An Occurrence in Crazy Bear Valley (6 page)

“Can do.” Nodding, Gunderson trotted off toward the cabin.

Stephens and Morgan stared a few minutes longer at the tracks. Stephens placed his foot in one of the prints. The impression seemed to swallow his boot whole.

“I’ll tell you, boss” he whispered. “I’ve got to agree with you.”

“About what?”

“Those are some damned big feet.”

“Come on,” Morgan said. “Enough of this horseshit. We’ve got work to do.”

They woke Parker and Johnson, and informed them of what had occurred. Incredulous and lethargic, the two men were convinced that the others were all playing a joke on them, so Morgan had Stephens take them down to the site so that they could see for themselves. Clara and Crystal tagged along, as well. When they came back, the women’s faces were pale and nervous, and the men were no longer laughing.

“Beats all I’ve ever seen,” Johnson muttered.

“Hell,” Stephens said, “it beats all
any
of us have ever seen.”

After a quick, demoralizing breakfast of dry rations, during which none of them spoke much, Morgan put the group to work fortifying their defenses. He instructed Johnson and Parker to begin cutting up logs with the lumberjacks’ tools, and ordered Stephens and the women to haul rocks up from the river. While they did this, Morgan slowly walked the perimeter, studying everything from the layout of the land to the construction of the cabin. Then he went inside the cabin and searched it top to bottom, probing for weaknesses and mentally taking stock of any-thing that could be used as a weapon. When he was finished, he went back out onto the porch and saw that Stephens, Clara and Crystal had already made progress with the stones. A large pile of them had been stacked next to the stairs, and the three were on their way back with more.

“Come across a big old rattlesnake down there by the water’s edge,” Stephens panted. His clothes and face were soaked, and he was sweating profusely. “Damn thing must have been five feet long if he was a foot. Saw another set of them tracks, too.”

“Were they coming or going?” Morgan asked.

“They come across the river this way. I didn’t see any tracks heading back over. In truth, I was more worried about the snake. Didn’t want the girls to get bit.”

“You kill it?”

“Yeah.” Stephens wiped the sweat from his brow. “Dropped a big old rock on it. Squashed the fucker flat. Ordinarily, I’d have just shot the fucker, but I figured I shouldn’t be wasting bullets on account of whatever made them big footprints.”

Morgan nodded. “That’s good thinking.”

“Thanks, boss!” Stephens seemed surprised at the unexpected compliment. “I sure do appreciate it.”

“That snake will make for a good supper tonight.”

Stephen’s expression fell. “I tossed the carcass out into the river.”

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“I guess I just wasn’t thinking, boss.”

Morgan shook his head. “I guess not.”

“A-anyway, you think that will be enough rocks?”

“We’ll need more than that, but I’ll give you a hand carrying more. Should go quicker with four of us doing it.”

Stephens and Clara stared at each other in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t look so goddamned surprised,” Morgan said. “The longer the two of you stand there, the longer it will take to secure this goddamn bunkhouse. Now come on.”

As they walked toward the water, a distant, muffled shot echoed out of the forest.

“Gunderson,” Morgan said.

“Sounds like he got something,” Stephens replied.

They paused, waiting for more shots, but the woods were quiet.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Clara said.

They made several more trips to the river and the pile of stones grew. By then, Johnson and Parker had begun to drag logs over to the cabin. When Gunderson returned from the forest with a small deer slung over his broad shoulders, Morgan called for a break. The others gratefully collapsed to the ground, breathing heavy and groaning from their labors. Gunderson dropped the deer near the porch. It had already been field dressed—the belly slit open and the white and brown fur matted with sticky blood. More fluid oozed from the empty cavity. Flies buzzed around the carcass.

“Got us something to eat,” he said. “Found a well-used deer path and waited for a spell. Then this little spike buck come strolling along and obliged me. Looks like ya’ll have been busy, too.”

Morgan nodded. “See anything while you were out there?”

“A few more of those queer footprints, but I couldn’t read them well enough to learn anything else. I’ll tell you one thing, though—that forest is spooky. It’s not like the other places I’ve been, and I’ve been to a lot. I don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”

“Awfully noisy here,” Parker pointed out. “I’ve been hearing birds and such all damn morning. Giving me a headache.”

“Maybe so,” Gunderson said, “but it’s dead quiet under them trees. Feels like the forest is staring at you. I was damned glad to come across this deer.”

“Good job,” Morgan replied. Then he turned to the others. “Clara. Crystal. Get this thing cut up and cooked. Come sundown, I don’t want any cooking fires—nothing that will attract attention. So do it up now and we’ll have venison for lunch and supper.”

The men cheered this news. Johnson even did an impromptu jig, dancing and leaping in a circle while the others clapped and laughed. Soon after, their cheers turned to groans again as Morgan ordered them back to work.

“There’s only two ways into that shack,” he told them. “The front door and the window. We’re going to reinforce the walls as best we can, using the stones and the logs and whatever else we can find. There are places in those walls made out of nothing but sod and rocks. One of these critters could tear through that pretty easy. Hell, a man could too, for that matter. So we’ve got to take extra care to block those good. Then we’ll all go inside, and bar the door. We’ll use logs for that, too. We’re going to keep the window open for as long as possible. That way we can shoot at them if they come. But if things go bad, I reckon we can flip some of those beds on their side and block the window with them.”

“What about the roof?” Gunderson asked.

“I don’t know,” Morgan admitted. “That’s the one part I can’t figure out. The tree jockeys used heavy timbers for it, and lashed them together with thick rope. They nailed them down good and all, but I don’t know if it’s enough, and I can’t see of any way to reinforce what’s there. Ain’t nothing on top of the timbers but tar. Any of you got an idea as to how we could make it stronger?”

They shook their heads. Parker raised his hand. Morgan nodded at him.

“What about the horses, boss? What are we going to do about them?”

“I’d hoped we could move them all inside with us,” Morgan replied. “But the cabin just ain’t big enough. There’s enough room for the smallest—Stephens’ horse—but that’s all. The rest of them will have to take their chances.”

“Stephens’ horse?” Johnson frowned. “Well, hell—that little pony ain’t worth the trouble. It ought to be one of our horses. They’re faster and stronger, and can carry more weight.”

Morgan grinned humorlessly. “Tell you what, Johnson. We’ll bring your mount inside with us, too. You can sleep outside with the rest of the horses. How would that be?”

Johnson stared at his boots. “I don’t think that would be too fine, boss. No, I don’t cotton to that at all.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say, cocksucker. We ain’t got room for them all. I don’t like it any more than you, but that’s how it is. Stephens’ horse is the smallest. It comes inside. The others don’t.”

Johnson and Parker’s expressions were sullen, but they didn’t reply. Stephens stayed silent, as well, but the grin on his face spoke volumes. Gunderson merely loaded another wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth.

Morgan glanced up at the sky and noted the sun’s position.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get this finished while we still can.”

Sullen, the others went back to work. Gunderson waited until they were out of earshot and then approached Morgan.

“Boss, I got an idea about them horses, if you want to hear it.”

Sighing, Morgan nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I reckon if I was to take an axe and a saw and sharpen up some logs on one end, they’d make some pretty formidable pikes or spears. Then we could tie the horses up against the cabin, so that the wall has their backs, and encircle them the rest of the way around with the pikes. The horses wouldn’t be able to wander out, and these crazy bear things would have a hell of a time getting to them.”

Morgan paused, considering the suggestion. He glanced at the horses and then back at the burly woodsman.

“How long do you figure it would take you to do that?”

Gunderson shrugged. “If I can get some help digging the holes once I’ve sharpened the logs, I reckon it wouldn’t take more than two or three hours.”

“Okay. Do it. I’ll make sure you have the help.”

Nodding, Gunderson walked away. After a moment’s hesitation, Morgan called out to him.

“Gunderson?”

The big man stopped and turned. “Yeah, boss?”

“It’s a good idea, but do you really think it will work?”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Gunderson grinned.

“Hell, Morgan. I don’t know. You reckon any of the other stuff we’re doing will really work?”

“You’d better fucking hope so. For all our sakes.”

Gunderson spat a stream of tobacco juice and walked away. Morgan stared up at the sky, and watched the sun continue its trek to the west. The breeze picked up and rustled through the pines. For a moment, it almost sounded as if something was walking amongst the trees. Then the wind died down again. When it did, Morgan shivered.

Other than the sounds of their labors, the forest and the clearing had gone silent again.

SIX

Supper that night was deer meat, potatoes, and thin gravy. They washed it down with water from the river. Morgan forbid any of them to drink liquor—reminding them that they might need their wits about them later on. Conversation was sporadic and muted during the meal, other than a few compliments to Clara and Crystal on its preparation. Clara responded to the attention. Crystal’s reaction was less enthusiastic, but simultaneously, she was careful not to offend the men.

When they were finished, the men relaxed long enough to smoke on the porch and watch the sun go down. There was no card game or bullshit session or taking turns with Clara or Crystal. They watched the sun’s descent in silence, and as darkness fell, so did their mood. The temperature outside dropped with the sun. The wind blew in off the river, cold and savage. Soon, their breath fogged the air, even inside the cabin.

“Well,” Morgan said, “now we’ll see. Now they’ll come.”

Johnson frowned. “Never thought I’d say this, boss, but I sure do hope you’re wrong.”

“Me, too,” Morgan agreed. “Me, too.”

The others didn’t respond.

Morgan assigned first watch to Johnson, Parker and Clara. They were to wake up Gunderson, Morgan and Stephens for the second watch. Only Crystal was allowed to sleep through the night. If the others saw this as a sign of Morgan going soft on the girl, they didn’t mention it. The only complaints centered around Stephens’ horse, which stood between the kitchen table and the bunk area, looking mournful and forlorn.

“Jesus,” Parker moaned, fanning his nose, “that damned horse smells almost as bad as you do, Stephens.”

“Considering how much time Stephens spends farting,” Johnson said, “the horse has probably done absorbed it all.”

“I just hope it don’t shit in here,” Clara said, her nose wrinkling. “Who’s going to clean it up if it does?”

“I reckon you are,” Stephens said.

“With your face, maybe,” Clara shot back.

The comment earned a round of laughter, but they quickly fell silent again. Johnson, Parker and Clara blocked the front door with logs and bags of grain, and then took their positions near the window. The others lay down in their bunks, fully-clothed except for their boots. All of them kept their weapons within reach. Morgan blew out the lamp, plunging them into darkness except for the soft, orange glow from the tip of Parker’s cigarette.

The night was still and sullen, and it passed slowly. There were no owls or insects. No birdsongs. Even the wind seemed to have died down, and the sounds of the river were muted, distorted by the darkness.

Eventually, Clara fell asleep in the chair, her head drooping low until her chin rested between her ample cleavage. Her breathing became soft and shallow. Occasionally, her nose whistled. After a brief consultation, Johnson and Parker elected not to wake her until it was necessary.

It became necessary soon enough. Slowly, the musky stench of the crazy bears filled the clearing, wafting in through the window. Parker, who had been hunched over in front of the window, clutching a long rifle in his hands and staring into the darkness, sat up and winced.