Grizzly (3 page)

A little while later the sun topped out over the blue-gray mountains and made tracking easier. Justin called Radar, who was eagerly trotting far ahead of him. “Don’t get too far ahead, girl. Remember what happened the last time you got to the grizzly first.”

The trail led up, toward taller timber. Justin crossed several steep gullies and climbed over two high ridges. Twice he lost sight of the tracks and had to let Radar choose their direction.

Justin followed the tracks all morning, but the grizzly didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular. Her trail twisted and took turns into snowy meadows and dense thickets that Justin could barely get through. Sometimes the trail took him up a ridge only to come back down the same side.

Finally he came to a small meadow where the bear’s tracks were plain and plentiful. Justin frowned. There were other tracks there too. Human tracks.

Someone was up here with him, and that someone was obviously after his bear.

The boot tracks stayed well to the side of the paw prints. Justin followed both sets through the snow halfway across the meadow and stopped. He put one foot down next to the boot track and then picked it up. The imprint was identical.
He was following his own tracks! The grizzly knew what Justin was doing and had outsmarted him. She had circled around and had cut back into the same trail.

She
was hunting
him
.

The hair went up on the back of his neck. He looked behind him, half expecting to see the grizzly running, coming for him.

The tables had been turned. A noise in the woods made him jump. He grabbed Radar’s collar. A branch broke somewhere to his right, followed by the sound of crunching snow. The air smelled of wet, sour bear fur.

Radar was going crazy. It was all Justin could do to hold her. He watched the trees for any sign of movement. Everything was still.
Even the slight breeze that had been blowing had stopped.

Finally, his hand firmly on Radar’s collar, Justin crept toward the woods.

At the edge of the trees he saw where the bear must have been standing on her hind legs, watching him. The tracks were there, but the grizzly was long gone. She’d played her trick and won, leaving Justin embarrassed, but alive.

“This bear’s a smart one.” Justin clipped the chain to Radar’s collar and sat down on a stack of wood behind the house. “I can’t take you with me this time, Radar. You’ll just get in the way. The only hope I have is to sneak up on her, and with you along she’ll always know right where we are.”

Radar whined and tugged at the chain.

“I know you want to come, but you can’t. I called Sally. She’ll be over later to check on things.”

Justin winced as he remembered the story
he’d told Sally about having to go out and check on some stray sheep. He wouldn’t have called her, but he was determined to get Blue’s killer, even if it meant having to stay in the mountains for a couple of days.

He grabbed his bedroll and food pack and moved to the gate. The wind was worse today, whistling and howling through the trees. Justin set his jaw. It didn’t matter how cold it became. Nothing would keep him from finding that bear.

The trail was old now, but it was all he had to go on. Uncle Mack had told him that bears usually followed a pattern when they traveled. If you searched and kept circling, sooner or later you would find fresh tracks.

Radar’s barks of protest grew fainter as Justin strode quickly down the path. He’d decided not to follow the old tracks again. Instead he would cut through the forest to save time. The grizzly had headed for higher ground when he wounded her. With any luck, Justin would find her up there and catch her off guard.

On his way back home yesterday he’d had
time to think. The grizzly seemed to want to kill only for sport, not out of hunger. Maybe she was getting revenge against the hunters who had killed her cubs.

None of that mattered. The grizzly had come to the wrong ranch. Blue was dead, and Justin would settle for nothing less than the grizzly’s life in return.

At midmorning he stopped on top of a high, thinly timbered ridge and took stock of his surroundings. Below him lay the upper valley of Moosehead Creek. The countryside was endless, a vast carpet of jagged green with a winding silver ribbon of water snaking its way along the bottom.

Justin had seen plenty of animal tracks. The forest was full of game. So far he had surprised a mountain goat, a black bear, and a few squirrels. But there was no sign of his grizzly.

Justin laid the rifle on the ground and took out his binoculars. He saw a thin wisp of smoke coming from somewhere in the next valley, probably from the camp of a ranch
hand tending cattle or sheep, or perhaps from the camp of a backpacker.

He scanned the burn from an old fire that had taken place years ago, when he was a kid. It was still charred and dead-looking. Most of the trees had fallen to rot, but a few still stood watch like stately, burnt guardians.

A flock of white birds suddenly swept up into the air as if they had been startled. Justin kept his binoculars trained on the spot.

Something was moving around down there. Something big.

The mountains were beautiful to look at but difficult to travel through. What a person could see clearly in the distance might take several hours to reach on foot.

Justin found himself skirting washes and fallen trees, climbing up when he wanted to go down, cutting his way through dense brush and losing his bearings among the thick timbers. It was like being in a giant maze with no clear path to follow.

When he finally made it to the edge of the burn he took out his binoculars again. Something
moved in the shadows. He focused on the spot. It was a bear, all right. He couldn’t tell for certain if it was the grizzly, but it was big.

The burn was a dangerous place. In spots dead logs that had fallen on one another were stacked six feet deep, and the only way to cross them was to walk on top of the decayed wood.

The wind swept through the rotted trees, making them crack and sway. They could come crashing down at any second.

Justin adjusted his pack, shouldered the rifle, and started in. He was downwind from the bear, so he wasn’t worried about the animal catching his scent.

The logs were unstable, and several times he smashed through the top layer and had to work to free his foot. Carefully he stepped on the next log and took out his binoculars. The bear was nowhere in sight. He’d taken so long to get to this point that the bear must have moved on.

He searched the trees. There was nothing. If the animal he’d seen was the grizzly, he’d
been outsmarted once again. The bear was long gone and had left him standing in the middle of the treacherous burn.

Justin let the binoculars hang from his neck and studied his situation. He decided the best thing to do was head for the spot where he’d last seen the bear and look for tracks.

He stepped up on another pile of logs, but before he could bring his other leg up, the pile shifted. The top log rolled out from under him and he pitched backward.

He fell hard. Logs careened over him, slamming into his head and shoulders and crushing him under their weight.

Justin opened his eyes. Dirt and wood rot stung them. He tried to move his hand to brush the debris away but his arms were jammed tight against his sides.

He was flat on his back looking up at the tangle of charred dead trees that had him trapped. Tiny dots of light shone through cracks above. His legs were twisted at strange angles, but there was no pain, just the crushing pressure of the timber on top of him.

His body fought against the weight, but it was useless. He was buried alive. He closed
his eyes again and thought of Mack and Polly. They would eventually come looking for him, but they’d never be able to find him under the burn. Would he ever see them again?

Suddenly he heard the footsteps of someone walking through the burn toward him.

“Help,” Justin said weakly, coughing. “I’m here, under the trees.”

He listened and hoped. The footsteps were steadily getting closer, crunching slowly on the decayed debris.
He had been found. Someone had seen the accident and was coming to help. Above him, Justin could hear the sound of heavy logs being moved away one by one.

Then there was something else. A low guttural noise followed by heavy breathing and an impatient, whooshing snort.

Justin froze in terror. He had no idea where the rifle had fallen. He forced himself to think. Old-timers claimed bears wouldn’t bother you if you didn’t try to get away and made no sudden movements. He decided to play dead.

The pressure was off his legs now. Through his nearly closed eyelids Justin could see the bear heaving timbers out of her way as if they were matchsticks. It was the grizzly. The grizzly that had killed Blue.

Justin’s heart raced. The bear was enormous. Her fur was brown with shining silver tips. And her paws—her paws were long and hairy, with curved ivory claws that looked like knives.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a tug on his leg.
This is it
, he thought.
She’s going to tear me apart and eat me piece by piece
.

The grizzly viciously yanked him out of the entanglement and dragged him by one boot across the burn.

The bear was lighter on her feet than Justin could ever have imagined, but still they both fell through the dead wood in places, and several times the bear had to let go of him to pull herself out of a hole.

Justin fought the urge to resist, to stand up and run. He had no choice but to continue to play dead. His head bumped into everything
they crossed, and his body was scraped and bleeding. His left arm started to throb as if it was broken.

When they were finally out of the burn the grizzly continued to drag him by the leg as if he weighed no more than a child’s rag doll. She pulled him up a bluff to a rock ledge, tossed him underneath it, and then started scratching the ground, covering him with leaves and dirt. She didn’t stop until Justin was covered from head to toe.

Justin’s whole body ached, and the throbbing in his arm was getting worse. He longed to reach up and move the leaves off his face, but he knew he could not move. He had to wait.

The bear stepped around him, looking at her handiwork. Then she snorted, whirled, and loped off.

Justin swallowed and wondered why the bear hadn’t shredded him on the spot the way she had the sheep. He let out a deep breath and tried to catch another. Probably she had already eaten and was saving him for her evening meal.

He carefully raised his head a few inches. The leaves fell to the side, allowing him to breathe more easily and see where he was.

The grizzly had brought him to an overhang above the burn. Below, Justin could see the charred forest and the river. The bear was nowhere in sight.

Justin moved slowly, hoping he wouldn’t attract any attention in case the bear was waiting out there somewhere, watching. He crawled to his feet and took a shaky step. His left arm dangled uselessly by his side and every part of him hurt, but there was no time to think about it. He forced himself to move, to leave, to survive.