The Killing Blow Read online

  “You folks are luckier than most,” Ordell said in a quiet, almost reverent voice. “That bear’s been known to sneak up and pounce like a damn cat. I guess that wagon turning over must’ve spooked him.”

  “I just can’t take the chance of it coming back. There’s a lady back there who’s hurt.”

  “He won’t be coming back,” Ordell said. “Not if I can help it.”

  “Then go ahead and take your shot.”

  “After you, my friend. All I need is to catch the big fella’s attention.”

  Shrugging, Clint brought the rifle up, aimed and fired. It sent a bullet into the bear’s side, causing it to stagger and turn toward the tree. For a second, it looked as if all those previous rifle shots had finally added up to do some damage. Then, once the bear caught sight of Clint and Ordell, it thundered toward them more powerfully than ever.

  “Just stay where you are,” Ordell said under his breath as the ground beneath him shook with the approaching bear’s steps.

  Clint leaned against the tree and watched the bear draw closer. “Any day now,” he grunted.

  Ordell let out a slow breath and squeezed his trigger. His rifle let out a single blast, which rolled through the air like a clap of thunder. The barrel jumped up, kicking Ordell on the shoulder as black smoke poured from one end.

  Clint could hear something that almost sounded like a hammer thumping against a wet board.

  The bear kept running toward the tree as Ordell slowly lowered his rifle. He didn’t even bother going through the motions of reloading the weapon since he and Clint would both be killed three times over before he was halfway done.

  Clint leaned back and gritted his teeth. At that moment, he saw the cold emptiness in the bear’s eyes.

  After taking one more step, the bear simply dropped down and let its own momentum drive its head into the ground. Its paws were still ripping at the dirt, but weren’t strong enough to support its own weight. After a few more kicks, the bear let out a final growl and then stopped moving.

  Only then did Clint realize his shoulders were up around his ears and that he hadn’t taken a full breath since he’d first climbed down from Eclipse’s saddle.

  Ordell, on the other hand, looked like he was posing for a photograph. With his rifle in one hand like a walking stick, he leaned forward and nodded slowly. Glancing over to Clint, he said, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  THREE

  When Clint and Ordell walked back to the overturned wagon, they heard the woman yelp a bit as if she’d seen the bear return. When she spotted the two men instead of the single animal, she let out a relieved sigh.

  “Who’s that?” she asked.

  Clint knelt down beside the wagon and said, “He’s the man who killed that bear.”

  “I figure we’ll all be eating real good tonight,” Ordell said.

  “I can think about food once I get this wagon off of me.”

  Clint reached under the wagon and found the spot where her leg was pinned. “Can you feel that?”

  She nodded.

  “And does it hurt?”

  Ordell laughed under his breath and said, “If she ain’t hollering her lungs out, then she’s just fine.”

  Looking to Clint, she said, “It does hurt a bit, but I should be all right.”

  “See? I told ya.”

  “All right then, doctor,” Clint said. “Do you think you can help me lift this wagon?”

  Ordell leaned his rifle against the nearest tree and peeled the tattered coat from his shoulders. He then spat on both his callused palms, rubbed them together and took a firm grip upon the edge of the wagon. “Ready when you are.”

  Positioning himself next to Ordell, Clint took hold of the wagon and looked to the woman before lifting. “Can you pull your leg out on your own?”

  “If it means getting out from under here, I’ll drag myself all the way back to Georgia,” she replied.

  Clint nodded and looked over to Ordell. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

  Even with both men straining every muscle in their arms, back and shoulders, the wagon only moved enough for the woman to pull herself out about an inch. Her eyes widened and she scooted back where she was the moment she felt the wagon coming down again.

  “My knee’s stuck,” she said. “I have to get it all out or nothing.”

  “Think you can lift this thing any higher?” Ordell asked.

  After catching his breath, Clint looked over to the closest tree. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  The instant he saw Clint walk over and take the rifle that had been leaning against that tree, Ordell jumped to his feet. “Just what the hell do you think you’re gonna do with that?”

  “Use it to give us a little leverage.”

  “Why don’t you use yer own damn rifle for that?”

  “Because my rifle isn’t a solid iron tree trunk that’s almost as tall as I am. That gun’s strong enough to last through doomsday, so it’s strong enough to get that wagon off the lady’s knee. If you can find something else that can do the trick, be my guest.”

  After taking a quick look around, Ordell grumbled under his breath and reclaimed his rifle. “At least let me do it.”

  “All right. I’ll get back and lift to make it as easy on that gun as possible.”

  Even though Clint had made the offer jokingly, Ordell looked as if he were seriously considering sacrificing his firstborn child. He took hold of his rifle by the stock and then wedged the barrel under one corner of the wagon. The first time he pulled on the rifle, Ordell did so halfheartedly at best. Once he saw Clint straining and the lady struggling, he put more of his back into it.

  Before too long, the wagon groaned as it shifted from the spot where it had been wedged into the ground. Beads of sweat poured down both men’s faces until finally the wagon shifted again and the lady squirmed free from beneath it.

  Until now, the child in her arms had been so quiet and so still that Clint had almost forgotten it was there. Once the lady was able to get out from under the wagon, however, the child popped from her arms and scurried away.

  “Looks like the boy’s gonna be all right,” Ordell said.

  Clint kept his eyes on the boy and took his first good look at him. Although the boy’s face was smudged with dirt and his clothes were ripped in a few spots, he moved just fine. He looked back at Clint with a little bit of nervousness in his eyes, but he still looked alert.

  “You all right?” Clint asked.

  The boy nodded and then scurried back to the lady, who wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against the top of his head.

  Shifting his eyes toward the lady, Clint asked, “What about you? Can you get up?”

  “I’m not sure.” Before Clint or Ordell could get close enough to her to help, she tried getting her legs beneath her. She winced with pain a few times, and nearly fell over when she actually tried to stand. When she attempted it again, she had a man on each arm to help her up.

  Clint and Ordell brought the woman slowly to her feet and held her up rather than allowing her to support her own full weight. Together, they lowered her down a bit and picked her up again when they heard her pull in a sharp, pained breath.

  “We need to get a better look at that leg,” Clint said.

  Ordell eased away from her once he saw that the lady was naturally leaning more toward Clint. “Then I might as well gather some wood and set up camp.”

  “Camp?” the lady asked. “But we need to get moving again. We’re expected in Westerlake.”

  “Where’s Westerlake?” Clint asked.

  “Oregon.”

  “That’d normally be another day’s ride, but this isn’t exactly normal.”

  “My son and I need to get there. Otherwise my family will worry.”

  “And it seems they’d be right to worry,” Clint pointed out. “Especially since we were nearly killed by a bear—”

  “Speak for yerself,” Ordell muttered.

  Clin
t tossed the rifle he’d borrowed into Ordell’s hands. “Most of us almost got killed by a bear,” Clint corrected. “And some of us don’t have a wagon anymore.”

  “The horses should still be around here,” the lady said while looking around in every direction. “Somewhere.”

  “And we should find them before long. Right now, it’s getting dark and we all could use a rest.” Holding a hand toward Ordell, Clint added, “Most of us do. We can get a fresh start in the morning. How’s that?”

  By now, the lady’s breathing had calmed and she nodded warily. “If you wouldn’t mind staying with us, I’d appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure,” Clint said. “Although I can’t speak for my trapper friend over there.”

  Ordell was already wandering back into the trees with his rifle over his shoulder. “I intend on stuffing my gourd with fresh bear meat tonight. If you folks intend on building a good-sized cooking fire, I don’t mind sharing.”

  Clint made sure the lady was situated and then rubbed his hands together. “All right, then. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a picnic.”

  FOUR

  It wasn’t long before the sun was on its way down, but the shadows grew long way before that. The spot where Clint and Ordell set up the camp was a little ways off the trail and nestled within a thick batch of trees. The remains of the bear had been covered with enough dirt to keep the smell away, but the remains of the wagon weren’t so easy to hide.

  Half of the cart had been splintered and damaged beyond repair. The other half had been stripped away and the wood was put to plenty of other uses. One of those was to feed the large fire that was blazing brightly in the middle of a stone circle. Large chunks of meat were stretched over the flames, filling the air with the mouth-watering scent of dinner.

  Clint walked into the camp, leading three horses by their reins. One of them was his own Darley Arabian stallion. Another belonged to Ordell and the third was still twitchy and jumping at every snap and crackle coming from the campfire.

  “Where’s Petey?” the lady asked.

  Clint looked around and immediately spotted the young boy, so he figured that wasn’t the child’s name. “Petey?”

  “The other horse,” she said. “He’s a dark gray with—”

  “Oh, the horse,” Clint said. “He was hurt pretty badly.”

  “But I saw him run away once the harness was broken.”

  “He didn’t make it far. I found him with one broken leg and another that looked pretty twisted up. I had to . . . uh . . .” When he saw the child looking directly at him, Clint started struggling for a more delicate choice of words.

  “You had to shoot him,” the boy said, beating Clint to the punch. Looking to the lady, he added, “It’s best that way, you know.”

  “Yes, sweetie,” she replied while rubbing the top of the boy’s head. “I know.”

  Clint sat down at the edge of the fire and nodded to Ordell. The bigger man was sitting on a stump and leaning toward the fire so he could tend to the cooking. The lady and the young boy were on the opposite side of the fire.

  Now that there weren’t any wild animals about or wagons that needed to be lifted, Clint actually had a moment to get a close look at the two folks who’d called him onto this section of trail in the first place.

  The boy looked to be somewhere between eight and ten years old. He had bright blond hair and even brighter blue eyes. Although the blood had been wiped from his face, he still wore his ripped jacket proudly as if mimicking the tattered appearance of the big man cooking the bear meat. Despite weighing less than one of the wagon’s busted wheels, the boy held up pretty well after the crash and ensuing bear attack. In fact, the little guy seemed to be enjoying himself as if this were just another camping trip.

  The woman had darker blond hair and a slightly darker hue to her skin. Part of that seemed to come from the sun, but there was also something else that gave her a naturally exotic look. Her dark brown eyes smoldered like embers in the fire and her soft lips had yet to curl up into a smile.

  “Now that I know the horse’s name,” Clint said, “perhaps I should know yours.”

  Finally, the lady smiled and she lowered her head as a blush found its way onto her cheeks. “It’s Allison Stapp. This is my son.”

  “Joseph,” the boy said, beating her to the punch. He stood up straight and stuck his hand out toward Clint.

  “Clint Adams,” he said while shaking the boy’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  When he saw the Stapps looking in his direction, the bigger man leaning toward the fire said, “Mark Ordell.”

  “Normally, I’m more mindful of my manners,” Allison said.

  “You from Georgia?” Ordell asked.

  “Why yes. How’d you know?”

  “Georgia girls have the prettiest accent there is.”

  Maintaining her blush, Allison averted her eyes and wound up looking toward Clint.

  Rather than try to ease her embarrassment, Clint simply shrugged and said, “It’s true.”

  She nodded and sat up since she wasn’t about to get much comfort from anyone around that fire. “Thank you,” she said.

  Ordell chuckled and nodded appreciatively. “And there it is. Sweet as honey.”

  Both men laughed as Allison picked up a pebble and tossed it at Ordell. When she got up, Allison curtsied and spoke like she was the belle of the ball. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, ah’d like to freshen up a bit. Ah do believe there’s a lake nearby.”

  After watching her leave, Ordell shifted back around and prodded the bear meat sizzling over the flames.

  “You said that bear was famous,” Clint remarked. “What did you mean?”

  “It’s a man killer, is what I mean. Took out a bunch of men at a lumber camp a few miles from here as well as a few . . .” He paused and shot a quick glance toward Joseph. “As well as a few others at a house up in the hills.”

  Clint nodded. “I suppose there’s a reward for the hide?”

  “Yep.”>

  “I can help you clean up the carcass and stretch out that hide, then.”

  Ordell narrowed his eyes a bit and asked, “You ex-pectin’ a piece of the reward?”

  “After I went through the trouble of flushing him out and running him straight to you?” Clint asked indignantly. “Actually, no. After all you’ve done, I thought I could lend you a hand as a way to say thanks. The reward’s all yours. You earned it.”

  “If you want to thank me, you’d fix the damage you caused to my baby.”

  “Huh?”

  “My rifle,” Ordell said as he reached over, picked up the huge weapon and tossed it to Clint. “See for yerself.”

  Clint caught the rifle with both hands and immediately felt the imperfection in the way it felt. The weapon resembled a musket at first, but the hammer and firing mechanism were much more up-to-date. The stock had obviously been around for a long time and was marred by notches and other markings all up and down the wooden surface.

  Although those parts of the gun caught Clint’s professional interest, it was the barrel that immediately caused his hackles to rise. The thick iron was bored out and the rest was thickened to accommodate the work. Despite the sturdiness of the iron, however, being used as a lever was enough to put a nasty bend a quarter of the way down from the sights.

  “What caliber is this?” Clint asked.

  “Fifty-two,” Ordell said proudly. “I made it myself and I make the ammunition as well. None of that matters if the damn barrel is bent worse than a pig’s pecker.” Quickly looking to Joseph, he added, “Don’t repeat none of that to yer mother.”

  The boy covered his mouth and grinned widely behind his hand.

  “Can you fix it?” Ordell asked.

  “It’ll take a bit of time and I might need to visit a blacksmith, but I should be able to straighten it out. I can also modify your firing mechanism. I’ve got those tools in my saddlebag.”

  “Honest?”

  “I shoul
d be able to give you a bit more accuracy and I might be able to rig up something to speed up your reloading as well. You think that might put us square?”

  Ordell made a show of thinking it over. Reluctantly, he shrugged and turned the meat over the flames. “We’ll see.”

  FIVE

  It turned out that Ordell was one hell of a good cook. Even though Clint didn’t have a lot of experience with preparing freshly killed bear, he couldn’t deny that the meat melted in his mouth like the best steaks he’d ordered in a restaurant.

  Afterward, Clint and Ordell had started skinning the bear and then the trapper insisted on finishing up on his own. Rather than argue for more of the dirty work, Clint went back to the fireside and worked on the rifle. Allison and Joseph spent the night telling stories and a few jokes before the boy drifted off to sleep. Clint couldn’t keep his eyes open for much longer, himself.

  Suddenly, Clint snapped awake and reflexively grabbed for the modified Colt at his hip. The gun was right where it should be, but there wasn’t anything in sight for him to shoot. Clint’s heart was thumping in his chest and his breathing was ragged. When he closed his eyes, he felt as if he were once again bolting from tree to tree with a rampaging monster at his back.

  Although it didn’t take long for him to shake himself out of that somewhat dizzy state, Clint found he’d also shaken himself too far awake to go back asleep. He sat up and stretched his arms while pulling in a lungful of air, which still smelled like burning wood.

  It was still dark, but the promise of sunrise hung in the eastern sky. There wasn’t enough light to see more than a few feet in front of him, but the dampness in the air and the sound of rustling birds made Clint certain that light would break in just over an hour or so.

  Since he wasn’t about to fall asleep right away, Clint got up and took a quick survey of the camp. That was all he needed to realize that they were missing one person. In particular, they were missing one person with a sweet Georgia accent.

  Clint was careful not to wake up Joseph as he stepped over the boy. Judging by the way the kid was snoring, it would have taken another rampaging bear to wake him up. Oddly enough, Ordell slept without making a sound or even stirring a muscle. He sat with his back to a tree, his head slumped forward, and his hands wrapped around a sheathed hunting knife.