Page 10 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
His wife—Lynn—had been on the hike, and she leans over to hiss, “It’s a bear.”
“So? They have guns. There’s no reason to cancel the fishing trip.”
Dalton steps forward. I hesitate, and then back away. Sometimes, that’s just better.
“We don’t need fish,” Dalton says.
“We’ve had this trip planned for weeks and—”
“We don’t need fish.”
“You keep saying that,” Grant mutters.
“Yeah, in hopes you’ll finally hear it. There is a grizzly bear in the woods. It followed our hikers, including your wife. Ask her if she wants you going on that fishing expedition.”
Lynn takes Grant’s arm and tries to whisper to him, but he throws her off. He might not like another man shutting him down, but that goes double for women, including his wife.
“Don’t be stupid,” a voice says.
Grant wheels to find himself looking at thirteen-year-old Carson. When Grant puffs himself up, Carson rolls his eyes in a way only teenagers can.
“Seconding that,” Gunnar says from the rear. “Only I’ll change it to ‘don’t be an ass.’ There’s a grizzly. I saw it, and I’m not going in the forest again until Eric and Casey drag a new bearskin rug back to town.”
“Bearskin rug?” says one of the new residents, his voice rising. “You’re going to kill it?”
“No, he’s going to ask it to come back and lie down on the floor,” Gunnar says.
That gets a few chuckles, which makes the other guy’s cheeks heat.
“You can’t kill it,” the guy says. “It hasn’t done anything.”
“It stalked us,” Kendra says. “That makes it a threat. It’s unfortunate, but there it is. We’ll make good use out of it. I know a mean recipe for bear sausage, if Mathias lets me help with the butchering.”
The guy gapes at her. “You’re … you’re Indigenous. You’re supposed to protect nature.”
Her brows shoot up. “What do you think we do, sit around chanting for dangerous bears to go away? We hunt them down and use as much as we can. That’s respect.”
“It’s not right,” the guy says. “The grizzly is a majestic creature. A symbol of the north. An apex predator.”
“Yep, an apex predator who can kill you with one swipe of its claws.”
I clear my throat and take the podium back. “We will hunt down the bear. That’s the only way to end the threat.”
“It’s not right,” the man mutters, and a few others nod and make noises of agreement. We have two vegetarians in town, and neither of them says a word. The ones complaining will probably also be first in line for that bear sausage.
I can snark, but I also might have been uncomfortable with this when I arrived. I’d have wanted more proof that the bear is dangerous, which works with regular northern communities, but not in one where people haven’t seen an actual grizzly outside photos.
“I want in,” someone says. I follow the voice to one of our first residents. I don’t know much about Louie. The only person in town who knows everyone’s backstory is Dalton. That’s for their privacy. Dalton keeps those secrets unless there’s a reason someone else needs them.
Louie arrived in late spring. He’s in his forties, bull-chested and balding. Whatever he did for a living down south, it doesn’t apply up here, where a dental hygienist is far more useful than a lawyer. If your skills can’t be utilized, you go into the general rotation right now—we don’t have enough residents to assign permanent jobs.
“You want in…?” I say.
“On the hunt. Big game is my specialty.”
I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary. Sheriff Dalton and I are handling it. But thank you for your—”
“How about a little friendly wager?” Louie shows his teeth in a smile. “If I can outshoot you, I can go in your place.”
