Free Grizzly Fury by Jon Sharpe Page B

ready yet. He went on plunging into her while she gasped and moaned and smothered him with burning kisses. His own explosion nearly broke the bed.
    Afterward, Fanny lay with her cheek on his shoulder and plied his hair. He was on the verge of drifting off when she spoiled things.
    â€œCan I ask you a question?”
    â€œIf you have to.”
    â€œWill you be honest with me?”
    â€œHell,” Fargo said.
    â€œAll right. Tell me one thing.” Fanny raised her head. “What are the odds of you making it back alive?”
    â€œDouble hell.”
    Fanny kissed his chin. “You can’t blame a girl for worrying.”
    â€œSure I can.”
    â€œPlease don’t be mad,” she said, running her hand over his chest. “It’s not as if I’m in love or anything.”
    â€œGood,” Fargo said.
    â€œBut this bear has killed a lot of people. They say it’s the meanest critter on four legs. They say it can outthink any man. They say—”
    Fargo opened his eyes and put his finger to her lips. “I don’t give a damn what they say.”
    â€œMe either. But I do give a damn about you.”
    Fargo sighed.
    â€œDon’t take me wrong. It’s not like I’m in love or anything,” Fanny said again. She smiled and traced his hairline with a fingertip. “I mean what I said, is all.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œYou are the best fuck I ever had.”
    Fargo chuckled. “ They say everyone should be good at something.”
    â€œOh you,” Fanny said, and reached below his waist. “What do you say to a second helping?”
    â€œI’m a big eater,” Fargo said.
    Â 
    Five adults plus three kids plus two packhorses. Fargo was at the head, and when he glanced over his shoulder as they were climbing, he saw that the line of horses stretched for a hundred and fifty feet. He didn’t like that. They were spaced too far apart. It made them easy pickings for Brain Eater should the grizzly attack. He turned to Rooster, who was behind him, and asked him to go down the line and ask everyone to ride closer together. The old scout nodded and reined around.
    It was the Englishman who had suggested a spot to put their plan into effect. He had come across it while out hunting for the bear a couple of weeks earlier.
    Fargo hadn’t seen bear sign all day. The sun was on its westward arc and they had about five hours of daylight left, enough to set up before dark.
    The slope leveled and ahead lay shadowed forest. Fargo was watching a hawk circle when Wendy brought his buttermilk next to the Ovaro.
    â€œI say, old chap, mind if I have a few words with you?”
    â€œOld?” Fargo said.
    â€œA figure of speech on my side of the pond,” Wendy said. “It doesn’t mean you’re really old.”
    â€œWhat’s on your mind?” Fargo asked when the Brit didn’t go on.
    â€œMrs. Mathers,” Wendy said. “I didn’t say anything back at the saloon when all of you asked me to join your little expedition.”
    â€œIs that what you call this?” Fargo said.
    â€œI call it inspired lunacy but lunacy nonetheless,” Wendy said. “I understand it was her idea and all, but really, she is putting herself and her children in great danger.”
    â€œWe know that.”
    â€œYet you and the others went along with it.” Wendy slid a hand under his cap and scratched his head. “And that’s the part I don’t understand. Going along with her, I mean. It’s insane.”
    â€œWe know that, too.”
    â€œYou could have told her no,” Wendy said. “Maybe not that big lump of muscle. She has him eating out of her hand. And maybe not the old man. He has a crust on him but she cows him, I suspect. Which leaves you, and you don’t strike me as the timid sort. You could have stood up to her and shot this whole enterprise down.”
    â€œShe needs the