Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(31)
Author: Mimi Strong

What I should have said was, “What bears?” Instead, however, I called the dog to come with me, and I stupidly blundered off into the bushes looking for somewhere semi-private.

I found a nice spot to wee, grumbling to myself about how much easier it is for boys, who don’t have to locate an incline so as to avoid muddying their shoes. After I was done, I stood up to button my jeans, and Cujo growled.

Cujo wasn’t growling at me, though, but at something behind me. Naturally, I assumed the shadowy shape was just Adrian, with his shirt pulled up over his head or something equally ridiculous.

“Oh, help,” I squealed. “Please don’t eat my toes, Mr. Scary Forest Folk Man!”

Cujo kept growling, his lips curled back in a snarl and his haunches up, his fur standing up.

I looked more carefully, and found a black bear less than forty feet away. The bear was still at first, then raised its snout up, sniffing the air. I could actually hear its breaths as it sniffed, then raised up slowly, standing on its back legs.

Cujo began barking, still holding his ground.

Adrian called out my name from nearby.

I didn’t answer, because the bear seemed focused on the dog, and I didn’t want to alarm it. I began slowly backing away.

Adrian seemed to be calling out my name, but I couldn’t hear him over the dog barking and the pulse rushing in my ears.

I kept backing up, until something grabbed me. A hand clapped over my mouth, stifling my scream.

“You’re okay,” Adrian whispered in my ear. “I’ve got you and you’re okay. We’re going to quietly back up. We’ll just back on out of here.”

He pulled his hand from my mouth. Cujo stood halfway between us and the bear, still barking and growling. The bear was bobbing from side to side in a way that was both cute and mind-blowingly terrifying.

We backed up, putting more distance between us and the bear. Adrian finally called out softly, “Cujo, down. Come. Come here. Heel.”

The dog turned to look our way, momentarily distracted, and the bear leapt forward, making its move.

I screamed. Adrian grabbed my arm tightly and commanded that we run.

CHAPTER 14

“No! Cujo!” I howled.

“He’s fine,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, and tugged my arm hard.

We ran through the woods, me with tears streaming down my face. We ran until I was out of breath and stumbling over branches.

Adrian stopped.

The woods were silent. No dog barks. Nothing.

Adrian whistled for Cujo.

No response.

He whistled again.

Nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” I blubbered. “It’s all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Adrian held his finger to his lips.

I held my breath.

A dog barked, just one little bark.

Adrian whistled again.

The bushes nearby rustled.

After several painful minutes of waiting, the German Shepherd came limping toward us from the shadows.

I’ve never been so happy to see a dog. I knelt down and hugged him, only to discover he was bleeding, pretty bad. The bear must have bitten or scratched him across the shoulder, and I could see that he needed stitches.

Adrian seemed to be in shock.

Something kicked in for me, and I felt utterly calm.

I looked for the backpack that had been on Adrian’s shoulders, but it must have been left behind. We needed bandage, big enough to wrap around Cujo’s shoulder to slow the bleeding.

I took off my shirt and ripped off the lower portion to create a wrap. While I tied a knot in the fabric to secure the makeshift bandage, Cujo licked my hand.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said gently. “You’re a tough old bugger, and this is just a scratch.”

I got everything tied up as tight as I could, and stood there trying to figure out the best way to carry the dog, who seemed to be getting weaker on his feet by the minute. His tail was drooping, and his eyes had lost their brightness.

“I don’t know if I can carry him the whole way back,” I said.

Adrian finally moved, kneeling down and scooping up the dog in his strong arms. “I got him,” he murmured. “Can you get us back on the trail?”

“Of course,” I said. “The trail is this way.” I pointed to one of the trail markers, and we were off. I led the way, turning back periodically with encouragement for Cujo, who was still conscious, but just barely.

~

We called Golden from the car, and she was waiting at the veterinarian’s clinic when we pulled into the parking lot. She’d called her boss, and the older woman who was the veterinarian arrived at the same time we did.

The two of them took a limp but breathing Cujo into the back and left us waiting in the front area.

Both of us stood so we didn’t get blood on the upholstered seats.

I kept apologizing to Adrian, who insisted I hadn’t done anything wrong, then started apologizing to me.

“I shouldn’t have taken you all the way out there,” he said, his face grim and eyes glistening.

“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. That’s me. I get caught up in my head, and my eyes are open, but I don’t see what’s obvious. I’m so stupid. And now poor Cujo, that brave little man…”

Adrian put his arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. “He’ll be fine. They’re still in there, and no news is good news. And if he’s not fine, everyone at the station will be so proud he was such a hero—” Adrian’s voice pinched off with emotion.

I squeezed my arms tighter around his body.

The sun was gone, and nobody had turned on the lights in the waiting room, so we were in the dark. I could have looked around for a light switch, but the dark seemed soothing.

We stood holding each other, listening for sounds from the adjoining room. The veterinarian and Golden were speaking to each other with urgency, but not panic.

After an unbearable wait of one hour, the veterinarian came out smiling. “He’s resting,” she said. “We put him out so he wouldn’t hurt himself while his body begins the repair.”

“How many stitches?” Adrian asked.

“Not too many.” Her voice pitched up high, the way it does when people lie.

Adrian started to wobble next to me, and as the veterinarian gave us a few more details, his responses were delayed and groggy. I steered him over to the one wooden chair in the room and forced him to sit down.

He wanted to take Cujo home, but they insisted he stay overnight so they could keep an eye on him. The vet lived nearby, and had cameras set up in the recovery cages for remote monitoring.