Wind River Lawman

by Lindsay McKenna

  He felt her sigh more than heard it. She pressed her face into his chest, as if to hide from what she was feeling.

  “I-I’m afraid to start talking about it, Dawson. If I do? I feel like I’ll let out a dammed-up bunch of emotions and I’ll break down. I can’t do that right now. Too many people are counting on me . . .”

  Tackling his frustration, he closed his eyes, savoring her body against his. “There are times in everyone’s life, Sarah, when they need to put themselves first, not last.” He could feel the curve of her breast against his chest despite the crutch. When she had leaned into him, silently asking for his support, he’d dropped his left hand from her arm and curved it, instead, around her sagging shoulders. Loosening his right arm around her waist, he lifted his hand, smoothing some of those ginger strands away from her face. Dawson wasn’t sure how she would receive that caress laced with care, not lust. Oh, he wanted her, but his smoothing those strands away from her pale cheek was about care. He felt her quiver. This time, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. He sensed she wanted to cry but did nothing but wait, being a witness to whatever she wanted, trying to read her need correctly. That was the trick: reading her accurately, not projecting his own selfish desires.

  The silence cloaked them. He could feel her need for him, feel her wanting to be closer to him. It washed across him like a lover’s caress. The sensation he absorbed from her was sweet, filled with promise and so much more. Sarah awkwardly pulled away, lifting her chin, looking up into his eyes. He saw so much anguish in their green depths. Drowning in her warm gaze, he saw her lips part.

  “I feel like my heart is going to explode with so many dark, scary emotions. I keep fighting them back, keeping them at bay. I feel if I let go, if I cry? It will destroy me. . . .”

  The last words were tremulous. But there was nothing weak about her. “You’ve just been shot, Sarah. You had to shoot a man who wanted to kill you. You could have died. That’s two strikes against you that you’ve still got to move through, to deal with, to cry about. I can’t tell you how many times, after a battle when we lost someone, that we all cried about it. Maybe it wasn’t in front of one another, but sometimes it was. Tears, I found out a long time ago, are healing.” He caressed her cheek. “I’ve never seen a man or woman cry that it didn’t help them, and it didn’t make them lose control. It will be the same with you when you’re ready to release it.” He removed his hand. If he was reading her right, Sarah was asking for simple human care. To feel safe enough to unload how she was really feeling, no longer willing to hide from him. A sliver of him felt triumph coupled with an ecstasy he’d never experienced before. She wasn’t a weak woman in any way.

  “D-did you feel like you’d tear apart if you cried, Dawson?”

  He lifted his chin and looked above her head for a moment, then settled his gaze back on hers. “I didn’t really have a choice. I felt if I didn’t let go, my chest was going to explode and I’d die.”

  “It was that intense?”

  Seeing her confusion, Dawson wondered how often Sarah had cried in her life. He assumed because she was a woman, she’d cried often, as he’d seen others do. And that was probably a huge miscalculation on his part. Instantly, he wondered what trauma or experience in her life had shut her down. It was human to cry, but he also knew from the traumatized Afghan children and adults in their war-torn country, they didn’t cry either. They were beyond tears, beyond feeling anything. What had pushed Sarah into that corner of emotional numbness? He wanted to ask but knew it wasn’t the right time. Instead, he said, “Very intense. I didn’t have a choice. I started crying until my throat hurt, my heart ached and I ran out of tears. There wasn’t a choice for me.”

  “I just feel . . . God . . . so overwhelmed. . . .”

  “Yeah,” he murmured sympathetically, “anyone would. You’re strong, Sarah, but sometimes, like now? I want you to lean on me. I’ll hold you if you want. Do you feel a little bit better with some comfort?” He saw her lips twist a little and her gaze skitter away from his for a moment; then she met his gaze once more.

  “It’s . . . wonderful. . . .”

  “For me, too,” he admitted thickly, reining in his emotions. Sarah was deluged, suffocating beneath the need to cry and get so much dark hurt out of her system. Her eyes flared with some emotion, but he couldn’t translate it. He felt her response but was afraid to misinterpret it. To him, it felt like a dizzying joy, a sense of camaraderie, of coming together on equal footing. With mutual trust. And, most of all, he felt her need for him at that very moment. Too much was going on for him to sort it all out, though. That meant a lot of caution on his part, and not jumping to conclusions. “I know at some point, Sarah, this whole experience will grab you and not let you go. And when that happens? I hope you’ll come to me. I’ll hold you and let you cry. I’ll understand, and that’s as good as it gets. All right?”

  She shifted away from him, leaning on her crutches, her weight on her right leg. “I’m hoping I can avoid it, Dawson.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You won’t.”

  “I saw men I worked with in Afghanistan wounded.”

  “But did you lose anyone you had a friendship with? Did you see them shot and die in front of you?”

  “N-no. I never wanted to either.”

  “Neither did I, but it happens.” He touched her right elbow. “How’s that left leg feeling? You’ve been standing for quite a while.” Dawson knew he had to get to safer ground for her sake.

  “It’s okay, a little achy, but I’m putting a little weight on it.”

  “Still want to tour the palace?” he teased. Instantly, he saw her respond in a positive way. The darkness haunting her eyes, the grimness of her expression, began to dissolve.

  “Will you shadow me? The nurse always had a strap she put around my waist as I moved around on my crutches, in case I fell or got dizzy.”

  “I’ll shadow you. I’ll put my hand near your waist and be on your left and slightly behind you. Okay?” Dawson wasn’t assuming anything with Sarah. She would let him know what she needed from him as she hobbled around.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft.

  He smiled a little, opening the door for her and then coming to her side. “Come on, you need to give that leg of yours some exercise. The more you put weight on it, use it even a little, the more blood and circulation will come to that area. That means faster healing.”

  “Oh, to have it heal overnight,” she said, moving her crutches forward.

  “It won’t happen that fast, but your doctor wanted you up every waking hour. How about we check out the bathroom across the hall first? If you still feel frisky after that, we’ll wander down the hall to the living room and kitchen.”

  “That’s a plan, Callahan. Let’s go.”

  He smiled down at her, watching the way her hair glinted with reddish highlights, the thick strands swinging back and forth as she confidently took to her crutches and left the bedroom. She had such courage and fortitude. It was as if their moments of intimacy had been healing for her, opening her up, too, and giving her permission to be human. Sooner or later, Dawson knew it would happen. And when it did? It would be a thunderstorm of tears, but he was the right man to be there to help her work through it.

  * * *

  Sarah didn’t want to leave Dawson’s arm around her, wanted to continue leaning against his stalwart body, which comforted her. If she hadn’t been in such a highly agitated state, she would have deferred to being a woman, and he was an incredibly desirable man. If only things were different. She felt like a layer cake, and those layers were toxic, him being the only positive one among the angst she carried within her.

  The bathroom was large, with pale green tiles on the floor, a shower on one side and a large white tub on the other. They were functional, not designer quality, which was fine with her. She found the light blue towels nubby, more male than female oriented, when she ran her hand down one side of one. Reminding herself that
this was more a work cabin than a touristy type, the towels should reflect that.

  “What do you think?” Dawson asked, poking his head in the open doorway as she looked slowly around the huge room.

  “That tub looks so inviting,” she said.

  “Are you a tub gal, not a shower type?” he teased.

  She smiled faintly. “Getting in a hot tub of water up to my neck is one of the things I look forward to on some days.”

  “I noticed at your home you had an enclosed hot tub in the back. You probably use it often.”

  “Very often,” she agreed, swinging out toward the door where he stood. “I feel okay. I’d like to explore the rest of this place.”

  Standing out of her way, he saw a bit of a flush to her cheeks. It was as if those moments when they had stood together had somehow given her a healing. Her green eyes no longer looked dark and filled with worry. Dawson knew from his broken marriage, the love he’d felt for Lucia always made him feel better. It was no different now with Sarah, only far more intense. Whether Sarah felt like he did toward her didn’t matter. He had witnessed their intimacy, as chaste as it was, and had, in some good way, helped her. He saw it in her eyes, in her relaxed expression and the energy she seemed to have derived from the comfort he’d given her.

  Following her down the highly polished pine hall, he saw her stop at the end and absorb the tall ceiling, the huge logs that held everything in place above them. She studied it for a long minute, missing nothing. Just as they would never completely leave being Marines, or their military ways, that moment out of time they’d just shared wouldn’t be forgotten by her either. Nothing he could prove, but he knew it as if it were written on his soul.

  “This is a beautiful cabin,” she said, turning, looking up at him as he joined her.

  “If you like wood and lots of logs, this is the place for you,” he said.

  “It’s huge. A lot larger than I realized.” She looked at the two comfortable sofas, separated by a long, pine coffee table. There were plenty of wood chairs around a long, oval pine kitchen table, enough to seat at least a dozen people if need be. She liked the overstuffed chairs, the Victorian flowers in the fabric. “I think a woman chose the furniture,” she said, sliding him a glance. “What do you think?”

  He placed his hands on his hips, surveying the room. “I think so. Men are more into steel, glass and concrete. The living room looks like a nice nest you’d want to sit down in and get comfy.”

  “I’ll be glad when I can sit in one of those chairs.”

  “Well, you keep up this exercising, Sarah, and you’ll be doing it real soon.”

  “I’m looking at the L-shaped bank of windows over the kitchen area,” she said, nodding toward it. “My law-enforcement gaze.”

  “There aren’t any curtains you can pull closed at night. Someone, the Elsons maybe, could look in and see where we’re sitting.”

  “We need to do something about that.”

  “We’re on the same wavelength. I was thinking that tomorrow I’ll go visit Patty Davidson’s Sewing and Quilt Center in Wind River. I made a call to her earlier about making us some opaque curtains. I gave her the measurements and she said she’d take care of it. She got her quilting club together and they’re going to not only make curtains for each window but go over to the hardware store to get the rods and everything else so I can put them up.”

  “Good thinking,” she praised. “You work fast,” and she smiled a little. And then added, “You’re really amazing, Dawson.”

  “Nah,” he rumbled. “It’s just my recon assessment of this cabin that told me those curtains needed to be made and mounted so we’d have privacy here.”

  “Still,” she insisted, “that was a great call.” She looked around. “There are two entrance/exit points?”

  “Yes,” and he gestured to the large wooden front door, “there, and down the end of the hall is a door that leads to a small back porch.”

  “I couldn’t see much coming in on the ambulance. How hidden is this cabin?”

  “Very well hidden. You’d have to come up the dirt curve in our driveway to see it. Otherwise, we’re surrounded by thick forest on all sides. Now, there’s a clearing cut around the cabin because of wildfire issues, but even then, you’d either have to walk through a pretty thick stand of forest or walk up around that curve to see it.”

  “That’s good.” She noticed King had come out when she left the bedroom, sat outside the bathroom door and now joined them, watching them, always alert. “Where’s King going to be at night?”

  “Jasmine said to let him roam the cabin at night. That way he can see both entrance/exit points, hear anyone coming from any direction and give us a bark of warning.” He pointed down the hall to his bedroom, which was at the other end, near the second exit. “I’m leaving my door open in case he barks. I’m a light sleeper any way; one bark out of King will shoot me out of bed.”

  “And our weapons?”

  “Your pistol is in the bed-stand drawer nearest to where you’re sleeping. I’ve loaded it, placed a bullet in the chamber and the safety is on. I’ve done the same with my pistol. I’ve also got an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle in my room. You don’t. If King barks, I’ll be the one doing the hunting with him at my side. I’ll want you to stay in your bedroom.”

  “I hate that,” Sarah muttered. “I’d much rather be mobile and able to scout the area with the two of you.”

  He reached over, patting her shoulder lightly. “That day’s about five weeks away.”

  Making an unhappy sound, she continued toward the L-shaped kitchen. Outside, the sun was shining, the green of the Douglas fir reminding her of lace against the pale blue sky. How she wished she could go outside.

  “What’s the chance of me going out to get some fresh air?”

  “Not today,” Dawson said. He reached down, patting King’s black head and ears. “As soon as you’re done with your exercise and have gone back to your room to lay down, he and I are going to fully recon the area.”

  Pouting, Sarah said, “I hate this. I yearn for fresh air, and to go hiking, Callahan. I’ve never been good at staying indoors for very long.”

  He smiled and touched a strand of hair dipping over her left eye. “You have the notorious tumbleweed gene.”

  His touch, while fleeting, was exactly what she needed to quell her frustration over her situation. How did he know that? Her scalp tingled where he’d moved that ginger hair aside. Was he that in tune with her? Sarah thought so, appreciating him on a whole new level. “Tumbleweed gene,” she said defiantly, smiling because he entertained her in a gentle, creative way. Who would have thought of that?

  Shrugging, Dawson managed to grin as he followed her into the large, roomy kitchen. “I have the same one, so don’t feel so bad.”

  She looked at the concrete counter, a light gray. The backsplash had a feminine touch once again, with blue, green, yellow and clear glass, taking away from the ugly concrete. The cabin, she was sure, had been built on a tight budget. Laying concrete as a counter was a lot cheaper than anything else.

  “Did you tell Patty about the fabric you wanted for the curtains?” she wondered.

  Grimacing, Dawson pointed to the backsplash. “I tried to give her a visual on the place. I told her there were eighteenth-century flowers in the fabric of the living room furniture. She asked me what colors in the kitchen. I don’t know if she can match it exactly, but she’ll try. I thought flowers might be a nice touch in here if she can find a similar fabric to make the curtains from. Do you think I gave her bum steer?”

  “I think your description was perfect. Flowers should follow through a large room like this into the living room. If you have it in one section? It should be the same in the other one.” She smiled up at him. “You’re pretty good at this. Maybe you got the hausfrau gene.”

  He laughed deeply. “You catch on fast. Good move. My recon side is coming out. You don’t miss any details where I come from. It can someday save y
our life.”

  “When were you over in the Sandbox?” She moved to the stove, glad to see it was gas. Everything in the kitchen was sparkling clean. The cabinets were made of pine, but someone, she guessed a woman, had had a say in them. There was green, yellow and blue opaque stained glass in each door, the same colors as the backsplash, making it beautiful to look at. When she got out of this mess, she was going to talk to the forest supervisor to find out who’d designed things It had to be a woman.

  “I joined the Corps at eighteen. Because of my tracking and hunting skills, I went from boot camp directly into recons, where I stayed for the next four years.”

  “Were you ever at Bagram?”

  “Just to fly in and out on deployments. We were shipped around to different firebases in northern and eastern Afghanistan, with a lot of action on the Pakistan border. What about you?”

  “I was deployed to Bagram on all my tours. Part of law enforcement. When you have twenty-thousand-plus people on one base, there’s plenty to do law-wise. I never got out to any firebases.”

  He leaned against the counter, watching her touch the stove and then reach up, running her fingertips along the emerald-green stained glass in one cabinet. “We would never have met,” he said.

  “Might have been interesting if we had,” Sarah admitted, turning, studying him. She saw interest in his eyes, felt him sensitive to her plight. Was he as drawn to her as she was to him? She could still remember the scent of him, and it stirred her physically, reminding her it had been a long time since she’d desired a man.

  “Think so?” he teased.

  “We seem to have a lot of things in common.” Moving on her crutches, she went past him and carefully began to tackle the two wooden stairs down to the living room. She was slow on purpose and felt Dawson standing nearby in case she fell or slipped a crutch. He meant safety for her, and she hungrily absorbed his nearness, knowing he would catch her should she not make it down the two steps under her own power. At one point she felt the heat of his hand hovering near the small of her back in case he had to save her.