Idaho Gold Fever

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Mother bears were protective of their young. They attacked anything that came near their offspring. Anyone who stumbled on a cub was well advised to hasten elsewhere before the mother noticed, or risk being torn to pieces.

The last thing Fargo wanted was a clash with a bear. It would take but an instant for him to jump up, grab a low limb, and climb into the pine. Once he was high enough, the she-bear wouldn’t be able to reach him. But that meant deserting the Ovaro. He would as soon slit his wrists.

So Fargo went on unwrapping the Ovaro’s reins while keeping his eyes on the mother bruin and the smaller version of herself. Both stood there and returned his stare. The reins came loose. Girding himself, Fargo slid the Colt into its holster, then launched himself at the saddle. He grabbed the saddle horn and swung his leg up and over.

The cub squalled.

The mother roared.

And Fargo got the hell out of there.

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