build. His mother was pregnant once again, her heavy burden making her waddle as she chased his siblings in the pasture in front of their cabin. They looked happy. She looked happy surrounded by the children she had wanted, rather than the one she threw away. So happy, the bitterness he carried daily grew deeper. Not that it should matter, he was almost eighteen and didn’t need a mother anymore. He had grown almost three inches in the last year and was beginning to bulk up. He was a man now, and a man didn’t need a mother. Certainly not one who didn’t give a shit about him.
“Clean the shit out of this stall, boy!” Spittle ran down Rip’s chin as he glared at Chance.
Years of being bossed around by the old man had trained Chance to duck and cover, but watching his mother with the children she preferred to him had left him raw. Edgy. Murderous.
Chance stood suddenly with his hands fisted and grabbed the shovel from the floor. When Rip’s expression turned smug, Chance threw the shovel back at the old man. “Last time I checked, you work for me, old man. Clean the shit yourself.”
When Chance tried to leave, Rip reached out and grabbed him by the collar, drew back his fist. The action seemed to trip a switch inside Chance and instead of taking the blow like he had always done, he reacted instead. Before Rip could land the punch, Chance grabbed his wrist and twisted hard until Rip shifted and cried out. The sweet sound of the old man’s pain echoed in Chance’s head and he grinned in triumph. It was good to finally be a man.
Clapping sounded outside the stall, and Chance looked over his shoulder. His father was leaning against the opening, watching. His eyes gleamed with excitement at the confrontation in front of him. With pride at the way Chance had dominated Rip. For the first time in Chance’s life, his father seemed to be proud of him. He’d spent the better part of his seventeen years in pursuit of his father’s approval and it seemed he finally had it—and wanted more. Thirsty for approval, Chance twisted harder until he heard a loud snap. At Rip’s wail, his father smiled broader and mumbled, “That’s my boy.”
A loud pounding tore through Chance’s memory. He looked toward the front of the house but didn’t move. Glancing at the window, he noted night had fallen. He had a pretty good idea who was standing on the other side of the door, so he poured himself another glass of whiskey and drank it down in a single gulp. He’d heard the sirens when they entered the property. Knew they’d found Rip’s body, so he figured one of the sheriff’s deputies was here to make inquiries.
Chance poured another glass of whiskey as the pounding sounded through the empty house again, but he ignored it. He was Justice Bear’s son. He answered to no one.
Reaching down, he grabbed the hunting knife he’d been sharpening to a fine point. He held it against the grinding stone, pushing the blade across the surface at angles like his people had done for hundreds of years, and envisioned his enemies on their knees begging him for mercy.
“The weakness of my enemy gives me strength.”
The pounding sounded a third time, and Chance smiled as the room filled with the sound of metal against stone. His endgame was in sight. He just had to wait for the right time. Then he would taste the sweetness of victory before he left this miserable world and soared with the eagles.
_______________
An itch began to worm its way down Logan’s spine as he drove into town. He had no doubt that Chance Bear had been home, and the fact he wasn’t answering his door, with a dead man on his property, turned that itch into a burn. As he made the curve that brought him into Ennis’ downtown, the shell of the mortuary opened up in front of him. Logan rolled to a stop and stared at the charred remnants as the burning intensified.
Five deaths in a week? Was Skylar making a mountain out of nothing or was there something going on in Ennis, Montana, other than Duke’s disappearance?
Logan pulled to the side of the road and got out, staring at the burned out structure. He closed his eyes and pictured where he’d found Frank and the elderly woman. That was two of the five dead. Duke was