Big Ben came knocking, and knocking, and knocking.
They both dressed and Rafe got the rifle off the wall, checking the ammunition.
“You’re going to kill him?” she cried in panic.
He considered her grimly. “He might go after the horses. Or us.”
“But what about Bertha, his wife?”
Rafe cast her a incredulous look. “Bears don’t get married.”
“How do you know?”
“Give me a break, Helen. Do you really think I want to kill some animal weighing as much as a Mack truck?”
She shook her head slowly. “Be careful.” Grabbing their two pistols, she started to follow him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m coming to help.”
“No way. Those pistols would be like a cap gun to a bear.”
“I’m coming,” she asserted.
By now, Ben was on the other side of the cabin, near the garden, sniffing the ground, presumably hunting for carrots. Then, still sniffing, he moved to the stream bank. The snowfall had stopped days ago, and the sun was warm, but a foot of snow still lay on the ground.
“Shoot in the air. I don’t want to waste my ammunition,” Rafe advised her. “We might be able to scare him away.”
“BAM!” Helen shot just above the beast’s head.
At first, the animal just turned his huge head toward them, almost in puzzlement. Saliva drooled from its mouth, and yellow teeth the size of sharpened piano keys stood out in deadly detail. Just to show off, he reared up on his hind legs to his full height, about ten feet, and growled loud enough to wake the dead.
“I thought bears hibernated in the winter,” she said fearfully.
“It’s not really winter yet. Besides, he likely wanted a midnight snack. Us.”
“Very funny. Maybe you could turn this into one of your sexual fantasies.”
“Maybe,” he said grimly and raised his rifle, taking careful aim.
“Try for the shoulder. A bear’s heart is located in the shoulder area. What you want to do is break through the shoulder so the bullet will enter the heart or lungs and anchor there.”
Rafe grunted. “You are a real font of information.”
“This isn’t the time for sarcasm, sweetheart. Shoot!”
Rafe pulled the trigger, but, in just that instant, Ben heard his mate calling from the distant woods and he lurched to the side. Rafe only winged his ear.
The bear lost its balance, though, and hit a small oak tree. Bellowing his rage, Ben righted himself and took the trunk of the young sapling in his wide mouth, shaking and snarling until he’d pulled it from the ground, roots and all. He was probably practicing, imagining it was their necks.
“God!” Rafe exclaimed, taking aim again, this time with Helen’s second pistol. He hit the beast moving toward them on all fours right through the top of his shoulder. Blood showed immediately on the mangy fur. “Did I hit the right spot?”
“I don’t know. Possibly a little too high.”
Ben reared up again, his vicious eyes centered on them, but his ears perked to the persistent cry of his mate in the forest. Bertha could be calling for help, or perhaps she was just worried about her man. In any case, Ben let out a mighty roar, which clearly said, “Later, dudes!” and loped off in the snow.
At first, Helen and Rafe just gaped at each other, then they exhaled at the same time, neither realizing they’d been holding their breath. Rafe hugged her, and they walked over to the area where the bear had pulled the tree from the ground. The snow around it had been pounded down by the animal’s massive weight, and loose limbs and dirt littered the white snow.
Rafe tried to pick up the tree and found it too heavy. Deep teeth marks marred its bark. They glanced at each other in mutual horror at what they’d just escaped.
Releasing her hand, Rafe walked to the other side of the fallen tree to examine the hole where the tree had stood. With a quick intake of air, he dropped to his knees and closed his eyes, almost like he was praying.
“What is it?” she cried, alarmed at the pallor of his face. Rushing forward, she knelt down beside him. Rafe’s face was buried in his trembling hands. Maybe this was a delayed reaction to the danger they’d just escaped. “Honey, it’s over now,” she soothed.