Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [26]
Knowing he might regret it, Jack leaned his bike against a tree and trotted over to the animal, watching for other traps. The last thing he needed was to step in one himself.
He stopped a few feet from the struggling animal. Its ringed tail and black-encircled eyes identified it as a raccoon. A young one, probably heading to the spong for a drink when it stepped on one of the traps.
Not right, he thought as anger spewed acid into his already turned stomach.
Okay, one thing dies so another can live. That was the way nature worked. But was the piney going to eat this coon or just strip off the pelt and throw the meat away? And even if he did eat it, he should kill it clean. Don’t torture it like this.
How long had it been here? Raccoons were nocturnal. Probably got caught last night. That meant it had been suffering all night and the whole day.
Not right.
As he stepped closer it tried to crawl away, scratching frantically at the dirt with its forepaws. But the trap’s jaws had its left thigh and right lower leg vised. It must have closed pretty hard because both legs were bleeding. And from the angle of the left thigh, Jack was pretty sure it was broken.
Slowly, carefully, he edged his hands toward the trap. The coon must have thought he was coming for it and scrabbled faster in its futile efforts to get away.
“Easy there,” Jack said in a soft, soothing tone. “I’m not out to hurt you. Just going to try to help.”
He grabbed the jaws and tried to spread them but his fingertips kept slipping off. He looked around and found a twig. He forced that between the jaws to spread them just enough to relieve the pressure on the raccoon’s legs.
Finally its scraping and scratching with its front paws paid off. It pulled itself free and away from the trap, but not very far. Its rear legs were broken and wouldn’t hold it. It stopped and lay panting, looking at Jack over its shoulder with its big black eyes as if to say, What now? It looked exhausted, probably from dehydration and loss of blood.
Unsure of what to do next, he rose and stared at it. He didn’t feel right just leaving it here. Maybe he could—
He heard a noise behind him and turned in time to see the piney trapper swinging a tree branch at his head.
“I knew it was you kids!” he screamed, his unshaven face a mask of rage. “I knew it!”
Jack’s instincts overcame his shock and he ducked. He heard the branch whistle through the air where his head had been. Keeping in a crouch, he turned to run away but the branch slammed against his thigh before he could get started. His foot slipped in the sand and he went down on all fours. As he was scrambling back to his feet the branch caught him across the back, knocking him flat.
Terrified now, he rolled onto his back and saw the piney standing over him, looking like a maniac as he raised the branch for a two-handed blow.
“This’ll learn ya!”
But then Jack saw something else—a tall, broad silhouette looming up behind the crazed trapper. The piney cried out and stumbled back as the branch was ripped from his hands. When he turned the big figure grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
“Jameson!” it roared as it shook the piney like a rag doll. “I should have guessed!”
Jack squinted against the low sun and saw a big man holding the kicking, struggling trapper. He had broad shoulders and a thick but neat gray beard. A soft hat with a wide, down-turned brim—something like the Shadow of the Spider might wear—hid most of his upper face.
“Let me go!” the piney rasped—it might have been a screech if he’d had more air.
The big man shook him again. “How many times have I warned you? How many?”
With that he shoved him through the air as he released him. The piney—Jameson—landed on his back, clutching his throat and gasping.
But the big man wasn’t through. He grabbed Jameson by the back of his shirt and dragged him kicking and struggling toward the spong. Before he reached it he dropped the piney