Page 56 of God’s Country

Then I thought of the man I’d found tortured to death. And the savagery done to Cordell Bishop and Tucker Jackson. And I wondered what, if I had the chance, I would be willing to do to the Kennedy brothers.

An exhausted sleep finally overtook me, otherwise I might have been gnawing all night on the vision and the terrible wonderment that came with it.

But I didn’t sleep long before the bear came.

I woke to snuffling and the sound of rummaging nearby. The waxing moon had risen high, shining bright above me. Its broad beam hit the camp like a spotlight, and although the bear’s fur was black, it glowed as if electric.

It was male. Boars are larger than sows, broader of shoulder and their faces blockier. This was one of the biggest black bears I’d ever seen. He lumbered near me on feet that, because of the great weight they carried, were flat, another difference between males and females of the species. He paused and sniffed my way. I could see that he was older, his muzzle and the rest of his face covered with scars. He’d been in many fights and, though battered, had come out victorious. This was a bear to be reckoned with.

I considered hollering, making noise in an attempt to scare him off, but I was afraid doing that might just put me center stage in his interest. Tied to the tree, I was in no position to deal with a bear.

I watched him sniff and snuffle, smelling for the food that must have been what brought him. Bears have an extraordinary sense of smell, superior even to bloodhounds’. This one could have smelled our food stash from a great distance.

The boar lumbered to the tent where Ollie had disappeared with the canister containing our food supply. The great animal lifted a paw the size of an oven mitt, and its claws ripped through the flimsy tent fabric. It slashed again and again until it had created a gaping, shredded hole, which it proceeded to enter.

That’s when Ollie started screaming.

I thought the bear was attacking the big man, but a moment later, as if totally unconcerned with the ruckus Ollie was raising, the boar reemerged with the BearVault firmly in the grip of its jaws, the plastic of the canister pierced by sharp teeth. It left more rapidly than it had come, lumbering away along the series of pools until it had vanished from the moonlight, leaving behind the sound of Ollie still screaming like a banshee.

Stan was up now and out of his tent. “What the hell’s going on?”

“A bear,” I said calmly. “It took our food.”

Stan looked at Ollie’s tent and saw his brother crawling from the hole in the thin fabric.

“Jesus!” Ollie cried. “Jesus! Did you see that?”

“Which way did he go?” Stan asked.

“There.” I used my head to nod in the direction the bear had taken.

“Where’s the gun?” Stan said.

“I don’t…” Ollie said. “Somewhere in the tent.”

“Get it,” Stan said.

“You’re not thinking of going after that bear, are you?” I said.

“He’s got all our food.”

“You go after that bear and try to shoot him, I guarantee it’s you who’ll end up dead. And it won’t be a quick, pretty death.”

“What are we going to eat?” Ollie said, as if he’d forgotten all about his fear of the bear but was now absolutely terrified at this new development.

“The Boundary Waters is full of food,” I told him. “You just have to know where to find it.”

“And I suppose you know?” Stan said.

“I do. I can get you to Canada and I can get you there without starving.”

The brothers stood, two white statues in the hoary moonlight, weighing their options, though in truth, they had only one choice.

“All right,” Stan said. He looked in the direction the bear had gone. “Will it come back tonight?”

“I doubt it. He got what he came for. In the morning, I’ll track him, see if anything’s left. We all need to get some sleep. It’ll be another long day tomorrow.”

Ollie eyed his tent. “I’m not sleeping there.” He looked at his brother. “I’m moving in with you.”