“A grizzly wouldn't let that much meat go to waste unless it had a damn good reason.”
“She wasn't hungry or she was busy with the male,” Moose said. “When bears mate they don't think about food as much. I'm like that myself but after it's over I'm always hungry as can be.”
“Brain Eater didn't finish the horse because she wasn't here,” Fargo said, “and if she wasn't here, where was she?”
“I still don't savvy.”
Fargo raised his reins. “Ride,” he said. “Ride like the wind and hope to God I'm wrong.”
18
A full moon cast the meadow in pale light. They came out of the trees and drew rein, their exhausted horses hanging their heads.
Wendy cleared his throat. “I say, the fire has gone out. Weren't they supposed to keep it going night and day?”
“Cecelia!” Moose hollered, and used his heels with no thought to his own safety.
“Damn,” Fargo said. He went after him. He still hoped he was wrong but the Brit had a point; the fire should still be burning. Fire was one of the few things most bears were afraid of. Cecelia knew that. And with her children at stake, she wouldn't let it go out.
Moose frantically bellowed her name. He was the first to reach the camp. Drawing rein, he exclaimed, “My God! The lean-to!”
Fargo was off the Ovaro before it stopped moving. The structure was a shambles, the limbs and brush in bits and pieces. So were many of the articles that had been in it.
“No, no, no, no,” Moose said, moving amid the ruin in a daze.
“Fargo!” Wendy called. “Over here.” He was on a knee by the charred vestige of their fire. “Look at this.”
Partially burned logs were scattered about. A gouge in the earth explained why.
“It looks as if the ruddy bear attacked the fire,” Wendy marveled.
Fargo turned to the Blackfeet. “We need your help. The woman and her children are missing.”
Bird Rattler grunted and translated for his friends and the three spread out.
Fargo took only a couple of steps when fingers like iron spikes clamped onto his arm.
“Where are they?” Moose cried.
“Their horses are gone. It could be they escaped.”
Moose didn't seem to hear him. His fingers dug deeper. “If anything has happened to them I won't ever forgive myself. I should never have went with you.”
“We should help the others look.”
“I didn't want to go,” Moose said. “You heard me. I was against it but she made me.”
“Moose, listenâ” Fargo said, but the big bear hunter turned and ran off in erratic circles bawling Cecelia's name. Fargo went to where the horses had been. The ground was churned by their hooves. He was moving toward the stream when light flared and flames crackled. “Bring a brand,” he hollered, and Wendy jogged to join him.
“Anything, mate?”
“Not yet.”
“Our big friend is beside himself,” Wendy said, nodding at Moose, who was at the other end of the meadow, continuing to bellow. “Can't say as I blame him. I'd be worried sick if it was my woman. Do we go off into the woods after them?”
Rubbing his beard, Fargo debated. Tracking at night was a painstaking chore. Even with torches, it took forever. Plus their horses were worn out and they weren't much better off. As much as he disliked to say it, he did. “We wait until first light.”
“That's the smart thing,” Wendy agreed. “But I predict you-know-who won't like it.”
Moose didn't. “Why are you two standing here?” he demanded when he stopped running and shouting and came to the fire. “We have to keep looking. All night, if need be.”
“No,” Fargo said.
Moose had turned but stopped. “What the hell do you mean, no? Cecelia and her kids are out there somewhere and they need us.”
“They could be anywhere,” Fargo said. “It's no good for us to blunder around in the dark.”
“We'll yell a lot. They're bound to hear us.”
“So will the bears.”
“No. We're doing it and I won't hear no argument.”
“Use your head,” Fargo said.
“I'll use something,” Moose angrily retorted. Setting his rifle down, he cocked his fists.
Fargo backpedaled. A jab clipped his jaw. A straight arm brushed his shoulder. He blocked an overhand to the face. The force, though, sent him staggering. He recovered, heard Wendy holler, and Moose was on him. Knuckles the size of walnuts grazed his head and his hat went flying. Planting himself, he rammed a hard right to Moose's gut and whipped an uppercut to Moose's jaw. All Moose did was blink. Fargo dodged a clumsy hook and retaliated with a flurry that should have set Moose back on his heels. Moose absorbed the punishment like a sponge.
“Stop this fight this instant!” Wendy shouted while trying to step between them.
“Butt out!” Moose roared, and gave the Brit a shove that sent Wendy sprawling.
“Calm down!” Fargo tried, and a fist arced at his face. Ducking, he flicked a right cross. He might as well have hit solid rock.
Moose paused, his face twisted in fury. “Are you going to help hunt for her or not?”
“At daybreak.”
“You can't get it through your head,” Moose said. “She needs us
now
. She could be lying out there hurt, for all we know. Or worse. So you're going if I have to throw you over a saddle and tie you down.”
“Use some sense.”
“I'll use something else,” Moose growled, and waded in anew.
Fargo's temper snapped. He'd tried to reason but Moose was too mad to listen, and Fargo would be damned if he was anyone's punching bag. As Moose sprang, he twisted and drove his right fist into the pit of Moose's stomach. Moose grunted and folded but stayed on his feet. Fargo remedied that with two swift blows to the ear that caused Moose to fall to his knees. Instantly, Fargo skipped in and swung a solid right to the chin. He almost broke his hand but Moose swayed and his eyelids fluttered and he keeled onto his side.
“You did it!” Wendy whooped.
Fargo wasn't so sure. He poked Moose a few times. The bear hunter didn't move but he did groan. Fargo went to the Ovaro for his rope.
“Is that necessary?”
“You saw him,” Fargo said. He bound Moose's wrists and was doing the same to his ankles when the night disgorged the three Blackfeet.
Bird Rattler would make a good poker player. He showed no surprise at seeing Moose on the ground. “We use big white as bait now?” he dryly asked.
“We should, the jackass,” Fargo said. He had a welt on his temple and his head hurt like hell. “Any sign of the woman and her little ones?”
“We not find,” Bird Rattler reported. “Come back. Wait for sun.”
“I'll make coffee,” Fargo volunteered. He needed sleep but the fight had his blood racing. And it wouldn't hurt to sit up a while and see if Cecelia showed.
Bird Rattler started to lead his horse off and the other two did the same.
“Where do you think you're going?” Fargo asked.
“Make our fire,” the Blackfoot said.
“Like hell. From now on you sit with us and share our food.”
“Maybe him not want,” Bird Rattler said, indicating Moose.
“I don't give a damn. After what he just did he doesn't have a say.” Fargo looked around for the coffeepot. It had been knocked a good ten feet from the fire. Retrieving it, he headed for the stream. He wasn't expecting company but he got some.
“I'd like a word,” Wendolyn said.
“What's stopping you?”
“You are. You're in a bit of a snit and I can do without having my head bit off.”
“So long as you don't take a swing at me we'll get along fine.”
“Very well, then. The issue is this.” Wendy paused. “I'm having second thoughts. We've lost your friend and now possibly Mrs. Mathers and her children. I have to ask. Is five thousand dollars worth all these lives?”
“We quit now, Rooster died for nothing. I'm seeing it through no matter what you or anyone else does.”
“I didn't say I was bowing out,” Wendy said quickly. “In case you haven't heard, we British are famous for our stiff upper lips.”
Fargo reached the stream and squatted to dip the pot in the water.
“I heard something,” Wendy whispered. “There.” He extended his elephant gun toward the other side.
All Fargo heard was the babbling of the water. He had about decided it was nothing when a plaintive cry came out of the darkness.
“Help us, please.”
Fargo dropped the pot and splashed across. Three small faces peered at him from atop the bank.
“Up here, mister,” Abner said.
“Hurry,” Bethany begged.
“She's hurt real bad,” Thomas added.
Fargo scrambled up and over and nearly stepped on Cecelia. She was on the ground, a hand pressed to her side, her skin like chalk. Her eyes were shut. “Cecelia?” he said, but got no answer.
“She passed out,” Abner said. “We didn't know what to do.”
“Help her,” Bethany begged.
Fargo carefully moved Cecelia's hand, and grimaced.
Behind him Wendy said, “My word. I'll go heat water and cut bandages.”
“The bear did it,” Bethany said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“It came out of nowhere,” Thomas said.
“Brain Eater?” Fargo figured.
“No,” Abner answered. “It was the other one. The small bear. The male.”
“It knocked Ma down and clawed her,” Thomas said.
“She threw fire in its face,” Bethany said.
“Stand back,” Fargo directed. Easing his hands under Cecelia, he gently lifted her and carried her down the bank. She didn't stir. Her head lolled against his chest and once she groaned. The children trooped after him.
The Blackfeet made room as Fargo set Cecelia down near the fire. The bear's claws had caught her across the ribs. Bone gleamed from torn flesh. She had bled so much that her dress was stiff with dry blood.
“When did it attack you?” Fargo asked Abner as he felt for a pulse; it was pitifully weak and erratic.
“About noon,” the oldest said. “Ma made soup and we were sittin' down to eat.”
“We ran and hid,” Thomas said. “The bear didn't come after us. It wanted the food.”
“Will she live, mister?” Bethany anxiously asked.
Fargo honestly couldn't say.
19
“We're leaving and that's that,” Moose announced.
The sun had been up for an hour. Fargo yawned and stretched and yearned for sleep.
Moose had behaved himself when he came to and saw that Cecelia was hurt. After Fargo untied him, the big hunter hovered over her with her hand clasped in his. The kids sat close to him and fell asleep with their heads on his leg.
About an hour before dawn Cecelia had come around. The first thing she did was ask for her children. The second was ask for water. Moose held a cup to her lips and she gratefully swallowed. She thanked him and passed out again.
Fargo leaned against his saddle and wearily rubbed his eyes. When he lowered his hand, she was staring at them.
“What was that I just heard?”
“Cecelia!” Moose beamed and bent and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you feeling? Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do for you? Anything you need me to do for the kids?”
“You can hush,” Cecelia said. Gritting her teeth, she shifted and touched the bandage. “No wonder I hurt like the dickens. That critter took a sizable chunk out of me.”
Before anyone could stop her, Bethany threw herself at her mother and hugged her tight. Cecelia grimaced in pain but didn't scold her.
Sobbing, the girl said, “Oh, Ma. I was so scared. I thought you'd die.”
“So did I,” Moose said, earning a stern look from Cecelia. “Well, I did, and it helped me make up my mind.”
“About what?”
“Us leaving,” Moose said. “This is no place for you and yours. I'm taking you back to town.”
“The blazes you are,” Cecelia said. “I'm not givin' up my share of the bounty for you or anybody else.”
“The money be damned, woman. You matter more.”
Cecelia was set to voice an angry reply, but stopped. Her features softened and she said, “That's plumb sweet of you. But I'm a grown woman and can do as I please.”
“You used to, you could.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“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.”