It slept twenty in single rooms, each with a private bath, in season, which was as large as he allowed his parties to get. In season was from late June, when the kings started hitting fresh water, until mid-October, when the hunting season ended. There was a miniseason around breakup, when the bears woke up and their coats, which had been growing all winter while they were hibernating, were at their best. He was thinking of starting a second miniseason in January, to take advantage of the prolific tendencies of the Kanuyaq caribou herd.

Letourneau Guides, Inc., offered the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of the kill, a trip into the primal past, where men could get back in touch with their inner hunter, who killed the night’s meal with his bare hands-and a.30-06-and bore it home in triumph, to be awarded the best seat next to the fire and the choicest bits of meat. Not to mention best pick of whatever young virgins happened to be handy.

Young virgins, John couldn’t provide, although there were occasionally women among his hunters. He couldn’t keep them out because he couldn’t necessarily tell from a letter who was a man and who was a woman, and as long as their Visa cards went through and their checks didn’t bounce, he didn’t care. He cut them no slack, however: They had to keep up, and no whining. If it came to that, he’d had a lot more whining from his male clients, not that he was ever going to say that out loud to anyone. Especially the ones who, because they’d outfitted themselves at REI before they came, figured they had the backwoods about whipped.

It was his pleasure, Kate thought perhaps his very great pleasure, to show them, at their expense, that they didn’t.