“They were arguing?”
“No, but they weren’t friends, either. Their names are Chad Krugman and Mitchell Davis. I’ve guided Krugman before. He isn’t much of an outdoorsman, but last year he came with a client of his and when he booked again this year I figured it was the same setup, that he was doing it for business reasons.”
Dare dumped stew mix into two disposable bowls, then scooted back to sit propped against the wall beside her. His hard triceps was warm against her shoulder, his thigh rubbed against hers. “I get a lot of business associates, but usually they’re on good terms.”
Resolutely, she kept her mind on what she was saying, rather than on the big man who sat so close against her, once more sharing his body heat. “Mitchell Davis wasn’t happy when they got to my place, and he wasn’t happy with anything about me, the accommodations, food, the campsite, or anything else. I thought he was just one of those people who is born a bastard and dies a bastard, you know?”
“I’ve met my share,” he said drily.
She sighed. “Yesterday, I left them in camp while I scouted for fresh bear sign at a location where I’d seen some before. I thought I saw some trash lying off to the side, but when I got over there it was a digital camera, and part of a plaid shirt.” She drew a deep breath. “There were bear tracks, and a lot of blood, and scuff marks where something had been dragged.”
“God.” He leaned his head back against the wall and said in a long-suffering, incredulous tone, “Please tell me you didn’t follow the trail to a bear’s kill.”
“I was already closer to it than I ever wanted to be,” she said grimly. “As soon as I realized, I didn’t go any closer but worked my way around so I had a better angle, to verify the kill was human.”
He turned a disbelieving glare down at her, then heaved a sigh and shook his head. “I guess I would’ve done the same thing.”
“I had my rifle, and bear spray. Trust me, I listened and checked around me, in all directions, every time I took a step. It was a man. I think it was a man,” she added in a soft tone. “He’d been half-eaten, and the bear had scratched some dirt over him.”
“It has to be the same bear that came into your camp. Shit.”
“Yeah, what are the odds there would be two man-eaters in the same area?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet the ranch. Has to be the same bear.”
“I went back to the camp and told Krugman and Davis we could all either go back to Lattimore’s the next morning—today—so I could notify the Fish and Wildlife Department, or they could stay and I’d go. Davis was predictably nasty, I offered to refund their money, and that was that. I went to my tent as soon as I could, partly just to get away from Davis. Krugman was nicer and I felt sorry for him because Davis was so hateful to him, which shows you what a terrible judge of character I am. I woke up around midnight, heard their voices, and I could tell they were arguing. I pulled on my boots and coat, got my rifle and flashlight, and went to break up the fight.”
She paused, going back over the night’s events, gathering her thoughts. “They were back toward the cook site; I wouldn’t have heard them except I don’t sleep soundly when I’m guiding, I’m always half-listening for trouble.”
“Have you had a lot of trouble?” he asked, scowling. She could feel his heightened focus on her face, studying her expression, and she turned her head enough that she could meet his surprisingly fierce gaze.
“No, of course not, but I’m alert. I’m a woman; I have to think about things that a man doesn’t,” she pointed out. “I’d be stupid if I didn’t. But it isn’t just that. I’m … I’m kind of afraid of bears,” she admitted sheepishly.
“I’m leery of them myself.”
“It’s more than leery.” Why not just get it all out there? “I’ve had nightmares about bears, and finding that body seriously spooked me. No way was I going to do much more than catnap. Anyway, when I got closer I heard Davis say something to Krugman about stealing from him. I yelled at them to knock it off, Davis looked in my direction, and Krugman shot him.”
Her tone went flat, her gaze going distant. “He had to have been planning it. Davis hadn’t made any threatening moves toward him, at least not that I saw. Then he started shooting at me. I threw myself on the ground and started rolling away from him, but when I hit the ground I lost my grip on the rifle. I just kept rolling. The horses were going crazy, the storm was right on top of us. Krugman went past my location, so I put my face down and stayed still; I was so muddy already I figured that was my best protection. Then … then the bear came.”
Dare waited in silence while she took a few deep breaths. “Krugman saw the bear, and took off. He took all four horses and ran.”
“He probably hoped the bear would get you, too.”
Angie couldn’t let her thoughts go there. She’d spent enough time already living with that scenario, and it still made the bottom drop out of her stomach. “He didn’t bother saddling his horse so I don’t know how far he got, because he isn’t that great on horseback. When I first saw you, I thought you were Krugman, but then the lightning showed that you were in a saddle, and I knew it wasn’t him. If it hadn’t been for that, I’d have stayed hidden.”
“Close call.”
That was an understatement, for damn certain. Angie closed her eyes and let her head tip sideways so it rested against his shoulder, just for a moment, somehow needing that brief contact to reassure herself. Then she straightened, swallowed, and continued her story.