Sudden Fury. William W. Johnstone

      That was true. Most of the blood on the man’s face came from a hideous gash that slanted across his forehead, but he had some smaller cuts and scratches on his cheeks, too. His shirt was torn and bloodstained, like something had tried to claw it off him.

      Frank realized that the screaming had stopped. He picked up his rifle and said to the men on horseback, “A couple of you come with me. The other one stay here and keep an eye on this gent.”

      “Who are you to be givin’ orders, mister?”

      “The man who’s giving the orders,” Frank snapped. “Come on.”

      The tone of command didn’t allow for any argument. One of the men shrugged and said, “I’ll stay here with Scott. Just don’t you fellas be gone too long. That critter’s still roamin’ around out here in these woods, unless I miss my guess.”

      Frank led the way, stalking forward with the Winchester at the ready. In a few minutes, he spotted what looked like two heaps of old clothing lying on the ground ahead of him. He had a bad feeling that there was more to the heaps than old clothes, though.

      Unfortunately, he was right. He saw the torn and mangled bodies as he came closer. Blood formed reddish-black pools around both dead men. Not only had their flesh been shredded, but their throats were torn out as well. These injuries looked more like something an animal would inflict. Frank was getting back to the bear idea again. The killer hadn’t taken the time to rip the bodies apart this time.

      “Holy Mother o’ God!” one of the riders who had trailed along behind Frank exclaimed when he saw the mutilated corpses. Frank heard retching behind him, but didn’t look around.

      “It was the Terror, that’s what it was,” the other man said. “No doubt about it. The damn thing’s gone on a real rampage this time.”

      Frank thought that eight dead men in less than an hour qualified as a rampage, all right. But he still wasn’t convinced that some sort of monster had done this.

      “There’s nothing we can do for these fellas,” he said. “Let’s go back and see about that other one.”

      They returned to the spot where they had left Scott and the third rider. The injured man had regained his senses, at least to a certain extent. He sat with his back against the trunk of a redwood. He had his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them. He swayed back and forth and made soft moaning noises.

      “I was gonna try to clean up those wounds a little,” the third man said, “but he won’t let me touch him. I figured if I tried too hard, I might spook him and make him run off again.”

      Frank nodded. “It was good thinking to leave him alone. I’ll see what I can get out of him.”

      He went over to the man and hunkered on his heels, not getting too close to him. The man rolled his eyes in Frank’s direction and cringed away.

      “It’s all right,” Frank told him in a calm, steady voice, the sort of tone he would use on a frightened horse. “The thing that killed your friends and hurt you is gone. You’re safe now.”

      The man’s teeth chattered. “N-nobody’s safe,” he stammered. “Nobody’s s-safe in the w-woods. The T-Terror’s out there!”

      “Did you see it?” Frank asked.

      Scott jerked his head in a nod. “It…it came out from behind a tree…knocked Billy off his horse…I never saw anything move so f-fast.”

      “What did it look like?”

      “Big! Hairy! Must’ve been…nine feet tall…and it had these…claws…” A shudder ran through the man’s body. “It tore out Billy’s throat…with one swipe…There was blood all over him…We tried to shoot it, but it was too fast…It went for Rance…” Scott sobbed. The tears left little trails in the gore smeared on his cheeks. “Rance’s horse spooked, threw him. So did m-mine. The thing jumped on Rance…it was tearin’ him up…slashin’ at him with those claws like it was tryin’ to…to dig his insides out…Then it…came for me…hit me once and knocked me clear across the open space between two trees.”

      Frank leaned closer. “How did you manage to get away?”

      “Just luck. The thing started tearin’ at me…like it had done to Rance…and then one of the horses stampeded right into it. Knocked it off of me. I got up and ran.” Scott lifted horror-haunted eyes and gazed at Frank from them. “It could’ve come after me, could’ve caught me. I don’t know why it didn’t. Maybe the horse hurt it. Maybe it was just tired of…playin’ with us.”

      One of the hunters said, “You hear that, boys? The thing’s hurt! We can track it down for sure now.”

      Frank looked around at the men and told them, “You don’t know that. Like this hombre said, maybe it had some other reason for leaving.” He returned his attention to Scott. “You must have gotten a good look at it. Could it have been a bear? Maybe a grizzly that wandered over here from somewhere in the Rockies?”

      Scott shook his head. That made the flap of skin that hung down from the gash on his forehead move. “It wasn’t a bear,” he said. “It was hairy all over like a bear, but…it wasn’t a bear.”

      “How can you be sure of that?”

      “It didn’t have a snout like a bear. And it went on two legs.”

      “Bears can get around on two legs,” Frank pointed out.

      “Not like this.”

      “Some other sort of animal then?”

      Stubbornly, Scott shook his head again. “No, it was more like…a man’s face, but…bigger…hairier. It was the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

      “Sounds like one of those Sasquatch critters they’ve got up north,” one of the men said. All three of them had dismounted and stood around Frank and Scott now.

      “Yeah,” another man said. “I’ve heard ’em called Bigfoot, too. They’re supposed to be nine feet tall and hairy, just like this hombre said.”

      Frank wasn’t going to believe in such a thing, not unless and until he saw it with his own eyes. Even then, he’d be doubtful.

      He came to his feet and said, “This fella needs medical attention. I want the three of you to take him to Eureka.”

      “Hell, no! There’s ten grand on the hoof not far from here. We’re gonna go find it.”

      The other two spoke up, voicing their agreement.

      Scott clutched at the leg of one of them. “You can’t!” he wailed. “It’ll kill you, too, just like it did Billy and Rance!”

      The man pulled his leg loose and said, “We can handle some damned old Bigfoot.”

      “You don’t know…It’s worse than that…I can’t even t-tell you how bad it really is.” Scott closed his eyes and shuddered. “Like it’s not even from this world.”

      “You saw what it did to those two men,” Frank said. “Well, just a little while ago it killed six more the same way, only worse. Those hombres it tore apart. Flat out tore them apart.”

      One of the men rubbed at his angular jaw. “Maybe it would be better to come back later,” he suggested. “Maybe get some more men first.”

      “That’ll mean splittin’ the bounty more ways.”

      “I’d rather have a little less to spend and still be alive to spend it.”

      “Well, I’m not goin’.”

      “Yes, you are,” Frank said.

      “Who the hell are you to be tellin’ me what to do?” The man who had been arguing moved his hand toward the butt of his gun. “Folks say I’m pretty fast on the draw,