Page 67 of Bad Rio

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Within three hours, Becca returned, tired but gratified. The blue ice packs were frozen solid and the additional ice chunks she’d lugged down the mountainside should keep their food cold for days.

She had barely a hundred yards to go before reaching the shack when she saw it. The mountain lion.

It perched on a rock not fifty yards away, absolutely still except for its twitching tail. With feline menace, its yellow eyes watched her, unblinking. Startled, Becca lost her footing on the steep, loose terrain and slipped. She fell to her backside, landing hard. Digging her heels into the sliding dirt and rocks, she stopped her momentum and dropped the ice bags. Her hands shaking with fright, she scrambled to find the Glock in her pocket. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, under her arms. For long seconds, she struggled with the heavy fabric of her coat, but finally freed the weapon.

The enormous cat got to its feet and lowered its head. It was the same lion, she could tell by its tawny markings and huge size.

Gasping for breath, Becca raised the gun, and pointed it at the animal.

During long, tense seconds, they stared at each other. Becca held her breath. The cat didn’t move.

For some reason, she didn’t shoot. It had threatened her before, bounded menacingly toward her over the ice until Rio had scared it off. Obviously it had no fear of her. It was just as clear now that it could reach her in a flash, tear her into bite-sized pieces.

Yet still, she didn’t pull the trigger.

Time stalled.

Moments later, the cat turned away and took trotting steps in the opposite direction. Instantly she saw that it wasn’t nearly as thin as it had been in the snow. With the break in winter, it must have found prey.

From behind the rock, two cubs emerged, frolicking, playing, and when they saw their mother’s exit, they gamboled after her. The family of three kept moving.

Becca slumped, and gasped for breath.

Phew.

With a shaky grip, she collected her ice bags and made the last few yards down the mountain without further mishap. She was glad she hadn’t orphaned the cubs.

When she came into the cabin, Rio woke from a light doze. He struggled to sit up in bed. “Any problems?” he asked, studying her carefully.

“I saw the mountain lion,” she told him, shrugging out of her coat and placing his gun beside him on the floor. “It has two cubs.”

Rio sat up straighter in alarm.

“I showed it the Glock.” She pretended nonchalance. “It ran away.” Kneeling at the cooler, she settled the food so it was beneath the cold packs and ice.

“You did good, honey,” he told her. “You’re smart. You figured out how to keep our food fresh, and you brought enough to eat for us both. You even intimidate wild animals.”

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