“Were those grizzlies?”
I shook my head. “No, those were black bears, but some of the old-timers say there are a few grizzlies still up here in the Bighorns.”
“How do you tell the difference?”
“The scat, usually; black bears are omnivores and their scat generally has berries, nuts, foliage . . .”
“And grizzlies?”
Vic chimed in with the response. “Their scat usually has bells in it and smells like pepper.”
“Hey, can I get a hand here?”
I looked up at Chuck. “I nearly forgot about you.” I reached up, and taking my one hand, he jumped down to the ground and then straightened his duty belt and flat-brimmed Smokey Bear hat with a sense of self-assurance. Chuck, like me, wasn’t built for running and climbing.
“Good thing you came along.”
I nodded. “They probably saw your hat and thought you were one of them.”
“Very funny.”
“Besides, we heard your call.”
I watched as the young woman walked around a bit, keeping her eyes in the direction in which the Cheyenne Nation had disappeared. I turned back to the game ranger. “What’s going on, Chuck?”
He gestured toward his truck, probably anxious to get near his vehicle. “Maybe I should let her explain.”
The four of us made the short walk to the half-ton and stopped by the cab to listen to Ms. Napier as she folded her arms and shuddered. “I’ve never seen anything like it, it just came up from underneath me in an explosion and I ran out of there.”
Vic looked between the two of them. “Wait, there was a bear in the restroom?”
The woman looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure what it was.”
I gestured toward the structure. “But something attacked you in there?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after the bears?”
She sighed. “I was inside, hiding from the bears when I thought well, you know, I’d take advantage. I’ve learned in Wyoming you do that ’cause you never know when you’ll have the chance next.”
I turned to Chuck. “And where did you come into all this?”
He reached in, turned off his light bar, and shut the door of his truck. Leaning against it, he offered the forest service water bottle to Andrea; it appeared that the two of them had gotten along in their time on the roof.
“I pulled in when I saw the bears around the toilet and got out of my vehicle just as she came blowing out the door of the convenience—scared the bears off long enough for her to get to me but then they saw her and I guess they figured she had more caramel corn and took off after both of us.” He nodded toward his truck. “We tried to get in here but they had gotten between us and the truck, so we had to make for the nearest building. Andrea said she wouldn’t go back inside, bears or no bears, so we climbed on top.”
Vic chimed in after glancing around, but we couldn’t see the Bear or the bears. “I bet that was a short conversation.”
The ranger looked at his wristwatch. “I figured we were going to have to wait till the septic service got here to pump this one out for the winter—it’s due in about twenty minutes or so.”
Ms. Napier looked a little disgruntled. “Look, are you people going to do something about this?”
Chuck glanced at me, having the response I normally had to people who referred to me or mine as you people, but then his voice became playful and it was obvious he was flirting with the woman. “Well, the first thing I’m going to do is write you a citation for fifty dollars if this is your first offense in feeding bears, two hundred if it’s your second, but if it’s your third, the fine goes up to a thousand and six months of jail time.” He acted as if he was going to pull out a pencil and his citation booklet. “So which is it, first, second, or third?”
The woman stared at him and then smiled. “My first.”
“So you saw it, whatever it was in the restroom?”
She shook her head at me. “Not really.”
“And the culprit is still in there?” I shared a look with Chuck and Vic and the three of us glanced back at the Porta Potty. “You’ve got it locked in the john?”
The ranger threw a thumb toward the woman. “Whatever it was, it appears to have attacked this lady in situ.”
My undersheriff snickered. “You’re kidding.”
The woman stepped from one foot to the next. “Look, you might think this is funny . . .” I held up a hand in my best cop manner, but she wasn’t stopping. “It scratched my ass all to pieces, and I still have to go.”
None of us were quite sure what to say to that, but Chuck jumped in with what he thought was the obvious. “Well, just go over to those trees near the hillside.”
She interrupted this time. “No way.” She glanced at the creek and then at him as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Bears.”
We all turned and looked at the campground bathroom.
• • •
It was really unfair to call it a Porta Potty. It was actually much more than that—what they call in the literature a self-contained, free-standing restroom facility; it sat on a concrete pad in the national forest and was made of heavy wood with a lower foundation of masonry and river rock. With a short overhang and shallow shingled roof it must’ve been a chore to climb onto even if you had opposable thumbs, but its construction was responsible for saving Coon and the young woman from being further molested by ursa trio.
I was the most curious to see what might be in there, so I was the one elected to grip the metal handle of the forest service convenience and open the door. I’d placed an ear against it but hadn’t heard anything. “Is everybody ready?”
“Wait. Where are the bears?” Andrea was standing back near Chuck’s truck with the door open so she could get in quickly should the need arise.
I gestured toward the small valley leading up into the true high country. “I saw Henry a good quarter mile away leading them across the creek.”
She looked unsure. “What if there’s another one in there?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think they would leave one behind; besides, if it was a bear we’d have heard something by now.” I glanced at the building. “Whatever it is, it’s not making much noise.”
Chuck and I stood in front of the door as Vic stepped to the other side, reaching under her Flyers sweatshirt and drawing her sidearm from a hideout holster at her hip. When I looked at her, she shrugged. “Fuck it; we don’t know what’s in there.”
I sighed, pulled the lever, and yanked the door wide.
Empty.
There was a large scarf lying on the concrete floor of the small structure but nothing else out of the ordinary. Vic, with the 9mm extended, moved forward and looked inside like she was part of a SWAT team. “Clear.”
Chuck and I, still seeing nothing, both stepped forward and looked up and down in the confined space.
I picked up the finely made copper-colored scarf and held it up showing it to the woman, still standing by Coon’s truck. “This yours?”
“Yes. I’m a costumer in Los Angeles—you know, TV and stuff. I knit.”
“Do you want to come and get it?”
“Not really.”
I nodded and threw the thing over my shoulder as Chuck stepped closer, taking a better look around the interior of the enclosure. After a moment, I peered into the hole of the throne. I gestured at his belt and when he tried to hand me his sidearm, I shook my head and pointed at the flashlight on his hip.
Coon slid the Mag-Lite from its holder and handed it to me; I clicked it on and shined the beam into the vault below.
An eerie sound echoed from the toilet. “Who-who-who-whoo-whoo-whooo . . .”
The ranger looked at me. “Owl?”
Holding the smell at bay by placing my leather jacket sleeve under my nose, I moved the beam around carefully, finally stopping when a pair of golden eyes looked back at me.
“Who-who-who-whoo-whoo-whooo . . .”