Page 29 of Danger In The Backcountry
Swinging the rifle from his shoulder, Rome handled it one-handed as he heel-toed it through the stretch of trees as quietly as possible. Thin reeds clung to his jeans, swishing at his disturbance. The ground was harder here, almost frozen this time of year, but he made out a single impression closer to a large bush where water had soaked the soil.
Only it wasn’t human.
“Damn it.” He didn’t know how old the track was, but every nerve he owned instinctually lit up hot and alert. Ducking behind a tree wide enough to conceal his shoulders, he tried getting eyes on the animal, but black bears were good at hiding. Especially this one.
Except there was no sign of Sam.
His pulse thudded hard at the base of his neck, breathing growing more shallow by the second. He was here. Watching him. Getting ready to make his move. Rome could feel it. Just as he’d learned to predict his uncle’s changing moods.
Hell, if he could go back… If he could make a different choice than pulling that trigger at thirteen, he would. For the sake of not witnessing the devastation on Lettie’s face, he would have chosen to suffer however much longer it would’ve taken to escape his uncle. But he couldn’t go back, and he probably couldn’t fix whatever had been left of him and Lettie. She believed him to be a killer. And he was a killer, but her accusation had cut deeper than her learning the hands that’d touched her had been coated in blood long before they’d met in college. He didn’t blame her for making that leap. Lettie was alllogic and connecting lost puzzle pieces. She had to be for the sake of her work, but her words had hurt all the same.
And still he loved her. Was in love with her.
Bark cut into the side of his scalp as he knocked his head into the tree. Once. Twice. But no amount of damage would undo years of commitment and longing. For her. Even when he let his uncle’s criticisms drag him into that dark place where he couldn’t feel anything but anger, she’d dragged him to the surface. Over and over, she’d given him something to swim toward. A purpose.
I never felt that way about you. Ever.
Her words—laced with a sadness he hadn’t been able to process in the heat of the moment—charged through him. Burned bright and chased back that encroaching darkness he couldn’t seem to shake without her. She might’ve seen him as nothing but a killer now, but she’d defended him against every passive-aggressive comment from her parents, stood up for him when he had no one else when the university wanted to postpone his graduation. Lettie had been there, married him, loved him. She’d shown him the real meaning of family. Not the warped control he’d been raised in but a family where he’d been undeniably accepted. No matter who he was or where he came from.
She didn’t think he wasn’t good enough for her.
She’d asked for him to try. For them.
All these years, he’d allowed his uncle’s abuse to win, but the dead son of a bitch wouldn’t have a say anymore. As for the late nights and missed vacations and forgotten anniversaries? They didn’t feel so important compared to the feeling of losing Lettie again.
No. He wouldn’t give up. He would try. Whether he had to back out of his contracts to be closer to her or they had to makeit work long distance, it didn’t matter. He would fight for them. Because she’d asked him to.
A low bellow vibrated through the trees. Mourning and deep.
His instincts registered the pain attached to it, and Rome rested the barrel of the rifle in his injured arm, slowly making a move for the trigger with his free hand. His breath shuddered on his next too-cold inhale. Another victim.
The wilderness quieted.
Leaving the protection of the tree, he listened for clues as to where that call for help had come from. The tracks here were lighter, but he was able to follow them another hundred feet or so. And stilled at the sight before him.
Blood. A lot of blood.
It coated the leaves of the plants, the bark of the tree standing sentinel over the body, everything. But it didn’t come from the source he’d expected.
“Oh, buddy.” Rome shouldered his rifle, extending his good hand out in surrender at his slow approach. Sam bellowed again. A warning. Probably the only one he would get. The black bear’s bulbous stomach filled and emptied with too shallow breaths, blood matting the animal’s usually shiny coat. Shifting onto one knee, he took in the long gashes across Sam’s soft spots. Right where a hunter would aim to bring down prey as quickly as possible. “What did he do to you?”
Because this was the work of the man who’d tried to slaughter Rome with a bear’s claw. He had no doubt based on the width and depth of the gashes across Sam’s middle, except the hunter hadn’t finished the job. He’d left the black bear here to die. Extending one hand out, he moved slower than he wanted to go, but there was still a chance Sam would consider him a threat and take his hand off altogether. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”
The bear’s black eyes curled up and back as Sam craned his head to lean against the tree supporting him.
Rome didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t used to trying to save the animals he hunted. It wasn’t in his nature, and Randy had asked him to put Sam down despite the mounting evidence the black bear was innocent in the recent hiker deaths. And yet he couldn’t stand the idea of taking something else from Lettie.
Making sure not to make any sudden movements, he removed his rifle.
Sam took note, huffing loudly with dark annoyance in those pitch black eyes as if to say,I might be bleeding, but I will still tear your throat out.
“Take it easy. No one has to eat anyone else.” He set the rifle on the ground at his side then moved for his pack. Reaching for the radio in one of the side pockets, he called into headquarters, requesting veterinary aid with his coordinates. The first aid kit he’d packed wasn’t equipped to suture black bears, but Rome would do what he could to stop the bleeding until help arrived. He extracted clean gauze but would have to forgo to the tape considering Sam’s thick coat, and added pressure to the bear’s wound.
The black bear bellowed a second time, his upper body coming up off the ground. Rome fell back, barely catching himself before landing on his back and at the mercy of an animal he’d once tried to shoot. Throwing his hand out again, he backed off, giving Sam some space to settle back down. “I know it sucks. Believe me. I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but help is coming. Before you know it, you’ll have a whole bushel of strawberries, and Lettie will be trying to pet you.”
Sam seemed to like that idea, his breathing steadying out as he laid his head back down. Rome couldn’t help but watch the animal, feel that trust as he worked to stop the bleeding, and understand what enthralled Lettie about this particular bear. Yes, he was a killing machine, but there was a softer qualityonce Sam let you get close. Though Rome wasn’t sure how much closer he could get with his hands in the black bear’s guts.
But the bleeding had slowed, and Sam seemed to be more at ease. Enough that Rome was able to get a better look at the wounds across the bear’s middle. They weren’t as deep as he’d expected. Nothing close to a killing blow. But why…
