Chronicles Of The Maca Collection

Chapter 7

The sound of terror in the horses" whinnies and mules" braying brought the sleeping men to their feet. MacDonald and Rolfe had camped with another group of free traders heading into St. Louis. It had been a disastrous year for trapping. The danger of a larger group from the fur brigade stealing what few furs they had was real. They intended to sell their furs directly to the American Fur Company in St. Louis. They had found an abandoned squatter"s cabin on the edge of western Kansas. It took minimal work to make the fence sturdy enough to hold their animals.

The fear of losing their horses and mules added swiftness to their movements. Men were grabbing their clothes and at their loaded rifles when Rolfe noticed a Kentuckian reaching for the door.

“Don"t open that door. It could be anything from Injuns to bears. Vait till ve are ready.”

He bent to pull on his moccasins when the blast of cold morning air hit him.

“It"s Mac,” someone yelled. “He"s gone loco. It"s a damn grizzly out there and he ain"t got nothing but a bowie knife.”

Rolfe pushed the others out of his way to get to the door. There were no windows in this cabin. One look and Rolfe stopped.

MacDonald was almost to the grizzly, his long legs cutting the distance in that peculiar rolling bear-like gait. He had on nothing but his under clothes and moccasins. The grizzly had its back to him as it tore at the fence rails, pulling one board loose and then another to get at the stock. It stood a bit shorter than MacDonald"s six foot nine inches. He leaped the remaining distance to land on the grizzly"s back.

MacDonald grasped under the open mouth and ran the knife across the middle of the right side of the throat towards the back of the neck. The grizzly roared and tried to claw at his right side, then at the left. MacDonald had released his grasp, but the claws still raked at his arm. Blood gushed from the grizzly"s jugular vein. The wind and turning grizzly spewed blood in all directions. As his feet hit the ground, MacDonald reached upward and thrust the knife into the grizzly"s left eye. He tried to retreat keeping behind the grizzly, but the beast stood, roared, turned, and charged.

“Get down du damn fool.” Rolfe was shouting.

The men watched as MacDonald managed the impossible. He had gotten to the side of the charging animal and was back up on the beast"s back. He had transferred the bowie knife to his left hand and was ripping at the jugular vein on that side. This time the blood oozed out and the bear dropped to his four feet, shaking his head as to clear his sight and charge at his antagonist.

MacDonald stepped back dragging the cold air into his lungs and creating clouds of iced vapor as he expelled the air. He could not explain to these men that for one moment he was back in the Sky Maist Mountains that bisected his continent of Don and that he, the Maca, was proving his worth by killing the wild elbenor with a knife. That he should have been wearing only a thong was irrelevant. The grizzly was close enough in size and the bowie knife sufficient in killing efficiency.

The grizzly shook its head and more blood spewed. Then the bear turned to peer at the livestock with its remaining eye, turned again toward the men at the cabin, and reared before toppling to the ground.

MacDonald threw his head back and his yell rolled out into the prairie sky. “I am Mac,” and he hesitated just a moment, “Donald.” I am Maca screamed in his mind. He bowed to the beast on the ground and walked back towards the cabin and the wide-eyed men staring at him in awed disbelief.

“Du crazy, Mac. Vhy didn"t du let me shoot him?”

“Because, Friend Rolfe, I needed to do that. Now the frustrations of this year"s hunt are somewhat alleviated.” MacDonald smiled at him and his brown eyes filled with amusement.

Rolfe shook his head. “Vell, at least ve can sell the fur. Too damn bad du ruined der face.”

“Why sell it? We can keep it, or ye can. Mayhap it twill keep us warm one of these nights.” He realized the cold was biting into him and he stepped inside the cabin.

The others hurried out to check the animals and to keep them contained. Rolfe started skinning the bear. There was still plenty of salt left to start the curing, and the bear meat could be eaten that night.