A Killing Season

by Jessica Speart

  “What you’re looking at is a sort of ursine signpost. Those scratches are the work of a grizzly.”

  I stared in growing fear and fascination at the crazed pathways that ripped through the trunk. The hair felt coarse and dry in my hand. I’d never felt qualms about being in the woods before, but knowing that this fur came from a grizzly was enough to send my pulse soaring.

  “Their claws did that?” I asked, doing my best to keep any tremor out of my voice. If ten sharpened grizzly nails could make mincemeat of a tree, what might they do to me?

  “You better believe it. Those bears virtually have razor sharp pickaxes growing out of the ends of their toes.”

  Suddenly the slightest hint of a breeze, the merest quiver of a leaf, registered throughout my body. My senses grew so heightened that I was certain I could’ve heard the flapping of a bird’s wings. I quickly turned, feeling piercing eyes, only to realize it was just the forest around me. It drove home the fact that I was in the middle of grizzly territory.

  I was tempted to break into song, belting out Beatles hits at the top of my lungs, followed up by a rousing chorus of cowboy melodies. So what if I couldn’t carry a tune? At least it would be enough to make a grizzly take notice.

  I followed behind Matthew, walking closer than I had before. Old Caleb had duked it out with Hal, and killed Carolton. I had no intention of letting him grab hold of me. I was concentrating on trying to be aware of every single sound, when Running stopped short and I smacked into his back. Laid out before us was a scene of heart-wrenching violence.

  Rocks were dislodged and trees knocked over, while remnants of stumps had been ripped to shreds. But what made the sight gruesome was all the blood residue and clusters of hair scattered about. The battle zone was approximately twelve feet in diameter. All that was missing was a body.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before,” I muttered. “It looks as though a bomb went off.”

  Running had already moved inside the circle, where he knelt on the ground. “I have. Just not in this country.” He motioned for me to join him. “Come and take a look at this.”

  He pointed to the impression of a bear track that was still intact. The imprint was of a grizzly’s enormous back paw. I pulled a foot rule from my kit and measured the outline. The paw was sixteen inches in length. Nearby lay the indentation of a front track, which I measured as well. Its spread was ten inches wide. Basically, they were the size of dinner plates.

  “This bear wasn’t killed by an Indian,” Running pronounced, with a noticeable tinge of relief in his voice.

  “How can you possibly tell?”

  “By the manner in which it was done. Though someone from the tribe might kill a grizzly, it would be an opportunistic crime. They’d shoot the bear from a truck, or maybe spotlight it at night.” Running waved his hand over the land. “This attack was well planned. Whoever is responsible took the time to study the bear and its habits, search for its trail, and then probably put out a bait pile. My guess is that a snare was set that caught the bear by its paw. That’s why this area is such a mess. The grizzly destroyed everything within a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree radius while attempting to escape. The killer clearly took great pleasure in torturing it.”

  I studied the scene. Running was right. The circular pattern meant the grizzly had either been tethered or snared. I dropped down and examined the splatters formed by blood residue. Not only did they disclose that a high-velocity weapon had been used to finish off the bear, but the patterns also revealed the direction in which the bullets had traveled.

  I opened up my investigation kit and dug past the scissors, micrometer, and gauze pads to pull out the equipment I needed. Then I put on a pair of latex gloves and, using a tweezers, picked up samples of blood-encrusted leaves, which I bagged and tagged. Strands of loose hair were placed in a separate film canister. Both these items would be sent off to the forensics lab in Ashland, Oregon, for DNA analysis, just as was done with any homicide investigation.

  I grabbed my camera and snapped a few photos, then turned on the metal detector.

  “Don’t waste your time. This guy is smart enough not to have used a weapon that’s distinctive. Besides, he probably picked up all the shell casings.”

  Maybe so, but I was determined to nail that down for myself. I swung the metal detector back and forth across the area in which I believed the bullets had traveled. Finishing one length, I pivoted and retraced the ground again, slowly moving the detector from side to side.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  There it was—a hot hit! Bending down, I dug around and triumphantly claimed my treasure: the aluminum pop top from a soda can.

  “Give up?” Running asked with a grin.

  I kept right on going. Matthew didn’t know me very well; I’d give up when hell froze over.

  Come on, come on, come on! I silently urged.

  The machine finally beeped again and I glanced at the counter. The needle confirmed it had detected something metal, in the range of .38–.45 caliber ammo.

  I reached down, remaining outwardly cool as my fingers scrupulously searched the ground for loot. Hidden under some leaves was a .40 caliber bullet. The shooter had most likely used a .44 Magnum—a hand cannon capable of blowing a hole through just about anything. I smugly held it up for Running’s inspection.

  “That’s helpful. Everyone and his brother owns one of those guns in Montana,” he jabbed.

  Yeah. Including tribal members of the Blackfeet reservation.

  I continued my search and the detector rewarded me with yet another cheerful beep. Though ammo wasn’t indicated, I stopped and felt around. Lying under a stunted quaking aspen was a small black plastic knob with a yellow tab. I didn’t bother to show Running my booty this time, but slipped the item into my pocket. Then my eyes were drawn back to take a second look. Something cylindrical had left the barest trace of a ring on the ground.

  “You finished yet?”

  I glanced back to where Running was casually rummaging through my investigation kit.

  “All done. We can get going.” Returning, I reached over, picked up the kit, and firmly shut the lid.

  We took a different route back, during which Running pointed out a variety of plants and trees. He appeared to be much more relaxed now; evidently, he felt relatively certain that the deed couldn’t be pinned on an Indian.

  “Is that why you didn’t report all the grizzly deaths to Fish and Wildlife right away?” I abruptly asked, breaking into his Nature Channel narrative. “Because you were afraid that one of your own people might be guilty?”

  Running’s pace was momentarily marred by a slight hesitation. “Sorry if you find that difficult to understand, but I had to know for sure if someone from the tribe was responsible. It’s all too easy for the feds to jump to the wrong conclusion these days.”

  Running seemed to read my thoughts when I didn’t respond. “Don’t worry; I wasn’t about to let anyone get away with the crime, be it an Indian or a white man. But first I had to come to grips with exactly who it was that I might be dealing with.”

  “And now you know?”

  “I don’t know anything for sure yet. Let’s just say that I have a better understanding.”

  “Is that something you’d care to share with me?”

  “I’d rather not speculate until there’s more to go on,” Running dodged. “But I can tell you that I admire the way you worked the scene back there.”

  I was about to offer Running a deal—a swap of knowledge—when we rounded the trail and a freshly killed elk carcass came into view. At the same time a gust of wind caressed my skin, its touch as cold as a ghostly breath. The next moment, a loud bawl fractured the crystalline silence, reverberating in my head.

  “Oh, shit!” Running muttered.

  A sow stood nearby with two frightened cubs. There could be no doubt that she was a grizzly. The bruin bore the classic dished-in face and rounded ears, with a conspicuous hump rising up fro
m between her shoulders.

  The wind must have masked our scent until the very last second, catching the family by surprise when we carelessly interrupted their meal. A lump burned in the pit of my stomach as if stoked by a gang of sadistic little devils. I had the distinct feeling that we were about to pay for our lack of manners. The second pudgy baby joined in the fray with a shriek, and mama bear reacted by shaking a head the size of a garbage can lid, closely followed by hissing and rattling her teeth.

  To make matters worse, my hands were occupied with the metal detector and investigation kit, while my 9mm was tucked away in my belt. Running had a 12-gauge shotgun by his side. However, the last thing I wanted was for the bear to be killed.

  “I’ve gotta tell you that this grizzly is really ticked off,” he softly warned.

  I tried to take a breath, only to discover that the air around me had mysteriously disappeared. “Oh God! Don’t shoot her if you don’t have to!” I managed to whisper.

  “She might make a bluff charge. Have you got the nerve to stand your ground and not run?”

  Run? My legs were about as useful as two limp rubber bands at the moment, while my pulse pounded through my veins with the urgency of a lunatic trying to break out of an asylum.

  Still, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life if the bear was killed without being given the chance to escape. This was a female of breeding age. Their slow reproduction rate already made some biologists call them “the walking dead”; I didn’t want to contribute to that. Besides, we were in her territory. The sow was only doing what came naturally—protecting her babies and their food. She deserved the right to live. The one snafu was that I wasn’t yet ready to die.

  “I promise not to run,” I swore, having never felt more frightened in my life. I took one more look at the magnificent creature. We locked eyes and I knew I was making the right choice.

  “Okay, then. Just don’t look her in the eye.”

  Aaargh!

  “Keep your head down, turn slightly away, and try to make yourself appear small.”

  Running’s voice rang hollow in my ears, as if he were on the other side of the forest.

  “I’ll only shoot if she crosses my comfort zone and it becomes absolutely necessary.” He raised his shotgun and took aim.

  Though I did as I was told, I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding back toward the bear.

  She puffed herself up into a big round ball, having seemingly willed each hair of her coat to stand on end. The sow’s muscles rippled and her brown fur glistened, its grizzled tips backlit by the morning sun. She began to swing her head even faster, now bouncing back and forth on her paws. Her hackles bristled, she began to slobber, and a deep woof left her black lips. That was followed by a roar that started out long and low, like the ominous rumble ripping through the earth before a giant quake, then built in crescendo until it shook the very air itself. The roar reached deep down past my lungs and into my stomach, where it grabbed hold of the most primitive part of my being which screamed, You fool! Turn around and make a run for it!

  But it was already too late. The sow came barreling toward us on stiff legs as if to say, I’m your worst nightmare—the toughest bad-ass mother that you’ve ever seen!

  It took every ounce of control I could muster to keep from yelling at Running, What the hell are you waiting for? Just shoot the damn thing!

  I nearly shrieked as she charged. Those little round ears stood straight up from her skull like a pair of devil’s horns, while the heat of her breath seemed to wrap itself around my feet.

  This is it! my brain screamed. This is how I die! Torn to pieces by a crazed grizzly!

  She suddenly veered away after getting within fifty feet. But the bear clearly hadn’t finished teaching us a lesson. She growled, sending bolts of electricity shooting up from the ground to the top of my head.

  There was no question that we were slated for death, if she so chose. I stared in morbid fascination at teeth as sharp as stilettos, and long, curving claws. This was a great white shark on four legs; a veritable killing machine.

  That was the last thought I had as the sow charged yet again, speeding toward us as fast and furious as a freight train with fur. The world became a blur, and the air was charged with a thunderous pounding.

  Running shouted in my ear, “Raise your arms as high as you can and yell at the bear to stop!”

  I was so terrified that I didn’t think how ridiculous it sounded, but automatically followed his directions.

  “STOP BEAR, STOP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  I felt as if I’d left my body and was watching the scene, seeing a pair of psychotics yelling with their arms above their heads.

  The sow came to a lurching halt, turned around, and plodded back to the carcass, where she and her babies gave us the evil eye.

  “Now slowly start to back up,” Running softly commanded.

  I just hoped that my feet would obey. Thankfully they did, as Running began to talk to the sow in a soothing monotone.

  “We apologize. We were just passing through and didn’t mean to disturb you. That’s your elk. You’ll have no more trouble from us. We’re getting out of your way.”

  Running repeated the chant over and over in mantra fashion until the bears were out of sight.

  “Okay. You can turn around now; just keep walking.”

  No problem there. Now that my legs were working, I had no intention of stopping. Even when Running finally suggested we halt I kept right on going, until Matthew placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and turned me around to face him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Let’s see. No broken bones and I still seem to have all of my limbs,” I joked, brittlely.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Porter.”

  Maybe it was his words, or knowing that it was finally all right to let down my guard, but every inch of me began to shake. Matthew wrapped me in arms that felt safe and strong.

  “It’s okay. You were great.” His words soothed me as he kissed the top of my head. “Most men couldn’t have withstood what you just did back there.”

  “Most men?” I asked, fishing for a more definitive compliment.

  Running held me at arm’s length and studied my face. There was something about him that I had yet to put my finger on. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that this man seemed to know me—perhaps better than I might have liked.

  “Ninety-nine percent of them.” Running released me. “It’s a jolt when you realize that everybody’s in the food chain, and you just happen to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  My relief merged with a sudden rush of tears. I’d never felt more invigorated, though emotionally overwhelmed. There was no greater victory than coming face-to-face with death and walking away alive. I quickly turned aside and wiped my eyes, hoping Matthew hadn’t noticed.

  The scent of pine needles sweetened the air as they crunched beneath my feet, and the sky rapidly filled with unexpected flakes of snow. The flurry dusted the earth like Nature’s talcum powder. We hadn’t gone very far when I saw another bear track.

  I instantly froze. The snow in the imprint was already beginning to melt from the heat of the creature’s foot, revealing the bear had been here very recently. I hurried to catch up with Running.

  “How did you guess that the bear was just bluffing and wouldn’t attack us?” I asked.

  Matthew stopped and thought about that for a moment, his profile perfectly chiseled against the backdrop of gloomy sky. “I’ve been around bears most of my life. You have to try to get inside their minds. That’s the only way to figure out why they’re in a particular spot, and what they’re doing. Bears aren’t particularly interested in killing us; they’re just trying to live.”

  “And you’ve never been attacked?” Perhaps I should have spent more time watching reruns of Gentle Ben.

  “Not once.” A devilish grin teased at the corners of his mouth. “Tell you what. If you lik
e, I’ll strip down and you can search me for bite marks.”

  His body had felt taut as a bow when he’d held me against him, and there was no denying that my interest was piqued. I hesitated—then gave myself a mental slap.

  Running’s grin deepened, and I wondered if he knew what I’d been thinking.

  “That’s okay. I’ll take your word for it,” I gruffly responded. “I’m just glad that bear wasn’t Old Caleb.”

  Running chuckled, which made me feel all the more self-conscious.

  “Old Caleb doesn’t really exist. He’s the figment of an overactive imagination. Think of him as nothing more than a furry version of the bogeyman.”

  “I see. In other words, Old Caleb has no more validity than what the Blackfeet believe will happen if they harm a grizzly. After all, that’s nothing but a folktale, too, isn’t it?” I lightly jabbed.

  Mathew shot me a dirty look. Maybe he didn’t believe in the bogeyman, but I certainly did. I’d run into him too many times to deny his existence. That fact became disturbingly evident as we arrived back at Running’s truck to find the lock had been picked and all the vehicle doors were wide open.

  “What the hell happened here?” I asked, putting on a brave front as I threw my metal detector into the cargo bay.

  Matthew quietly examined the Chevy inside and out, checking the tires, the brake lining, and gears. “It’s probably nothing other than some kids who’ve cut school and are bored. This is the kind of thing they do as a harmless prank.”

  But we both seemed to sense it was something else. I held the investigation kit tight in my arms while we drove back to Browning, as if that would help keep me safe. Call it Old Caleb, the bogeyman, or what you will. I knew in my bones that evil was stalking the woods of the Blackfeet reservation.

  Nine

  Matthew dropped me off at my vehicle, and we agreed to meet later to develop a plan of action. I’d had enough of grizzlies for now, and decided to do something else with the rest of my day. This seemed as good a time as any to pay a visit to Kyle Lungren and the United Christian Patriots. Who knew what I might find at his place? If nothing else, I’d get to check up on the local militia. I pulled out his card and dialed the number on my cell phone.