Double Trouble

For a stunned minute or so, Paw was the only living thing standing, then he barked at me to see to Miss Taylor, while he checked to make sure the bear was dead. It was, so he went off to hitch old Sam to the wagon so he could get the carcass back to the house.

While he was gone, Miss Taylor stirred and looked around her, dazed. When she saw the massive bear lying on the ground, with its throat and chest covered in blood, her face went white and she started to make a funny noise deep in her throat. “Don’t you scream, Ma’am,” I told her. “It’s dead and can’t harm you none.”

She cleared her throat and made two attempts before she could speak. “It was so big.” She shuddered. “What would have happened if you hadn’t come along?”

“You were lucky I guess. Paw saw the bear and her cubs heading into the patch and hollered for me to grab the guns and run.”

“Cubs? It had cubs?”

“Yes Ma’am. Two of them, young ’uns, only a few months old. Too small to harm you, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. But what will happen to them now?” she asked.

“They’ll either learn real fast or they’ll die.”

“But there must be someone to take care of them.”

“No Ma’am. Bears are solitary critters, so there’s no kinfolk, dads or aunties to adopt them.”

“But we can’t leave them to die,” she protested, getting to her feet. “Where are they anyway?”

“Hiding until they get over the sound of the guns. They’ll be here looking for their Maw any minute now.”

“We have to help them. Isn’t there a shelter for abandoned animals around here? There has to be something.”

“Well, the vet takes animals in from time to time, but he won’t want to take in no bear cubs.”

“He’ll take these in.” She was in her best this-teacher-takes-no-nonsense mode. “Where’s your Paw?”

He’s gone to get the wagon to get her back to the farm.”

“Why?”

“He’ll skin her and salt the meat down. We’ll be eating high off the hog for a while, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty to spare for you to take some home with you. She’ll make a nice rug too.”

“You’re going to eat it?”

“Sure ma’am. It’ll be real tasty. A bit greasy, but Maw’s a good cook, she’ll do it up proper.”

“Properly,” she absentmindedly corrected me.

I looked at her, astounded by the fact that she could think of grammar at a time like this. I felt a nervous giggle boiling up inside me, then I saw Miss Taylor’s mouth twitching, and before we knew it we were howling with side splitting laughter. Her hair had come loose from its tight bun, and was hanging over her face, and she looked like the little girl she must once have been. I threw my arms around her waist, and she grabbed my shoulders and we just hung onto each other, helpless with laughter, and unable to stop until the sound of Paw’s arrival with Jeb, Sam and the wagon brought us back to our senses.

“What’s so funny?” he growled.

I didn’t really know, to be honest, but Miss Taylor knew all right. She was smart.

“I suppose it’s the reaction from the danger, and relief that nobody was hurt.” Then her face fell. “Except for her babies. We have to do something for them. After all, we killed their mother.”

“Ain’t nothing we can do.”

The sight of the wagon seemed to give Miss Taylor an idea. “When you put her on the wagon, will they follow her?” she asked.

“Might. Why?”

“We could fasten them to the wagon, then Jake and I can drive them to the vet. He’ll know of somewhere that can help them.”

“You out of your mind? Sorry Ma’am, but you just don’t get it. Black bears is nothing but trouble, and these two will grow up just as ornery as the rest. Better off shooting them right here and now, save somebody the trouble of having to do it later on. They’ll be nice and tender too. Jake, Jeb, help me get this monstrosity onto the wagon.”

“We’re taking them to the vet,” My teacher declared firmly, a stubborn expression making itself at home on her face.

Paw always told me you couldn’t out-stubborn a cat or a mule, but Miss Taylor wasn’t really a different kettle of fish, and Paw knew when he was beaten.

“Well, if they don’t follow their Maw back to the house, that’s the end of it,” was the feeble extent of his defiance.

“Very well.” Lips pressed firmly together.

It took some doing, and we had to get some ropes to pull on, and branches for leverage, but we finally got Mrs Bruin onto the back of the wagon. Sam could smell death, and was spooked, but Jeb managed to calm him enough to haul the wagon with its grisly contents back to the house.

Paw was too busy controlling Sam to notice that Miss Taylor had grabbed a large branch full of berries, and was dropping them at intervals behind the back of the wagon, where two little roly poly cubs were eagerly eating the trail they were following. She saw me watching her, and winked. “Don’t tell your Paw,” she whispered.

This wasn’t the teacher from hell. With her hair down and her prim jacket in disarray, she wasn’t the teacher who gave me detention, and told me I was a disruption in class. This was a woman I could really like, one who liked garter snakes and bear cubs, and who made melt-in-the-mouth buttermilk hotcakes. She was somebody I would like to call friend.

On an impulse I turned to her. “Miss Taylor, do you have a first name? I mean, can I ask you what your first name is?”

Startled, she looked at me, then her face softened. “It’s Eva, same as your Mother.”

I nodded. “It’s always been a pretty name.”

Back at the farm, Jeb and I had a lot of fun whooping and hollering around while we rounded up what seemed like two dozen bears, but we finally managed to shut the cubs in the barn while the adults decided what was to be done with them.

Paw was all for killing and cooking them, but Maw was outraged at the idea.

“Rudy Barton! Have you taken leave of your senses, or have you been into that jug already? If you think I’m going to cook those cute babies, then you can join the boys and sleep in the barn. Jake, take the guns and hide them. I don’t want him to find them until those bears are safely away from here.”

Paw was outnumbered, so he made no further protest about our future meals as I gathered up the guns and walked out of the kitchen. It didn’t take long to hide them under the house where Jeb and I hid so we could listen to adult conversation, but a decision had already been made while I was gone. Under strong parental protest, Paw and I were to fasten the cubs to the wagon and take them to the vet, Old Doc Harkin and ask him to find a home for them.

Paw wasn’t happy at the plan, and growled at Jeb and I to make sure them darned critters was securely tied to the wagon, as he wasn’t about to touch them.

After another energetic workout that involved a lot of cussing, falling down and getting clawed, Jeb and I got a rope halter on the cubs and fastened them to the back of the wagon so they couldn’t fall off or get to Paw up on the seat. We had to get Maw to clean up the claw marks, because even baby bears have claws that would do justice to a garden rake, and they don’t pull their punches. Paw just said, “That’ll learn you!”

The trip in the wagon was uneventful, that is unless you count the stares and catcalls we got from the layabouts in front of the general store on our way through town. “Your Missis had twins then did she? They look the spitting image of their Pappy.” This didn’t improve Paw’s mood, and he was in a foul temper when we pulled up in front of Doc Harkin’s place.