“What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s sees a bear.”
She shot up. “You’re kidding.”
His voice dropped, calm but urgent. “Stay still until I have the horses ready. Ollie, come.”
****
Cole stared through the mottled afternoon light and made out her form: a massive sow, russet fur bristling along her broad back, snout buried in the dirt, cubs darting at her heels. She hadn’t scented them yet. If she did, there’d be no warning before the rush of claws and fury. Nothing came between amama bear and her babies.
“Come here,” he whispered.
Aftyn stepped forward and Cole could see she was terrified. He knelt beside her horse, slid his hands beneath her boot, and lifted her into the saddle. He tapped her knee gently until her eyes met his.
“Ride for the barn. Hard and fast. Don’t stop, don’t look back.”
Her breath came in quick shallow bursts. “Can she catch me?”
“I’ll draw her off. Just go.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Not if you get a good head start.”
She hesitated. “What about you?”
He smirked, jaw tight. “Once you’re clear I’ll fire the rifle. The crack will send her back into the trees.” His eyes flicked to the sow as she pawed the soil, nostrils flaring. “Go. Now.”
“Cole.” Her voice cracked.
He squeezed her knee. “Please.”
Aftyn dug her heels in and the mare bolted, hooves hammering the earth into clouds of dust, the rhythm echoing through the clearing like a runaway heartbeat. Cole glanced at Ollie. “Go, buddy.” The dog shot after her in a blur of gold.
Cole kept his eyes on the sow. The thunder of hooves reached her and she rose, coarse fur standing on end, then whirled toward him. He dropped into the saddle, feeling his horse tense beneath him, and slowly drew the rifle from its sling, resting the barrel across his thigh. He’d fire only if she came too close.
A low guttural snort rolled through the clearing. She lunged, shoulder blades rolling under matted fur, claws gouging divots in the turf as she angled toward him, jaws snapping. Cole raised the rifle andfired into the ground before her. Earth and shale exploded at her feet. She reeled, ears pinned, then turned and ran, her massive form swallowed by the shadowed tree line until only the rustling pines remained.
Cole exhaled and lowered the rifle. He nudged his mount toward the barn, its red paint dulled by years of sun and wind. Inside, the air was thick with hay and horse sweat. Aftyn sat on a golden bale, her body still shaking, Ollie pressed against her leg.
Cole dismounted and strode over. She sprang up and flung her arms around him, trembling against his chest.
“It’s over,” he said, stroking her damp hair. “She ran back into the woods.”
“Boss?” Landon’s voice echoed from the barn doors as he and Gunnar burst in, rifles cradled in their arms.
“We’re fine. Mama bear with cubs. She turned tail after a warning shot.”
Landon’s brow furrowed. “Want us to check the woods?”
“No. You guys know it’s illegal to kill a grizzly unless you’re threatened, but keep your eyes peeled on the perimeter. Those cubs are five, six months old. She’ll do anything to protect them.”
“Understood.” Landon’s gaze flicked to Aftyn. “Ma’am, you okay?”
Aftyn nodded. “Just catching my breath.”
“Landon, would you and Gunnar cool down the horses?”
