Roy must be thinking the same. “He’s gonna kill one of ’em. Maybe both,” he says with certainly. “Come here.”

I step forward without thought.

“Take this.” He thrusts the gun into my hands.

I follow on autopilot as he roughly guides my grip, propping the butt of the gun into the ball of my shoulder.

His intentions finally register in my head. “I’ve never fired a gun, Roy,” I admit, my voice hollow.

“It’s easy. Point, aim, pull the trigger, watch the kickback. And try not to hit the dogs.”

I falter, struggling with the weight and awkwardness of it as I train the muzzle on the massive brown body, silently regretting not taking Muriel’s advice to learn how to do this.

“Come on, girl. Before he gets hold of one of them,” Roy pushes.

A loud yelp sounds and Gus leaps away. The blood streaming down his side is glossy against his black fur. With him temporarily subdued, the bear turns on Oscar and charges forward. Oscar loses his footing and tumbles to the ground.

“Now, Calla!” Roy roars.

Steeling my shaky hands, I pull the trigger.

“One … two … three.” Toby, Teddy, and Jonah hoist the body into the back of Toby’s truck with a chorus of grunts and groans.

“Damn, this thing must weigh almost three hundred pounds,” Jonah says, studying the motionless bear.

I flinch and turn away. The throb in my shoulder radiates from where the base of the gun recoiled upon firing and rammed into my flesh and bone. It all happened so quickly. One second, the bear was lunging for Oscar, and the next, it was on the ground, giving a few last twitches before stilling. Somehow, by sheer luck, and perhaps divine intervention, the bullet landed behind its front leg, to carve through fur and flesh and reach its heart.

An impossible kill shot for a girl who’s never even fired a gun, apparently. It had Teddy scratching his head and Muriel nodding her head, impressed.

“You sure you don’t want the meat, Roy?” Muriel asks.

He grimaces. “Thing’s probably parasitic.”

She looks to me and I shake my head. “You want me to call it in for you, or you gonna come by our place to use the phone?”

“I ain’t callin’ in shit.”

Muriel’s hands find her ample hips, as if she was waiting for this argument. “Now, Roy, you know you need to report this.”

“So I can risk havin’ someone come sniffin’ around here, lookin’ to stir up trouble? Hell no!”

I steal a glance toward the barn where Marie works on cleaning and stitching up a sizeable gash on a sedated Gus, Agnes and Mabel acting as observers and helpers. Nearby, Oscar paces on three legs. Thankfully, he earned only minor scratches.

What would the wildlife troopers do to them if they found them here?

“All right.” Teddy chuckles, stepping in to settle a hand on Muriel’s arm and defuse the shouting match that’s about to erupt. “We’ll have the hide and skull ready for you in a few days. You do with it whatever you want, okay, Roy?”

Roy grunts, his severe gaze flitting over all the vehicles in the driveway for the umpteenth time. Is he counting them? There are five in total, including my Jeep that Jonah and Agnes hopped into when Mabel called home to tell them what happened. Has he ever had this many people on his property at once? I doubt it. He looks apoplectic.

“Good job tonight, Calla,” Muriel calls out and then climbs into Toby’s pickup. The truck engine revs to life and then the McGivneys are coasting down the narrow laneway, the lifeless carcass in the back bobbing with each divot.

Jonah checks over his shoulder at Marie who is peeling latex gloves off her hands and collecting her supplies, her stitch work finished. “We should get goin’, too.”

My legs feel wobbly as I take a step, like they might not be able to carry me all the way home.

Jonah helps Marie carry Gus to the porch on a bedsheet to sleep off his sedative, while Agnes and Mabel load her truck. We thank her for coming—even Roy grants her a nod—and she takes off.

“You have a nice place here, Roy,” Agnes offers with her signature soft smile, the one that would make you believe her, even if she doesn’t mean it—but she always does. “Minus the bears. Come on, Mabel.” They take my Jeep home, leaving Jonah and me with Roy.

“Remember when you said I probably wouldn’t see a bear for years?” I wince as I test my arm.

Jonah grimaces, pulling me into his side. “Yeah, I’m not gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

I shoot him a glare.

“Put some ice on that shoulder. You’ll be fine in a few days,” Roy hollers from the porch. He pauses in thought. “Unless you want some painkillers.”

“I heard those are addictive.”

He snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

A curious frown flickers over Jonah’s brow as he heads for the truck, not understanding.

Roy and I have an inside joke, I realize.

The porch creaks as Roy’s weight shifts, the rifle in his grip. He’s still in his pajamas. “Go on home, girl. You look like hell.”

“I feel like puking.” The nausea has clung to me since my adrenaline slowed. I killed something tonight. Worse, I don’t know if I feel guilty or not about it. I know I’d feel a lot worse if something had happened to Oscar or Gus, or Mabel.

Or Roy.

“You had no choice. You don’t think he could smell that little girl sittin’ in the truck? And he still came up, lookin’ for a meal.” He throws a hand toward where the bear fell. Nothing but a small pool of blood remains.

Roy’s right. I never noticed how close that bear was to her until now. And she had no clue. That bear could have strolled right past her open window. It could have tried to get in … A wave of cold dread hits me as my memory replays that deep, grating growl and those vicious claws.

“Can’t have bears like that roamin’ around. It’s only a matter of time before somethin’ bad happens. I’ll bet you surprised the hell out of him tonight. That could have gone a different way for you.” His brow wrinkles, as if he’s considering another scenario. When he catches me watching him, he smooths his expression. “Then I’d be dealin’ with a pile more people here tonight, and what a pain in my ass that’d be.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that would be a real inconvenience for you.”

His lips quirk. “That’s right. It would be. Go on and get some rest.” He turns for his door.

“By the way, I signed your carvings for you!” I call out after him.

He pauses. “You put my name on those things?” I can’t tell if he’s angry.

“Not exactly. See you in the morning.”

After a long moment, he shuffles inside and shuts his door softly.

On instinct, I hang back a few beats, holding my breath as I watch through the tiny window that gives a view of his kitchen. Roy fishes one of the two remaining pieces from the wooden crate, flips it over, and squints at the writing on the base.

His bearded cheeks lift with a smile and a moment later, a low chuckle carries through the quiet night.

I’m disappointed when Jonah starts the truck’s engine and drowns out the sound.