Hunter's Moon (9 page)

"Oh for crying out loud," Kate said, disgusted, and kept a weather eye peeled for the bear's mama. He looked even younger up a tree, and he was letting the world know of his distress.

The cottonwood wobbled back and forth across the sky with the howling cub clutching to the trunk twenty feet in the air. Dieter was shinnying up from below, looking like a pirate who had lost his ship.

The cub looked over his shoulder and beheld Long John Silver at his heels. He'd been in the berry patch for the same reason Berg and the ptarmigan had, and it was all too much for him; with one terrified bawl his sphincter muscle gave out and he cut loose with about a gallon of half-digested berries that engulfed Dieter in a reeking flood of dark bluish brown. Dieter gave a cry of outrage, a mistake, let go of the tree to paw at his mouth, and slid ignominiously down the trunk to land hard on his fanny. He threw up immediately, and kept on retching, until the cub's blueberries and that morning's breakfast and that afternoon's sandwiches had all landed in his lap, until there couldn't be so much as a teaspoonful of fluid left in his stomach.

By then, the cub was long gone, having dropped to the ground and lit out for points vaguely southeast, assisted on his way by a shot from Eberhard's Weatherby that narrowly missed him, the report of which made Kate's ears ring for some thirty seconds afterward. At the rate he was going, Kate estimated the little cub would be in Tyonek before dark.

Kate was laughing so hard she couldn't speak. Dieter was swearing in German again, and from the tone of his voice and the fire in what you could see of his eye, Kate thought a momentary retreat the wisest course of action. She choked back her laughter, although irrepressible little giggles kept surfacing inadvertently. "Get yourself cleaned up," she said. She dug in her pack and tossed him a box of Wash'n Dri towels.

"I'll see if I can't find George and Senta. We'll wait for you by the spike camp."

She beat feet back to where the trail crossed the ridge, marked by the three fifty-five-gallon drums that constituted the spike camp. Each contained the bare essentials for a couple of hunters caught outside overnight on a hike: a tent, two sleeping bags and a store of freeze-dried food with a small set of cooking utensils and a Sterno stove. There was a wrench taped to the side of the barrel to open it up, judged too complicated for a grizzly to understand and employ.

Berg was standing nearby, licking berry juice from his fingers. "You shouldn't have lit out like that," Kate told him, "you missed all the fun."

Berg looked startled, as if unaccustomed to being directly addressed in civil tones. "Please excuse me," he said, and sidled over to stand behind a tree, presumably out of range. It must be unfortunate to be that large and to live a life in the preeminent desire to avoid all attention.

Footsteps thudded up the path, and Kate turned to see George and Senta running the last few feet to the top of the ridge. "What was that?" George said breathlessly, skidding to a halt. "We heard something screaming--was it a bear?--and a shot. Did you get charged?" "Not exactly," Kate said.

George looked baffled. "What, then?"

"It was kind of the other way around," Kate said. Senta's long blond hair had come free of its intricate knot and now tumbled in glorious disarray around a glowing face. She hadn't bothered to tuck her shirt back into her belt or her cuffs into her boots. As for George, he virtually radiated that purring gratification specific to the male of the species immediately following a score in the sack.

Both of them carried rifles in one hand and fanny packs and pack boards by their straps in the other. Kate raised an eyebrow, and said in her blandest voice, "So, did you manage to find Berg?" "Berg?" George said in a blank voice, and then had the grace to look a little guilty, just a little, not a lot. He exchanged a furtive look with Senta and said, "Uh, no, we didn't." He looked at the sun, seemed to realize how much time had passed and checked his watch. "Christ! I mean, he's still lost? You haven't found him either?" "I was minding my own hunters," Kate said virtuously, "and Berg's name was not included on that list."

George shouldered his rifle. "Well, let's leave our gear here and go--"

Hearing his name, Berg stepped reluctantly into the open. "Here I am."

George looked from him to Kate. "So you did find him."

"Yup."

"Well then, why--" The words trailed off as George looked over Kate's shoulder. His jaw dropped. "What the hell?"

Even Kate, who knew what she was going to see when she turned, was impressed by the view.

Dieter was a marvelous sight. He was scraped cleaner than he had been when he slid down the tree but face and shirt were nonetheless dyed an arresting shade of deep blue, with here and there an interesting streak of moose blood, slowly going brown. The colors complemented the dark red stain on the gauze binding his upper arm, which had started to bleed again. Eberhard trailed a very distant second, the moose rack bobbing on his pack. Even absolute loyalty went only so far.

George drew in a breath of pure enjoyment before recollecting who and what Dieter was. "Jesus, Kate," he said in a low voice as Dieter approached, "what the hell did you do to him? I know the guy's an asshole, but he is a paying customer."

"I didn't do anything," Kate replied with perfect truth. "Dieter hunts his own dogs, don't you, Dieter? Or in this case, bears."

Dieter caught only the tail end of this remark, and by the unfriendly look he shot Kate it wouldn't have mattered if he'd heard it all. She had made the cardinal error of being present during two episodes in which he had not appeared to advantage, and he would never forgive her for it.

"Bears?" George said ominously.

Kate raised a hand. "Let it be, George. The bear managed to save itself." Dieter caught sight of Senta, refastening her belt buckle after tucking in her shirt, and his face hardened. She returned his look with a long, cool stare of her own, entirely unintimidated. Her eyes drifted down over his body, lingering on the bandaged arm, an eyebrow lifting over the stain, nostrils forming an aristocratic wrinkle when they caught a whiff of the smell. Ice Queen, I, Dieter, zip. Kate gave a silent cheer.

They stood staring at each other, blue eyes into blue eyes, identical expressions of obstinacy on identically square-jawed faces. Dieter broke first. "We're going back to camp," he said. "Now."

It was an order, not a question.

George looked at the rack bobbing off the back of Eberhard's pack board and said, "I see you got one, guys, good for you." He looked at Kate's empty pack board at Dieter's. "Where's the rest of it?" Kate could see the alarm, followed by a slow burn. "Kate? Where's the rest of it?"

Kate was saved from answering by the distant report of a rifle shot. George spun on his heel to face toward camp, but Kate was before him, hand cautioning silence.

It seemed more like ten seconds before the second shot came. Another pause, followed by a third.

"Shit," George said with emphasis.

"From camp, do you think?" Kate said.

"Sounded like it," George said shortly. "All right, we've got trouble, everybody back to camp on the double. Get your gear on and let's get going. Move, move, move!"

As they assembled and donned their gear, George drew Kate to one side.

"Where's the rest of the moose, Kate?"

"I gave it to Crazy Emmett."

George paled beneath his tan. "You saw Emmett?" "Yeah. Right after the guys took off up the trail with the trophy."

"The guys took off?"

"Yeah, they decided they didn't want the meat."

"Goddammit, I--" George's skin went whiter. "Wait a , minute. You were alone when you met up with Emmett?" "Yeah," she said, "you might have told me how needy he is." He grabbed her arm. "Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm glad I had my rifle, though. He didn't look to me like a man who'd take no for an answer." "He isn't," George said with emphasis. "Remind me to tell you about a little encounter Emmett had with Ramona a while back. All right, people," he said, shouldering his rifle and moving to stand at the head of the group, "are we ready?"

There were nods, a curt one from Dieter, a sheepish one from Berg, no response from Senta and Eberhard. "Okay. I'll take point, Kate, you take drag. The rest of you, keep up." He directed an unsmiling look at Berg, who blushed and shuffled his feet. He also, Kate noticed as she fell in behind him, had his pack board on backward.

During the ninety minutes of the forced march back to camp, she wondered what Berg was doing in the Alaskan Bush, on a hunting trip for which it was painfully obvious he lacked inclination, aptitude and skills, or even a basic sense of survival for that matter. Baby bear could have brought Mama along to share the blueberries, and Berg had left his rifle twenty feet away from him when he went for his snack and a nap.

Between Berg and Dieter, they'd been damn lucky they hadn't been the ones who'd had to fire the trouble signal.

I'm going to move. Really. Eventually.

WHEN THEY GOT CLOSE ENOUGH TO THE LODGE THAT the trail was clearly marked, Kate and George trotted ahead, leaving the others to follow in their own time. Jack was waiting for them on the airstrip, his face drawn into stern lines but otherwise looking whole and blessedly healthy. The knot in Kate's stomach relaxed. Mutt, standing at Jack's knee, saw Kate first and bounded forward, all irritation gone at being left behind. "Hey, girl," Kate said.

Mutt leapt up, front paws on Kate's shoulders, and anointed Kate lavishly with her tongue. "All right, all right," Kate said. "Enough.

I'm okay."

Mutt looked her over critically, decided she was telling the truth and dropped down to all fours with a satisfied

"Whuff." She fell in next to Kate as they trotted after George, all three heading for Jack, who was standing next to a mound covered with a blue plastic tarp.

"Who?" George said, voice tight.

"Fedor."

"One of the kids?"

Jack nodded. George swore, long and fluently, but swearing didn't make it not so.

"Was he shot here?" Kate said.

"No. Up the creek. We brought him in." "You moved him?" Kate said. "You moved him, Jack? What, are you out of your mind? You wish to experience firsthand the effective methods of rehabilitation as practiced by the Alaska Department of Corrections, is that it?"

"I didn't move him," Jack said shortly, and Kate shut up. It was obvious he was restraining his temper and that the effort was taking considerable control. "They had him in a makeshift sling made out of some tree branches and their coats and were halfway home by the time Gunther and I caught up with them."

"Oh my," Kate murmured, "the troopers are going to just love this." "Tell me something I don't know," Jack said glumly. "The other hunters told me where they found Fedor; I can probably find it again. I tried to get Klemens to show me where he was shooting from so I could at least mark the area, but he can hardly talk, he's so broken up. Poor bastard." "Not Klemens," Kate said, dismayed. "It wasn't Klemens, Jack, was it?"

He took a deep breath, let it out. "Yeah. It was Klemens." "Damn." Kate thought of yesterday afternoon, and Klemens dozing contentedly in the sun on the banks of the creek. "Poor Klemens."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," George said with mounting fury, emphasized by his extreme care with his words, "but I believe you were supposed to be with Gunther and Klemens?"

"I was," Jack agreed. "I don't have any excuse, George. He got away from me. I was setting Gunther up for a shot at one of those bulls, and when I looked around Klemens wasn't there. I didn't even hear him leave. I figured he'd stepped behind some bushes to take a leak or something, that he'd be right back. Only he wasn't." He looked George straight in the eye. "I screwed up. I'm sorry, George."

George, about to reply with even more care, caught Kate's eye and was put forcibly in mind of other events that had taken place that afternoon. It took a visible effort but he swallowed what he had been about to say.

Pulled back, the tarp revealed the pallid face of Fedor, the life drained out of him like wine from a bottle, leaving only the hollow vessel behind. His fair lashes lay thick upon his cheeks, an innocently incongruous contrast to the bullet hole in his forehead, just beneath his hairline and slightly offcenter. He was lying on another tarp, and without moving his head Kate could see that most of the back of his skull was gone.

George tossed back the tarp. "I don't get it. Klemens and Eberhard are the only two nimrods in this bunch who know one end of a rifle from the other." "He said he saw the brush rustle, a flash of brown. He thought it was a moose and shot."

George flicked up the tarp again. Over his safari suit Fedor had zipped the fluorescent orange vest that George demanded all his hunters wear before he'd take them out on the trail, especially in a group this large. "Who was supposed to be watching Fedor? Old Sam?"

"Yes."

"Well, why wasn't he!"

"George," Jack said. "You know it happens."

Kate gave him a sharp look. Who was he trying to convince, himself or George?

"It doesn't happen on my hunts," George snapped. He ran his hands through his hair. "Oh, hell."

Berg, Senta, Eberhard and Dieter were approaching. Jack looked around at the sound of their footsteps and saw Dieter. "Jesus, what happened to Dieter?" He looked down at Kate. "What did you do to him?" "I didn't do anything to him," Kate snapped. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Senta was a little ahead of the three men. She saw the group standing around the blue plastic mound and the blond eyebrows on the lovely brow creased. "What is it?"

"Someone's been shot," George said bluntly.

She gasped, one hand going to her mouth. "What? Who? One of us? Who is it, George?"

"Fedor."

"Fedor?" Senta stood very still, her face blank. "Fedor has been shot? Dead?" "See for yourself," George said, all trace of lover banished for the moment.

Eberhard walked around Senta and raised the tarp. He and Dieter looked in silence on Fedor's still face. Senta fell back a step, said something in a shaken voice that Kate couldn't catch and whirled to come face to face with Dieter. For a moment nobody moved. Then Senta broke and ran for the lodge.