I first met Jessica when she picked me up at the airport in Idaho Falls. I was there to film bear hunting with Little Lost Outfitters, which she and her husband Corey own along with Corey’s parents, Gary and Pam. My wife, Ruth, took a beautiful cinnamon-colored bear with Corey the year before. Jessica was in Illinois with her family at the time but now I was to meet the young lady that Corey so often talked about.

“Are you Sam?” were the first words I heard as I entered the baggage claim area. One look told me that I was glad that I was. Corey had given me an excellent description! As per custom, my luggage would arrive on the next plane. Quite hungry after my long flight from Vermont, we decided to grab a quick meal.

I learned that in addition to Corey, Jessica loved Idaho, horses, hound dogs, and helping Corey with the outfitting. I could tell that she was one of those special people blessed with warmth and substance.

The drive to camp was about three hours. I was not much of a companion because I slept a good share of the way. We arrived at 3:15 A.M. I crawled into my sleeping bag, blue jeans and all. I heard people rising around 5:30 and slowly eased out of my cot.

Corey had booked Dave Punzel, a hunter and houndsman from Wisconsin. Dave had brought some of his own hounds and he loved the thrill of the chase like the rest of us gathered in camp. His goal was to shoot a nice black bear with a distinctive white patch on his chest. He did not have to wait long. The dogs struck early and hard. We had Dave’s bear on the ground by nine o’clock the first morning. It was a beautiful boar with the white chest markings Dave had hoped for. There were two prayers answered that morning, Dave’s for his bear and mine for a short run on the first day!

Jessica would be the next hunter for it was the last week of the season and Dave was the last hunter booked. It was June 11 and Corey awoke with a good feeling. We were going after a bear that had given him and his dogs a slip on two previous occasions. The bear was a runner, a big boar that would not tree. Corey had seen him, a dark cinnamon, but no one had been able to close the distance for a shot. Today would be different, or so he thought.

Upon reaching the big boar’s area, the dogs struck almost immediately. Corey had placed bait on a heavily used trail that led to a bubbling spring. Several bears called the huge unnamed basin home, as evidenced by the countless trails weaving in and out through the dark timber. We all wondered if the dogs had encountered the big cinnamon as we listened to the chorus of eager hounds race into another canyon.

The bear had grown crafty with age and he led the hounds over rock slides, trying to lose his tormentors. Jessica rushed with her 30-30 and I with my camera trying to keep up with Corey who was now convinced we were on the cinnamon. My lungs were heaving for more air and my heart beat wildly. I prayed for strength but feared I would not be there when it was time to shoot.

About that time the bear turned and was coming at us through some thick cover called mountain mahogany. The excitement was unreal as the hounds bore straight at us. Jessica held her rifle in the ready position and I was hoping to be able to react quickly enough to capture it on camera. “There he is,” Corey shouted as the bear crashed through the thicket at less than fifty yards! Jessica could see glimpses of the bear but there was no time to pull off a killing shot.

Up the side of the mountain we went, trying to keep close to the dogs in case a ground battle occurred. The big cinnamon was defiant and had no fear of the dogs. They had brought him to bay several times but now as the dogs wore down he just walked in front of them, daring and perhaps hoping that they would get too close. On two more occasions we could see him but could not settle in for a shot. It was the toughest bear race I have ever been on and it lasted several torturous hours. The dogs were beat up by the rocks, the mountains, the endless chase, and so were we. The cinnamon had won another round. Jessica thought it was “her luck.” She had heard stories of short runs and easy hunts like Dave’s but with “her luck,” it had not happened.

It would be two days before we would venture back after Jessica’s bear. We had run a big black in the meantime and Jessica had been riding her horse, trying to save her knee that was still hurting from clamoring around on the rock slides. Her goal was now the cinnamon. A black just would not do.

Dave, who had stayed on to run his hounds and enjoy the races, and I shared a tent. We had experienced similar events in life that filled us with a deep routed faith. We agreed to pray for a special blessing on the morning’s hunt.

Corey had us up early. There was a bear to chase, Jessica’s bear. It was a perfect morning to run and the dogs were anxious for another try. Our movements were less labored and we were filled with anticipation. We all hoped the cinnamon would still be in the area.

The plan was for Jessica and me to go into the basin where the bruin had led the hounds previously. We would try to cut him off and end his life without dogs or humans getting hurt. The instructions were given. “If he is running past you, lead and shoot at the base of his nose which will result in a neck or shoulder hit. If he is coming straight on, then take him in the head.

I was thinking: how is she going to hold together? I have been hunting since I was 10 and I would not want to be in her position. Life and limb for men and hounds depended on her ability to make a clean kill!

Jessica and I had climbed the trail to a position where we felt we could best intercept the bear. We were both winded and shaking from an overdose of adrenaline when Corey’s voice echoed over the radio. “The race is on and they are headed your way.” We heard the hounds before he could finish his words. I did not need to ask Jessica what she was thinking: the look on her face was self-explanatory. Both of us watched and waited for the bear to break out into our clearing. The tension was mounting as the chopping of the hounds got louder and louder. Jessica had the secondary safety off on the 30-30 and only had to pull the hammer back to fire. We were about to burst from the stress when the hounds turned and headed back toward Corey and Dave. We breathed for the first time in what seemed like several minutes when Corey’s voice again crackled over the radio. “The dogs have him treed up at the head of our canyon. Get over here as fast as you can!”

Corey and Dave had a much shorter route, and without hesitation, they headed for the bear. Jessica and I would need to hike from our canyon to theirs. We moved as quickly as possible but half expected the bear would jump the tree and meet us head-on. The old growth forest was covered with bear trails. No one knew yet if we had the cinnamon treed but we all felt it was.

Jessica and I could hear the hounds now and we pressed harder. Once more, Corey got back onto the radio. This time the news was good. He and Dave had gotten to the tree and it was the cinnamon. The bear was only about 12 feet off of the ground and was acting nervous and agitated. Corey and Dave quickly hid, hoping the bear would not jump the tree.

We had our orders. “Get here as fast as you can. Stay in the timber and heavy brush. Do not go out on the rock slide. If the bear sees you he will jump and run!” We removed our outer layers and I shared some Gatorade with Jessica. The hounds were doing their job. Their cries of excitement echoed off the canyon walls and for a moment had us going in the wrong direction. We soon found ourselves on the same trail that the hounds and bear had taken. If it were possible, I would say that they were going vertically skyward but there must have been a little angle because we were gaining ground. Adrenaline and prayer kept us charging onward.

The sound of the hounds was now deafening. We could see Corey and Dave huddled under a large rock outcropping. We had made it to within yards of the tree. While Jessica and I gained our composure, Corey began anew with explicit instructions. “We cannot tie the hounds. He will jump if he sees us. You will have to make a killing shot. Shoot him in the neck or head and I will back you with my .44 Mag. We will slide into place up around this rock. Be as quiet as possible and shoot him before he knows we are here.”

Jessica edged into position and Corey readied his handgun. Because I was filming, it was up to me to give the order to shoot. “Now, anytime,” I whispered. Jessica’s 30-30 roared and the bear crashed from the tree. The hounds were on him and bear and hounds went tumbling down the hill. Pandemonium was taking place but the cinnamon bear, Jessica’s bear, was down.

His color was a combination of cinnamon and chocolate, a beautiful specimen; truly a bear of a lifetime. We had pushed ourselves to the extreme and met the challenge of the mountains. At the end of our trek, we were blessed with a bear for Jessica. “Her luck” had finally changed. And yes, so had the cinnamon boar’s.