Read Out of Range for Free Online Page A

with a lethal dose of euthanol to kill it.
    Joe drove close to the steel gate on the trap and turned the wheels slightly, giving Trey a good shot at the bear.
    “I hate this,” Trey said, cocking the tranquilizer gun and aiming it out the window. “I hate this with all of my heart.”
    The gun popped and Joe saw a flash of the dart through his headlights as it flew into the back of the trap. Joe couldn’t see where the dart hit within the thick fur of the grizzly, but he heard the bear grunt.
    “Hit it?” Joe asked.
    “I’m pretty sure I did.”
    “How long before he’s down for the count?”
    “Five minutes.”
    They waited ten. Joe couldn’t tell if the bear was sleeping or not. He could still see eyes reflecting the light, still see the stream of saliva.
    Trey said, “I think we’re okay now,” and slid out of the truck with his shotgun loaded with slugs and a kit containing the lethal dose of euthanol. Joe exited the driver’s side with his weapon, and the two game wardens approached the front of the trap. Joe could hear the bear breathing, and the odor was very strong and mixed with the smell of blood from the roadkill. They snapped on their flashlights. Trey shone his on the locking mechanism of the trapdoor, while Joe trained his on the bear.
    What Joe saw scared him to death. The grizzly not only blinked at the light, but turned his head to avoid it.
    “Trey . . .” Joe whispered urgently.
    “Shit!” Trey hollered, wheeling around. “The gate didn’t lock!”
    The grizzly bear roared and charged the front of the trap with such speed and force that the unlocked gate blew wide open, the steel grate clanging up and over the top of the culvert. Joe had never seen an animal so big move so fast, and he knew that if the bear chose him as a target there was nothing he could do about it. He found himself backing up toward the truck while raising his shotgun and he felt more than saw Trey blindly fire toward the huge brown blur as the bear ran toward the dark timber.
    304 crowhopped the instant Trey’s shotgun went off as if kicked from behind, then kept going. Joe aimed at the streaking form, saw it, lost it, and didn’t pull the trigger.
    For a moment, they both stood and listened to the bear crash through the timber with the sound and subtlety of a meteorite. Joe was surprised he could hear anything over the sound of his own whumping heartbeat.
    It took nearly twenty minutes for Trey and Joe to calm down and assess the situation. Joe was glad it was dark so that Trey wouldn’t see his hands shaking.
    He held the shotgun close to him, listening for the possible warning sounds of the bear doubling back on them, while Trey examined the trapdoor to try to figure out why it didn’t work.
    “I don’t know what went wrong,” Trey said morosely, pulling himself clumsily back to his feet and snatching his shotgun from where he had leaned it against the trap, “but it looks like I might have hit that bear. There’s a splash of blood out here on the grass.”
    They followed the bear’s churnedup trail through the meadow to where it entered the trees. There were flecks of blood on blades of grass and fallen leaves. Joe felt his heart sink.
    “We’ve got a wounded grizzly and there’s nothing more dangerous than that,” Trey said, his voice heavy. “We’ve got to hunt him down.”
    Trey called dispatch and gave the dispatcher their coordinates. “We’ll stay out here until we find him. Please call my wife and Marybeth Pickett in Saddlestring and tell ’em what the situation is. Oh—and call Jackson Hole.
    Tell ’em Joe Pickett is going to be a little late for his new job.”
    ...
    For the next three days they drove the primitive back roads, pulling Trey’s horses in a trailer, tracking the wounded bear. They found where he had fed on a rotting moose carcass, and picked up his track where he had crossed a stream. The bear had tried to break into another cabin—they could see deep gouges on the