Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(33)

She looked at him in surprise. “You’re protecting him.”

“He was digging through my trash, like he needed something,” Luke said with a shrug. “I didn’t go out of my way.”

“You could’ve told him to take off.”

“Nah, no reason for that. He has Down syndrome—just a plain old good-hearted soul. But if some asshole who hits him is looking for him, I don’t want word to leak that he’s hiding out here. Not till I figure out what to do about his situation.”

“You know, you try to hide the fact that you’re nice,” she said. “I think it’s natural for you to be kind.”

“Nowww,” he warned. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“You haven’t even established one yet,” she said. “No one knows quite what to make of you.” She lifted her chin, looking up at the tall pines, the enormous sequoia, the clear, bright sky. Interspersed were oak and madrone with leaves turning yellow and orange. “Is this awesome or what?”

“Awesome,” he agreed. “How does it compare to living down the coast?”

“So far, a wonderful change.” She looked over at him and her eyes glittered. “I see great potential for this place.”

“Playing with me again,” he teased. “Don’t you worry that you’re biting off more than you can chew, little girl?”

“Aren’t you?” she asked.

He groaned. “I know I am.” And she laughed at him.

As they rode up the river into the hills, Luke couldn’t help but find the horse a good diversion, a real pleasant experience. As long as Plenty was beside Chico and not behind him, there were no bad manners, like nipping. They talked only a little while they rode, and after about twenty minutes along the river, Shelby stopped Chico at the base of a trail that rose steeply into the hills. It was marked with well-worn trail that led to a plateau. “Think you can do that?” she asked. “The view from up there is pretty awesome.”

“I can give it a try,” he said. “Let me go first so this horse doesn’t bite Chico’s behind.”

“Go,” she said.

The trail was wide enough for an easy ride, made up of switchbacks that went right, then left, then right again in a zigzag that took the strain out of the climb. It took about twenty minutes to get to the top and once there, the valley opened up in front of them, the river behind them, and what looked like a vineyard was spread out below. He took a deep breath and admired the scenery. He could see a number of hiking trails and a couple of old, abandoned logging roads that had probably been used in years past for the harvesting of lumber.

Shelby came up alongside and inhaled in much the same way, experiencing the view. They could see for miles over the tops of the ponderosa and fir. She pulled off her hat and shook out that single braid, letting the fall breeze cool her.

They sat for a long time, saying nothing. Minutes passed and then Luke heard a sound. There was a rustling and not exactly a growl but something like a deep whine. A mewling. He looked to his right and saw that at the base of a tree a large bear cub rolled around playfully. Even though the cub was probably four months old and good-sized, he was still just a kid. “Shit,” he said. “Oh shit.” Where there was a cub, there was always a mother. And sure enough, coming at them from the left was Mama. They had somehow inadvertently gotten between the cub and the mother. And damn, Mama was big.

“Down, down, down,” he said to Shelby. “You go first,” he said, backing out of her way.

Shelby took off for the trail that led down the hill, Luke close on her heels, but moving at such a quick pace that Plenty didn’t have the opportunity to nip at Chico. Bears have front legs shorter than their back legs and it was a bad idea to run up a hill or on level ground or, God forbid, up a tree, but if you traveled downhill, they were at a disadvantage. Ten or twenty feet and they’d trip and roll. But bears could get up a hill with those short front legs faster than any man. Or any horse carrying a man.

Shelby whacked Chico with the end of her rein and Luke dug his heels into Plenty. He hoped he could stay astride—he wasn’t nearly the horseman Shelby was. And it wasn’t a straight shot down—there were all those switchbacks to traverse. Behind them, Mama let go with a huge and frightening growl. If she got close, he hoped he could level the rifle in time. While Shelby and Luke had to make use of the switchback trail, Mama Bear was making a straight line down, through the trees and shrubs.

Ahead of him, he saw Shelby managing Chico with one deft hand, her other reaching behind her for the repellent spray. It occurred to him to get back a little, in case she decided to use it and he caught the drift downwind. But getting away was the first priority—he didn’t want to have to shoot the mother of a cub.

About twenty feet into their descent, it happened. The bear stumbled over her short front legs, curled into a huge furry ball and began to roll out of control. Both Shelby and Luke pulled back on the reins and watched her roll right by them and down about twenty more feet. “Stay,” Luke said softly. He pulled the rifle off the saddle ties and had it at the ready.

“Don’t shoot her,” Shelby pleaded.

“Only if I have to,” he said. “Easy does it.”

Mama recovered, shook herself off, stood at full towering height, treated them to her meanest snarl and scrambled up the hill in the other direction, back to her cub at great speed, avoiding them.