Grizzly (12 page)

"That pompous ass!" he yelled.

Don asked, "What did he say?"

"He'll talk about it. But not here. We've got to go down to his office. He's too goddamned
busy
to come up here where the action is."

"He's not dumb," said Don Stober. "He doesn't want to get a load of buckshot in his tail."

The hunter found a torn patch of earth where the bear had rooted for wild onions. The dirt was still moist. The beast had been here not long ago.

Only now did Boyson chamber a shell into the breech of his rifle. He clicked off the safety. He was ready for anything.

But while he was tracking the bear, the bear was tracking
him
.

The grizzly was almost within reach of the hunter when Boyson caught a trace of the animal's distinctive odor. Most men would have ignored it, and they would have died. He knew better, and whirled, his rifle snapping up to his shoulder.

The move saved his life. The grizzly's great claw was already sweeping toward him. Instead of tearing flesh, it caught the wood stock of the rifle and hurled it from the man's hands as he squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shot was astonishingly loud in the stillness of the forest. It startled the bear, he drew back, and the hunter seized the opportunity to run as fast as he could.

He got a bare fifty yards head start, and the grizzly dropped to all fours and began to chase him. The huge animal gathered speed, and the hunter could hear its breath puffing with each giant stride

Boyson reached the edge of a large stream. The grizzly was close behind him.

Desperately, the man threw himself into the swiftly flowing water. The bear hesitated. He did not fear water, but before he could act, the man had been carried downstream and out of sight around a bend.

The grizzly gave the equivalent of a shrug. There was plenty more food in the woods today. It wasn't necessary to exhaust himself chasing this one.

Although Avery Kittredge kept a nominal office in the park itself, he almost never visited it. He conducted his business from a handsome paneled room in the tallest building in High City, the Boulder Mining Center, a leftover from the boom days of the mid-thirties when silver had been taken out by the carload. Now the mines were closed, but all eyes were fixed on the oil shale operations over the mountain. If they proved out, that might mean new life for High City, which now existed more as base for the park activities and a tourist shopping center than anything else.

The "Park Supervisor" sign on Kittredge's door was burned with a branding iron into a large chip of redwood. It always antagonized Kelly. There wasn't a redwood tree within a thousand miles of the park.

Kittredge, behind his huge, absolutely clean desk looked at Kelly and Don.

"Where's Scott?" he asked.

"Up on the mountain," Kelly said shortly.

The two rangers were standing. It angered Kittredge.

"There are chairs in this office," he said.

"I don't want to sit down," Kelly said. "I want some answers. What the hell are hunters doing up there in the park?"

"Sitting or standing, the answers you'll get are the same," said Kittredge. He looked at the chairs and waited.

Don Stober decided to stop fighting city hall. He sat down. Kelly didn't.

"Last night I was in charge of this operation," Kelly said. "This morning I discover that I'm not. You went over my head."

"I didn't have any choice," Kittredge said. "You weren't staying on top of the situation."

"I had rangers in the field."

"And who was supervising them? I called you last night around eleven. You were nowhere to be found."

"My men don't need to be ramroded."

"No? What did they come up with? I'll tell you. Diddly."

"So you went right ahead and authorized that batch of maniacs. Why couldn't you wait to consult with me?"

"Because I'm tired of your pussyfooting around. It's almost as if you're on the bear's side instead of ours. The public wants action. So I gave it to them."

Kelly sighed. "And in the process you made it open season on every animal in the woods."

"I gave clear instructions. The only target is bear."

"Not bear. Grizzly. There's a difference."

Kittredge shrugged. "A bear is a bear. Just so we get him."

"Wrong," said Kelly. "A bear is not a bear, believe it or not. Listen, if we wanted to bring in hunters, it would have taken less than half a day to do it right, call for the professionals."

"Every man up there has a valid license," said Kittredge.

"Bull! What does that mean? That he's over sixteen and knows how to sign his name. Do you know what you've put up there in our woods? A bunch of roadhunters who do their best shooting over a beer down at Chauncey's. There's not more than two or three real hunters in that whole mob you saddled me with."

Kittredge admitted, "Sometimes you find one or two nuts, but we didn't have time to screen them out."

"I want those amateurs out of my forest," Kelly said.

Kittredge replied, "It's not your forest, Kelly."

"It's my jurisdiction, and I want them out, and right now."

"I have authority to deny that request. Denied."

"This is my district."

"Your authority is granted by me," said Kittredge. "My concern is the welfare of the entire park, not just your section of it. In my judgment, this is the best way to handle the situation."

"So it's okay for those nuts to go up there and shoot at anything that moves? Damn it, there are campers in those woods."

"Not in R-Three and R-Four."

"Do you think those so-called hunters are carrying around topographical maps? They wouldn't know it if they were on Mars."

"Your campers are in no danger," Kittredge said. "Not if they stay where they're supposed to be."

Kelly said, "We've got a man-eating grizzly up there, and a bunch of silly-assed hunters who couldn't tell a bear from a beer keg, and you say my campers have nothing to worry about. That's the laugh of the year."

"Are you through?" Kittredge asked coldly.

"Almost. I've got one more question."

"Ask it."

"Why have you always been after my ass? Ever since you took over, I've been on the griddle. I moved on this bear thing in the right way, and I followed the book. I should be getting good grades, not this crap."

"The Service is changing," said Kittredge. "Maybe in the old days it was all right for a ranger to be a maverick like you. Not any more. We're a team effort. We don't have room for mavericks."

"Without mavericks like me, you wouldn't have any forest. Your solid businessmen would have lumbered off every square acre. That forest isn't mine? You silly bastard, that forest is a part of me. What claim do you have on it?"

"I can bring charges against you for saying that," Kittredge shouted.

"Great," said Kelly. "File them. Meanwhile, those stupid hunters you turned loose are in my jurisdiction, and I'm going to take care of them my way. If you think you can stop me, go ahead and try."

He left.

Don Stober, who had been trying to stay out of the battle, got up.

"Nice seeing you again, Mr. Kittredge," he said.

When Don and Kelly got to the Toyota, parked outside the Boulder Mining Center, they found Tom Cooper sitting in the back seat.

"Saw you parked here," Tom said. "Give me a lift?"

Kelly, starting the engine, said, "You feel up to it?"

"I'm all right. Hung over. Yeah, I'm ready. Did you hear the news? One of those hunters saw our bear. Said he was twenty feet tall. Bear took his gun and everything. I know the guy. He's a good man in the woods. Take off five feet or so, and that's still a big mother up there."

"Where is the hunter?"

"In the hospital. He had to swim down the rapids of Trout Creek to get away. But he's okay."

"He was lucky," Kelly said. "The next one won't be. I'm going to get their asses down off that mountain."

"Let them alone," said Tom. "Let them blow that bastard away. I wish I could."

"Not this way," said Kelly.

He put the vehicle in gear.

It was one thing for Kelly to decide to recall the hunters from the forest, and another thing to achieve it. The lazy ones, the road-hunters who drove around hoping to see something they might shoot from a car window, were easily found and told to go back to town. But in the forest's interior the more serious hunters were scattered all over the mountain, and finding them was no easy job. Kelly decided not to even try it. By getting out the majority of the hunters he had eliminated the most dangerous ones. He would handle the rest as he came upon them.

It was late afternoon by the time he had reorganized his forces. The hunter who had seen the bear had given him a good idea of where the grizzly was, and Kelly called down those rangers he could reach by radio and was forming a new hunting party.

He warned, "Watch out for those birds Kittredge sent in. They'll shoot first and check to see if you have fur later."

A CLICK! made him turn. Allison had just taken another photograph.

"When did you come up?" he asked.

"Few minutes ago." They moved off to one side. She looked up at him. He peered around, realized that whatever they did was not going to go unnoticed, and leaned down to kiss her.

"Thanks," she said. "I know what a trauma that must have been for you, showing humanity in front of your troops. But I was feeling unloved."

"Me too," he said. "I'm glad you came by."

"Going hunting?" she asked.

"Yes. I think I know where he is. A hunter spotted him."

"I'm coming with you," she said, hitching up the strap of her gadget bag.

"No way," he said.

"Now wait a minute—"

"Honey, it's a butcher shop out there, between our bear and those idiots shooting up the woods."

"I can take care of myself."

"No. I'd be thinking about you and worrying, when I should be watching out for the business we've got to do."

"But, Kelly," she said, trying to make him understand. "This is my
book
. l've finally found my theme."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Go ahead and hate me, but the answer is no."

Tom Cooper joined them. "We're all loaded," he said.

"Okay," said Kelly. "Move them out."

"I'll stay out of your way," Allison said, almost pleading.

"No," he repeated, firmly.

"Damn it, Kelly, I realize you've got your job to do. But I've got mine, too. I'm not playing games."

"I know that, Allie. But this whole thing has gotten too dangerous. Find something else to photograph for your book."

Angrily, she asked, "Is that an order?"

"If you want it to be one."

"From Kelly the Man, or Kelly the Ranger."

"It's from both of us." He reached for her. "But Kelly the Man just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Well," she said, pulling away, "Kelly the Ranger can tell Kelly the Man to go straight to hell."

She turned and walked away.

Night comes early in the mountains, and this first night of the big hunt settled down over the hazy valleys before six P.M.

One group of hunters, back-packing up the mountain, was clustered around a low fire. They were tired, it was one thing to sit on watch for a white-tailed deer, or a mule buck, but it was something else to scramble up one steep incline after another all day long.

The men lay in down-filled sleeping bags. They tossed, as aching muscles protested against the hard ground.

One awakened, sensing movement nearby.

He looked up—right into the open mouth of a bear.

He erupted,from the sleeping bag with a piercing yell of fright. The other hunters thrashed, escaping from their own nylon cacoons.

The first hunter, who had grabbed his rifle as he fled, chambered a bullet. He threw up the rifle to fire.

Then, slowly, he lowered it and started to laugh.

A frisky bear cub pawed at the empty sleeping bag.

The hunter said, "Boys, I just lost twenty years."

Pat Clifford, a big, bluff man, lowered his own rifle. He said, "Hey, this may be that grizzly's cub."

The first hunter, Mike Newton, said, "Naw. This is a black bear, not a grizzly."

Pat persisted. "You can't tell. He's kind of speckled. Look."

A third hunter said, "If he is, I'd suggest we throw his ass out in the woods. I don't want that bastard coming in here after any cub."

"That's an idea," Pat said. "Listen, we can use the cub as bait. Tie him in the woods, wait until mama shows up and—" he made a shooting motion with his fingers. "Blam."

"That's not a bad idea," Mike admitted. "Who's got some rope?"

The original plan was to have someone on watch, waiting, but as the night wore on and tiredness ate away at their stamina, the hunters gradually filled up their sleeping bags again.

So when a huge claw reached out into the clearing and scooped up the bear cub, no one was awake to hear its pitiful whimpers of pain.

It took the headlights of the ranger vehicle, churning up the trail, to drag them back from slumber.

Kelly helped waken them by tooting the shrill horn. Again, they crawled out of their sleeping bags.

"Okay," the ranger told them. "The hunt's over for you boys. Pack up and move out."

Pat Clifford argued, "Listen, Kelly, you know us. We're steady. Let us help you."

"How?"

Mike Newton said, "We've got a bait staked out for that grizzly. A bear cub."

"Where?"

"Over there—"

Mike stopped. The cub wasn't there any more.

They went over, and saw where the rope had been torn from the tree.

A few feet inside the trees, they found what was left of the cub.

Mike gagged. "Oh, my God."

"So you're steady, huh?" Kelly said with heavy sarcasm. "Whose idea was it to use live bait?"

Pat said, shakily, "Mine. But I—"

"Did anyone see what happened?"

Mike said, embarrassed, "I was supposed to be on watch. But nothing was happening and—"

"You were all asleep," said a new voice.