WALKING WITH THE soles of all four feet placed flat on the ground in the manner known as plantigrade, the black bear, whose faint noises made while approaching through the bushes had attracted the attention of Silent Churchman, came to a halt on reaching the edge of the clearing, as if surprised to find other living creatures there. However, the stocky cowhand felt sure that could not be the case. In fact, he could guess what had brought it there at such an inopportune moment. It had been attracted by a combination of the sound made by the cow in what he later discovered were called her labor pains and possibly the scent caused by the birth. Whatever the reason might be, Silent was far from pleased by the sight of the bear.
Going by what happened next, the red and white Hereford cow and Silent’s kettle-bellied bay horse were thinking along the same lines. Each decided that being in close proximity to such a large and potentially dangerous wild animal was a situation not to be endured. Therefore, each took immediate measures to remove itself from the locality. Paying not the slightest attention to the tiny morsel of life it had so recently brought into the world, apart from snatching free the teat of the udder being sucked, the cow spun and fled away from the threat, proceeding in the direction from which it had come. Although of phlegmatic temperament under normal conditions, the horse was just as swift in its reactions. Letting out a snort of alarm, it twirled with the agility that was used to good advantage in the performance of its work, and, more by accident than intent, lit out ahead of the cow.
Under different circumstances, for all his often-expressed sentiments about a lack of intelligence being a quality of “cows,” Silent might have conceded—albeit in a grudging fashion—that there was some excuse for the way in which the mother of the newly born calf responded. Unlike the Texas longhorns, whose progenitors had long enough experience at free-ranging and fending for themselves to teach habits that helped keep their young from danger, the Hereford strain was not all that long ago brought to the United States from a country where, he had been informed, the largest predatory creature likely to be met was a red fox or badger. A longhorn cow, even having been through its first pregnancy, finding itself in a similar position would have charged without hesitation in defense of its newly born offspring. However, lacking any such maternal instinct, or having it overridden by its fear of the unknown, the Hereford abandoned the calf to save itself. Finding itself deprived of the warm milk it had been extracting, the little creature let out a protesting bawl. Then it attempted to go after its hurriedly departing mother, but its legs were incapable of such an effort and it toppled to the ground. Starting to struggle erect, it continued to let loose its high-pitched vocal protests.
There was, the cowhand told himself bitterly and profanely under his breath, only himself to blame for the way in which his normally reliable horse behaved. While waiting for the drive to Arizona to begin, he had eagerly taken an opportunity to indulge in a favorite pastime by going out with a pack of big-game hounds after a stock-killing male black bear. xiv After a long chase, the predator had been brought to bay in a clearing among some fairly wide-spaced bushes too weak to allow it to climb above the rapidly approaching hounds. Accepting the fact, it had started to defend itself with all the savage fury its kind were famous for employing under similar conditions.
The lightest of the men following the hunt and seated on the bay, which was a running fool, Silent had been the first to arrive at the scene of the conflict. The bear gave Silent no chance to arm himself with his Spencer No. 56 Repeating carbine, or even draw either of the holstered Colt 1860 Army revolvers that he was then wearing as defensive weapons for use mainly one at a time at close quarters—although, aware of his and their limitations under the prevailing conditions, he had no desire to attempt anything with the latter unless driven to it by unavoidable circumstances. The enraged bear let out an awesome bloodcurdling bawl almost human in timbre, and while doing so, rushed through the pack; experienced in such work, the hounds scattered from its path.
Probably hoping to curtail the hunting of bears, the more rabid professional conservationists of a later age would try to claim that the species Euarctos americanus americanus is a totally inoffensive creature so close to being vegetarian in its eating habits that it hardly qualified as omnivorous. To give strength to the argument, some even quoted the old Indian legend that a brave who killed a black bear—but not the larger and vastly more dangerous grizzly—was required to apologize to its spirit for having been compelled to do so. xv
Although willing to concede that there was less risk involved in tangling with a black bear than with another member of the bear family, Silent had never subscribed to such an ill-advised and potentially dangerous line of thought. He hailed from a part of cattle-raising Texas noted for the prolificacy of species. Therefore, he had had sufficient dealings with those with a taste for the meat of cattle to know that they were never to be taken lightly—and even less when brought to bay by hounds set on their trail.
Even for one who had engaged in similar hunts many times, there was something awe-inspiring about the sight of a charging black bear as it approached a speed of perhaps thirty miles per hour. Its body was made to seem even more massive by the long guard hairs of its pelt, which now stood erect. Thrust ahead to the extent of its neck, the slavering jaws of its sharply pointed head—seemingly small in comparison with its bulk elsewhere—were open to show large, obviously sharp canine teeth ready to sink deeply into flesh.
The entire effect presented by the hostile bear had not been one to inspire a state of confidence on the part of the object of its hostility. Nor had Silent’s generally well-behaved and steady bay considered it in such a light. Giving vent to its feelings in no uncertain fashion, it had turned with the intention of getting away to any location clear of its proposed assailant. The bay spun with an agility acquired from dodging the only slightly less dangerous charges launched by longhorn cattle. Only being a rider of exceptional skill, well-versed in remaining afork his mount in unexpected circumstances, had allowed the cowhand to avoid being flung clear.
Engrossed solely in staying in the saddle, Silent had been unable to take any kind of defensive action against the bear. Fortunately, the bay had had sufficient reaction speed to carry them clear. However, the margin of the evasion was so narrow that the bear, striking in passing without its speed diminishing to any noticeable degree, had contrived to rip a narrow scratch in the horse’s rump. Taken with the fear inspired by the charge, and the pain of the slight injury, the spirited bay set off in a series of bucks that might have gladdened the hearts of spectators at a rodeo.
The cowhand had been too fully occupied by the urgent priority of remaining astraddle the horse to do more than hang tight. Fortunately, the pack of hounds were up to the occasion. Although they had very wisely allowed their quarry to pass unimpeded, they had resumed the chase as soon as the bear had gone by. Feeling itself once more being harried by the closely pressing creatures, the bear had concluded discretion to be the better part of valor and, having removed what it had regarded as another threat to its well-being, continued to race away as fast as it could move. Nor, regardless of his early eagerness to take the bear as a trophy before the rest of the party could arrive, was Silent sorry to see it go.
Although the scratch from the bear’s paw had quickly healed, the bay had never forgotten how it was inflicted or what kind of dangerous beast was responsible for it. Therefore, even though the threat was not in evidence on this occasion, the horse was disinclined to remain long enough to let any such aggressive action commence. Instead, duplicating fright displayed by the Hereford cow, it forgot its training to remain motionless when its open-ended reins were dangling from its bridle and took off in the direction of the other animal.
Already fuming over the desertion of the calf by its mother, Silent was diverted from the thought of how this strengthened his hatred of “goddamned cows” by the sight of his horse following suit. He realized that this posed a very serious added threat to the existence of the calf in whose struggle for survival he had been taking such an interest. What was more, he realized that his own life might also be in danger. When hard-wintering in his later years he would attribute to it a bulk far exceeding that of even a full-grown grizzly, but in truth the bear did not come anywhere close to the size of those he had contended against and beaten in the Lone Star State. At that moment, however, he was all too aware of its close to three-hundred-pound bulk and obvious proclivity toward eating meat that made it a most dangerous adversary.
“That’s all I goddamned need!” Silent growled bitterly, giving a brief glance after the departing bay and realizing the extremely perilous nature of the situation in which he had been placed.
Experienced in such matters and endowed with an outlook that shied against accepting such a way out, the cowhand immediately cast aside the thought of taking flight before an attack by the bear could be launched. He knew the basic trait of every carnivore impelled it to chase anything that fled from it, and he was equally aware that no man on foot—especially one wearing the high-heeled boots found necessary for their work by cowhands—could outpace a black bear should he instinctively be sought as food. To add to the dilemma, there was the safety of the newly born calf to be taken into consideration. For all that he generally professed hatred of “goddamned cows,” he had already formed a liking for the little beast, and his whole being revolted against leaving it to what he knew was almost certain to be its doom. However, there were serious difficulties to be overcome in his present position before he could even try to make a change for the better.
The horse had taken off with Silent’s Spencer carbine, which, despite having been acquired as a battlefield capture during the War Between the States, possessed the potency, given by its .56-caliber bullets and the seven-shot capacity of its magazine, to bring a sufficiently swift end to any aggressive action—even though he would need to operate
the lever and charge the chamber, then manually cock the hammer. What was more, since they had been carried only to enable the employment of twelve shots without the need for the lengthy process of reloading with even paper cartridges and percussion caps after six had been discharged from a single weapon, he did not have the benefit of the revolvers anymore. Deciding that the time had come to make a change in his defensive armament, he had taken advantage of the greater rapidity with which the Colt Peacemaker could receive its full complement of center-fire metallic rounds to reduce the burden by carrying only one. Although satisfied with its potency at making a stopping hit at close range, which was its purpose, he knew this could only be achieved provided the bullet was planted in an appropriate location.
Every instinct Silent possessed gave warning that attaining the end he desired was far from guaranteed.
Growling in a menacing fashion over what it regarded as a threat to obtaining the meal of meat it had come to collect, the bear stood shaking its head from side to side in a way Silent recognized as being the prelude to some form of offensive action. Silent also realized that the bear’s posture lessened the chances of his being able to make the kind of shot he knew would be necessary. With only a twenty-eight-grain load of black powder per bullet, the Colt lacked at this range the kind of stopping power that would be required to halt the big animal in its tracks. A head shot would do, but this could only be relied upon if the bullet entered from the side of the skull.
The cowhand had once seen a bear struck between the eyes by a bullet from a Winchester Model of 1866 rifle. What happened next had given added support to his often-declared belief that such a weapon and its load, no larger than that used for the Colt Peacemaker revolver, were puny in comparison with his old Spencer. Even though the bullet made contact between the eyes, there was a sufficiently sturdy protective shield to deflect it just under the skin and force it to pass on out. The glancing impact had been hard enough to send the bear down like a pole-axed steer, but it had recovered sufficiently to rise and charge the man who had fired the shot. If it had not been for the speed with which Silent and other members of the hunting party opened fire from various points, the bear’s attack would have proved successful.
Bearing that experience in mind, the cowhand decided that to shoot under the prevailing state of affairs would in all probability do more harm than good.
Nor was Silent any more enamored of the only solution that came to mind based on his knowledge of predatory animals. But he was determined to try it.
“Oh well,” the cowhand breathed, drawing and cocking his Colt. “Billy Jack allus allowed how Cap’n Fog said the best form of defense is making a head-on and horns-a-hooking attack. I just hope that lean and miserable-looking ole calamity-wailing cuss wasn’t getting it wrong like he most allus does.”
Silent let out the loudest whoop his stocky frame was capable of producing and charged across the clearing toward the bear. While doing so, he fired the Colt in the bear’s general direction as fast as he could operate the single-action mechanism, making sure he did not send the bullets into the animal. The action might have struck an onlooker unversed in such matters as totally reckless, but he knew that there was a sound method in what he was doing. Everything now hung upon whether his knowledge of predatory creatures was correct.
For a moment, the way in which the cowhand behaved did not evoke any response from the bear. However, like every carnivore, it possessed a very well-developed strain of caution in its makeup. While its size made it master of the range over which it had gained dominance—smaller members of its species and even the occasional cougar met in its travels yielded to its superior weight and power—seeing what seemed to be a direct challenge from the strange creature it had found, apparently prepared to dispute its right to the meal it was seeking, caused it to review the situation.
If the bear had been goaded by pangs of extreme hunger, it would in all probability have acted in a different fashion. However, it was reasonably well fed and had evidently come on hearing the moan of what it sensed to be an animal in difficulty and, therefore, offering the opportunity to indulge its well-developed liking for fresh meat. Nevertheless, had the strange erect moving creature—its habits not yet having brought it into contact with men in spite of its having developed a fondness for their livestock—shown signs of backing away, it would have advanced to establish its right to the prey.
Faced by what was clearly a determined charge, to the accompaniment of thunderous crashes and spurts of flame beyond anything in its comprehension, the bear held its ground for only a few seconds. Then, as Silent’s instinctive counting warned that he was firing his fifth shot—he intended to retain the remaining bullet in the cylinder as a last-minute defense should his ploy fail—the bear’s instincts produced the effect he desired. The bear gave a snort and turned to dash away through the bushes.
“Whooee!” Silent exclaimed, coming to a halt and starting to reload the Colt by taking bullets from the loops on his gunbelt—one of the factors that had caused him to make the change in his defensive armament—without the need for conscious thought. “Virgil Churchman, if you want for us to grow all old ’n’ ornerier than we are now, don’t you never let me pull a fool trick like that again.”
With that heartfelt, if basically impracticable, comment having been delivered and his weapon made ready for immediate use if the need arose, the cowhand turned and looked over to the calf. Gazing about in what Silent regarded as a bewildered fashion, it was giving notice of its objection to being deserted by its mother. Silent already having developed a liking for what he considered to be its spunky qualities, knew it was still up to him to help it overcome the uncaring treatment it had been accorded by its mother. The solution to how this might be brought about was soon forthcoming.
By chance, Dude had been looking behind when first the Hereford cow and then Silent’s bay emerged from the bushes. At any time on the open range, the sight of a riderless horse was a cause for grave concern. Therefore, the handsome cowhand had signaled for Peaceful Gunn to drop back to fill his position in the rear of the drag. No more than a quick “Silent’s afoot” was needed to explain why he made the request. Catching the reins of the bay while noticing with relief that there were no indications of its rider having sustained an injury causing its loss, he had wasted no time in setting out to investigate. The sound of the yell, which he knew could only have been emitted from a set of human lungs, followed by the four shots, guided him in the proper direction.
“What’s up, Silent,” Dude inquired, seeking to conceal his relief at finding that his companion did not appear to be in any kind of difficulty, “get off to pick up your woolsey?”
“The hell I did,” Silent yelled, oozing indignation over the suggestion that a man of his caliber would have purchased, much less be wearing, a cheap and notoriously inferior-quality “woolsey” hat even in an emergency. Doing so was the mark of a greenhorn or Westerner who lacked the qualities deemed necessary to become a top hand in the cattle business. As was always the case, his own headdress was a genuine John B. Stetson. “That goddamned cow had her a calf and run out on it.”
“You sure used up a whole slew of shells trying to coax her to come back,” Dude claimed, although he realized that something of far greater importance had been responsible for the firing of so many shots.
“They wasn’t for her, you dad-blasted knob head!” Silent yelled. He needed relief for his still-churned-up emotions, and he knew he and the other cowhand were on a footing that allowed him to use the term for an exceptionally balky and stupid mule. “Was a whole slew of the biggest goddamned black bears I’ve ever seen outside of Texas figuring on eating that spunky little feller, and I concluded they’d have to be stopped doing it.”
“A whole slew of ’em, huh?” Dude challenged with a grin, aware that black bears never traveled in a pack, unless it was a sow with her latest batch of cubs.
“Thought I saw maybe a dozen grizzlies and a cougar or two siding ’em, but I didn’t wait to take no head count,” Silent asserted. “Anyways, they’ve all tooken a greaser standoff and won’t be back. So now we’ve got to figure out what to do for the best with this little jasper.”
“I bet Chow could use him to whomp up a dandy son-of-a-bitch stew,” the handsome cowhand suggested with the air of one making an obviously provocative statement.
“Anybody even thinks of trying that’ll right smart have to answer to me!” Silent declared with vehemence, acting as if he believed the proposal had been made in earnest. “Nope, he’s headed for the blattin’ cart and, if his momma won’t own him, Rosita ’n’ Mig’ll feed him until he can start eating grass.”
While speaking, the stocky cowhand took a couple of pigging thongs from the pocket of his Levi’s. Behaving in a far more gentle way than would normally have been the case, he secured the hind legs and forelegs of the calf. With this done, he asked Dude to lend a hand in loading it onto his horse. He used his bandanna to blindfold his horse, and thus lessen the chance of the dun objecting to the unusual burden.
“Yes sir, you old cuss,” Dude said, too quietly for his companion to hear, as he watched the care being taken to mount the horse and hold the little animal in position. “You surely do hate goddamned cows.”