Deke crouched down and placed his hand inside the track left by the damaged paw. He was surprised to see that the track swallowed up his hand. He stood up and tried his foot next, but the bear’s track was still larger. Nearby, he spotted a drop or two of blood. Wounded, all right. A big, wounded bear wasn’t good news.
After McGlothlin’s warning, he had started carrying the old Iver Johnson double-barreled twelve gauge around the farm with him. Both barrels were loaded with buckshot. He looked down again at the massive size of the tracks left by the bear’s paw. Two barrels. Two shots. If it came down to it, would that be enough? A couple of shotgun shells suddenly seemed like a puny thing compared to a bear.
He looked over his shoulder, feeling a ripple along his spine, but there was nothing to see but the empty fields crisscrossed by a few leaning fences. The dark line of woods began beyond the fields and sloped up toward the mountains. Maybe the bear had run off into those hills, but Deke didn’t think so. Ol’ Slewfoot would be hungry, and possibly mad with pain if he was wounded. Deke had an uneasy feeling, like maybe the bear was watching him right now from those trees, making up his mind to stay or retreat into the hills.
That night when the dogs started barking, he knew that he’d gotten his answer. A frightened squeal cut through the sound of the commotion outside.
“He’s after the pig!” Sadie said, wide eyed and angry. They both knew that the pig was their only hope of getting through the winter. Most families raised one up through the summer, feeding it scraps and slop, fattening it up.
Deke reached for the shotgun in the corner. “I’m going out there.”
“Not alone, you’re not!” Sadie took the rifle down from where it hung above the fireplace.
He didn’t bother to argue. It wouldn’t have done any good where Sadie was concerned. His sister was stubborn as a mule.
She was also a good shot — maybe even better than her brother. The Coles owned a shotgun and a hunting rifle. What they didn’t own was a lot of shells for either gun. Those cost money that they didn’t have. Each shot would need to count.
Still sitting at the table, Ma looked as though her thoughts were a million miles away. The presence of the bear on the farm didn’t seem to concern her. Since Pa had died, she had turned inward, growing quieter and somehow more childlike each day. The normal thing would have been to tell her children not to go out into the dark that was filled with the awful squeals of the pig and the excited yelping of the dogs.
Mutely, she watched her son and daughter standing by the door, guns in their hands, gathering their courage before going into the night to confront the bear. Nobody would have blamed them if they stayed in the house. In fact, you might say that was the smart thing to do under the circumstances. But avoiding danger wasn’t the Cole way.
Sadie followed Deke out the door.
Their two dogs were raising a ruckus down by the barn, and they ran in that direction.
They heard what sounded like boards being ripped aside, then more squeals from their pig, so high pitched that it hurt their ears. Had the bear already gotten to him?
Shouting to scare off the bear, Deke ran around the barn, shotgun at the ready. In the moonlight, he could see the hole in the back of the barn where the boards had been torn loose. The pig had gone quiet. That didn’t make any sense. With a sinking heart, Deke realized that the bear must have already made off with the pig. He realized that he could now hear the dogs barking off in the field.
“We’re too late!” Sadie cried out, her voice taut with anger. “He already took the pig!”
“Maybe we can get it back.”
“What are you talking about, Deke?”
“Come on,” he said.
He led the way toward the sound of the barking dogs. They weren’t letting the bear get away scot-free. Maybe, just maybe, they could get the pig back and salvage something from it. There was an outraged growl that must be from the bear. One of the dogs yelped — it sounded like their old hound, Boomer — then went quiet.
“Oh no,” Sadie said.
Deke ran faster, his feet light and sure-footed across the dark field. The night pressed in around them, and his eyes strained to see anything in the moonlight. Vaguely, he was aware of Sadie calling to him to come back, but he kept running.
Finally, he saw the bear, a heaving black lump even blacker than the darkness around it. Without thinking, his pumping legs carried him closer, and a savage sound came from his throat, a keening wail that was a mix of fear and outrage. Some would have called it a rebel yell.
Closer now, he could see the bear in the moonlight, the black lump coalescing into a creature that looked impossibly big. Its paws straddled the freshly killed pig. His outraged yell had gotten the bear’s attention. When the bear turned its grizzled muzzle toward Deke, he could see that it was wet and dripping with gore from the pig. The sight was made even more horrible because the bear’s face was scarred and hairless on one side, presumably burned, like some unearthly creature.
Deke raised the shotgun, but his heart hammered from all the running, and his arms wouldn’t hold the twelve gauge steady. Two shots, he reminded himself. That’s all you get.
Behind him, a gunshot split the night, taking him by surprise. Sadie had fired into the air, once, twice, hoping to scare off the bear. Their other dog, Banger, was still snarling at Ol’ Slewfoot and darting in to nip at him, but the bear paid him no more attention than he would give a mosquito. Another shadow lay in the frosty grass nearby, and Deke realized it was old Boomer’s lifeless form.
The bear held its ground and roared. He rose up on his hind legs. A full-grown black bear could stand over six feet high, and this one weighed at least four hundred pounds, looking nearly as broad as he was tall. He would have dwarfed a full-grown man, and Deke was just a boy.
“He killed Boomer!” Sadie cried. Anger seemed to get the best of her. She came up even with Deke and fired again, aiming right at the bear this time. The bear roared. He dropped to all fours, and for a moment it looked as if Sadie had gotten him.
“That was my last bullet. Shoot him, Deke. Shoot him!”
Deke raised the shotgun, looking for a good shot. If Sadie had hit the bear, it had only made him even more mad with pain. He rolled his massive head, roaring again.
And then Ol’ Slewfoot charged.
Right at Sadie.
A bear, even an old one, can move with lightning speed. All four hundred pounds of the bear exploded into motion, a furious mountain of pain, matted fur, yellow teeth, and claws like reaping hooks.
They couldn’t have outrun the bear even if they’d tried. Sadie seemed to brace herself, watching the bear come like she was daring it. She held the empty rifle like a club, standing her ground. The bear was headed right for her.
“Deke, shoot him!”
Deke stepped in front of his sister. He put the bead of the shotgun on the bear and fired.
Then the bear was upon him. It was like being hit by a hay bale fired from a cannon. He slammed to the ground, all the breath going out of him. He felt the bear’s claws raking him, tearing away his coat and shirt. There wasn’t any pain at first, even when he felt a claw snag a rib and snap it as easily as Deke might have broken a stick of kindling for the woodstove.
Through it all, he didn’t let go of the shotgun. One part of him registered that the bear was ripping him to pieces, while another part of him ignored that and focused on the shotgun. It was his only hope. The twelve gauge was all that mattered. He still had one finger through the trigger guard. One live shell in the chamber. If he could just get the muzzle turned into the bear, he would pull that trigger.