The mother bear huffs one more time before letting out a grunt that almost has me pulling the trigger before I realize she’s calling to her cubs. Then she lumbers to my left, so close her hairs brush my leg as she passes. Another grunt to get their attention, and she continues into the forest, the cubs falling in line behind.
I don’t move. I don’t even think I breathe. I lie on my back, gun aimed at the spot where I last saw them. Everyone stays perfectly still, listening as the bears lumber through the forest. It is only when the sound fades to the softest rustle of distant foliage that I sit up, and then Dalton’s there, lifting me up into a hug so tight I can’t breathe and I don’t want to. I collapse against him, my entire body quivering, and he just keeps murmuring “Okay, okay, okay,” like a mantra, as much for himself as for me.
You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s okay.
I take a deep s
huddering breath, and he does the same, our exhales in perfect syncopation. Storm nudges my leg, whining, and I reach down to pat her head while Dalton keeps his arms locked around me. At least a few minutes pass before he sets me on the ground, and we both holster our weapons.
“I got to see a grizzly up close,” I say. “Really, really close.”
He lets out a shaky laugh and smiles, arms going around my shoulders in a squeeze. “You did.”
“It was awesome.”
“Not quite the word I’d use.”
Another hug, and then I catch a glimpse of Angus and remember we aren’t actually alone here. I straighten, and Dalton takes my hand and turns toward the settlers—
There is a gun pointed at us.
Leon’s rifle, pointed right at us, Moses beside him, arrow nocked and aimed at Dalton.
TWENTY-SIX
I spin fast, hand going for my gun, certain the bears are emerging from the forest, but Moses says, “Miss Casey? Please don’t do that,” and my hand stops and I see no sign of any bears behind us.
“What the fuck?” Dalton says. “What the actual fuck?”
“Please lift your hands,” Moses says.
“You’re shitting me,” Dalton says. “Tell me you’re shitting me, because if you are actually holding a gun on my wife after she just risked her life—”
“Calm down, Eric,” Moses says. “Please calm down.”
Dalton sputters, unable to even respond beyond a few half-formed profanities as his face purples with rage.
“What’s going on here?” I ask slowly.
“We need your help,” Moses says.
“Our help?” Dalton’s voice rises, booming through the forest. “You want our fucking help? Pretty goddamn sure we did just help you. Saved your fucking life and Casey nearly got killed doing it. I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t actually give a fuck. You have five seconds to lower those weapons and apologize, or as far as I’m concerned, the First Settlement is as much a threat as the fucking hostiles. Do you understand me?”
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Eric. Not you. Not Casey.”
“Then lower your fucking—!”
“We need one of you to come with us. As our guest.”
An unintelligible string of profanity from Dalton.
I lift a hand to stop his tirade. “We have been through this bullshit before with Edwin, when he wanted a hostage to ensure our help finding a killer … a killer who, I will point out…”
I turn and look straight at Leon. I don’t need to say another word. The look on his face—the guilt and pain—almost makes me regret bringing it up. Almost.
“This is not how you get our assistance,” I say. “We allowed it that one time, only because someone volunteered. Apparently, that set a dangerous precedent. I understand Edwin wants this problem with the hostiles resolved, but we do not need the incentive of a hostage. Tell him—”
“You tell him,” Angus cuts in. “Better yet, give him back and give Felicity back, and we won’t need to take any hostages.”