Ralph Compton - Bluff City

“Women get the strangest notions,” Clay observed.

“Says the man who never kissed one until he kissed me.” Melanie gasped, and pushed back. “I’m sorry. That just came out. It was meant to be funny. I didn’t think.”

“Stop it,” Clay said. “It’s the truth.” He chuckled and pecked her on the cheek. “But women do get the weirdest notions.”

“I have one now.” Melanie bobbed her chin at the waterfall. “I haven’t had a bath since we left Bluff City.”

“Both of us? Together?”

“Down, boy. And don’t drool. It’s very unbecoming.” Melanie rummaged in her pack and brought out a towel. “You can stand watch if you want, so long as your back is turned.”

“I don’t have eyes in my shoulder blades.”

“That’s the point. Otherwise, stay here. I trust you but I’m not so sure I trust myself, and I would rather avoid the temptation until you slip a ring on my finger.”

“Goodness. You have it all planned out. How many kids are we having? Where will we live? Do you want to be Mrs. Adams or Mrs. Baine?”

“Four. St. Louis. As for the name, I thought Neville Baine was dead and buried, but he keeps rising from the grave.”

“He has work to finish.”

“Is that what they call a thirst for revenge these days?”

A fish leaped in a glistening arc out on the lake and splashed down, and Clay watched the concentric ripples spread outward.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I thought I had explained it,” Clay said. “Why bring it up again? It is not that important.”

“Do you hear what you are saying? Taking a human life is always important. Dear God, Clay, or Neville, whichever you are at the moment. By my tally you have killed nine people since I met you, and you want to kill one more. This might shock you, but most people go their entire lives without killing anyone.” Melanie gnawed on her lower lip. “I never thought to ask. How many lives have you taken?”

“I don’t count them.”

“It’s as bad as that?” Melanie slung her towel over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I just don’t know if I can give myself fully to someone with your past.”

“A minute ago you wanted to.”

“That’s because I keep forgetting. You are normal most of the time. It is only when you change that your other side comes out.”

Clay squinted at her. “All I change are my clothes.”

“So this is the you I would spend the rest of my life with? The one who solves all his problems with a pearl-handled Colt? The one who provoked four men into drawing so he could shoot them down?” Melanie shook her head and made off along the water’s edge toward the waterfall.

Abashed, Clay trailed after her. “I wish I could make you understand.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you brought it up.”

“I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then we won’t,” Clay said. But he could not let it rest. “I wasn’t the first person those four robbed and beat and left for dead. If I had not gone back, if I had not settled accounts, they would have done it many more times, and all the lives they took would be on my shoulders because I could have stopped them and I didn’t.”

Melanie stopped and turned. “Is that how you see it?”

“It is the only way to see it.”

“Judge, jury and executioner. Do you truly believe you have that right? If all of us did as you do, think of the chaos.”

“I wouldn’t do it if there was any chance of Stark being brought to justice. But there isn’t. Out here”—Clay motioned at the towering peaks and ocean of forest—“there are no courts. Out here the only law is the strength in a man’s arms and the speed in his hands.”

Melanie walked on.

“Are you going to say anything?” Clay asked. “You can see I’m right, can’t you? You can see I had it to do.”

“All I see,” Melanie responded, “is you attempting to justify the taking of life. And please, I really don’t care to hear any more right now. I am too confused, too upset, to deal with it.”

“As you wish,” Clay said.

The roar of the waterfall grew louder as they approached. The water fell from such a height that, when it struck the lake, liquid thunder resulted. A thick veil of spray rose fifty feet into the air.

“Beautiful,” Melanie said. “Simply beautiful.” She placed her towel on a boulder and pointed a finger at Clay. “I’d like for you to find a spot where you can roost and wait and not see me. The important part is not see me.”

“Now who is shy all of a sudden?”

A red tinge inched from Melanie’s neck to her hair-line. “That will be enough of that, thank you. Passion and bathing are not the same.”

“If you say so.”

“Please don’t sulk. I am trying. Honestly trying. Maybe with a little time I will understand.”

“If you need me give a holler.” Clay walked twenty yards to a boulder half as large as a log cabin and sat on the far side with his back to it. “Women!” he said, and smacked the ground. Idly picking up a small stone, he threw it.

Clay gazed to the south but saw no sign of Mr. Train. “I should have gone with him,” he said, then tilted his hat forward, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He did not mean to but he dozed off.

A sound ended Clay’s nap. He opened his eyes and listened, but the sound was not repeated. He looked toward their camp and then out over the water, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. About to close his eyes again, he was jolted to his feet by a splash and a loud rumbling grunt. He had heard grunts like that before.

Palming his Colt, Clay crept around the boulder. He had a fair notion what he would behold but it still shook him. It would rattle anyone. His breath caught in his throat.

Midway between the boulder and the waterfall, standing in the shallows, was a gigantic grizzly. No grizzly was ever small, but this one was enormous. The lord of the mountains was staring at the water as if waiting for a fish to show itself. Grunting again, it swiped a giant paw at the surface.

Clay glanced toward the waterfall. There was no sign of Melanie. Panic welled inside him. He thought the bear had gotten her while he slept. Then he saw the vaguest suggestion of a silhouette outlined against the cascading water, and her face peering out at the bear. She was scared and he didn’t blame her. Grizzlies were notorious man killers. In the old days they had been thick as fleas, but most had been killed off lower down. Up here, though, they still reigned supreme. One of the few creatures on God’s green earth to have no fear of man or his weapons, grizzlies bristled with razor teeth and claws that could slash a person to ribbons in seconds, and possessed more raw might than a buffalo.

The bear dipped its great head to the water and drank. After slaking its thirst it turned and lumbered onto shore, then shook itself much as a dog might. Drops of water flew every which way.

Clay smiled in relief when the grizzly took a few steps toward the forest. But his relief was premature.

Stopping, the bear raised its nose into the wind and sniffed. It swung its head to the left and sniffed, and to the right and sniffed, then turned and stared at the waterfall.

An icy hand enclosed Clay’s heart and it nearly stopped beating. If he could see Melanie the bear could see her, too. Or could it? he wondered. How good was a bear’s eyesight? Thankfully, she did not move or cry out.

The grizzly took a step toward the waterfall.

Clay started into the open. He would do whatever it took to keep the bear from her. He wished he had his Winchester, but he had made another lunkheaded blunder and left it in camp. He raised the Colt to take aim and went to thumb the hammer back, but just then the grizzly stopped and raised its head once more, and loudly sniffed. It began to turn.