Clint fired off a shot from his rifle and followed it up with another one. “Come on you big bastard!” he shouted. “Look over here!”
The bear's roar took on a bit of a pained tone, but that was pretty much the only reaction it gave to being shot. As far as the bullet wounds were concerned, all Clint could see were some slick spots in the bear's fur.
Since the woman didn't look like she was going to tire out or stop trying to get free anytime soon, Clint pulled in a breath, put all common sense aside and ran into the bear's field of vision. After waving his arms a bit, Clint saw the bear's massive head swing toward him as the animal's eyes locked onto this new distraction.
“That's it,” Clint said. “Come to me.”
And that's exactly what the bear did.
In fact, the bear rushed toward Clint so quickly that it forced Clint to fire his next shot wildly past the bear's head rather than through it. Hearing the angry hiss of that bullet whip past its ear stoked the fire in the bear's belly and got it thundering toward Clint with renewed vigor.
Even though Clint's mind was telling him to take another shot and put the bear down, every muscle in his body was telling him to run.
And so he ran.
Clint ran faster than he'd ever thought possible.
Even with his legs pumping furiously beneath him and the wind whistling through his ears, he started to doubt if it would be enough.
TWO
Clint's first thought was to get the bear away from the woman and her child. Now that he'd accomplished that much, Clint was just trying to stay alive as he bolted for the trees with the bear hot on his heels.
Having left the trail behind him, Clint found himself in a thick tangle of trees and fallen logs. If he wasn't jumping to one side to avoid one, he was forced to jump at odd intervals to avoid the other. All the while, the bear plowed through everything in its path as it stormed closer and closer to Clint's back.
Suddenly, Clint felt himself getting pulled off balance. He thought he'd gotten his foot caught under something or twisted his knee, but quickly realized he was literally being pulled. The hand that had clamped onto his shoulder was nearly as big as the bear's paw and it yanked Clint to one side like a child picking up a rag doll.
The bear let out a growl and stomped past the big tree where Clint and another man were now hiding.
“You don't hunt bears much, do you mister?” the other man asked.
Clint took a moment to catch his breath and get a look at where he was. He'd been pulled behind a tree that was just thick enough to keep from being knocked over by the rampaging bear. Leaning against the trunk, wearing an amused grin on his face, was a man who seemed to be just as scarred as the battered tree itself.
The man looked to be in his late fifties, but could have actually been ten years in either direction of that age. He was barrel-chested and wore thick layers of tanned hides on his back, which were crudely held together by leather laces.
Grinning through a thick layer of gray beard, the man nodded a quick greeting to Clint before letting go of his shoulder and tipping his hat. “Name's Mark Ordell. You after that big fella?”
“No,” Clint said. “Just trying to get it away from some folks back there trapped under an overturned wagon.”
Ordell craned his neck to look around the tree. He barely seemed to notice the angry snarls of the bear as it skidded on the ground and struggled to get its massive frame turned back around. “Oh, I see it,” Ordell said. “You know them folks?”
“No, I justâ”
“Then you must've ridden in on that black Darley Arabian over there. That's one hell of a nice horse.”
“Do you know that bear's coming back?”
“Oh, sure. It'll take it a little while to get situated and then catch sight of us, though. That's why you shouldn't run away from a monster like that in a straight line. Damn thing could outrun a stagecoach once it gets moving.”
“Very interesting,” Clint said. “Do you have a good way to kill it?”
Ordell grinned and nodded as he lifted a rifle so caked with dirt it resembled a tree branch. “I believe I've got just the thing.”
The bear loped in a circle less than ten paces from the tree where Clint and Ordell were hiding. Its eyes were still flaring with rage and every one of its moves were filled with raw power.
“That there's not just any bear,” Ordell said as he raised his rifle and placed its narrow stock against his shoulder. “He's famous.”
Even though Clint wasn't a trapper by trade, he knew every kind of rifle that had been made. The one in Ordell's hands wasn't anything that could be bought in a store. It was most definitely cobbled together from some very old pieces.
“You're a trapper?” Clint asked.
Sighting along a barrel that was longer than Clint's arm, Ordell said, “Yes, sir.”
“And you're after that bear?”
“Yep.”>
“Any reason why you couldn't have shot it before it nearly killed me as well as that woman and her child?”
The grin hadn't disappeared from the older man's face, but it did widen a bit as he leaned against the stock of his rifle. “Because I didn't know exactly where he was until you were kind enough to get him to holler for me.”
“Glad to be a help.”
“You want to help again? Why don't you take another shot at him with that pop gun of yours?”
Clint looked down at the rifle as if making sure that's what the older man was referring to. Actually, compared to the oversized musket in Ordell's hands, Clint's rifle did resemble a toy. “I already tried it,” Clint said. “You saw how well that worked. You've got to be more ready for this than I am.”
“True enough, but I only got one shot at a time. That means I kind of need to make them count.”
Clint couldn't take his eyes away from the bear as it lumbered to bring itself around and sniff hungrily at the air. For the moment, its attention seemed to be focused on the spot Clint should have been instead of where he was.
“You folks are luckier than most,” Ordell said in a quiet, almost reverent voice. “That bear's been known to sneak up and pounce like a damn cat. I guess that wagon turning over must've spooked him.”
“I just can't take the chance of it coming back. There's a lady back there who's hurt.”
“He won't be coming back,” Ordell said. “Not if I can help it.”
“Then go ahead and take your shot.”
“After you, my friend. All I need is to catch the big fella's attention.”
Shrugging, Clint brought the rifle up, aimed and fired. It sent a bullet into the bear's side, causing it to stagger and turn toward the tree. For a second, it looked as if all those previous rifle shots had finally added up to do some damage. Then, once the bear caught sight of Clint and Ordell, it thundered toward them more powerfully than ever.
“Just stay where you are,” Ordell said under his breath as the ground beneath him shook with the approaching bear's steps.
Clint leaned against the tree and watched the bear draw closer. “Any day now,” he grunted.
Ordell let out a slow breath and squeezed his trigger. His rifle let out a single blast, which rolled through the air like a clap of thunder. The barrel jumped up, kicking Ordell on the shoulder as black smoke poured from one end.
Clint could hear something that almost sounded like a hammer thumping against a wet board.
The bear kept running toward the tree as Ordell slowly lowered his rifle. He didn't even bother going through the motions of reloading the weapon since he and Clint would both be killed three times over before he was halfway done.
Clint leaned back and gritted his teeth. At that moment, he saw the cold emptiness in the bear's eyes.
After taking one more step, the bear simply dropped down and let its own momentum drive its head into the ground. Its paws were still ripping at the dirt, but weren't strong enough to support its own weight. After a few more kicks, the bear let out a final growl and then stopped moving.
Only then did Clint realize his shoulders were up around his ears and that he hadn't taken a full breath since he'd first climbed down from Eclipse's saddle.
Ordell, on the other hand, looked like he was posing for a photograph. With his rifle in one hand like a walking stick, he leaned forward and nodded slowly. Glancing over to Clint, he said, “That wasn't so hard, now was it?”
THREE
When Clint and Ordell walked back to the overturned wagon, they heard the woman yelp a bit as if she'd seen the bear return. When she spotted the two men instead of the single animal, she let out a relieved sigh.
“Who's that?” she asked.
Clint knelt down beside the wagon and said, “He's the man who killed that bear.”
“I figure we'll all be eating real good tonight,” Ordell said.
“I can think about food once I get this wagon off of me.”
Clint reached under the wagon and found the spot where her leg was pinned. “Can you feel that?”
She nodded.
“And does it hurt?”
Ordell laughed under his breath and said, “If she ain't hollering her lungs out, then she's just fine.”
Looking to Clint, she said, “It does hurt a bit, but I should be all right.”
“See? I told ya.”
“All right then, doctor,” Clint said. “Do you think you can help me lift this wagon?”
Ordell leaned his rifle against the nearest tree and peeled the tattered coat from his shoulders. He then spat on both his callused palms, rubbed them together and took a firm grip upon the edge of the wagon. “Ready when you are.”
Positioning himself next to Ordell, Clint took hold of the wagon and looked to the woman before lifting. “Can you pull your leg out on your own?”
“If it means getting out from under here, I'll drag myself all the way back to Georgia,” she replied.
Clint nodded and looked over to Ordell. “On three. One. Two. Three.”
Even with both men straining every muscle in their arms, back and shoulders, the wagon only moved enough for the woman to pull herself out about an inch. Her eyes widened and she scooted back where she was the moment she felt the wagon coming down again.
“My knee's stuck,” she said. “I have to get it all out or nothing.”
“Think you can lift this thing any higher?” Ordell asked.
After catching his breath, Clint looked over to the closest tree. “I've got a better idea.”
The instant he saw Clint walk over and take the rifle that had been leaning against that tree, Ordell jumped to his feet. “Just what the hell do you think you're gonna do with that?”
“Use it to give us a little leverage.”
“Why don't you use yer own damn rifle for that?”
“Because my rifle isn't a solid iron tree trunk that's almost as tall as I am. That gun's strong enough to last through doomsday, so it's strong enough to get that wagon off the lady's knee. If you can find something else that can do the trick, be my guest.”
After taking a quick look around, Ordell grumbled under his breath and reclaimed his rifle. “At least let me do it.”
“All right. I'll get back and lift to make it as easy on that gun as possible.”
Even though Clint had made the offer jokingly, Ordell looked as if he were seriously considering sacrificing his firstborn child. He took hold of his rifle by the stock and then wedged the barrel under one corner of the wagon. The first time he pulled on the rifle, Ordell did so halfheartedly at best. Once he saw Clint straining and the lady struggling, he put more of his back into it.
Before too long, the wagon groaned as it shifted from the spot where it had been wedged into the ground. Beads of sweat poured down both men's faces until finally the wagon shifted again and the lady squirmed free from beneath it.
Until now, the child in her arms had been so quiet and so still that Clint had almost forgotten it was there. Once the lady was able to get out from under the wagon, however, the child popped from her arms and scurried away.
“Looks like the boy's gonna be all right,” Ordell said.
Clint kept his eyes on the boy and took his first good look at him. Although the boy's face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were ripped in a few spots, he moved just fine. He looked back at Clint with a little bit of nervousness in his eyes, but he still looked alert.
“You all right?” Clint asked.
The boy nodded and then scurried back to the lady, who wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against the top of his head.
Shifting his eyes toward the lady, Clint asked, “What about you? Can you get up?”
“I'm not sure.” Before Clint or Ordell could get close enough to her to help, she tried getting her legs beneath her. She winced with pain a few times, and nearly fell over when she actually tried to stand. When she attempted it again, she had a man on each arm to help her up.
Clint and Ordell brought the woman slowly to her feet and held her up rather than allowing her to support her own full weight. Together, they lowered her down a bit and picked her up again when they heard her pull in a sharp, pained breath.
“We need to get a better look at that leg,” Clint said.
Ordell eased away from her once he saw that the lady was naturally leaning more toward Clint. “Then I might as well gather some wood and set up camp.”
“Camp?” the lady asked. “But we need to get moving again. We're expected in Westerlake.”
“Where's Westerlake?” Clint asked.