Free Don't Cry for Me by Sharon Sala

moving off into the woods. His rifle was hanging at the ready in the crook of his arm, his ear attuned to the sounds around him.
    Within a short time he’d found a creek with swiftly moving water. He checked the coordinates and confirmed his suspicion that it was the same one he’d found up near the hikers. Now he needed to see if he could find bear signs. When he waded into the water, it immediately washed over the tops of his hiking boots, soaking his feet in an ice-cold rush.
    “Oh, shit,” he said, then ignored the discomfort and began walking up-creek.
    * * *
     
    The bear’s gut was full. It had gone back to the kill site the same night and fed on three other carcasses before returning to the overhang. The meat had given it a burst of much-needed energy, and while the wound on its hip was still festering and running with pus, having a full belly gave it one less pain to address.
    Just before sunrise a coyote returning from a night of hunting startled it awake. The bear growled in disagreement and then headed for water to slake its thirst. Once that was accomplished, it lay down in the creek, letting the cold, rushing water wash over its suppurating hip until it was blessedly numb.
    By the time the Doolens and their dogs had reached the kill site, the bear was already moving downstream.
    * * *
     
    It was just before noon when Mariah woke up. The talk show she’d been watching was long since over and a soap opera had taken its place. She wrinkled her nose and switched off the show before making a slow, achy trip to the bathroom, dragging her leg as she went. It occurred to her that she was going to have to maintain a regimen of physical therapy whether she liked it or not, or she would be left with a pronounced limp.
    Instead of the high-powered painkillers, she popped a couple of the over-the-counter kind and hoped for the best as she began to poke around the kitchen for something to eat.
    She was standing at the cabinet, trying to decide between a can of chicken noodle soup and a can of beef stew, when she heard what sounded like a car engine. Thinking it would be Quinn, she smiled as she headed for the door. But the vehicle she saw through the window wasn’t his Jeep, it was a pickup, and two women were getting out.
    One was older and gray-haired, wearing a loose-fitting dress. The other was much younger, but Mariah recognized her features. It was like looking at a female version of Ryal, right down to the slim build and height. These had to be some of Quinn’s family.
    She looked down at herself and sighed. Gray worn-out sweats and a U.S. Army T-shirt with a tear under the arm. Not the outfit she’d hoped to be wearing to meet more members of his family.
    What the hell? It was only clothes, and she didn’t adhere to the theory that clothes made the man—or the woman, as the case might be. Instead of waiting for them to knock, she opened the door and lifted her chin.
    * * *
     
    Dolly Walker was both anxious and curious. Quinn was the only one of her children who’d never married. In fact, he’d never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to bother bringing her home to meet the family. The fact that he’d suddenly brought a woman home with him out of the blue had the whole family curious. Ryal had filled them in on who she was and why she was there, so after Quinn’s call this morning, she and Meg had been more than willing to check on her.
    She’d baked a dried apricot cobbler, and Meg had made a meatloaf and roasted some potatoes. They knew the drill. Supposedly they were bringing some food to help Quinn out, thinking he would be there to introduce them.
    As they drove up the winding driveway and across the open meadow, Dolly couldn’t help but think about how different the new cabin was from the old house she’d grown up in, but different in a good way. Her children would never be wealthy, but their occupations and lives were already steps above what hers had been, and for that she was