Page 11 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
Louie glances at Dalton for his reaction, but Dalton just stands there, arms crossed, like Louie hasn’t finished speaking. It’s Anders and Kendra who react, both laughing.
“You might want to see Casey shoot first,” Kendra says.
“No,” I say. “We aren’t having a ‘friendly wager.’ That isn’t how we do things here.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
“Casey can outshoot me,” Dalton drawls. “But oddly, she’s the one you’re challenging.”
“Then just take me along. I’m a dead shot.”
“Good to know,” Dalton says. “We can always use hunters. Don’t recall seeing that on your application form, though.”
“Because I don’t want to hunt rabbits. I want a grizzly.”
Dalton rocks forward.
“We don’t do trophy hunting up here,” I cut in. “But after you leave, I’m sure we could recommend an outfit to take you out. Okay, so Eric and I will handle the bear hunt. Kendra, Will, Kenny, and Yolanda will patrol the town, taking shifts for around-the-clock coverage. Everyone else will stay within the borders. If you hear something, notify one of the staff, who will alert whoever is on patrol.”
I look out at the group. A few—including Louie and the anti-bear-hunt guy—lean forward like racehorses champing at the bit. They’re waiting for the magic words: Does anyone have any questions?
“Thank you all for your time,” I say. “We hope to have an update tomorrow. If you have concerns, talk to Phil.”
From the back of the crowd, Phil gives me a sour look. I only smile. Then I get the hell out of there.
CHAPTER FOUR
After the meeting, we still have a couple of hours of daylight left, time to grab a sandwich and head out for a look.
We take Storm. She knows what she’s sniffing for—we have a sample of bear fur that we can use to tell her to be especially alert for that particular creature. She does find a track, but it’s black bear, and the beast stayed well away from town.
We’re not concerned about the black bear. Nor about wolves or even wolverines. At one time, I’d have freaked out about any of them being close to town. Then Dalton told me that they’re all close to town. That’s the northern wilderness. People would come to Rockton hoping to see a moose or a bear, and go home without a single sighting. Yet moose and bear were all around, staying out of sight. That’s the important part—they stay out of sight.
Any predator that makes itself known is a potential threat. The rest are just going about their daily lives and want to be left to it. This black bear is doing exactly that, and it’s only a danger if someone surprises it. Even then, if it has an exit route, it’ll almost certainly take it, as fast as it can.
“I haven’t heard the wolves in a while,” I say. “Think we could have spooked the pack?”
“Not us,” Dalton says. “The miners.”
I make a face. We spent months finding this perfect piece of pristine wilderness. Okay, no wilderness is “pristine” in the sense of being empty. We hadn’t been overly shocked to find there was someone living out here in a well-camouflaged cabin that had escaped our notice. She calls herself Lilith, and she’s a wilderness photographer with a pet wolf—having rescued and raised him from puphood. That’s all I know about her, and except for the wolf, I can’t guarantee any of it’s true.
As far as we can tell, Lilith isn’t a threat. She wants what everyone up here wants. Peace, quiet, and privacy. We’ve opened some basic trade with her, mostly to keep on her good side.
Then the miners came. A lone miner discovered gold in a stream here and sold his claim to a company, which set up camp. We know nothing about them. No, scratch that. We know they make us very nervous, because they aren’t a couple of guys with a small mining operation. They have armed security, and they’ve made it very clear that the only thing they want from Haven’s Rock is for us to stay the hell away. Which we have, gladly.
While they’re about four miles from Haven’s Rock, we have heard them when we’re out hiking or hunting. The wolves would hear them from even farther away. We built Haven’s Rock to intrude as little as possible on the landscape. This isn’t our land, in any sense of the word. We want to minimize our footprint and disturbance. Part of that’s about not being caught squatting and part is about respecting whose land this actually is.
Does the mining camp have a permit to build out here? Émilie says no. If such a thing were possible, she’d have found a way to obtain one for us.
Whoever runs that camp doesn’t care about disturbing nature and they don’t care about trespassing. That makes us nervous.
“You okay?” Dalton asks.
I shrug.
He puts his fingers under my chin, lifting it and lowering his mouth in a kiss. I let myself fall into that kiss, rolling out from under all my anxieties. When he goes still, my heart does a double thump.
He pulls back, finger going to his lips as his gaze slides to the left.
