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  George charged forward at Crouching Bear. James screamed at him to stop. Crouching Bear kept staring. Not moving. His eyes burning bright red. The air was charged with an energy that caused all three men to take notice. Something was off.

  Chapter 27

  In an instant, Crouching Bear transformed from a man into a bear. James froze in mid-scream. He was stunned that a man could become beast right before his eyes. It defied everything he knew about the world and he realized that seeing was believing. However, it was too late for George. He couldn’t stop his momentum as he lunged off the ground at the animal. The horses reared up in fear of the sudden danger.

  James was rooted to the ground. He witnessed George crashing head first into the roaring bear. It stood well over seven feet tall, paws outstretched in rage. George bounced off the bear’s chest. He hit the earth hard and tried to roll over. But the bear pounced on George’s back immediately. It roared and howled as it crushed the man into the dirt. James was awestruck that George looked small compared to Crouching Bear.

  He winced as the bear clawed at George’s back, tearing through his leather jacket. Stripes of blood formed through the garments. George cried out in anguish as the nails dug through his flesh.

  James finally sprang into action. He ran to the fight but he left his gun in his belt loop. He wanted to do his best to stop the battle without having to shoot at Crouching Bear. James hopped on the back of the bear as it tore at George. His hands grasped at tufts of fur, pulling them hard as he struggled to stay on the wild beast’s back. Crouching Bear rose and howled at the sky. He jumped off George and thrashed around, attempting to shake James. Two bucks in the air had James flying toward the whinnying horses. He thudded in the dirt and gritted the grains of sand in his teeth. The air completely left his body.

  Crouching Bear swung a claw down at James. Even gasping for breath, James managed to roll away from the strike. The claws instead dug earth from the spot where James had lay. Crouching Bear roared at him, spittle flying from the sharp jaws. Suddenly, the bear howled in pain. It stood up and swung its front paws to desperately reach for its back. The massive head turned to find its attacker.

  James saw George bent on one knee behind the bear. His left hand behind his back, trying to hold the slashing wounds. His face was a mask of war. Crouching Bear faced George, and James noticed the large knife lodged in the upper shoulder of the bear. George had stabbed the beast in order to draw it away from James. Unfortunately, George was left without his knife. He pulled his six-shooter from the leather holster at his side. He began to raise the gun at the bear when it sprang upon him.

  Crouching Bear ripped a hunk of meat out of George’s gun hand. George let loose a primal scream and collapsed under the weight of the mighty animal. The pistol dropped to the soil and skittered away as the bear’s back paws kicked it. Chewing the bloody forearm meat, Crouching Bear tried to sink his teeth into George’s chest. It couldn’t make a deadly bite as George wrestled and squirmed to avoid the large teeth.

  James ran back to the battle and yanked the knife from Crouching Bear’s shoulder. Again, the animal reared in agony as the blade cut deeper on its way out of the furry muscle. James plunged the knife back into the bear. He wanted to stab it low enough to pierce a lung. But the writhing animal moved just enough that James nearly stabbed the same spot on its shoulder. Crouching Bear sounded almost human as he wailed at the new wound. The sound startled James. He gripped the knife tighter and jumped back, slicing more meat as he pulled it out. Crouching Bear swung at James, dragging three claw marks across his neck. The heat burned down the channels of his skin. Blood trickled down his chest. James dropped George’s knife and clutched at his neck. He fell to his knees and then collapsed in anguish.

  With James out of the fight, Crouching Bear brought his attention back to George. The large man was wheezing. He tried to crawl toward his gun. The front of his shirt, a spreading puddle of crimson. Crouching Bear moved to impede his progress. The bear roared loudly, inches from George’s face. The smell of coppery sinew was pervasive. George shielded his face with his mauled arm. The bear stomped on George with all its weight. The force of the animal drove all the air out of George’s body. The sound of his ribs crunching made a sickening noise.

  James removed his hands from his bloody neck. He peered at the wet stains on his fingers. The wound stung like a hot poker but he realized it was a slight flesh wound. It drew blood but was not enough to kill him. Feeling relieved, James jumped to his feet and ran to the pistol in the dirt. He retrieved it and sprinted to the struggle. He pulled back the hammer on the pistol, emitting a loud metallic click. The sound startled the beast. It swung its body around toward James. His hand shook with fear and exhaustion as the bear came at him. It swung a huge arm, knocking him on the side of his head. His finger squeezed the trigger and a loud crack thundered across the plains. James was unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Crouching Bear moaned into his paws. The bullet had shot through his open mouth but exited through the side of his cheek. Blood poured from the gaping hole. The fur on his face was matted down and wet with blood. The great beast writhed in pain. With both men unconscious, the animal took its time tending its wounds. It gathered its strength and loped over to where James lay. His eyes were closed but his gun hand remained up, pointing at the sky as if still aiming the gun. The message had not yet reached the extremities that the lights were out.

  Crouching Bear hovered over James’ body. He bellowed in anger at the lifeless form. He sniffed the drying scratches upon the boy’s neck. Crouching Bear lifted his head to the sun-drenched skies and screamed with victory.

  Chapter 28

  Something changed. Crouching Bear sensed feelings for the first time in this form as an animal. He was suddenly aware of his own thoughts. The thoughts of the man, not the beast. Up until this moment, when he was transformed into the huge bear, everything became instinctual, inhuman. His sense of smell was powerful, able to distinguish food over vast stretches. His hunger was voracious. Never satisfied regardless of how much filled his belly. His mind was mammalian. Only focused on fight or flight. Feeding and hunting. So simple, yet so foreign to the man.

  Now that he could think as Crouching Bear, the man, he leaned over James’ face. The boy was knocked out and looked so peaceful. Part of him wanted to rip the boy’s face off and fill his stomach with protein. The other part of him weeped inside, upset with how he had continued to hurt his dear friend. The balance of human and mammalian brain swung like a pendulum.

  Crouching Bear looked down to find that he was still the furry animal. His large brown paws and long nails covered in skin and flesh. He glanced at George. The large man continued to bleed from his chest. The puddle of crimson spreading across his body. The cloud of dust surrounding him slowly settling in the fading sunlight.

  He turned back to James. Wrestling with the bear instincts, he took a step back from the boy. His eyes watered over with tears of pity. Crouching Bear thought he had killed the nice boy. James had taken him in, like a family member, when he knew nothing about the man. For all he knew, in the time and place he was raised, all Indians were to be mistrusted and avoided. Still, he welcomed him into the town and then into his family’s circle. James had introduced him to his little friend, Carson, and his mother. He withstood ridicule from townsmen and admonishment from George. James had acted as a real friend, never once faltering in the face of adversity. And how did he repay the boy? He killed his friend’s mother. He ran off without explanation. He killed George, although that was no big loss. And he probably killed James. He cursed himself silently for the misfortune he heaped on the only person on the planet that cared for him.

  Tears tickled the coarse fur along his snout. He lowered his head in shame. The taste of blood in his mouth disgusted him. He wasn’t sure how much of it was his own from the pass-through bullet as opposed to George’s flesh. While each being smelled completely different, their blood tasted very much the sam
e.

  This curse was far worse than being banished from the tribe. The banishment just meant he was no longer welcome to live amongst his family and friends. But the curse negated any hopes of finding a place to settle. A new beginning. He couldn’t have any of it because he would only bring further damnation upon those he encountered. And the shame of his uncontrollable actions, shifting between man and beast, would not allow him the chance to try to start anew.

  Crouching Bear began transforming into a man. He felt the burn of his skin as the coarse hairs retracted into his flesh. His jaw snapped inward with a bone-crunching click. The claws drew under his nails, feeding themselves into his bones. The pain was intense. He groaned with each twist and snap. His body becoming more his own again. The mammalian mind receded, bringing more awareness of the horror he unleashed to the surface.

  He was naked. His skin showed splotches of blood stains and filth. Crouching Bear sat up, putting his head in his hands. He cried for Minnie and Carson. He cried for James. He cried for his own miserable existence. He didn’t shed a tear for George.

  The sun began to move toward the horizon, casting longer shadows upon the destruction. The horses had long since ceased their discomforting whinnying. They grazed on the tall, sunburned grass hundreds of yards from the scene.

  Crouching Bear gathered himself. He decided that he couldn’t stay here. If James and George awoke, they would kill him. His chances of being brought into town for trial had passed with the deadly battle. He stood and stretched his human legs beneath him. His plan for circling back toward his pursuers had not gone as he had anticipated. He knew he had to head in one direction and one direction only. And he couldn’t stop. Not until he reached lands where no man lived. That was his only plan now.

  He approached George’s body. As he looked at the large man, he hoped he had killed him. He hated George as much as George hated him. George never gave him a chance. It would be so easy to finish him in this moment. The man couldn’t defend himself so there would be no struggle. But he knew if he killed George it would further hurt James. Not because James cared about George. Crouching Bear was pretty sure that James liked George about as much as he did. But it would further cement the poor choice James made in selecting Crouching Bear as his friend. And he knew that guilt would burn inside James forever, which he wasn’t willing to risk.

  Crouching Bear knelt beside George. He removed George’s boots and pants. Tossing the boots aside, Crouching Bear pulled the pants up. He left the gun belt on the ground. He rolled George over and fed his arms through the jacket sleeves. Crouching Bear felt the heavy leather in his hands as he tried it on for size. Like the pants, it was slightly larger than his body but he would make it work. He found his knife near the pile of shredded clothes that he used to own. He slid the sheath into the front pocket of the pants. Crouching Bear took one last, long look around at the scene. The two men sprawled in the dirt. The blood spatter staining the weeds and tufts of grass.

  He recognized his shame again. Looking down at his bare feet, he knew he must say goodbye to his dear friend James forever. He had hoped that they could try to clear the air and he could apologize for his actions. Then he would go peacefully to face his sentence. Instead, he made everything worse. Crouching Bear walked over to James. He wished he could see his light eyes one more time. But the spirits had decided against it. “I am really sorry, my friend.” He choked up a bit.

  Crouching Bear leapt over James and ran across the plains toward the setting sun. He hoped his body would keep up until he reached the end of the earth.

  Chapter 29

  The pain seared through James’ skull. He heard the blood pounding deep within his ears. The stars above were beginning to shine in the twilight sky. It felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head and roll down his chest. The pressure was unbearable.

  He realized he was lying on the ground and rolled to his side. The shift in equilibrium sparking new bolts of pain in his head. The first thing he saw was the horses. James remembered the horses running off when Crouching Bear attacked. But they must have wandered back afterward. They grazed and snorted in the late afternoon air. George’s horse pooped a massive clump as it ate. James closed his eyes at the beginning of a chuckle. He found it humorous that George was like his horse. Always spewing something moist and brown upon the earth.

  James turned and saw George face-down in the dirt. He scrambled to attend to his companion but slowed immediately as the movement sent shock waves through his brain. The burning on his neck had abated but still stung. He touched the wounds gently with his fingertips, tracing the dried grooves in his skin.

  George lie face-down, wearing nothing but his shirt. His hairy ass cheeks mocked the growing shape of the evening’s moon. The humor of this situation tickled James again but he squashed his chuckle in fear of sending more bolts across his head. James was afraid to roll George over but he didn’t have a choice. As he pulled George’s body toward him, he saw the torn flesh peeking through his shirt. He also caught sight of George’s shredded forearm as it swung over his rolled body. James was horrified at what he saw. The flesh on George’s arm was removed down to the bone. The huge teeth marks ringed the missing flesh. He gently parted the shreds of shirt to check on the chest wound. It wasn’t as bad as he would have expected. It appeared to be more of a surface wound as the skin was torn open but the meat was still in place. James felt his companion’s neck for a pulse. It was there but it was very faint. George had lost a ton of blood and James needed to get him help fast.

  James grabbed George’s gun belt and tied off a tourniquet on his upper arm to stop the bleeding. He ran to his horse to fetch a fresh shirt from his saddle bag. He ran it back over and folded it upon George’s chest wound. He used a cord of rope from the bag to tie the shirt tighter to George’s chest. It was a struggle to feed the rope under and around the large man’s lifeless body but he managed to complete the task. Now he had to figure out how to get George on his horse.

  He whistled and both horses trotted over to him. Blowing the air through his lips caused his head to throb harder. How was he going to get this huge guy onto his horse without popping his own head from the strain? James thought fast and sat George up against his body. He tied the long end of the rope which held George’s chest bandage in place through the reins of his horse. Then he circled to the opposite side of George’s horse. He hopped up over the saddle and pulled the reins to him. The reins came easy at first. Then his arms were met with major resistance as the massive weight of George caught up. He leaned backward, tugging the reins into his chest. George’s body lifted a few inches. The veins on James’ neck and forearms strained against his skin. The pain in his head was excruciating and it felt like he would black out soon if he didn’t get George up. He pulled harder and leaned and George’s body came up a little more. James worked himself up to his feet, standing on the far side of the horse’s back. The horse grunted and complained. It turned its head toward James in defiance but he struggled on. He leaned further off the side of the horse at an angle that defied gravity, using his own body weight as an anchor, while the ropes pulled over the saddle. George’s body came up more with his lolling head now at saddle height.

  James saw nothing but stars. Not the stars that were beginning to reveal themselves in the evening sky. Stars within his eyes from the strain. He puked a little bile up but swallowed it back down. He felt his legs quiver as the blackness closed in around him. He knew he would pass out any second now so he had to go for broke to make this happen. If he couldn’t get George over this horse right now, then his friend would certainly die. And he knew he might soon follow as the wildlife would come out at night to feast upon his unconscious, defenseless body. James reached down deep in his gut and breathed hard several times. Then he hurled himself off the horse toward the ground with the ropes cutting through his wrists. He hit the ground hard and felt a lightness behind the reins that wasn’t there a moment ago. James looked up through starry eyes
and saw George three quarters of the way across the saddle. He did it. James sighed in relief and dropped his head to the ground.

  As he caught his breath, James watched the flashes in his eyes drift off. The pounding in his skull lessened but the headache remained. He sat up slowly and rubbed his temples. James pulled himself up and walked over to George’s horse. He lifted George’s right leg which dangled from the saddle, and pushed it up higher so his companion was fully stretched over the horse. James tightened the reins and the rope to the horn to secure George for the trip ahead.

  James collected his pistol from the dirt. He brushed it off and jammed it down his back belt loop. He searched for George’s knife and gun. He found the pistol but he couldn’t find the knife. James wondered if the knife was still lodged in Crouching Bear. As soon as he had this thought, he realized he had forgotten all about Crouching Bear. The Indian was nowhere to be found and he hadn’t even thought about him. He was so worried about helping George and keeping his headache at bay that he totally forgot about his friend.

  James fetched George’s boots and then he searched the horizons for any sign of Crouching Bear, the man or the beast. It was getting darker but there was still enough light in the setting sun that he could see pretty far. The problem was the longer shadows which made discerning distant objects more difficult. He didn’t pick up any sign out of the ordinary. James scouted around one more time for George’s knife. He found it covered in dirt, sticking out of the soil several yards further than he had originally searched.

  He tucked all the gear into his saddle bag and climbed onto his horse. James spurred the animal and clucked his tongue to signal George’s horse to follow along. He knew they had a long trip ahead through the night. But he had to get George medical attention before it was too late.