Ripped To Shreds Read online

  Chapter 7

  When we'd captured nothing of significance on the game camera after the five allotted days, Rip decided we needed to move the camera farther into the woods. All we'd managed to photograph was the back half of a cottontail bunny. As we viewed the photo, I realized that the bunny may have already been consumed by something higher up the food chain. I hate to admit it, but I was getting so impatient I briefly wished the bunny had been fleeing a hungry cougar. At least we'd have had a fair chance at capturing an image of the feral cat sprinting by.

  Rip was discouraged too, but not to the point of giving up on the venture. "Maybe we'll capture something a little more interesting if we change locations."

  I'd been even more reluctant to enter the forest than normal after waking up in the middle of the night soaking wet following a dream about Bea Whetstone being chased down by an angry sleuth of bears.

  I don't know about you, but I find the word "sleuth" an odd choice to describe a group of bears. But it sounds more fitting than its alternative, a "sloth" of bears. There was certainly nothing sloth-like about the bears in my dream, tearing through the forest at break-neck speed with only one goal in mind: to seek vengeance against the evil creature who'd shot down their friend while she was protecting her baby.

  At Rip's insistence that, if need be, he could scare away any wild animal with his gun without harming it, I took a leap of faith and followed him far into the woods once again. And for a couple of terrifying minutes, I regretted that decision.

  The forecast that morning had called for a sixty percent chance of rain, so we both wore red ponchos I'd picked up at Wal-Mart while we were staying at a campground in Eugene, Oregon. It seemed as if Eugene's entire annual average of rainfall, almost forty-two inches, fell during the month we were there.

  Wearing our ponchos, we were marching down a well-worn path when Rip reached out and grabbed my arm so abruptly it startled me. Out of instinct and natural reflexes, he grabbed his weapon and pushed me behind him just as I noticed what he'd already seen: a black bear and three cubs in the path ahead of us. One cub was quite a bit smaller than the other two. All four bears were standing still and observing us quietly.

  "Stay behind me," Rip said. "Don't run. The sow's going to have to get through me before she can get to you. If she rushes me, run back to the trailer as fast as you can. If I'm forced to use my gun, shooting birdshot over their heads will probably scare them off. But, if not, I'll do everything I can to keep them occupied so you can put some distance between you and them."

  I was touched by my husband's vow to protect me. I felt a sense of shame for having ever considered whether or not I could outrun him if we were being chased by a wild animal.

  We'd heard you want to make yourself look as large and intimidating as possible when confronted by a bear. Rip decided our best bet was to stand side-by-side and hold our over-sized ponchos as far out from our sides as we could so together we'd look like an immense red monster with four legs, at least two of which were shaking badly. I'm surprised the right half of the red monster was even able to remain upright.

  After about fifteen of the longest seconds in my entire life, the mother bear turned and sauntered off at a ninety-degree angle, away from our intended destination, nudging the playful cubs to keep them moving along ahead of her.

  "Phew!" I said. I was panting and trying to catch my breath, as if I had just run down a purse snatcher. "That was a close one! Let's get the heck out of here."

  "No, we'll be all right. She won't bother us and is going off in the other direction, anyway." Rip shoved the gun back into its holster.

  If I didn't love him so much, I'd have wished mama bear had smacked Rip around a little—without seriously hurting him, of course. Just enough to knock some sense into the stubborn fool's thick skull. Meanwhile, I'd have broken the land-speed record sprinting back to the campground, which at that moment seemed a million miles away.

  "Oh, good grief. All right," I consented only because we'd already walked a good distance and would have to retrace our steps back to camp either way. "Did you notice how small the one cub was compared to its siblings?"

  "Yeah, I did. My guess is that the mama bear adopted the cub whose mother was killed by Bea that day. It's not uncommon with bears, and a lot of other animal species, for a female to adopt orphaned babies. That'd explain the size difference too. The little one was obviously born later than the other cubs, and to another female bear. It was too much smaller to just be the runt of the litter."

  "I hope the runt was the orphan then. Brothers from a different mother, huh? That would be awesome!"

  We zigzagged our way through the trees and abundant foliage and located a different spot deeper into the forest where the vegetation was not quite as dense. After Rip decided he'd found the perfect location, he attached the camera to the trunk of a large sycamore tree. As I paced nervously, I urged him to quit lollygagging. My pulse had still not returned to normal.

  I was distracted by a whistling sound behind me. I felt my heart rate soar even higher, and quickly extracted Rip's new Bushnell binoculars from the leather case hanging from his belt to look for the source of the eerie sound. Scanning the area, I saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I leaned the field glasses against the base of the tree where they'd be handy if I heard the noise again. After a few quiet minutes, I decided the noise had been a figment of my over-active imagination. I attributed it to my anxiety about the earlier bear encounter and the fact we were lingering in the woods a lot longer than I felt comfortable with. Satisfied with this deduction, I resumed pacing.

  "I'm about done here, honey," Rip assured me when he noticed my restlessness. "I know you're nervous. I'm a bit jumpy myself. You can go on and head back if you'd like and I'll catch up with you shortly."

  I considered his suggestion with mixed emotions. On the one hand, I wasn't wild about walking alone in the woods. A protective mama bear might only scoff at half a red monster, and a wobbly one at that. Plus, I was not entirely certain from which direction we'd come. On the other hand, I couldn't get out of those woods fast enough. But I knew walking in the wrong direction would serve absolutely no good purpose whatsoever.

  "Which way is the campground?" I asked, praying Rip had paid better attention to our path and the direction our trek through the forest had taken us, or at least possessed a better sense of direction, than I did. An unanswered prayer, I soon discovered.

  "Um, well, let's see," Rip mumbled. He glanced around and finally pointed toward a cluster of juniper trees, a decision based solely on a wild-ass guess, I could tell. "That way, I'm pretty sure. I'm not positive, though. I assumed you were taking note of our route so I could concentrate on a finding a good spot for your camera and keep an eye out for bears."

  "You think I wasn't keeping an eye out for bears? I had both eyes watching for wild animals, one searching straight ahead and the other scanning the forest behind us. And that's no easy task." I could have predicted getting lost in the woods would somehow be my fault. It always seemed to work out that way when blame was being assigned. Dang it! I thought. Where's a bag of Reece's Pieces when you need one?

  There was no consolation in knowing that, unlike a couple of mature adults, the young kids in E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial had the good sense to mark their trail so they could retrace their steps easily and accurately. I reluctantly walked away in the direction Rip had randomly chosen. Soon he was on my heels and chastising me for not keeping track of the twists and turns we'd made earlier while snaking our way through the forest.

  "I should have known better," Rip grumbled. He wisely left off the last part of his statement, which would have been, "than to trust you". He didn't leave off the "patting himself on the back" part, however. "Probably a dang good thing I thought to bring a gun with me."

  I'll see to it you get a medal, I wanted to say, but thought better of it. Too bad you didn't also think to mark our trail with pieces of candy, or at least pay heed to the route you took to lea
d us out here. After all, I'd have been totally content to abandon the idea of capturing a good wildlife photo altogether.

  Keeping track of directions while following someone through the forest was like being a passenger in a car. If you weren't the one driving, you weren't as aware of which direction you were going or how you'd gotten somewhere after you'd arrived.

  We wandered aimlessly in circles for over an hour. When we passed the same red-tailed hawks' nest for the third time, and the tree we'd attached the camera to twice, I said, "We are clearly going nowhere fast, and it's going to get dark soon. You need to call someone who can help us find our way out of here before it's too late and we have another encounter with wild animals that doesn't go as smoothly. Many of them come out to feed at night, you know. So call someone already!"

  "You're being overly dramatic, dear. And just whom do you expect me to call? Nine-one-one?"

  "Well, yes. For starters, anyway. Surely there's a forest ranger in the area who knows these woods like the back of his hand. He'd surely come to our rescue before we can't see our hands in front of us."

  Unfortunately, I was talking to a man who would rather face a firing squad than ask anyone for assistance. A man who felt perfectly at ease rescuing someone else, but uncomfortable asking anyone to help him. A fact I was reminded of once again when he said, "Let's give it another half-hour. I think I see a clearing off in the distance. Maybe we can get our bearings if we're out in the open."

  I sighed heavily and trudged on.

  After a few moments, Rip commented again. "It's probably a moot point anyway. I looked earlier and we weren't getting a signal. Didn't I warn you about signing up with the cheapest service provider? They're the cheapest for a reason, you know. The way we travel around the country now, we need the company that offers the best coverage."

  My guilt about having ever judged my ability to outrun Rip, should we be chased by a savage animal, dissipated quickly. I was now seriously beginning to hope a bear would sneak up behind us and give me the opportunity to try my luck. With his recent hip-replacement, and ever-expanding belt-line, I felt I had a pretty fair advantage on him. With a bear behind me, my tired old legs would be pumping ninety to nothing by the time I got up to speed. Teed off, but not anxious to get into a heated argument that might draw predators to us, I simply said. "Like you said, at least you have your gun on you."

  My comment made Rip instinctively reach for his holster and his binoculars case. He cursed loudly, and then said, "I've lost my field glasses somehow. They must have slipped out of the case."

  I knew exactly where his binoculars were; still propped up against the lodge pole pine, next to the sycamore that had our game camera strapped to it. After using them to try and locate the source of the whistling sound, I'd forgotten to pick them up and return them to the leather case hanging from Rip's belt. But I wasn't willing to offer myself up for another round of finger-pointing. If he piled any more blame on me, I'd soon need a periscope to see the path ahead of me while we traipsed hopelessly through the woods. So, I simply replied, "Way to go, buster!"

  Twenty minutes later we emerged from the woods into a small clearing approximately the size of six football fields. The ground was wet and spongy with only a few bushes and cattails scattered about. Glancing around, we spotted a man on top of a ledge who was scanning the area through a set of binoculars. He was our only salvation at this point, and as much as I hated to walk through the marshy field, I knew it was a necessity. Through ankle-high sludge, I headed in the man's direction.

  "Hey!" Rip said. "You're going to ruin your shoes in that muck!"

  Now I am not one to throw away hard-earned money, especially to replace a pair of shoes that still had several years' worth of use left in them. But at that moment in time, I would have sacrificed my entire wardrobe to get to someone who could help us out of our current situation as quickly as possible. I felt a sense of being stalked and didn't want to spend any more time in that daunting forest than I had to.

  As far as I was concerned, that stupid critter cam that Cora had talked me into wasting twenty bucks on could stay latched to the sycamore tree forever and rot away right along with Rip's binoculars. I had no intention of ever entering that forest again, if we got out of it in one piece to begin with.

  "You can stand there like a dummy with clean shoes if you want to, dear, but I'm going to see if that man can point us in the right direction. The sun will be setting in an hour or so and, if we're still among the living by then, we're apt to still be out here walking in circles, trying to find our way back to the campground."

  Without waiting for a response, I trudged on, waving my arms back and forth to get the man's attention. I could see a dark green jeep just a few yards behind him and was afraid he'd hop in it and take off. I felt a little silly when he raised his binoculars and aimed them straight at me. I could only imagine how I looked stomping through the mud and muck, swinging my arms wildly, acting like a crazed lunatic in the middle of an emotional meltdown who was being pursued by Sasquatch.

  I felt a great deal of weight fall off my shoulders when the man on the outcropping returned my wave and put his binoculars down against the side of his thigh. With hands on his hips, he studied us curiously as we drew nearer. Rip was right behind me, grumbling under his breath. "Would you please put your arms down, Rapella? You're embarrassing me."

  "Fine." I agreed only because the ranger on the hill was clearly waiting for us. "Are those your binoculars in his hand?"

  "No. Mine are smaller and a different brand. He probably carries his every day. That's a Bighorn National Forest uniform he's wearing, so I'm assuming he's a ranger."

  "Oh, thank God! He'll undoubtedly be able to assist us then."

  "Let me do the talking, okay?"

  "Fine," I said again. I wanted to add, But you better say what I want you to say or I'm butting into the conversation the second you pause to take a breath.

  "What brings you folks out here today?" The ranger asked in way of a greeting.

  "My wife here, Rapella, is trying to get an animal photo with her game camera to enter into the wildlife photography contest. We came out to set it up in a different location than we've already tried because we haven't captured much yet."

  "Well, good luck to you, folks. That's quite a prize they're offering, and this is a great location to capture a winning wildlife photo. This marshy valley is prime moose habitat. My name's Richard Myer, by the way, but everyone calls me Ranger Rick."

  Rip shook the man's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ranger Rick. I'm Clyde Ripple, or Rip, and as I said, my wife's name is Rapella. What brings you out here today? Are you out looking for Bea Whetstone, the missing owner of the Rest 'n Peace RV Park?"

  "No. My department hasn't been brought into the search yet, but I've heard we will be soon. It's a damn shame though, ain't it?" Ranger Rick turned to me and apologized for his language and I assured him I'd heard much worse.

  "Yeah. It's certainly worrisome for her to go missing like that," Rip remarked. "So, what are you up to today, Ranger Rick, if not searching for Mrs. Whetstone?"

  "Yesterday, a couple of my fellow rangers and I found a cow moose caught in a bear trap at the tree line over there, just at the edge of this valley." He pointed to the edge of the marsh on the south end. "Worse yet, she had twin calves with her."

  "Oh, no! How sad," I said. "Was she still alive?"

  "Alive, but weak and badly injured. We called out the vet and he sedated her with a tranquilizer dart and treated her wounds as best he could. Her lower leg was cut deeply by the teeth of the jaw-like leg trap, and we weren't sure she'd be able to stand under her own weight when she came to. We stayed and watched her from the top of this plateau and, although she was quite wobbly, she slowly made her way back into the woods, no doubt looking for her calves that had darted off when we first arrived. Hopefully she'll survive her injuries. Her weakened condition will make her vulnerable to predators."

  "Oh, dear! I
hope she found her babies and all three are all right." The thought of the mother moose dying, or being killed before she found her twin calves was heartbreaking, and I was nearly moved to tears. I'd already witnessed a cub being orphaned, and now hearing the ranger's story about the potentially orphaned moose calves was even more distressing.

  I told the ranger about our close call with the bear family earlier in the day. "Rip's quick thinking probably prevented our encounter with them from having a much different ending."

  "You did exactly what you should have done to deter the mother bear. Sure glad you had your wits about you, Rip," he said. "However, it'd probably be in your best interest to carry some kind of weapon with you when you're wandering about in the forest. You never know what you might encounter. A pack of wolves would not have retreated like those bears did. Wolves hunt in a pack and would have had you surrounded before you knew it."

  "I do carry a handgun; my service weapon from my law enforcement days." Rip pulled his jacket back to reveal his holstered gun.

  "You were in law enforcement?" Ranger Rick asked. He sounded impressed.

  "Yep! For thirty-seven years in all. I was a sheriff in south Texas my last ten years," Rip said. "Happy to be retired now, however. So what do you think the cow's chances of recovery are?"

  "I think she'll make it, but I came out here hoping to catch a glimpse of the threesome to assure myself we'd made the right call. If she hadn't had calves with her, we might have put her down so she wouldn't suffer. But without their mother, the calves wouldn't stand a chance in hell of making it." Ranger Rick apologized once again for his choice of words, before continuing. "They'd also become fodder for a bear, cougar, grey wolf, or possibly even a pack of wolves. It's the natural cycle of life though, even if it's hard to accept sometimes."