Blackman's Coffin Read Online Free PDF Page B

the shape of the winding river itself.
    The westerly breeze that carried the river’s ghost toward us also brought a scent that stopped Brownie in his tracks. He whinnied and tossed back his head, his eyes rolling wide. I grabbed onto his mane with one hand and clutched my new rifle with the other.
    “Easy, boy. Easy.” My words had no effect on the pony.
    Brownie reared back on his haunches so quickly I lost my grip and tumbled to the ground. He bolted over me, kicking my shoulder as he retreated up the ridge. I lay on my side and watched him disappear into the trees.
    Then I heard a growl.
    I rolled over and saw a large black bear appear on the path no more than twenty yards away. He sat on his haunches, his back to me, and sniffed the breeze with loud, wet snorts. If he turned up the trail, he’d see me for sure. I reached for my rifle lying beside me. If the bear had encountered hunters before, maybe the sight of the gun would scare him off. If it didn’t, the unloaded twenty-two would offer no defense.
    He growled again, a gurgling menace of a sound, and he cocked his head so I could see his snout in profile. Foam lathered his jaws and an icy chill ran through me. I’d seen that foam on a mongrel dog shot down behind our house. Rabies.
    I could have had a cannon and the rabid bear would still attack. My best hope lay in scurrying off the trail where I’d be out of sight in a second. I was downwind, and something on the breeze kept his attention. Even if he heard me, he might not follow. He hadn’t connected Brownie’s hoof beats with the right direction on the path.
    I scrambled to my feet and tore through the underbrush, hoping to loop onto the trail beyond the bear’s line of sight. The crackle of dry leaves sounded like firecrackers under my feet. From behind me, a growl rose sharply. I had no doubt the bear lumbered after me. Low branches whipped across my face and chest. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw only trees behind me. Maybe I would make it.
    Teeth crushed down on my ankle and pain surged up my leg like someone had slashed me with a fiery saber. I tumbled through the air and then felt something snatch me in mid-flight. I dropped to the ground so hard the air was knocked from my chest. Without breath, I couldn’t even scream.
    The right leg of my dungarees turned dark with blood. The teeth tearing into them weren’t those of the bear, but a bear trap anchored by a chain looped around the base of an oak tree. I crawled back to put some slack in the chain. Beneath the blood shone the shiny steel, new and strong. I tried to squeeze the jaws apart, but I only made the pain worse.
    A rustle from the underbrush caught my ear. The bear had followed me. I looked around for my rifle and found it lying on a pile of sticky, rotten apples. Bait. I had stumbled into the honey-laced lure meant for the bear.
    I fumbled through my jacket pocket for the box of shells. They spilled out onto the leaves. I slid back the bolt and dropped a bullet into the chamber. One shot. I would get one shot.
    The bear emerged and reared on his hind legs. I tried to kneel but my wounded leg collapsed under me. I flopped forward, bringing the rifle up with my elbow bracing the barrel. If he charged, I’d wait till the very last second before firing.
    The wind shifted and the bear turned toward me. The smell of my fear must have hit his nose like a freight train. He growled louder, dropped to all fours, and came at me.
    I aimed between his eyes and when I could hold off no longer, squeezed the trigger.
    The roar of the gun startled me. The bear jerked in the air and sprawled to my right. A double echo of gunshots resounded through the hills.
    “Don’t touch him,” a voice shouted.
    I looked up the slope. A Negro wearing a brown canvas jacket and mud-stained pants slowly sidestepped through the trees. He kept a rifle that dwarfed my twenty-two pointed at the bear. “His spittle got the disease. Get it on you and you go