by Pamela Clare
“I care about you, too, Win.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
Then the truth hit him with the force of a body blow.
He didn’t just care about her.
He loved her.
A part of him tried to object. He’d known Win for only a week and a day. He couldn’t love her. He was just on the rebound and strung out on great sex.
That’s bullshit, and you know it.
Truth was truth.
He loved her. She was like the missing part of him, the soul mate he’d never known he was lacking and had never expected to find. And he had to leave her.
Not yet.
“We’ll get you to the hospital, and they’ll do all they can to save your leg. I’ll be right there. Henriksen will be back soon. Help is on the way.”
God, he hoped he was right.
But Winona was unconscious again.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. This wait was unbearable.
The wolf whined, came closer, still on its belly.
“I’m watching you.” Jason prepared another syringe of ketamine.
The wolf’s ears went up. It jumped to its feet, growled deep in its throat.
Jason drew his Glock. “Don’t do this, little brother.”
Rather than attacking, the wolf turned to flee.
“Shit.” Jason shoved his Glock back into its holster, grabbed the tranquilizer gun, and raised it, sighting on the wolf, which broke into a run. “Oh, no, you don’t. Winona came here for your sake.”
Jason pulled the trigger, hit the wolf in its hindquarters.
It yelped, dropped to the snow, nipping at the dart.
And then, in the distance, Jason heard it—the whirring of a helicopter.
A cacophony of voices crashed in on Winona, but the snatches of conversation made no sense, the words just beyond her comprehension.
“Let’s get a second IV going… Antibiotics … Tetanus at the hospital.”
“… O positive.”
“How long has that tourniquet been on her?”
“… a fever … ”
“When she’s safely on the helicopter, we’ll deal with the wolf.”
“Watch for traps!”
Was that Eric Hawke? Austin? Had the Team come for her?
“Someone bring that trap. Get it the hell off the mountain.”
Winona fought to open her eyes. “Jason?”
“He’s right here, little sister. So am I.” That was Chaska.
Someone took her hand.
“We’re moving you to the gurney now, okay, Win?” Chaska again.
“One, two, three.”
Gentle hands lifted her, pain making her moan.
“What has she had for pain?”
She tried to speak, but Jason answered. “I’ve given her three injections of ketamine—seventy-five mgs each time. She’s due for another.”
“Let’s give her seventy-five more and one mg of midazolam.”
A prick.
And she was floating.
Jason helped Chaska, Eric Hawke, Austin Taylor, Jesse Moretti, and Conrad Harrison carry an unconscious Winona to where the helicopter sat, rotors running, the words Life Flight painted in white against red. The two paramedics, who were with Life Flight and not the Team, walked alongside them with their gear.
Jason and the other men ducked down and lifted the gurney with its precious cargo into the bird. Then Chaska climbed in and sat beside her, while the others turned back to deal with the tranquilized wolf under Henriksen’s direction. They weren’t flying down in the chopper.
Jason stood there for a moment, uncertain where he belonged. He wasn’t family. No one knew about his relationship with Winona. On paper, he was nothing but an acquaintance.
Fuck that.
He made a split-second decision and followed his heart, jumping into the helicopter, buckling in, and grabbing a set of headphones.
“Are you family?” one paramedic asked.
Chaska answered for him, his gaze locked with Jason’s. “Yes.”
The helicopter lifted off, nosed into the wind, rotor wash blowing snow.
The paramedics worked on Winona, removing the makeshift splint, checking her vitals, giving her blood and oxygen, and injecting other medications into her IV.
He glanced down, saw the Cimarron, and realized they were flying her away from the mountains. “You’re not taking her to Scarlet Springs?”
Chaska shook his head. “We’re going to a level-one trauma center in Denver.”
“Jason?” Winona’s eyes fluttered open, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask.
But Jason was buckled in. “I’m here, Win.”
He wasn’t sure she could hear him.
The flight lasted twenty minutes, giving them a precious ten minutes until they reached the two-hour mark. The helicopter landed on the roof of the facility, medical staff waiting to take Winona inside. They offloaded the gurney with military efficiency, and Jason followed Chaska as they rushed inside.
A nurse met them with a clipboard and a flurry of questions, some of which Chaska answered. The others were left to Jason—mostly details about what had happened, what time he’d applied the tourniquet, how much pain medicine he’d given her, and other measures he’d taken. Then he found himself sitting in a surgery waiting area with Chaska.
Chaska rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got Win’s blood on your hands.”
Jason glanced down. Winona’s blood was on his jeans, too, and his parka. “I should wash up.”
When Jason returned, Chaska was holding two cups of coffee.
“I thought you might need this. Thanks for saving Winona’s life.”
Jason took the cup, regret assailing him. If he’d seen the trap just a moment sooner… “I didn’t do anything.”
“If you’d done nothing, she’d be dead. You put on that tourniquet, splinted her leg, gave her pain meds, started an IV, kept her warm, held her hand.”
“I saw the trap just before she stepped on it. I tried to warn her, but it was too late. She was just out of reach.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of those steel jaws clamping shut—and the memory of her screams.
“You can’t blame yourself for that. That’s on the bastard who put it there.”
“Yeah.”
They sat side by side, Jason looking every few minutes at the board, watching Winona’s patient number, following her progress. She was in surgery now.
He closed his eyes, sent up a silent prayer.
Creator, save her life and her leg. She did nothing but try to help one of your creatures. Please be with her through the surgery. Save her leg. Amen.
It was more fearful gibbering than a prayer.
Then Chaska came out with it. “What does my sister mean to you?”
How could Jason answer that? “I care about her—more than I’ve ever cared about any woman.”
Jason’s answer made Chaska frown. “I heard you’re about to get married.”
Shit.
After everything that had happened today, Jason couldn’t help but laugh, understanding now why Chaska had seemed so angry at the apartment. “I broke up with my fiancée when the DEA busted her for drug trafficking six months ago. She’s in prison and out of my life.”
“Oh. Shit.” Chaska let out a breath. “I’m sorry—but I’m relieved to hear that.”
All things considered, Jason was impressed with the man’s restraint. He’d thought Jason was attached—and shagging his sister.
Chaska took a sip of coffee and seemed to consider his next words. “If you care about her so much, what’s your plan?”
“I’ll stay here and help her however I can until I have to go back to Sells.” He could see Chaska wasn’t going to be satisfied with anything less than the whole truth. “I’m on unpaid administrative leave. I have a disciplinary hearing next month.”
He gave Chaska the short version of the story, telling him more than he probably s
hould about the shooting.
“I’d have shot the son of a bitch, too. Does Winona know?”
“She does. She also knows that I won’t leave the reservation—and why.”
For a moment, a heavy silence stretched between them.
Then Chaska’s gaze locked with Jason’s. “My sister is a true human being. She has a pure heart. She’s generous to everyone—two-legged, four-legged, winged. She doesn’t know how to do anything but love. I cherish her more than my own life. I’m asking you as her brother, as someone who loves her—please don’t hurt her.”
One hour went by. Then two.
Winona’s status on the board still hadn’t changed.
In surgery.
Then Deputy Marcs walked up to them, distress on her face. “Chaska. Jason. I am so sorry about this. Winona is the last person… Damn.”
She blinked tears from her eyes.
Chaska acknowledged her concern with a nod. “Thanks.”
“I hate to bother you, Jason, but I need a statement. I’ve already spoken to Ranger Henriksen. We can go to the cafeteria so that we don’t trouble Chaska or—”
“No.” Chaska shook his head. “I want to hear it.”
Jason recounted the entire story for Deputy Marcs from their decision to pursue the wolf to the moment the helicopter arrived. The terrible irony of what had happened wasn’t lost on him. “Winona wanted to find the wolf before it was caught in a leg trap. She was afraid it might be injured. And because of that…”
“It’s a damned tragedy.” Deputy Marcs put her pen and notepad away. “Winona is one of the kindest people I know. Any word?”
Chaska looked up at the board again. “Not yet.”
“I’m supposed to tell you, Chaska, that Joe and Rain are taking dinner to your place tonight so that you don’t have to worry about your family. I think Megs and Ahearn are bringing your vehicle down so you can drive back to Scarlet when you’re ready.”
Chaska didn’t seem surprised by any of this. “Thanks for letting me know.”
But Jason was impressed. The people of Scarlet really did take care of their own.
“Also, the Forest Service is closing the area around the camp until they’ve had time to take down any traplines. I’ve asked the US Marshal Service to speak with the prisoner to get the locations of his traps. Hopefully, the bastard will cooperate. I’ve got to go and get this report filed. Please know I’m keeping Winona in my prayers.”
Chaska shook her hand. “I appreciate all you’ve done. I know Winona does, too.”
Jason held out his hand as well. “Thank you.”
Five minutes after Deputy Marcs had left, a group of deputy US marshals—DUSMs—walked down the hallway, McBride among them.
He saw them, stopped, told the others to go on ahead. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me it was Winona.”
Jason and Chaska nodded.
“Son of a bitch.” McBride sat, rubbed his face with his hands. “What happened? I got a call from the Forest County sheriff saying a woman stepped in a trap set by our prisoner and asking me to find out how many more traps he’s got out there.”
Once again, Jason told the story. Somehow, the weight of it got heavier each time. Seeing the chain. Shouting to warn her. The snap of steel jaws. Her screams.
McBride looked like he wanted to punch someone by the time Jason had finished. “I’m going to get the information from Graham about the rest of the traps. I’m also going to ask for an additional charge of assault. He needs to be held accountable.”
Jason stared at him. “That’s why you’re here. He’s here—in this hospital.”
Both he and Chaska stood.
McBride got to his feet as well. “Oh, no. I can’t let the two of you into his room.”
Jason pushed—hard. “I won’t touch him. I just want to give him a piece of my mind before you send him back to Alabama.”
But Chaska was more to the point. “I want to look the bastard who almost killed my sister in the eyes.”
McBride’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and Jason knew he was thinking it through. When he looked up, his jaw was set. “If I take you with me, I need your word you won’t lay hands on him. If you do, it’s my ass. Understand?”
Jason didn’t need the explanation. He knew how things worked. “Got it.”
“I understand.”
They walked with McBride to the prisoner’s room, McBride sharing some of what he knew along the way. “Graham told us he was breeding wolfdogs as a source of income. He hoped to sell them for dog fights and use the cash for ammo, tools, and other supplies he couldn’t get from the land or steal.”
Jason hadn’t thought he could possibly hate Graham more, but that did it. “What a piece of shit.”
“He belongs in a cage, not the wolves,” Chaska muttered.
They came to a door where two DUSMs stood guard, the rest of McBride’s crew milling about, waiting for their boss.
One of the DUSMs looked from Chaska to Jason. “Who are they?”
McBride answered the question truthfully without explaining their connection to this case. “Jason Chiago is with the Shadow Wolves, and Chaska Belcourt did some tracking for us on a fugitive case. They need to talk with the prisoner.”
Eyebrows rose. Heads nodded.
“Shadow Wolves. Cool.”
McBride opened the door, followed Jason and Chaska inside.
Thomas Paul Graham lay on his back, a morphine pump attached to an IV in one arm, a special pillow beneath his hips. He grinned when he saw them.
Then he recognized Jason, and his grin vanished. “Now, look, I wasn’t tryin’ to shoot you in the face. I was tryin’ to scare you off.”
McBride did the talking. “You’re facing charges for firing on a federal agent—and a few other felonies besides. Poaching. Use of illegal traps. And now assault with a deadly weapon. A woman stepped into one of your old-time bear traps this afternoon and might lose her leg. We want the location of every trap and snare you’ve placed on Forest Service land—now.”
“Not ’til you tell me what you did with my wolves.”
“They’re fine—all six of them. The Forest Service placed the female with her pups in a sanctuary. The male will join them soon.”
“I want proof.”
Did this son of a bitch think he was in charge?
Jason walked to the head of the bed, bent down until his face was almost touching Graham’s, and let the full force of his rage show. “The woman who was injured means a lot to me. Give the nice marshal the information that he needs, or there won’t be a prison cell on earth that can keep you safe from me.”
McBride cleared his throat. “Chiago.”
Graham’s face paled, and he broke. “They’re all in a line up to the ridge heading west. There should be four more.”
Then Chaska stepped forward, contempt on his face. “The woman you hurt is my sister. Do you know what we Lakota used to do to our enemies?”
He let the question hang in the air for a moment, let Graham squirm.
“We used to ride up and touch them to show our bravery. But you’re pathetic. There’s no honor in counting coup on a sick son of a dog like you.”
Then he turned and walked away, Jason following him out of the room.
Chapter 21
Jason and Chaska waited, the minutes like hours. Megs and Ahearn came with sandwiches and the keys to Chaska’s truck.
Megs gave them an update. “Everyone in town is praying for her. Joe has already put a donation jar on the bar at Knockers to help cover her medical expenses. We got the wolf safely down. Dr. Keene examined it, fed it, and it’s now safely in Shota’s pen. The sanctuary folks are coming to get him tomorrow. I know Win will ask.”
Chaska hugged Megs. “Thank you.”
Megs stepped back, wiped her eyes. “We all love Win. Damned onions.”
Finally, four hours and twenty-two minutes after Winona went into surgery, the screen said she had been moved into recove
ry.
Several minutes later, the surgeon walked into the waiting area, his gaze moving over the room, settling on Jason and Chaska. “Belcourt family?”
As they were the only brown-skinned people present, it was a good guess.
Jason and Chaska stood.
He motioned them toward a private conference room. “Let’s talk in here.”
Jason’s stomach sank. He followed Chaska into the small room, closed the door behind them, and sat at the small table.
Chaska spoke first. “How is my sister?”
The doctor leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s groggy from the anesthesia. We’ve given her a nerve block, so she’s not in pain. Whoever put that tourniquet on her leg saved her life. One of the teeth on that trap severed her fibular artery. She would have bled out in five minutes. As it was, we had to give her two units of blood.”
Jason had to ask. “Is she going to keep her leg?”
“I think so.”
But Jason heard only the doubt. “There’s still a chance she’ll lose it?”
The doctor pulled out a chair and sat. “The break itself was not the worst I’ve seen. I was able to realign the bones and fix them into place with hardware. There was some tissue damage from the tourniquet, of course, but her blood flow is restored. Our two biggest concerns over the next several weeks are blood clots and infection.”
This was all good news.
The surgeon went on. “If she ends up with a serious infection, she could still lose her leg. We’ve got her on strong IV antibiotics, and we’re giving her anti-clotting drugs. I also sprinkled vancomycin powder in the surgical site and around the bone and gave her a tetanus shot. We’ll monitor her closely over the next week. There’s a very good chance that she’ll heal and walk normally. It’s the best possible news you could expect at this point after an injury like that.”
Jason thought he might actually fucking cry, his throat too tight to talk.
“Thank you for all you did to help her.” Chaska shook the surgeon’s hand. “When can we see her?”
The surgeon stood. “When she’s out of recovery, I’ll have a nurse come get you.”
Jason swallowed, got to his feet, shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you. Is there a chapel in the hospital?”