Bert rocked back on her heels. Trying to come to terms with what this new danger would mean to them. She leaned forward to examine the palm-size pawmark imprinted in the sand.
Relatively new. A few hours old at the most. Another one, to the right of the first, lay about eight inches ahead. She looked back and saw two more.
“My God,” she whispered again. Cougar, by the look of it—and one helluva size. It’s in the vicinity. Or was last night. Just passing through? Or is this its patch?
No sign of it now, anyway. She got to her feet. Slowly. Thinking, one cougar and you got more cougars ... Great. That’s all we need. Should’ve listened to Rick and gone to Mauii instead.
Scooping up her pack, paper and trowel, Bert raced back to Rick.
“Hey,” she panted, pulling up short. She took a couple of deep breaths to steady the tremor in her voice. “Looks like we got company, Rick. Big cat type company...”
“Oh yeah?”
“Sure. Come see for yourself. I know cougars are around in the mountains, the Rockies, mainly. But let’s hope this is a one-off that’s strayed from home...”
She tried, but she couldn’t convince herself that this cougar was a one-off. One vacation she’d helped out at a feline breeding center in Rosamund. From her time there, she’d learned enough about big cat behavior to know that there was probably a mom cougar, and a bunch of kitty cougars holed up in the rocks somewhere near.
Rick followed her back to the clearing.
Apart from coyotes and maybe the occasional wolverine, he’d discounted other wildlife. Keep to the track, he’d thought. No problems if we keep to the track. But if it looks like we got mountain lions tracking us down as well as the teen trio, then maybe it’s time to bring out the gun ...
“We better keep our eyes peeled. For cats—and for The Three Thugateers,” Bert said. “And tell the girls, too. Better safe than sorry. Anyway, we keep to the main trail, cougars won’t bother us.”
“Okay. But you said we shouldn’t confront the guys empty-handed,” Rick said. “What did you have in mind?”
“Weapons.” She patted the sheath knife on her belt and eyed Rick’s. “The girls have knives, too.”
Rick opened the side pocket of his pack. He pulled out the T-shirt and unwrapped his revolver.
Bert gazed at it. “My God,” she muttered.
“Just in case there’s real trouble,” he said. He lifted the back of his shirt and pushed the pistol under his belt. Its barrel slid down cool between his buttocks. He let his shirt-tail hang out to conceal the bulge.
“I don’t believe this,” Bert said.
“I knew you wouldn’t like the idea. That’s why I kept it out of sight. But it’ll do us a lot more good than knives and a hatchet.”
“You wouldn’t shoot anyone?”
“If we’re attacked ... This isn’t fun ’n games, Bert. We’ve got to be ready to protect ourselves.”
“But a gun.”
“They’ve got knives, too, you know. You actually think we’d stand a chance if it came to a fight?”
“I don’t want anyone getting killed.”
“As long as it’s them and not us.”
“You and Dirty Harry. Maybe we shouldn’t take any weapons at all.”
“Are you looking to get yourself gang-raped? Or chewed up by a cougar?”
“Yeah. Cougars.” The color drained from her face.
“It’ll stay in my belt unless they try for us.”
“Promise?” she asked in a small voice. “You won’t wave it in their faces and threaten them?”
“They’ll never know I have it. If I pull the gun, it comes out firing.”
“Don’t let the girls know about it, either. Andrea—she might start something with the guys if she knew you had it.”
“It’ll be our secret. You and me.”
“I wish it was just your secret.”
“Well, now at least you know we’ve got some protection.”
“A real comfort. You didn’t happen to bring along a nuclear warhead?”
“Wouldn’t fit in my pack.”
Bert sighed. “Let’s go. My teeth are floating.”
He followed her out of the clearing. They leaped the small stream. A distance beyond it, he stopped and Bert went ahead. She stepped behind a tree. Rick heard her belt buckle, the rustle of fabric as she lowered her pants.
She didn’t take it well, he thought. But at least she didn’t go ape. She’ll be damn glad I’ve got the gun if things get so bad that I have to use it. The look on her face when I mentioned getting gang-banged. Hell, she’d probably use it herself before she’d let that happen.
Give the gun to ber if she’s so afraid of what I’ll do with it.
I don’t think so. No, I don’t think so. Not such a hot idea. She might not even know how to fire the thing, and even if she did, she might chicken out until it’s too late. Too late for all of us.
I’ll just keep it, thanks.
Just let them try something, they’ll be dead meat.
Dead meat.
The words had a chilling ring to them.
Rick began to tremble. His breath hissed through his clenched teeth.
If I’d had a gun last time, Julie would still be alive. They wouldn’t have fucked her and killed her. I’d have blown their heads off and saved her and we wouldn’t have been alone together until Dad got back with help and Dad wouldn’t have acted like I’d killed her and he wouldn’t have turned into a drunk and killed himself and my life wouldn’t have turned to shit.
All because I didn’t have a gun.
Well, I’ve got one now.
Bert came out from behind the trees, fastening her belt. When she saw Rick, her face darkened. “What’s wrong?” She looked around as if expecting to spot the guys.
“Everything’s fine,” Rick said.
“Is it?”
“I’m just worried about what might happen.”
“What’s to worry about? You’ve got your equalizer.”
“Thank God.”
They returned to the clearing. The girls were out of their tent. Both had changed into jeans and jogging shoes. Bonnie wore a sweatshirt, Andrea a red plaid shirt with long sleeves. It looked too big for her, and it wasn’t tucked in.
“Do you have knives or something?” Rick asked.
Nodding, Bonnie patted a bulge in a front pocket of her jeans. Andrea lifted the front of her shirt. Sheathed at her hip was a hunting knife with a staghorn handle. “Bonnie has a tomahawk we could take along,” she said.
“It’s my brother’s old Boy Scout hand-axe. But we probably shouldn’t take it with us. I mean, we don’t want to look like we’ve come to do battle.”
“I agree,” Bert said. “I think we should just play it very cool.”
“Maybe you should do the talking,” Rick suggested. “You were good with them this morning.”
“Okay.”
“And no mouthing off,” Bonnie told Andrea.
“You think I’m stupid?”
“You flipped them off, didn’t you?”
“That was different. They were ten miles away.” She scrunched up her face and said, “Uh-oh. You don’t suppose that’s why they came down? Maybe I pissed them off and they came down to pound the shit out of me.”
Her tone was half joking, but Rick could see that the possibility had her worried.
He’d read, last month, of a motorist being killed because he gave the finger to the driver of a pickup truck that cut him off. The pickup stopped, blocking the road. The driver got out, pulled the man from the car, and beat him to death with a tire iron.
“I’m sure your gesture didn’t help the situation,” Bonnie said.
“I doubt if that’s why they’re here,” Bert said, and Rick nodded in agreement.