Uncertain Justice

Chapter 47

Pulling up a short distance beyond the tree, the bear spun around to find his prey but was momentarily confused. Bear and man had exchanged positions--now the man was on the uphill side and the bear down the slight slope and the man wasn't where the bear had last seen him.

Chasing the heavy spear had put Miles on the opposite side of the tree from where he had been and slightly to the bear's right. He was temporarily camouflaged by the tall growth of grass and the poorly sighted bear couldn't find him at first.

Shakily, Miles rose. He stepped forward and to his right to get the tree directly between him and the bear again. He knew better than to try to run. Not only was the bear lightning fast on level ground, it could climb a tree quicker than any human. Using the tree as a shield was still the only thing he could think of.

When the bear caught sight of Miles rising above the high grass, he stood and snarled his anger with jaws as wide as they could be forced open. The grizzly charged again, slower this time, anticipating another trick on the part of the human.

When Miles stepped close against the shelter of the tree trunk again, the bear tried to check his attack but skidded in the leaves and flew by once more. He raked the tree trunk as he passed with six-inch claws from a huge forepaw. The claws gouged deep grooves through the bark and into the hard wood beneath. The contact helped slow the grizzly down and he stopped just beyond the tree.

Enraged, he reversed course again, swapping ends faster than Miles would have believed possible if he'd had time to think about it. The bear reared up to its full eight foot height to see better, his front limbs out to the side for balance. He sensed motion to his left front and shuffled around to face the human. Before the creature completed the turn, Miles lunged, intending to thrust the spear into the bear's belly.

The grizzly dropped to continue the battle on all fours. His head still high in the air and his jaws gapping, he bellowed his displeasure with the man, slapped a massive forepaw on the ground, and lumbered forward.

The spear had been arcing toward the animal's lower abdomen but Miles reacted to the bear's lower stance by instinctively pushing the point lower to still try to find a path into the bear's gut. Trying to follow the grizzly's movement as he drove forward, Miles overcorrected. He barely had time to realize the spear point was aimed at the animal's left shoulder before the massive animal was on him.

Raising his head to roar his rage, the grizzly tried to bat the pointed stick away so he could close and kill but the rising forepaw only deflected it upward and onto the beast's centerline. With Miles' full weight behind it, the point penetrated the soft skin at the hollow of the huge bear's throat, crushing the windpipe, and slicing into the soft tissue behind. The scream of pain was cut off before it became audible.

The make-do lance was ripped from Miles' hands and smashed on the ground. It shattered with the impact but not before the animal's own weight and inertia drove the point deeper into the bear's neck. Only the fire hardened tip and a foot or so of the staff survived to project from the bear's neck. Strong tendons in the bear's neck clamped down on the splintered remains, holding it tightly in place.

The bear whirled and tried to flee with the shaft protruding obscenely from the wound but the tip of the spear slipped between two vertebrae and punctured the spinal cord.

The big grizzly collapsed instantly; his legs were no longer his to command. The sharp, fire-hardened tip slashed through more nerve fibers when the bear's fall jammed it deeper into his spine. The paralysis spread, engulfing more of the animal's body.

When the bear first recoiled, fighting to dislodge the heavy piece of wood, the spear went wild in Miles' hands and knocked him off his feet. He tumbled downhill until he rolled to a stop against a deadfall. On all fours, he struggled to get over the fallen tree to put it between himself and the raging predator.

Getting to his knees, he fumbled for the heavy pistol--finally remembering it as a weapon--ripping away the thong that held the g*n captive. He raised the weapon to eye level with his right hand and brought his left up to support it. He thumbed back the hammer to full c**k.

He really expected the bear to be on his heels as he rolled down the slight decline and thought he had to shoot fast and keep pulling the trigger. His only hope would be for one of the six rounds to find a vital spot before the claws and teeth of the huge animal savaged him. There would be no opportunity to reload.

When the bear wasn't close behind him, Miles jerked the muzzle of the g*n toward the tree where he'd last seen the creature. The animal was there but it wasn't charging. The barrel shifted again as Miles corrected his aim minutely. He brought the sights into alignment and took up the slack in the trigger with a shaking forefinger. At the last second, he held his fire.

The bear was hunching his body along the ground with one back leg and some stray muscles that still responded to his will. Blood from slashed arteries gushed around the shaft and from the bear's open mouth. Strangling on his own blood and the wooden obstruction, the grizzly's spasms drove the spear point deeper.

Miles watched as the bear's feeble movements became more subdued and finally ceased. The g*n still held in a shooting position and his finger on the trigger, Miles rose and limped toward the wounded bear. He watched carefully in case the beast recovered and resumed the fight.

As he slowly walked up to the animal, Miles could see the broken end of the spear projecting obscenely from the bear's neck. Slimy with the bear's blood, it quivered in time with the creature's last rattling attempts to breathe. Blood, flowing too quickly from the wound to soak into the ground, began to pool beneath the body.

Miles dropped the g*n to his side as he came closer, stopping well short of the beast. Pointing the muzzle out to the side, his thumb on the hammer to keep it from falling, he pulled the trigger to uncock the weapon. He stood, silently watching.

The bear wanted to get up and rip the man-thing to pieces but its heavy limbs didn't move in the b****y leaves and grass. Its lungs were filling with blood.

To the extent the dim brain still functioned, his frustration and rage were transformed to hurt and despair. Miles watched for a moment, trembling with fear and the effects of the adrenalin in his system. He thought he could see terror and pain in the one wild eye still on him as the grizzly choked on the blood pouring down its throat.

Miles raised the pistol and c****d it again, taking careful aim. When he fired, the .357 magnum round smashed into the bear's thick skull, shattering the bone and punching instantly through into the skull. Whipping through the animal's brain, the semi-jacketed lead slug battered its way out the other side of the head, pushing bone and brain tissue ahead of it. Shards of bone and gray matter splashed across the leaves and grass for yards beyond the wound. The grizzly was still.

Miles walked unsteadily back to the deadfall, turning around repeatedly to keep his eyes on the bear all the way. He fell rather than sat on the tree trunk. He studied the big carcass, not entirely convinced the grizzly was dead.

After three tries, he got the pistol holstered. He kept adjusting the pistol in the holster to make sure the weapon was free of obstruction and could be drawn quickly. Gradually, the shaking in his hands diminished and ceased. After a moment, he remembered to take the g*n out again to reload the spent shell with a fresh cartridge.

He was incredibly thirsty. When he recovered enough strength, he stumbled to the tree to retrieve the canteen he'd dropped at the bear's first charge and drank deeply. He inspected the deep gashes in the tree trunk made by the grizzly's claws. Bark had been ripped away in a huge swath and sap was seeping from four parallel gouges ripped deep into the wood. He brushed the lower one with a fingertip and shivered. He looked back at the huge body, wondering how close the claws had been to his flesh as he dodged behind the ravaged tree.

He massaged his thigh where the heavy wooden spear had hit him. Testing the leg's strength, he hobbled around for a few minutes longer. It helped to keep moving.

He found the crossbow in some thick underbrush. It was undamaged. For a moment, he debated c*****g and loading the weapon. He decided he wouldn't but he didn't sling it across his back either. He made sure the arrows were loose in the quiver.

Gathering everything in his arms, he turned and limped toward the river crossing. He was going to need another length of rope and some kind of pulley arrangement to get the bear's carcass off the ground.

"After several months of bickering between Colorado officials and the Justice Department, Attorney General Arthur Williams announce this afternoon that the Federal Government will assume the responsibility for coordinating all efforts to find fugitive Miles Underwood. The current search, supervised by the Colorado State Police, has failed to turn up any leads to the whereabouts of the former Army Non-Commissioned Officer since early this year. Sources say recent high-level interest within the administration in bringing Underwood to justice led to the change.

Some residents of the Colorado mountains near where the search is going on warn that, with fall approaching, it may be impossible to mount much of a search in the high mountains to where Underwood is suspected of fleeing. Increasingly bad weather, intense cold, and deep snow drifts will make a manhunt impossible, according to local experts." The newsman paused and shifted his body around to face camera three.

"Criticism continues to mount against the administration's...."

KSAA Channel Nine

San Antonio Texas

"Evening News at Six"

May 26

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Three days later, the bear carcass had been butchered and most of the meat smoked. He'd set aside a few steaks and several larger cuts from the bear for roasting, eating these while the rest hung in make-do smokers. Some of the meat spoiled though ... he just couldn't get all of the several hundred pounds of meat processed before it started to go bad.

The bear hadn't left much of the deer except the hindquarters. Much of what hadn't been eaten had been ruined. Miles cut the remaining venison into paper-thin strips and dried them in the sun for a tasty jerky. Making jerky from the bear meat wasn't successful--it was too fatty to dry properly and spoiled quickly.

What was left of the grizzly's brain and all of the deer's had been mixed with ashes and used to cure the hides of the two animals. Parts of two days had been necessary just to scrap the inside of the bearskin alone but the shaggy hide was now stretched on a frame in the grassy field below the cavern, curing slowly in the sun. It would make a superb comforter for the bed or it might join Zeb's old buffalo coat hanging on a peg behind the front door as a heavy overcoat that would shed the heaviest snow. He hadn't made up his mind yet.

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