An Occurrence in Crazy Bear Valley (5 page)

“We could drag the carcass back here,” Johnson suggested. “If we’re quick about it, shouldn’t be no harm. We’ve got our guns.”

“Good luck dragging it back here on your own,” Gunderson said. “You boys didn’t see that thing when it was standing up. It weighs a good three-hundred pounds, I’d imagine. Maybe more.”

Johnson whistled. “Too heavy to move without the horses, then.”

Gunderson nodded. “I reckon it—”

A third volley of cries drowned him out.

“The hell with this,” Morgan said. “Everybody get back inside the shack. Ain’t no sense messing around with a pack of wild animals. The posse is enough to worry about. We don’t need this on top of it. We’ll wait till morning. Cold as it is out here, that meat won’t spoil before morning. Soon as the sun is up, we’ll field dress it and cook some up. Have ourselves a late breakfast. Then we’ll cure the rest, so we can take it with us.”

One by one, they hurried back into the shack. Stephens shut the door behind them. Parker volunteered to take over the watch for Gunderson, and Morgan had Johnson join him, so that neither man would fall asleep. Parker and Johnson took their positions as more howls and shrieks rang out. The others lay back down again, clearly disturbed by the noise.

“Hey, Gunderson,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Good shooting out there.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Eventually, the strange cries faded, but it was a long time before any of them slept.

FOUR

Despite their interrupted slumber, the group was up early the next morning. None of them spoke much. They grumbled and groaned, bleary-eyed and stiff. Crystal knew where some coffee was located among the lumberjacks’ stores, and she endeared herself to the others by making a fresh pot. The aroma filled the room—rich and bold, lifting their spirits. Once they’d woken up a bit, Morgan walked outside, tin mug full of steaming coffee in his hand.

The valley was full of early morning fog. It had risen overnight, after they’d all gone back to bed. He could hear the river in the distance but he couldn’t see it. Indeed, his visibility was limited to a few feet in front of the cabin. The trees, rocks, and wildflowers were all lost beneath the thick, swirling haze. He’d only seen fog this thick twice in his life—once on a boat in Louisiana, and another time on the battlefield. He shuddered, recalling that second time, when Union soldiers had come charging out of the mist with a horrible cry. A lot of blood had been spilled that day, and Morgan swore the fog had turned red.

The porch boards creaked as Gunderson walked out and joined him. The big man placed a fresh wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth, worked it around with his tongue, and spat off the side of the porch. Then he scratched his cheek and stared at the swirling mists. Morgan waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. Morgan waited a few moments, but Gunderson only cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.

“Got something on your mind, Gunderson?”

“Reckon we should wait for this fog to burn off before we do anything, boss?”

Morgan nodded. “That would probably be best. It’s already warming up out here. I can’t imagine it’ll last more than another half hour. Soon as its gone, take Stephens with you and gut that thing. Get it cleaned up and butchered. Meanwhile, I’ll check on the horses. Make sure they’re okay. They were spooked last night, but if something had got at them, I’m sure we’d have heard it.”

“What about Parker and Johnson?”

“I’m gonna let them sleep a bit, if they’ve got a mind to. They had second watch. Like I said yesterday, I don’t expect the posse to show up, but if they do, I want everybody rested up and ready to ride out—or shoot it out.”

Gunderson continued staring into the mist. “Is it the posse you’re worried about, boss?”

Morgan sipped his coffee. “That—among other things.”

“Me, too,” Gunderson said. “The crazy bears…”

“Hell of a name.”

“That it is. But it fits. I’ll tell you, boss, I ain’t never heard nothing like what we heard last night. To be honest, it downright spooked me.”

Morgan frowned. Gunderson was one of his most unflappable—and loyal—men. He’d never once seen the big man scared, not even during the close quarters shoot out with the law back in Red Creek two years before—and that had been bloody enough and harrowing enough to even frighten Morgan himself.

“Well,” he said softly. “I reckon we’ll rest up today and tonight, and skin on up river come tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gunderson agreed. “Any idea where we’re headed?”

Morgan shrugged. “Somewhere other than this valley.”

“That’d be just fine.”

They both stared out into the fog, lost in their own thoughts, and when Johnson walked up behind them, neither man noticed. When he cleared his throat, they almost screamed.

FIVE

The sun rose higher and the day warmed, burning off the last wisps of mist. The valley came alive again, as did the surrounding forest. Both were bright and cheery, an entirely different contrast than the night before. The light breeze carried the almost maddening sounds of a thousand different birdsongs, along with buzzing insects, the melodic roar of the river, and the tat-tat-tat-tat of a woodpecker hard at work. Wildflowers strained their colorful panorama toward the sky, while bees and butterflies flitted amongst them. The sour stench that had permeated the clearing the night before was gone. The smell of sawdust returned, despite the fact that no logging had gone on in over twenty-four hours.

Morgan noticed that everyone’s spirits improved with the change in weather. As the day brightened, so did their moods—even Crystal’s. The girl had surprised him. After breaking her in last night, he’d speculated to himself that she’d go one of two ways—quiet submission, accepting her new master, or trying to kill him while he slept. Luckily for her, she’d chosen the first option.

“Maybe I was wrong about these woods,” he said aloud. “They certainly don’t feel spooky today. They feel downright welcoming.”

Morgan found himself whistling as he saw to the horses, and when a mosquito buzzed his ear, he barely noticed. His good mood lasted right up until Gunderson shouted for him across the clearing.

“Boss? Better come quick—we’ve got trouble!”

Unleashing a string of muttered curses, Morgan made his way to the spot where Gunderson had shot the animal the night before. He was surprised to see that the animal’s carcass was no longer there. The grass still held the corpse’s impression. Gunderson and Stephens stood around the empty space, staring in awe. Stephens held his hat in his hands, turning the brim round and round with his fingers. Brown droplets of dried blood spotted the green blades and the carpet of fallen pine needles, but the body was gone. Even stranger was the enormous series of footprints encircling the spot. Each footprint had five toes, just like a human, but that was where all similarities ended. Most of the tracks were over two feet long and about eight inches wide. Whatever had made the tracks had been heavy—the prints were sunk deep into the earth. It had also been barefoot—there was no trace of boot heel or a sole in the impressions.

“Those are some big feet,” Morgan said.

“What the hell do you think it is, boss?” Stephens asked. “What could have made this?”

“The more important question,” Morgan replied, “is how many of them there are. What do you think, Gunderson?”

“I figure at least four or five of them,” Gunderson said. “I ain’t for sure, though.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You’re the best god-damned tracker I’ve ever met.”

“And I appreciate that, boss. I really do. But it’s hard to tell. A lot of these tracks are about the same size, but they’re made by different critters. It’s a might confusing. There were at least four or five of them. Maybe more.”

“And no body. Are you sure you hit it last night?”

“That’s the only thing I am sure of.”

“So it ain’t likely the thing got up and ran away.” Morgan scowled. “Did you find
anything
? Any clue at all as to where the damned thing went?”

“Just those drops of blood there,” Gunderson pointed, “and a few tufts of hair on yonder pine branches.”

He moved to the edge of the tree line, lifted a branch and demonstrated. Morgan stepped closer, squinting. Sure enough, several strands of long, black hair dangled from the tip of the branch. Several of the tufts had blood and tiny pieces of flesh stuck to them. A few squat, black flies buzzed around the grisly bits.

“It’s not human hair,” Gunderson said. “I checked. Indian hair ain’t even that black. And it ain’t from a bear or any other critter I know, either. Have to reckon that girl was telling the truth, boss.”

Sighing, Morgan ran his hands through his hair. “Looks that way, boys. Hard to believe, but it damn sure looks that way.”

Frowning, he turned in a slow circle, following the massive footprints. They seemed to come and go from various directions—the river, the forest, and the other side of the clearing. All of them converged on this spot. He raised his head and sniffed the air. The lumberjacks’ corpses had started to stink. Their reek almost overpowered the smell of pine.

“I don’t smell what we smelled last night,” Morgan said. “If they’d been here this morning, I would think the smell would still linger. Reckon they must have been here sometime after you shot it but before dawn.”

“Yes,” Gunderson agreed. “I reckoned about the same. The way I figure it, they must have heard the crazy bear cry out when I shot it. The other crazy bears knew it was in distress. Then they come here and removed the body. Don’t know where they took it, but if I had to guess, I’d say deep into the pines. The tracks seem to be heading that way.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t a bear or a wolf or some other critter that could have carried the body off?”

“I doubt it, boss. If it had been, we’d see their tracks here, too. But there ain’t none. All there is are… those. And if wolves or coyotes had gotten at the corpse, there’d still be pieces left behind. They’d have scattered it all across the clearing.”

“We should leave,” Stephens said. “Skin on out of here before dark. That’s what I think.”

Morgan whirled on him. “I don’t remember you calling the shots. But for what it’s worth, I agree with you, Vern. We
should
leave. The problem with that is this—the horses are still exhausted. We ain’t gonna make it far if we don’t give them at least another few hours to rest. I dare say they didn’t sleep well last night, what with all the shooting and shouting. So let’s say we give them till noon. Let’s say we let Johnson and Parker sleep till noon, as well. Then everyone is bright-eyed and bushy-fucking-tailed. By the time we ride out and head up river, how far do you think we’ll get before the sun starts to go down? Do you really want to be out in these woods at night without a place to bed down and with… whatever made these fucking tracks… wandering around?”

Stephens paled. “No, I can’t rightly say that I do, boss. To be honest, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m in charge. I’m guessing these things are nocturnal. Crystal said she’d only heard them come around at night, and from what we saw last evening, I’d say that’s about right. I say we hole up another night. We wake Johnson and Parker up and we fortify that god-damned shanty. Make it like a fort—so strong not even the Calvary could break in.”

“You really think that they’ll attack us?” Stephens asked.

“I’m not for sure, no. But it doesn’t hurt to take precautions, now does it? If these things are as Crystal said they are, then they might have a hankering for vengeance. They might want to get even with the folks who killed their friend. I’d rather we were ready for them, just in case.”

Gunderson stroked his shaggy beard. “It’s a good plan, but what about the horses?”

“We’ll move the horses inside too,” Morgan said, “if there’s room. If not, then we’ll just have to figure something else out.”

Stephens opened his mouth to respond, but then shut it again.

“Then we’ll bed down,” Morgan continued. “We’ll sleep in shifts and wait it out till morning. Soon as first light comes around, we’ll skin on out of here. That way, we can find another safe spot well before dark tomorrow. Sound fair?”

Nodding, Stephens plopped his hat back on his head. Gunderson said nothing. His expression was dour. He continued stroking his beard.

“What’s got your goat?” Morgan asked. “You disagree with the plan?”

Gunderson looked up, surprised. “Oh, no, boss. Like I said, I think it’s a fine plan. Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Oh, nothing important. I was just looking forward to some fresh meat this morning. I’m just sorry the carcass is gone—no matter what it really was. I reckon even a crazy bear would taste better than our rations right about now.”

“Well, take your rifle and see if you can scare us up some game. Don’t go too far, though. Stay in earshot. And don’t be gone more than an hour. If you can’t find anything, then we’ll just have to make due. Eating rations ain’t killed us so far. I don’t reckon they’ll harm us for one more day.”