The Poacher's Son by Paul Doiron Read Free Book Online Page A

boy who lives down the street. He comes over for lemonade. So I said, ‘Who’s there?’ Then I heard another noise, and I turned around. And there was this huge black bear leaning against the screen door, trying to come in. I just about fainted!”
    She didn’t strike me as the fainting type. “Then what happened?”
    â€œI shut the door. What do you think I did? Invited it in?”
    â€œAnd the bear clawed the screen?”
    â€œNot at first. First it came around to that window. It stood up and stuck its head inside, like it wanted to climb in, but it couldn’t, so it went back around to the screen door and started tearing it apart. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
    â€œWhat happened next?”
    â€œWell, my daughter had left this thing outside—what do you call it?—a Thighmaster.”
    â€œA Thighmaster?”
    â€œYou know, one of those exercise thingies you squeeze between your thighs. She had left it in the backyard. I looked out the window and the bear had the Thighmaster in its teeth. It was chewing on it and clawing at it and tossing it in the air.” Mrs. Hersom’s eyes grew wide. “I kept thinking, ‘That Thighmaster could be me!’”
    â€œHow long ago did this all happen?”
    â€œForty-five, fifty minutes. If you hadn’t taken so long to get here, you might have been in time to shoot it. Why do you let those things run around wild?”
    â€œI’m sure you were scared, Mrs. Hersom, but black bears rarely harm human beings.”
    â€œDon’t patronize me. That thing was dangerous. If I’d had a gun, I would have shot it. My daughter has a gun, and I’m going to borrow it.”
    â€œThat’s not a good idea, Mrs. Hersom. Believe me, you did the right thing in calling the police.”
    My pager buzzed on my belt. Kathy’s cell number showed on the display. “Excuse me. My sergeant is trying to reach me.”
    â€œYou’re going to shoot it, right?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. Not unless I have to.”
    â€œWell, what if it comes back?”
    â€œExcuse me just one second.”
    Kathy’s voice was full of merriment. “Guess what just ran across the road in front of me?”
    â€œYou’re kidding?”
    â€œI’m at the corner of Bog and Tolman. Get over here.”
    I said, “I need to go, Mrs. Hersom. The bear was just seen up the road.”
    â€œWhat about me?”
    I backed out of the kitchen. “I’ll come back. Close your doors and windows for now, and you’ll be OK.”
    She followed me down the hall. “Who’s going to pay for my screen door?”
    â€œI need to go, Mrs. Hersom.”
    She called after me down the walk, “If you see that bear, shoot it!”
    I found Kathy’s new GMC parked in the shade of some trees, a mile up the road. The trailer with the culvert trap was hitched to the back of it. Kathy was nowhere to be seen, but a ticked-off red squirrel was chattering in the beeches at the side of the road.
    I pushed through some dusty roadside raspberries and found my sergeant standing underneath an old beech, looking up at the squirrel perched on a limb above her head. The little animal was scolding her as if she had given it offense.
    â€œI hate to tell you,” I said, “but that’s not a bear.”
    â€œAnd I was just thinking we could have used a smaller trap.”
    â€œSo where did it go?”
    â€œOver there. Into the bog.”
    Kathy Frost was a tall, sun-freckled woman with a bob of sandy hair and the toned arms and legs of a basketball player. Her uniform had a huge stain over her right breast.
    She noticed where I was looking. “Breakfast burrito,” she confessed sheepishly.
    â€œActually, I was checking you out.”
    â€œIn your dreams.”
    We spread out a topo map of the area across the hood of my truck and put our heads together.