The Serpent's Bite by Warren Adler

way through deep forests, meadows, and ravines as the sun slowly descended. During July, Scott remembered, complete darkness didn’t come until late, perhaps ten. The trek seemed endless. Even the horses showed signs of fatigue, stopping more and more frequently to nibble at the grass, despite Harry’s cries of “don’t let ‘em eat.”
    At one point, Harry stopped the pack train, removed a pair of binoculars from his saddlebag, and held them to his eyes.
    â€œThere,” he said, lowering the binoculars. “There’s your first grizzly sighting. Do I deliver or do I deliver?”
    He passed the binoculars to Scott. A grizzly was drinking from a stream. It looked benign, serene. Scott passed the binoculars to Courtney who put them up to her eyes.
    â€œLooks like a teddy bear from here,” she said.
    â€œDon’t let the big bastard fool you,” Harry said. “Just stay the hell out of his way.”
    â€œI don’t intend to pet him,” Courtney said, passing the binoculars to her father.
    â€œYou do deliver, Harry,” their father said, observing the bear, calmer now.
    â€œThat’s a male,” Harry explained, “the largest carnivore in North America. Always hungry. Cuts a wide swath. Needs lots of range. More and more of them each year. Endangered species, my ass. He’s the boss in these parts. Hang the food high otherwise he’ll pay us a visit, maybe take a piece of you as a hors d’oeuvre.” He chuckled. “Just remember the rules.”
    â€œWho can forget?” Courtney muttered.

Chapter 5

    A fter six more hours of what seemed like an endless journey, they arrived at their designated campsite, a flat area surrounded by aspens and evergreens. It overlooked a fast-flowing stream edged by cottonwoods and a trail leading down. The fire pit showed signs of other camping parties. Tomas dismounted, and he and Harry began to unload the mules.
    Scott was barely able to take a step after dismounting. The pain in his knees was killing him. Above all, he didn’t want to let on that he was suffering, determined to see through this adventure to the end, come what may.
    Soon the mobility in his legs returned, and he was able to help both his father and his sister raise their pup tents under Harry’s less-than-perfect tutelage. Not only did tents have to be pitched, horses and the two remaining mules had to be turned out and hobbled, gear had to be stowed, a latrine had to be dug—a decidedly primitive affair with a rope stretched tree to tree so that a person could hold on to something and not fall into the pit—and a “meat pole” had to be built so that food could be hung ten feet high so as not to give access to bears. Throughout the process, their father would pause occasionally to shoot pictures.
    Scott noted that Harry barked orders to Tomas like a drill sergeant, using language that at times seemed harsh and abusive. Through the setting-up process, Tomas obeyed stoically, his dark face expressionless, unfazed by his bosses impatient orders and cruel taunts.
    â€œIs that really necessary?” his father whispered to Scott.
    â€œPart of their working arrangement, Dad.”
    â€œMaster and slave.”
    Tomas, returning from digging the latrine, was quickly instructed by their father in the finer points of using his camera, and the family posed, arms around each other, while Tomas focused and clicked. It was apparent that Tomas had patiently accepted the instruction but had more than a passing knowledge of how the camera worked, probably gleaned from former clients.
    After taking the pictures, he set up a grate over the fire now burning brightly in the pit and began to gather his ingredients for dinner, while Scott, Courtney, and their father sat together on a log drinking from metal cups filled from Scott’s cache of red wine. Harry, perhaps respecting the privacy of the family, puttered around his