinning.

“Well, I….”

Thomas laughed and threw up his hands in mock surrender.

Daniel had mildly protested that they could hunt Grizzly just about anywhere around this part of the country, but Delmar had scoffed at the idea. “The land is all flat. The tallest tree out there is sage brush. Hell, you can spot a Grizzly a mile away…that isn’t what I want and I can’t believe that some people call that
hunting.
” He leaned closer to his two friends, focusing primarily on Daniel, and explained that this Grizzly bear paradise was mountainous, thick with tall trees and full of other game as well. He insisted that they could still hunt elk or moose or, he added eagerly, even
wolves
. Thomas had shuddered at the thought of getting anywhere near wolves, having feared them since a boyhood encounter with one, but Daniel perked up. He thought bagging a wolf would be excellent.

“Always wanted to get a wolf,” he said.

Thomas frowned, never having heard Daniel mention it before now. He asked if their new guides would go along with this and in the same breath, he commented that he wasn’t sure about venturing into bold, new territory with guides who’d never hunted there before. Delmar slapped Daniel on his shoulder as Thomas was out of reach. “Leave that to me.”

Daniel and Thomas had been skeptical that the new plans would work out because they had already signed up to hunt to their usual areas…and no more guides were left that they knew of. The down payments had been made, and the horses, equipment, and guides were booked. Not to be deterred, Delmar again assured them that he would solve the problem…even going so far as to declare that he would pay any extra charges and cover any monetary losses that they might incur from canceling. That satisfied Thomas and Daniel, who were amazed that Delmar would volunteer such a thing.

Delmar had always wanted to hunt for Grizzly but had turned down several opportunities in the past years. The offers had been to hunt bear in the plains where the thickest brush was only waist high. He had scoffed at the idea of spotting a bear a mile away, then stalking it to shoot from more than 300 meters. He could see no sport in such a hunt. This new area promised an opportunity to hunt bear in rough, thick, snow-covered mountainous terrain…a real hunt.

The news of the new hunting ground had quickly spread by word of mouth but no one seemed to know which, if any, outfitter had obtained a lease to hunt the land. It was an odd circumstance, to be sure. For over fifty years, the land had been private property, resting between the two large protected wildernesses. To the North was an unfriendly, icy mountain range, and to the south was a large lake. Thus, as Delmar had insisted, the small tract of land was in a prime spot and had never been hunted. Thomas and Daniel heard that a conglomerate had originally owned the land and that one man had somehow wrestled ownership away from them. The government had longed to add the land to the list of protected areas and upon learning that there was only one owner to contend with, preparations were made to force him to sell or see his land taken “for the benefit of the common good.” The legislature finally made full efforts to seize the land and pay the owner current market value. It was rumored that the unnamed owner put up a good legal fight and was successful in that he managed to retain the right to
live privately
on a small section of the land. The government would own the land while permitting this mystery man to keep his home where it was. The land surrounding his home was declared a no-trespass area.

As far as the three friends could tell, no one in town was personally acquainted with the man who lived within the no-trespass area…dubbed section 0013…but there were rumors that the owner-turned-homesteader’s name was Jeremiah. There was talk that had he’d been living up there for years, only coming to town before the first snows and later, during the thaw.

Information was sketchy but Delmar eventually learned that the new, open land had been leased two months earlier, probably too soon for a hunt this season. Not to be deterred, he learned which outfitter had the contract.

The answer lined everything up, perfectly for Delmar. Steven
Svenson
, of
Svenson
Outfitters had won a bid for a five-year lease. Steven and his wife Jenny, a full partner and co-pilot of their aircraft, had been the trio’s hunting guides for the last four trips. They had gotten to know each other well and considered themselves friends. Thomas had even stayed at the Svensons’ home for a week during an off-season vacation. Things had not worked out this year due to scheduling conflicts, but Delmar was determined that this new lease would change things. He was willing to beg and plead, and would gladly pay top-dollar for a chance to be the first to hunt the land.

Steven was not very surprised when Delmar called and plead his case. Steven explained that he had only just finished one cabin, lakeside at the southernmost section of land, and only had one team of horses there. He wanted to complete two more refit cabins and get at least one more team of horses before committing to any hunts. Also, the law stated that he must have one guide per person, and that meant three guides for Delmar and his friends. They were lacking a third guide. In fact, he pointed out, he and Jenny did not yet have approval from the board overseeing the Wildlife Act, to operate as guides in that territory. Sure, he was supposed to know something that night, but it just went to show that the Svensons’ were unprepared for a hunt.