Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(115)

“A bear. Wanna see?” he asked, smiling.

“A bear? Why on earth…?”

“He was really pissed,” Jack said. “Come and see—he’s huge.”

“Who shot him?” she asked.

“Who’s taking credit or who actually shot him? Because I think everyone is taking credit.” He slipped an arm around her waist and walked her the rest of the way.

She began to pick up the voices. “I swear, I heard Preacher scream,” someone said.

“I didn’t scream, jag-off. That was a battle cry.”

“Sounded like a little girl.”

“More holes in that bear than in my head.”

“He didn’t like that repellant so much, did he?”

“I never saw one go through that stuff before. They usually just rub their little punkin eyes and run back in the woods.”

“I’m telling you, Preacher screamed. Thought he was gonna cry like a baby.”

“You wanna eat, jag-off?”

There was laughter all around. A carnival-like atmosphere ensued. The serious group that had left town in the morning had come back like soldiers from war, elated, victorious. Except this war turned out to be with a bear.

Mel glanced in the back of the truck and jumped back. The bear not only filled the bed, he hung out the end. The claws on his paws were terrifying. He was tied in, tied down, even though he was dead. His eyes were open but sightless and his tongue hung out of his mouth. And he stunk to high heaven.

“Who’s calling Fish and Game?”

“Aw, do we have to call them? You know they’re gonna take the frickin’ bear. That’s my bear!”

“It ain’t your bear, jag-off. I shot the bear,” Preacher insisted loudly.

“You screamed like a girl and the rest of us shot the bear.”

“Who really shot the bear?” Mel asked Jack.

“I think Preacher shot the bear when he came at him. Then so did everybody else. And yeah, I think he screamed. I would have. That bear got so damn close.” But as he said this, he grinned like a boy who had just made a touchdown.

Preacher stomped over to Jack and Mel. He bent down and whispered to Mel, “I did not scream.” He turned and stomped off.

“Honey,” Jack said, softly. “We found one other thing today.” She looked up at him expectantly. “We found the black Range Rover. Ran off the road and went down a couple hundred feet…”

“Is he dead?” she asked fearfully, surprised that she even cared.

“There wasn’t any body.”

She gave a short, startled laugh. “God,” she said. “He came by here today at about noon. All he did was roll down the window and said that because I did him a favor he wanted me to know there was no one else out there in the cannabis trade like Thompson that he knew of, and he was leaving the area. Jack, he must have ditched the truck.”

“Probably,” he said. “Which means he might be getting a new vehicle, new look and be back. Never go with him again, Mel. Promise me.”

She was thinking, insanely, that he was one person who treated her okay and seemed to have something of a conscience. If he came to her and said someone needed medical help, it would be hard to refuse him. “Just how many children do you think he can father?” she asked with a laugh.

“Men have lapses in judgment.”

“Do they? Hopefully you haven’t had too many,” she said.

“I haven’t had any,” he said with a smile.

“So. That’s all you got? A wrecked SUV and a bear? Must be a little anticlimactic for you,” she said.

“You calling that bear anticlimactic? Baby, that is a huge frickin’ bear!”

There must have been about twenty-five men, they all smelled bad, and they were filing into the bar. Mel sniffed Jack’s shirt. “Whew,” she said. “You smell almost as bad as the bear.”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he said. “Now we’ll have beer, food and cigars. I have to get in there and start serving beer while Preacher and Ricky fire up the barbecue pit.”

“I’ll help,” she said, taking his hand. “It was a waste of time, wasn’t it?”

“Not in my mind. Our forest is nice and tidy, we’re turning a trailer full of plants over to the sheriff and we got a mean old bear.”

“You had fun,” she accused.

“Not on purpose,” he said. But his smile was very large.

“Is it over, Jack?” she asked him.

“I hope so, baby. God, I hope so.”



For once Mel was behind the bar. She helped serve beer and drinks, tossed a great big salad while Preacher turned steaks on the grill. Plates and utensils were put out for a buffet-style service. The men poked fun at each other, their laughter getting louder and wilder as the night wore on. Although Ricky was officially working, when he’d pass one of the men, he’d be pulled into a strong-armed embrace and praised as though he was a comrade. Doc wandered across the street for a whiskey, visited with the men for a while before going back to his house. Most of the locals left before the meal was served, home to claim to their wives that they shot the bear.

It was about nine when the cards and cigars came out. Jack grabbed Mel’s hand and said, “Let’s get out of here. You must be exhausted.”