Redwood Bend

when involved with other women.
He wouldn’t do that to Katie. He’d face her and tell her the truth.
Early Friday morning he packed up his duffel and settled up with Luke Riordan. Katie usually dropped her boys off at nine so he went to the bar for breakfast. Once she was alone, they’d have their talk. He wasn’t sure whether that would happen on her front porch, on their favorite hilltop or wrapped in each other’s arms in bed. But it was happening this morning.
“Kind of moody,” Jack observed, refilling his coffee cup.
“You?”
“No.” Jack laughed. “You.”
Dylan thought about it only briefly before he said, “I’m heading out of town this morning.”
“I know,” Jack said. “Talked to Luke about ten minutes ago.”
Dylan put down his cup. “Could news travel any faster around here?”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “If you had two bartenders.” Then he grinned.
“Well, tuck it under, will you? I just found out I have potential work south of here and haven’t told Katie yet. I mean, we’re not serious or anything, but—”
The phone rang and on his way to answer it, Jack said, “But you’d like to be a gentleman about this?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed.
“I bet we’ll see you again,” Jack said.
“Don’t bet a lot,” Dylan muttered.
Jack lifted the cordless that sat beside the cash register. “Jack’s,” he said. “Yeah? Is that a fact? Oh, yeah, trust me, she’s close. Well, stay inside, I’ll come right out.” He hung up and looked at Dylan. “Katie says she’s got three bear cubs playing on the new jungle gym and she can’t get the boys to the car.” Dylan shot to his feet. “She can’t see the mother, but I guaran-damn-tee you she’s nearby. Real nearby.”
And Dylan shot for the door.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you thinking, man? We’ll go in the truck, you don’t want to be riding out there to chat with Mama Bear on a motorcycle. Let me grab my rifle and tell Preacher to mind the store.” And then he turned and walked through the kitchen, leaving Dylan to follow.
Dylan just stood there for a moment. Then he shot outside and got on his Harley, but he rode it around to the back of the bar and caught Jack just as he was getting into his truck. “I’ll follow you. I can outrun a Mama Bear on this if I have to.”
“Your funeral,” Jack said.
“We have bear in Montana, you know. And not these candy-ass bears—we have grizzlies.”
“I realize that,” Jack said. “I bet you also have a rifle in Montana.”
“I’m a little under-armed this trip. But I’d rather face a bear than a moose.”
“I hear bad things about moose.”
“Who do you think chases them off the runway? Could we move it? Or you’ll be following me.”
“Don’t worry—I told her to stay inside.” And with that, Jack got in the truck and led the way.
Ah, just as I thought, Dylan observed silently. He spotted Mama in the bushes, scavenging. And sure enough, three fat cubs were enjoying the jungle gym. When Jack entered the clearing, her back had been to her cubs, digging around in the bushes, maybe for berries. But she turned and stood to her full and intimidating height; she was an enormous black bear. Jack tooted the horn while Dylan positioned his bike to make a run for it. Mama puffed up and made annoyed noises while her triplets ran for the cover of her skirts. Dylan saw Jack pull the rifle out of the rack.
Jack pressed down on the horn again and both men watched as Mama Bear, not real happy with the situation, disappeared into the brush, her triplets behind her. The men watched as they ambled off as if bored and perturbed. Typical black bear, she was passive and really didn’t want to tango with humans as long as the kids were safe.
Jack gave the horn a couple more blasts, waiting a full minute and then opened the door, rifle in hand. Dylan moved his bike up beside Jack, but kept it running.
“She could be two feet on the other side of the big blackberry bushes, but I kind of doubt it. If she felt threatened, she’d get the triplets to a safer playground. I had to shoot a bear once—same deal. She was scavenging while her cub was curious about the building I was doing at the bar. Next thing you know, I’m in a situation…”
“Those lessons come hard when you’re not raised around ’em,” Dylan said, turning off the bike and raising it on the stand. When he’d been transplanted from the city to the near-wilderness, he knew nothing. Ham, short for Hammond Pierce,