Free The Treacherous Teddy by John J. Lamb Page B

and be careful.”
    “I will. Don’t worry.” Ash gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then scrambled up the slope.
    She disappeared into the forest, yet I continued to look up the hill for another minute or two. Finally, I decided that searching the quarry for any further signs of evidence would be a better use of my time. I headed back over to the derrick and then took a look at the vine-choked bulldozer, which also seemed to have a cedar sapling growing up out of the left set of treads. Then I wandered over to the stream. That was when I heard a throaty grunt immediately followed by what I hoped wasn’t the clack of teeth.
    The sound had come from my left. I slowly turned in that direction and then froze as a large example of Ursus americanus , AKA the black bear, emerged from the undergrowth about twenty-five yards away. Even though I’ve collected teddy bears for years and used to take my kids to the San Francisco Zoo to look at the bears, I’d never been so close to the genuine article, especially without an intervening fence and moat.
    I was terrified, but only for a moment. Then I realized the bear was swiftly lumbering on all fours toward the stream. He—well, I guess it was a he, and I wasn’t going to get closer to check—seemed more frightened of me than I was of him. That was only natural, I suppose. Bears don’t hunt humans and cut out their gallbladders. Anyway, I watched in rapt fascination as the bear splashed through the brook and vanished into the woods. It was a bright and life-affirming moment in an otherwise grim morning spent investigating a violent death.
    I was still staring across the stream when Ash returned from the trail. She asked, “Brad, honey, are you all right?”
    “I’m fine. No, I’m great. I just saw a black bear,” I replied.
    “What?”
    “I guess I spooked it.” I pointed toward the foliage where I’d first seen the bear. “It was hiding over there and then it ran across the stream. My God, he was magnificent.”
    Ash peered into the forest in the same direction I’d been looking a moment before. “I’m sorry I missed him.”
    “So am I. And you know something? I’ve never been interested in making a realistic-looking teddy bear, but now . . .”
    “I understand exactly what you mean,” said Ash. Years ago, she’d been inspired to create soft-sculpture big cats after we’d spent the better part of two hours in the Tiger River exhibit at the San Diego Zoo.
    “So, what happened with the ATV tracks?” I asked.
    “The trail dead-ends at a gravel road up on the ridge, and there’s no way to tell which direction the ATV went after that. But I found something else that was a little interesting.”
    “What’s that?”
    Ash glanced back up at the hill. “Someone recently marked what I think is the property line.”
    “How can you tell it’s recent?”
    “The markers are wooden pegs with strips of pink plastic ribbon tied around them. The wood still looks brand-new and the ribbon isn’t frayed or sun-faded.”
    “Good obs. Is it possible the guy riding the ATV was marking the property line?”
    Ash shook her head. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. There are some places where the wooden markers have been snapped off and it’s obvious how it happened. The ATV drove right over them.”
    “Sending a message, you think? I mean, why do you mark a property line?”
    “If you’re going to build a fence?”
    “Exactly. And it looks as if the guy on the ATV was annoyed over that prospect.” I looked toward the spot where the bear had vanished. “I wonder if that bear is living on borrowed time, because it appears Chet wasn’t the only one poaching on Everett Rawlins’s land.”

Seven
     
     
     
     
    We started back to the farmhouse and met the sheriff as she came up the road. Ash and I took turns briefing her on what little we’d actually learned.
    When we finished, Tina asked, “So, if those property line markers weren’t placed by the guy on the