Death is a Grizzly by J.C. Graves

Author:J.C. Graves
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western, Horror, Death, Grizzly, Adventure, J.C. Graves, Stephen King, Joel C. Graves, Death is a Grizzly, Thriller, Cheyenne Indians
Publisher: Summit Bay Press, Olympia WA
Published: 2020-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Everyone else had turned in; Robert sat with James by the fire. “Want to call off this here bear hunt?”

“Been thinking on just that,” James admitted.

They didn’t speak for a long time. Robert poured more coffee for them both. “That’s the last of it.” He set the empty blackened coffee pot to the side.

“Let’s see,” James began, “Among the uninjured, we have Henry, Gideon, Josiah, Michael, Philip, you and me. That’s seven.” James carefully sipped the scalding hot coffee. The coffee was from breakfast: old, black, and thick as tar, strong and bitter, and fit his mood perfectly. “We can continue with that many if we move the herd closer to the mountains, where we have the day camp. Keep closer together.”

Robert nodded. Being spread out with two camps had lured the Indians, an easy conquest—to them. He figured it was his mistake and a poor decision based on a possible threat from the bear. Well, to hades with the varmint. “Let’s move the herd a little north of your day camp today, actually.” He did not want to go home and have Pablo accuse them of cowardice or quitting in the face of these obstacles. They would just have to see this through, although he and James carried major doubts. Pride and honor were driving the train now. He was used to taking orders and giving them. James the same. In effect, they had given orders to themselves, damn the consequences.

The next day they moved the cattle to a spot a few miles north of their last day camp and much closer to the mountain range. James sat his horse, studying the wood line. He worried that the trees started only fifty yards away. If running hard, the bear could cover that distance quickly. How quickly? He frowned, thinking about what that might look like. As fast as he could load and fire—ten or twelve seconds average now; he might not get off a second shot. Even if all four of them shot the bear with their high-caliber sharpshooter rifles, a creature that big, that angry...no, they would not stop it before it killed someone, maybe everyone. A sobering thought. He frowned, considering that chilling scenario happening at three in the morning. On a very dark and rainy night. No light. The bear charging through the cattle, then among the sleeping men, wreaking havoc and slaughtering people like the big saw at the lumber mill. Instead of saw dust and wood chips flying, it would be bone and sinew and blood accompanied by desperate, horrific screams.

James never considered shooting the bear with just the 44-caliber Henry rifle, even if he could fire sixteen rounds or more per minute. The Whitworth round was 45-caliber, but moving at what he considered twice the speed, although he did not know how to measure something like that. When it hit the bear, the damage should be profound. He hoped. If he was able, his first shot would be with the famous hexagon Whitworth bullet, then grab the Henry and fire as quickly as he could chamber rounds.

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