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help her with the fish when a shot rang out, from high up, in the direction of the glen over the ridge behind them.
    Eli froze, then frowned. He studied the green peaks, and his head shook back and forth slightly.
    “What was that?” Bryn said lowly.
    He kept shaking his head for a moment. “That came from the area where the Dall’s sheep have been grazing.”
    “Hunters?”
    “Poachers, this time of year.”
    Bryn frowned.
    “I’m going to go check it out. Stay here, Bryn. Or go back to the cabin.”
    “No way. I’m coming with you.”
    His head whipped around. “Not a good idea. I’m going to sneak up on them. If it is poachers, I want to get a good description so I can report them.”
    “Two witnesses are better than one.”
    Those hazel eyes studied hers. Fear, concern, and admiration all ran across his face. He paused a moment longer, then gave her a nod of assent. “We’ll have to move quickly. Ready?”
    She licked her lips. What had she gotten herself into? But as Eli gripped her hand in his and they made their way across the logs to the other side and began bushwhacking up the side of the mountain, across several streams, and through the forest, she smiled in satisfaction and anticipation. It was an adventure. Wasn’t that why her dad wanted her here? To see Alaska in its natural beauty? Learn to love the land as he did? What better way to do that than to do some surveillance on a couple of lousy poachers?
    A thousand feet up they paused and took deep drinks from the canteens at their waists. Another shot rang out, and automatically they ducked. Looking about, they saw no one.
    “Over that next ridge,” he said, gesturing toward a ragged, rocky hump another five hundred feet away, almost straight up. “We should be able to see them from there.” They began moving again, slowing down over the loose shale and moraine left from the receding glaciers that had once dominated this valley. “Find your foothold and a handhold before you move,” Eli told her sternly.
    She swallowed a defensive retort, but she knew Eli was right. They were one handhold away from a long, prickly slide down the face of the mountain. The adventure was quickly becoming less fun. But she was determined now. Nothing was going to make her turn back.
    In fifteen minutes they reached the ridge and scrambled on their stomachs to look over into the next shallow valley where the sheep loved to lounge about. From the Baileys’ cabin they could often see their white forms frolicking in play or standing like statues as they grazed. Now the sheep were definitely on the move, making theirway across impossibly narrow ledges, leaping five feet at a time, higher and higher, away from danger. Below them they could see two men hacking up an old ram, obviously intent on taking the head home as a trophy.
    Bryn shivered. She didn’t know if it was from the wind, omnipresent at this elevation, or from fear. “Do you know them?” she whispered.
    “No,” he said softly. She studied Eli out of the corner of her eye. His face was red and his jaw tensed. He was obviously enraged at the poachers, this invasion of his valley. There was something primal and all masculine in his demeanor that made Bryn’s scalp tingle in anticipation. “You can’t go out there,” she said. “They’re armed, Eli.”
    “Let’s at least get a good description for the authorities; they look to me to be about in their midforties. Dark hair on both. By their duds, I’d guess they were Alaskans, not Outsiders. If one’s an outfitter, he could lose everything.”
    Bryn nodded. What did she know? She had her own Eddie Bauer shirt and pants on today, purchased just before she came. “If they’re from here, why poach? Why not wait until hunting season?”
    “Maybe one’s a hunter who wants a jump on the season and is willing to pay the right price. Or if they’re both just poaching, they’ll probably sell the head. The Chinese will pay a good price for the horns.