When everyone lugged a massive bear paw back to the lakeside Camp, it was already pitch dark.

  They hadn't brought much in the way of cooking gear, just Stephen's little pot for boiling water. No way they were gonna braise that meat.

  So they decided to chop up one of the bear paws into smaller pieces and roast them on branches.

  Kinda wasteful, really. Red braised would have been amazing.

  Stephen watched the fat dripping from the meat over the fire, his mouth watering.

  Never had bear meat in either of his lives. Today was gonna be a first.

  "Kid, you need any of this fat?"

  Arthur asked, smirking. Stephen turned to see him collecting rendered bear fat into a jar.

  "What you gonna do with that?" Stephen asked, curious. "You like eating fat or something?"

  Arthur shook his head, holding up the jar of grease. "Mix this with alcohol and it makes a hell of a fire starter."

  "Torches, lanterns, even Molotov cocktails."

  Arthur filled a whole container and handed it to Stephen. "Take it. Might come in handy someday."

  "Thanks." Stephen took it without hesitation, stuffing it in his bag.

  "You're pretty damn good with a gun, kid. And even better with a knife. Who taught you?"

  Arthur picked up Stephen's long knife, which had been placed on the side, giving it a curious look.

  "Nobody. Just like it. Mess around with it." Stephen shrugged. "Guess it's a talent. Soon as I pick up a blade, I know what to do."

  "A gunslinger like you gets it, the subconscious, you know? Like you don't even gotta think."

  Stephen struggled to describe the feeling. Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

  "Yeah, I get it. Like when I shoot. Feels like I don't even need to aim. I can hit anything I want." Arthur said with a smile: "As long as I want to hit."

  "Exactly. That's it." Stephen nodded. That was pretty much the feeling.

  He just picked up the knife, looked at the enemy, and instinctively knew where to strike.

  How much force, how much speed... It all came naturally.

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  "This is a damn fine knife. But it needs some work. Got a whetstone?" Arthur spotted a tiny nick in the blade.

  "Yeah, you gonna sharpen it for me?" Stephen pulled the whetstone from his pack and handed it over.

  "Got nothing better to do, right?"

  So there they sat, one roasting meat, the other sharpening the knife.

  By the time Arthur had finished sharpening the blade, Stephen's meat was ready.

  "Dinner's ready!"

  Stephen's call brought Hosea and Mrs. Sadie, who had been chatting by the river, wandering over.

  "Old Hosea here's starving. Especially smelling that meat the whole time," Hosea said as he sat down.

  "Here, have the tenderest piece."

  Truth be told, the bear meat was terrible.

  Tough and chewy. Felt like chewing wood chips.

  And without any seasonings to mask the smell, it was stinky and gamey as hell.

  But seeing the other three chowing down, he didn't want to seem picky, so he took small bites.

  "What we doin' tomorrow?" Arthur asked Hosea. "Got the prey handled. You got something for us?"

  Hosea rubbed his head, looking troubled. "Nah, who knew you guys'd get lucky and bag it so soon? Thought we'd be trackin' this beast for days."

  Big critters like that usually hid deep in the woods, and they roamed all over. Who knew where they'd be?

  Hosea had prepared for a long haul, but lucky Mrs. Sadie went and found it right off the bat. Now everyone was bored.

  Can't go back tomorrow, surely...

  Stephen piped up, "I saw the map. Emerald Ranch ain't too far. Why don't we head there?"

  "Biggest, fanciest ranch around these parts. Like Hosea said, full of dummies."

  Stephen pulled his map from his bag and spread it out in front of them. "Head south on this trail, can't miss it."

  "Sounds good. Decent place. Maybe I can con some more saps there." Hosea grinned.

  "Oh, and there's a fence there. Some fella named... eh, can't recall. He's a stable hand."

  Stephen continued, "Pays good money for stagecoaches and horses. Any kind you got. I figured you'd be interested."

  "Aren't we looking for the O'Driscoll gang?" Mrs. Sadie suddenly croaked.

  The other three turned to Mrs. Sadie, who took a vicious bite of meat like she was chewing an enemy alive.

  "We can't find them right now." Arthur said grimly, "Those guys are hidin' same as we are."

  "They won't be hiding for long," Hosea patted Mrs. Sadie on the shoulder, telling her to cool off.

  "That gang's full of lawless lunatics. Trust me, they'll crawl out of the woodwork soon enough."

  Stephen chimed in. "Soon as we find 'em, I'll kill 'em."

  "No." Mrs. Sadie's answer was emphatic. "Revenging Mr. Yake ain't your job. It's mine. I'll avenge my husband myself."

  Mrs. Sadie's eyes were blazing as she said those words. Stephen was both happy and worried.

  Happy that Mrs. Sadie was finally snapping out of it, not as numb as she used to be.

  But worried she was snapping *too* far.

  The hiking and wading the last few days had definitely worn them out.

  The team didn't emerge from their tents until noon the next day.

  Lunch? You guessed it, roasted bear.

  They ate a quick meal before packing up their things, drawing their eventful, but ultimately triumphant hunt to a close.

  Arthur and Hosea cleaned up the shore of the Lake, while Stephen accompanied Mrs. Sadie to the forest.

  Looking at the colossal bear carcass, Stephen was perplexed.

  Just leaving it here would be a colossal waste.

  While Stephen was scratching his head, an odd clamor resounded from a close hill.

  "Hold it there! Gimme your valuables!!"

  Three of four badly-dressed ruffians appeared from the close woodland, all pointing weapons at Arthur and Hosea, who had been cleaning stuff on the shoreline.

  Stephen gazed, looking odd, at these daring brigands, not immediately realizing whether to interfere or sit and watch.

  But when he saw two gangsters nonchalantly wheeling a carriage out in the open, Stephen and Mrs. Sadie simultaneously offered themselves a contented smile.