“Wait! Don’t leave me like this! Where are you going?”
“To get help.” Fargo ran faster. He didn’t like leaving the senator alone but he couldn’t lift the bear by himself. He doubted he could get it off even if Owen helped. So he ran, and when at last he broke from the trees, Lichen and the horses were where they should be. He wasted no time in explanations but swung onto the Ovaro and told Lichen to bring the others. A rake of his spurs, and he galloped back into the woods.
Keever had company. Owen was hunkered next to him and they were talking heatedly about something but stopped when Fargo burst into the clearing. He drew rein so hard that the stallion slid to a stop. Vaulting down, he had his rope in hand when he reached the bear.
“So that’s where you went,” Keever said.
Owen was dressed again. He gave the bear a smack, and grinned. “Can you believe this? Pinned under a bear! He’ll be the laughingstock of all his high and mighty friends if they hear of it.”
“Which they never will,” Keever said harshly. “I’m relying on your discretion, the both of you.”
Owen snorted. “Hell, I don’t even know what that is. But if you want me to keep my mouth shut, I will. For an extra hundred dollars.”
“Is that all you ever think of? Money?”
“I think of women a lot. But the kind of women I like takes money to get to know. That hundred dollars won’t buy me but two nights of heaven. I can always use more.”
Fargo was walking around the black bear. It was obvious the senator wasn’t gravely hurt. But if they weren’t careful about how they got the bear off, he might be. Fargo stepped to where one of the bear’s rear legs protruded and began tying the rope as tight as he could.
Lem Owen came around. “I savvy what you’re up to. Two horses would be better. I’ll fetch mine.”
Just then Lichen arrived with the rest. Owen climbed on his animal, uncoiled his rope, and tossed an end to Fargo. Fargo tied it to the bear’s other rear leg, then swung onto the Ovaro and lifted the reins.
“Nice and easy does it.”
Senator Keever called out, “What are you two up to? I can’t see from here. The bear’s backside is in the way.”
“Hold real still,” Fargo cautioned. “We’re about to drag the bear off you.”
Owen laughed. “Say, Senator? When we start pulling, watch out that the bear doesn’t snag a tooth or claw. You could lose skin, or maybe what you used to bring your little Gerty into the world.”
Fargo was surprised Keever didn’t take exception. Turning the Ovaro broadside to the bear, he dallied the rope around the saddle and glanced at Owen, who had done the same with his. “Ready? On the count of three.”
The Ovaro and the dun strained and the ropes grew taut. Bit by bit the bear slid backward. Its open mouth and head left blood and fluid on the senator’s shirt and jacket.
Keever was a statue. His rifle, it turned out, was next to him. He didn’t move until the bear’s head slid over his ankles. Then he rose on his elbows and looked down at him self. “I appear to be no worse for wear. But my clothes are a terrible mess.”
“You were damned lucky,” Owen said. “A black bear ain’t a griz but it can rip a man apart without half trying.”
Fargo climbed down. He offered his hand and helped the senator to stand. There were no bite marks, no cuts, not so much as a tear in the senator’s clothes. He nodded at the dead bruin. “Mind telling us what happened?”
“Not at all.” Keever commenced brushing himself off. “It tried to sneak up on me but I heard it. When it charged, I shot it in the head. But the beast was so close, it rammed into me before I could get out of the way and fell on top of me.”
Fargo reconstructed the event in his mind. “So the bear was almost on top of you when you heard it?”
“Actually, it was in the trees there.” Keever pointed at the woods. “I heard it when it stepped on a downed tree limb and the limb broke.”
Fargo calculated the distance. “That’s a good thirty feet.”
“More like forty.” Keever smoothed his bloodstained jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “How do I look?”
“Wait a minute.” Fargo needed to hear more. Something wasn’t adding up. “The bear was forty feet off when it charged? And you only got off one shot? How close was it when you fired?”
“Oh, I’d say five or six feet.”
“What the hell?” Owen said.
Fargo didn’t understand it, either. “Why did you wait so long to shoot? You could have put two or three shots into it in that time.” Even with a single-shot rifle.
Senator Keever gave them his best politician’s smile. “That wouldn’t be very sporting, now would it?”
Both Fargo and Owen said at the same time, “Sporting?”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” Keever chortled at their confusion. “What do you take me for? I’m not one of those hunters who likes to sit a thousand yards off and drop a buffalo. Or wait up in a tree for a buck to come by. No, I like my contests to be fair.”
“Contests?” Owen repeated.
“Yes. A battle of skill versus brawn, of courage versus savagery. To put it more simply, I like the animal to have as much a chance to kill me as I do to kill it. Most of the time, anyway.”
“That’s plumb stupid,” Owen said.
“Think what you will. I pride myself on always giving the other fellow, or the other animal, an even break. Where was the challenge in shooting the bear when it was forty feet away? I let it get close enough to use its teeth and claws, and then I shot it.”
“You do this a lot?” Fargo wanted to know.
“Almost always. It’s how I test myself, how I take my own measure as a man. Surely the two of you can understand?”
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Owen said.
“I don’t do it all the time. Now and then I’ll want a special trophy so much, I’ll settle for killing the animal any way I can.”
“Don’t take this personal, Senator,” Owen said, “but you’re running around with an empty wagon between your ears.”
“And you?” Senator Keever appealed to Fargo. “Do you think it ridiculous of me, too?”
Fargo was about to say yes but Keever didn’t give him the chance.
“Consider, gentlemen, the lives you live. Day in, day out, you roam the raw frontier. You never know from one day to the next what you’ll run into. Hostiles, wild beasts, the elements, all sorts of things can kill you. Yet you meet each day as the challenge it is without flinching.”
Owen glanced at Fargo. “What the hell is he talking about?”
“Courage, Mr. Owen. The very core of what makes a man a man. With it, we can surmount any obstacle. Without it, we are mice in human guise.”
“There must be a better way to test yourself,” Fargo said.
“Such as? In combat, perhaps? The United States isn’t at war right now or I would seek an officer’s commission. How else, then? By gambling? Cards have never appealed to me. The outcome is more chance than anything. What does that leave? Some sport, perhaps? Golf or rowing or maybe baseball? Hitting a little ball with a stick strikes me as about the most unmanly activity on the planet.”
“You sure have a way with words,” Owen praised him.
Fargo folded his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before you hired me?”
“Because you might have refused to guide me and I wanted you and only you.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, Senator Keever stepped to the bear and patted its shoulder. “A fine adversary, if I say so myself. Next I want to shoot a bull buffalo and after that a grizzly.”
“Are you going to pull the same stunt with them?” Owen asked.
“Of course.”
“It was nice knowing you.”