Grace and the Guiltless

Chapter 6

Run! Grace’s inner voice screamed, but her muscles went rigid, immobilizing her.

Bullet whinnied in alarm, but Grace couldn’t tear her gaze from the bear.

Her father’s warning ran through her head. As if Pa stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, his words sounded clearly in Grace’s head: Never run from a bear.

“Pa?” she whispered.

His presence surrounded her. It almost seemed that if she reached out her hand, she could touch him. But she was alone, and panic clouded her mind. Pa had taught her a rhyme about bears. What was it?

The bear moved closer.

Grace’s throat closed. If she backed away slowly, would it attack?

The gun. Why hadn’t she kept the gun with her? Pa had never gone anywhere without his gun.

The rhyme. Think of the rhyme. How did it start? Grizzly . . .

Grizzly, grizzly, play dead. Black bear, black bear, hit it in the head.

But which kind of bear was it? Grace couldn’t tell. In the gloom, its coat looked as gray as the sky. The hump on the back of its neck rippled with each step, and its white teeth gleamed in the low dawn light. And those eyes. They pinned her in place.

Grizzy bear, black bear. If she chose wrong, she’d be dead.

Pa’s voice came again. Make noise. Try to scare it off.

Grace cleared her throat, but her spit had dried in her mouth. All that came out was a choking sound.

Do it, Grace. Try again.

I’m trying, Pa. Grace swallowed hard.

She tried to wet the inside of her mouth, loosen her tongue. She opened her mouth, and a weak gurgle came out.

Again, Pa’s voice commanded.

A shrill scream came from her lips this time, growing louder, stronger. She clapped her hands, stomped her feet in a crazy, frenzied dance, and finally the bear stopped for a moment. Grace couldn’t tear her gaze from its eyes — they seemed to glow: yellow, piercing.

Then the bear advanced once more. Grace’s stomach flipped.

Grace bent down, scrabbling blindly on the ground for loose rocks until finally her hand closed over a large chunk. She stood and hurled it without hesitating.

Bull’s-eye.

The bear shook its head and growled deep in its chest.

Grace scooped up handfuls of rocks and sticks and tossed them furiously. With yowls of pain, the bear crouched, but it didn’t leave. Instead, it sprang straight toward her.

With a loud squeal, Bullet charged. Bear and horse met in a snapping, snarling mass of tearing teeth, flying hooves, slashing claws, growls, whinnies — and screams.

Grace’s was the loudest.

“Bullet!”

Blood dripped from his flank. No, no, no.

Grace launched herself at the bear from the side and pounded a rock against its skull. Jaws wide, it tipped his head sideways, aiming for her neck. Just as it did, Bullet reared. Blood streaming down his legs, Bullet crashed down onto the bear’s back, rescuing her, but the beast’s claws slashed out, raking down Grace’s arm and tearing her flesh.

The bear rolled sideways, whimpering.

Grace raced toward Bullet and the saddlebag. She caught up with him as he bucked and reared, and she fumbled in the leather pouch for the gun. She’d never let it leave her side from now on. But before she could pull the pistol out, the bear stumbled to its feet and shook himself.