Don't Cry for Me. Шарон Сала
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in at headquarters, got the location of the kill site and headed up the mountain. He couldn’t quit thinking about the condition of the hikers he’d found. Knowing the bear had taken down eight full-grown hunting dogs highlighted the growing danger. He just hoped to God that they found the monster before anyone else crossed its path.
Nearly an hour passed before he reached the location where the dogs had been killed. Although the carcasses had been moved, the ground was still black where the dogs had bled out. He could have found the trackers by following the sounds of their dogs as they moved farther up the mountain, but they didn’t need him.
If the bear was sick or wounded, then there would be no rhyme or reason to its movements, and it would likely be in serious pain. Any wound would have become infected, and the bear would be extremely feverish. The fever would keep the bear in a constant state of thirst, and immersion in water would be soothing, as well. He’d been thinking about this scenario ever since the first search had been called off. There was a creek less than a quarter of a mile from where he’d found the dead hiker that snaked downward in this direction.
He first needed to find the water, then search it for sign. If he was right and the bear was walking the creek to cool its feverish body, it would explain why the dogs had lost the trail on the first search, and would also pinpoint the track the bear was taking downward toward civilization.
Concern for Mariah was at the forefront of his mind, and while he hadn’t mentioned it to her, he’d already made a call to his mother and his sister, Meg, asking them to “drop by” and check on her. This was supposed to be his day off, so their appearance wouldn’t be suspect, and they could play dumb about knowing he’d been called in to work.
Of course they’d agreed far too willingly, which told him they were beyond curious about the woman he’d brought home. He sighed. In the long run he would pay, but he would endure whatever interrogation they gave him as long as he was assured that Mariah was okay.
He glanced around the kill site one last time and then checked his map before moving off into the woods. His rifle was hanging at the ready in the crook of his arm, his ear attuned to the sounds around him.
Within a short time he’d found a creek with swiftly moving water. He checked the coordinates and confirmed his suspicion that it was the same one he’d found up near the hikers. Now he needed to see if he could find bear signs. When he waded into the water, it immediately washed over the tops of his hiking boots, soaking his feet in an ice-cold rush.
“Oh, shit,” he said, then ignored the discomfort and began walking up-creek.
* * *
The bear’s gut was full. It had gone back to the kill site the same night and fed on three other carcasses before returning to the overhang. The meat had given it a burst of much-needed energy, and while the wound on its hip was still festering and running with pus, having a full belly gave it one less pain to address.
Just before sunrise a coyote returning from a night of hunting startled it awake. The bear growled in disagreement and then headed for water to slake its thirst. Once that was accomplished, it lay down in the creek, letting the cold, rushing water wash over its suppurating hip until it was blessedly numb.
By the time the Doolens and their dogs had reached the kill site, the bear was already moving downstream.
* * *
It was just before noon when Mariah woke up. The talk show she’d been watching was long since over and a soap opera had taken its place. She wrinkled her nose and switched off the show before making a slow, achy trip to the bathroom, dragging her leg as she went. It occurred to her that she was going to have to maintain a regimen of physical therapy whether she liked it or not, or she would be left with a pronounced limp.
Instead of the high-powered painkillers, she popped a couple of the over-the-counter kind and hoped for the best as she began to poke around the kitchen for something to eat.
She was standing at the cabinet, trying to decide between a can of chicken noodle soup and a can of beef stew, when she heard what sounded like a car engine. Thinking it would be Quinn, she smiled as she headed for the door. But the vehicle she saw through the window wasn’t his Jeep, it was a pickup, and two women were getting out.
One was older and gray-haired, wearing a loose-fitting dress. The other was much younger, but Mariah recognized her features. It was like looking at a female version of Ryal, right down to the slim build and height. These had to be some of Quinn’s family.
She looked down at herself and sighed. Gray worn-out sweats and a U.S. Army T-shirt with a tear under the arm. Not the outfit she’d hoped to be wearing to meet more members of his family.
What the hell? It was only clothes, and she didn’t adhere to the theory that clothes made the man—or the woman, as the case might be. Instead of waiting for them to knock, she opened the door and lifted her chin.
* * *
Dolly Walker was both anxious and curious. Quinn was the only one of her children who’d never married. In fact, he’d never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to bother bringing her home to meet the family. The fact that he’d suddenly brought a woman home with him out of the blue had the whole family curious. Ryal had filled them in on who she was and why she was there, so after Quinn’s call this morning, she and Meg had been more than willing to check on her.
She’d baked a dried apricot cobbler, and Meg had made a meatloaf and roasted some potatoes. They knew the drill. Supposedly they were bringing some food to help Quinn out, thinking he would be there to introduce them.
As they drove up the winding driveway and across the open meadow, Dolly couldn’t help but think about how different the new cabin was from the old house she’d grown up in, but different in a good way. Her children would never be wealthy, but their occupations and lives were already steps above what hers had been, and for that she was proud.
“Hey, Mom, what are you thinking?” Meg asked, as the cabin came into view.
“That I need to keep an open mind and not judge.”
Meg frowned. “Are you thinking you won’t like her?”
“Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that. I was thinking about what shape she’ll be in. Remember how Quinn was when he first came back? Whatever we said or did for him was wrong. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he didn’t want any help.”
Meg sighed. It had been hard on all of them to watch him suffer and be unable to help, but it had been hardest on their mom. When they were young, she’d always been able to fix their boo-boos. It had to be hell for a parent to see that kind of suffering and not be able to do anything about it.
“It’ll be okay, Mom. I think the main thing is to follow her lead.”
Dolly nodded as she got out of the car, but she wasn’t convinced. And then the door opened. The young woman standing in the doorway had her chin up and her shoulders back. She looked like she was gearing up for a fight, not greeting guests.
“Oh, crap, she doesn’t look happy,” Meg said.
“She doesn’t know us,” Dolly said, determined that if Quinn liked this woman, then she would like her, too.
She picked up her cobbler and headed for the cabin.
Meg followed with her own offerings as they walked up the steps.
“You must be Mariah,” Dolly said. “Meg and I brought you and Quinn something for supper tonight.”
“Quinn’s not here,” Mariah said, shifting nervously as she stepped aside to let them come in.
Meg frowned. “Oh, we’re sorry. This is his day off, so we just assumed…”
Mariah shrugged. “There was some trouble about a bear. I think they called everyone in to the ranger station.”
“Well, then, we’ll just introduce ourselves,” Dolly said, and set her cobbler down on the counter. “I’m Quinn’s