Black Bear Necklace

It was dark and it was stormy . . .

So approaching the small cabin, with its smoke rising from the small chimney, was going to be a piece of cake.

Unknown to him was the fact that she was aware of him coming and that she knew how to defend herself.

Jean had been raised in a family where everyone was expected to be able to hunt and bring home supper (if needed).  Since times were tough back then, spare ammunition was not a luxury.  Every shot counted, and only one shot was used to bring down an animal.

The only exception was the time when she had to kill a black bear with three shots.  But then, the meat lasted ten times longer.  Her family and friends called her "hunter of the year” for at least two years.

Jean can still remember how scared she was, facing down that black bear.

It was late in the afternoon and the leaves were just beginning to change colors.  The sun was going down and the temperature had already been dropping.  Back then, she had resolved in her mind to concentrate on hitting the neck and head area of the black bear as a way of quickly bringing the big animal down.  The first two shots had probably killed the black bear, but the bear's momentum was still carrying it forward, and so the third shot was fired as a result.

The three shots had echoed in the long valley, and had brought her father and brothers on a run.  Everyone was so proud of her.  She made the claws from the right foot of the black bear into a necklace and she wore them proudly around her neck.

It was the same necklace that she now found herself fondling as she waited in the shadows of the old barn.

The smell of damp, fresh cut hay hung in the closed air of the barn.  A cool breeze was moving in the barn, flowing through the million cracks and holes found in the gray old weathered beaten siding.  Outside the stormy winds and rain buffeted the barn.  Inside everything was quiet.

The warm gold light from the cabin would show that someone was home, and would draw the gunman to the front.

Why had he not listened when she had told him to stay away from her?

He was a town bully and had just killed two old men, all in self-defense, of course.  Nobody had said anything about the fact that he had goaded both men into a fight, and out of self-respect, the men were defending their honor.

Why were men always forced to defend themselves when someone insulted them?  Why didn't they just turn around and walk away?

Well, she had not seen a reason for staying quiet, and she had not held back her comments.  “Hey Bully, why don’t you pick on someone your own age,” she said.

The gunman’s face reddened in anger as he slowly turned to see who had made the comment.   He was about ready to draw his gun on her, until he realized that she had her Winchester pointed right at his gut.

"Go ahead and draw,” she had said.