Bear Bait by Pamela Beason

Author:Pamela Beason [Beason, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bears, hunting, national parks, conservation, terrorism, hate crimes, mining, animal mysteries, wilderness mysteries, wildlife mysteries, outdoor adventure, Olympic National Park
Publisher: WildWing Press
Published: 2015-10-11T06:00:00+00:00

15

After scouting the Marmot Lake area to make sure no surprises awaited her, Sam set up camp in thick woods beyond the burn zone, hiding her tent beneath the low-hanging branches of a red cedar. All evidence indicated that intruders had so far been active only near the lake shore. Her camp would be behind them, out of their sight. At least she hoped so.

It took her half an hour of throwing rocks and ropes over high limbs to string up a bear line and suspend her food from it. Then she set off, using her GPS to guide her from the lake to the coordinates where she’d left the illegal track days ago. If she’d had wings, it wouldn’t have taken long, but she had to divert around massive firs, battle through meadows of thigh-high ferns and salmonberry brambles, and wade glacier-melt creeks that made her whole body ache.

As her private expedition entered its third hour, she had new respect for the hardy explorers who first hacked into the Olympic Peninsula in the 1880s. Although the area she was traversing had been logged twice, hiking off-trail was still tough going.

When she scrambled over a moss-encrusted log, she dropped her GPS locator, which slid into a pocket of rot at the cedar log’s base. She gritted her teeth. While she could reconnoiter roughly with her compass and map, she wanted to meet the track exactly where she’d left it before. She knelt, groaning a little at the pain from her injured knee. After digging under the log and jamming a splinter up under a fingernail, she finally fished out the handheld. The screen was blank.

“Dammit!” She banged it on her thigh several times, pressed a few buttons. Finally, thankfully, the LCD blinked back on. Then she heard footsteps in the forest on the other side of the log.

She flattened herself on the ground. Poachers? She was not eager to feel bullets whiz by her head again.

A black and yellow centipede crawled through a miniature grove of orange gumdrop fungi a couple of inches from her nose. She closed her eyes, praying the creature wasn’t attracted to body heat. The steps neared her position. Small snaps and rustles came from several directions. Damn; it was a whole group. Now it sounded like someone was standing on the other side of the log. The skin on her back crawled with the expectation of a sudden blow. Another minute passed. She heard the crunching of twigs beneath heavy feet, not more than a yard away.

Raising her head, she chanced a look across the top of the log. Startled brown eyes stared back at her from a long mournful face. A drooping stalk of greenery hung from the elk cow’s mouth. They gazed at each other for a second.

Then Sam burst out laughing, although she knew she shouldn’t. Three long-legged calves grazed among more adults, not far away, and elk could be violently protective.

The cow snorted and wheeled around, starting a minor stampede. Sam concentrated on counting the herd before they crashed out of sight.

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