“You don’t know that. She might have hidden them, protected them.”

His raised voice shut down the crowd, and a few moved over to watch the altercation. The sun had tucked behind the mountains, and a chill brushed through Echo.

She should probably get a closer look, see if the bear wore a collar.

“Do you have a harvest ticket for this animal?” her dad asked, and although his voice sounded calm, her insides buzzed.

Oh, buddy. He’d better have a yes to that question.

“Of course I do. It’s with my guide.”

“Who’s your guide?” her dad snapped.

Echo wanted to wince when the man named him. “Ray Kelly.”

“Dad—” She headed toward him.

But her father’s eyes had already hardened. “Idaho.”

She reached him, put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go.” The last thing she needed was for her dad to end up in the local cooler for breaking his restraining order by going after the guide from the Lower 48.

“He doesn’t even have a guiding license,” her dad said, shaking her off.

“We’re leaving now, Dad.”

His mouth pinched into a tight line of disagreement. Then he shook his head and stalked over to the bear.

She waited while he looked at the tag, at the carcass, then followed him. “It’s not Elsa,” she said.

“No. It’s one of her cubs.” He pressed his hand to the white between the ears.

“Let’s go.” She put her hand on his arm again, and this time he let her walk him away.

For a moment.

Then he turned and headed back to the hunter.

Someone screamed when the man hit the dirt, bleeding from the mouth.

“Dad!” Ah, shoot. She hoped Vic’s extra room wasn’t rented.

Her father knelt on the man’s chest, his hand at his throat, his fist cocked.

“Charlie!” The voice boomed out over the crowd, and Echo wanted to weep when Hank Billings strode up. He wore his Fish and Game jacket, jeans, and Sorels. “Back off.”

Her father didn’t move. “He’s got a grizzly sow in that truck.”

“She attacked us. It was a defensive kill!” Trophy had his hands around her dad’s wrist, trying to pry his grip from his neck. Blood still dribbled from his mouth.

Echo leaped forward and grabbed her dad’s other wrist. “Let Hank deal with it.”

“Where is Idaho?” her dad asked.

“Ray called it in, Charlie,” Hank said. “Asked me to seal the kill.”

Her father looked up, stared at Hank. “No.”

“A defensive kill is not illegal—”

“It is when the mother is just trying to defend her cubs.” Echo couldn’t believe the words issued from her mouth. Even her dad looked at her, something of pride in his eyes.

And maybe that’s why he let go of the hunter and got up. The man scooted away from her dad.