Wind River Lawman

by Lindsay McKenna

  Nothing so far.

  “I’m treed,” Dawson said into her earpiece.

  Her heart leaped at the husky sound of his low voice. Despite the danger, just having him nearby fed her a sense of protection. “Copy that.”

  “Our rescue team has arrived. They’re suiting up and preparing to drive the dirt road to the cabin. They’re going to be cautious about coming in.”

  Relief poured through her. “Thank God.”

  “I ran my infrared scope around the area and found nothing. Maybe if we get lucky, they won’t locate our trail at all.”

  “Don’t count on it. Elson is a consummate hunter.”

  “You doing okay, Sarah?”

  “I’m settled in and fine. You?”

  “Same. If you see something? Click the radio once. That will alert me Elson is coming from your direction. If I see them first? I’ll click once and you can assume he’s either coming up the slope near me or he’s to the east of where I’m located.”

  “Copy.” How much more she wanted to say! Swallowing, she said nothing. Radio speak was kept to a bare minimum in circumstances like this. “Is King safe?”

  “Roger that. I just hope he remembers the Stay command. If there’s gunfire, I don’t know what he’ll do without a handler present.”

  “I worry about that, too.”

  “Best we can do.”

  “Copy that.”

  “No more talk. We’re switching to clicks.”

  “Roger. Out.” Sarah released the tab and, without making a sound, lifted her M4, starting to the west of her position and slowly scanning. She wasn’t expecting Elson to come up the other side of this nine-thousand-foot ridge, the wind howling over the spine of it. If he were the hunter she knew him to be, sooner or later he’d find their tracks. And then the hunt would be on.

  * * *

  The snap of a branch being cracked instantly alerted Dawson. He sat up, away from his comfortable trunk, head tilted, listening hard. Someone had stepped on a branch south of his grove. His heart remained a slow pound as he slowly lifted the M4 and switched on the infrared scope. He heard nothing else but panned the area in a hundred-and-eighty-degree sweep.

  Movement!

  Dawson saw a bright red blob outline of a human being slipping between two trees at two hundred yards from where he sat. And then another, and another. He counted eight men in all. Elson hadn’t left a rear guard. That was good news for the sheriff’s team coming up that road. He quickly radioed Cade and signed off. Watching the enemy advance, he clicked the radio once, alerting Sarah. Then, he turned the frequency to the team, giving them the approximate GPS of Elson’s gang surging toward them. A returning click meant Cade had received his message. Urgency thrummed through him. He needed the sheriff’s team up on this slope pronto. There was no way to win this firefight with two against eight. It would be different if he had a sniper position without a lot of fanlike fir branches making a bead hard to take out the enemy. The gusts of wind kept moving the fir branches, making it impossible for him to draw a steady bead.

  It was as if he was back in Afghanistan, hunting Taliban at night, alone and surviving with his years of experience and his sniper rifle. It was biting cold, the wind whipping across the backbone of the ridge. It made hearing hard. Keeping a scope on them, he saw a big man at the lead of the straggling group of men. That had to be Hiram Elson. They were now coming up the trail he’d backtracked on. Good!

  Dawson needed luck to break in their direction. More than anything else, he wanted the enemy to come to him, not blunder into where Sarah was hidden. Worry ate at him. Had the bleeding stopped on her thigh? His heart contracted. He loved her. He wanted to pursue what they had. Dammit, he wanted a life with her. But would fate give it to them? Lips thinning, he kept his scope trained on the group. He had deliberately created a path for them to follow that would lead them right past his hiding place. From where he sat, he had an angle to shoot cleanly and reach his target, if it came to that.

  The infrared scope didn’t give distinct facial features. As they drew within fifty yards of his position, Dawson set the M4 aside and pulled up his NVGs. He wanted to make damn sure he identified Elson, that it wasn’t some group of innocent hikers. Now he could see each man wore a Kevlar vest, carried an AK-47 and a cartridge vest jammed with extra clips. He distinctly saw Elson in the lead. His face was sweaty, he looked angry and there was no doubt he wanted to find and kill them. Even from this distance, the energy surrounding Elson was like a slap in his face. He was relieved he’d scouted this area earlier and found Sarah a much safer place to hide.

  Elson was the first to pass beneath the branches of his hide. The men were obviously not military trained. As they straggled along in a tight group, they made for easy shooting. Dawson didn’t want to have to kill anyone, but he knew from the looks of them, the weapons they carried, that he’d have one chance to get them and that was all. These were hardened drug soldiers. They took no prisoners.

  The second man passed beneath him.

  Then the third, fourth and fifth.

  Dawson waited patiently. He had curved the path slightly upward between the two trees, knowing Sarah would have a shot at them, too.

  Suddenly, he heard noise below him. Was it the sheriff ’s party? What the hell!

  Elson spun around, jerking to a halt.

  Cursing to himself, Dawson saw the other men run up and encircle their leader. They were all looking down the slope, readying their weapons. His finger brushed the trigger, but he waited. What was Elson going to do? Who had caused the commotion below him? He couldn’t see if it was the team because they were too far away and too many trees stood between them.

  And then . . . a bark.

  Oh, hell; it was King. The dog must have run down toward the advancing sheriff ’s team.

  His finger became firmer on the trigger, sighting on Elson. All the men were frozen, their attention downslope. Had King smelled the sheriff’s men? Maybe his handler was with them? Dawson didn’t know. But at least the dog would be safer with them than up here with him and Sarah. He’d worried that the Belgian Malinois might take things into his own paws and charged into Elson’s group. They’d kill King without a second thought.

  The enemy huddled below where he sat, at least twenty feet away. Unable to hear them, he knew Sarah had sighted them and was waiting, too.

  Suddenly, a man’s voice boomed out over a megaphone: “Elson! Freeze! You’re surrounded! Drop your weapons now!”

  Dawson recognized Cade’s voice. Mystified, he heard the voice drifting from the other side of the ridge. Had part of the team come around the area and climbed up the backside of the slope? His mind whirled. They could have divided the group, half coming up this side of the ridge, the other half from the back of it. It was a genius plan. Another pincers movement.

  Elson jerked around. The men jumped as the megaphone boomed again. It was darker than hell itself, but everyone had NVGs on.

  Dawson heard Elson curse loudly and yell at his men to return fire.

  Eight AK-47s fired toward the ridgeline.

  Squeezing the trigger, Dawson sighted on Elson. He aimed for his knee and caressed the trigger. The M4 jerked hard against his shoulder.

  Elson screamed, the AK-47 flying out of his hands as he landed hard on the ground, rolling several feet.

  A roar of weapons discharging from several directions sounded around the area, echoing several times, adding to the ear-battering noise. Dawson knew the sheriff’s team had trapped Elson’s gang. And because Cade knew where he and Sarah were, he’d planned the takedown perfectly.

  More drug soldiers fell. The chut-chut-chut of the throaty AK-47s continued.

  The smell of gunfire burned Dawson’s nostrils as he took down two more soldiers, wounding them.

  In less than a minute, Elson’s team had been decimated. Two appeared dead to Dawson, but the others were writhing on the ground. He grinned darkly. Sarah had joined the fray as well. Between them, they’d
taken down five of the eight tangos. Keeping his M4 sighted on the druggies, he wanted to make sure none of them tried to go for their AK-47s.

  “Stay down,” the megaphone blared. “Do not try to pick up your weapon. If you do, you will die.”

  Bright lights suddenly flashed on, blinding the group from three different directions. The light was so intense, many of the men who were down covered their eyes. Dawson pulled his NVGs off, seeing the scene through the glare of the lamps carried by a number of deputies. He was proud of all the men and women below him who had planned this mission. It had been brilliantly executed. He saw King with his dog handler, Jasmine Delano, leashed and tense, ready to attack if given the signal. He was glad the dog was back with her; that took a load off his mind.

  Cade appeared below his tree, dropping the megaphone for his pistol. The SWAT team from Teton County surrounded the moaning, groaning men writhing in excruciating pain, unable to fight, much less get up and run. He waited and watched as Cade, who was the commander of the raid, had his men disarm each of the druggies, then cuff them. Pistols were thrown to one area, AK-47s to another. All the while, Elson was screaming and yelling obscenities.

  To his surprise, he saw Sarah appear at the edge of where the SWAT team had encircled Elson’s men. He saw the grim look in her eyes as she walked with a confidence he’d seen before she’d been wounded. On her left shoulder was slung the M4. Her NVGs were hanging around her neck. The SWAT team leader went to her and shook her hand, then had a short conversation with her. Dawson didn’t know what was said, but he led Sarah into the circle. She came to a halt in front of Elson, who was sitting up, glaring at her with hatred.

  Sarah stood there, returning his look, calm and unaffected by him. She was a warrior now, and he was getting to see her in that mode. Pride flowed through him. She was one of four women in the group, but she was the only one with a bloodied pant leg and a bandage around her wounded thigh. There was nothing weak or fragile about her. He smiled a little, watching her focus on Hiram, staring him down until he looked away, spat and deliberately ignored her.

  Yeah, you don’t mess with Sarah Carter.

  Dawson called Cade on the radio, letting him know he was going to climb down out of his tree. He, in turn, told the rest of his crew, so no one would mistake him for a druggie. In no time, he was back on the ground. Shaking Cade’s hand, he nodded to everyone and then left the circle, heading to where Sarah was standing. He saw her lift her head, that stubborn chin of hers, her eyes shadowed but narrowed, every inch the Marine she’d once been. He loved her. He couldn’t conceive of life without her.

  Halting in front of her, he smiled down into her eyes, seeing her flattened lips barely curving, the tension leaving her features. Her hair was mussed, she was sweaty and yet she looked beautiful to him. “All right?” he asked her.

  She reached out, sliding her gloved hand around his. “I couldn’t be better. You?” and she flashed a glinting look up and down him.

  “I’m fine. Are you ready to head down the hill?” he asked.

  Cade came over to them. “We’ve got three Teton helicopters coming our way. All Black Hawks. Sarah? I’d like you and Dawson, plus your deputies, to take the first one that lands on the ridge over there,” and he pointed in that direction.

  Sarah turned, looking into the darkness. She could see the flashing lights of a helo rapidly heading their way in the night sky. “Sounds good, Cade.”

  “They’re going to take you to the Wind River Hospital so a doc can look at that leg of yours.”

  “That’s fine. As soon as I get it cleaned up and bandaged up, I’ll be over to the office. I’ll meet you there after you fly down with this crew.”

  “First, we’re going to have to take the wounded to the Jackson Hole Hospital. It’s a much larger ER, and they’ve already given us permission to fly all of Elson’s men to it for medical help. Some may need surgery.” Cade gave her a tired smile. “Tell you what, boss. How about when you get out of the ER and your leg is patched up, you go home with that hombre?” and he gestured toward Dawson. “You look exhausted. We’ve got this handled, so go rest. Besides, I think you two deserve a time-out after all this.”

  Sarah gave her assistant a sheepish grin. “Can’t keep any secrets from you, can I, Cade?”

  “No, you can’t, boss.” He clapped her gently on the shoulder. “The helo’s going to land in about five minutes. Make your way up to where the Teton deputies are standing with landing lights in their hands.”

  Dawson nodded his thanks to Cade. It was obvious he’d been the right choice to run the department in Sarah’s absence.

  She turned toward him, slipped her hand into his. “Ready, partner?”

  A good feeling wound through him. “Yeah, let’s go, sweetheart. First, a visit to the ER and then I want to have you in my arms. Where you belong.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sarah emerged from the hot, life-giving shower feeling utterly spent. It was nearly 0400 and she felt woozy. The doctor had estimated she’d lost half a pint of blood from her healing bullet wound, and that was a tiny part of why she felt this way. With a waterproof dressing around her thigh, she could shower and still keep the wound dry. Ruffling her just-washed hair, she pulled another towel off the rack to dry herself. She loved her small home, never more than now, having been away from it for so long. Dawson was in the other bathroom taking a well-deserved shower himself. How much she wanted to join him, but now wasn’t the time.

  Later, after donning a knee-length cotton nightgown, she padded out to the kitchen, her ears picking up sounds that Dawson was there already. It sounded like he was making something, and she halted at the end of the hall. There, in a pair of clean jeans and a body-hugging tan T-shirt, barefoot, he was busily stirring something in a pan on the stove.

  “What are you making?” she asked as she moved into the kitchen, halting a few feet away from him. His hair was still wet, but combed, his beard darkening his face, making him even more desirable.

  Glancing over at her, he said, “Hot chocolate. Want some?”

  Her stomach growled. She laughed a little, placing her hand against it. “I guess I do.”

  “We’ve been on the run, burning up all our sugar energy, and I figure milk has a calming effect on the nervous system. Might help us come down off that cliff we were on.”

  “Or the trees we were hanging out in?” She went to the cupboard and brought down two large red ceramic mugs.

  Chuckling, he nodded. “That, too. How are you doing?”

  She put down the mugs, then leaned her hips against the counter, absorbing his shadowy countenance because the only light was from the stove. Dawson was all male and hard muscle, and he hid so much of himself from her, but eventually, she’d been able to see much more of him at the cabin. “Whipped. My mind’s muddled. I can barely lift my feet to walk. How about you?”

  “Same. It’s going to crash down on us in about half an hour, I would guess.”

  “The adrenaline crash. You’re right.”

  He lifted the pan off the stove and carefully poured the steamy, rich chocolate into the mugs. “Thought we could sit down on your couch, sip this and just be. How does that sound?”

  “A man after my own heart.” She picked up her mug, seeing the glint in Dawson’s eyes. Now, she understood what it meant: that he wanted her. Right now, sex wasn’t on the table for her, but being held by him, sleeping with him at her side, was. They were too exhausted to do anything else but that. “Come on,” she urged, walking into the carpeted living room. There was one lamp on in the corner, and it shed enough light not to stub one’s toe on something. Sarah waited until he sat down in one corner.

  “I want to sit beside you.”

  Dawson lifted his arm. “Come on.”

  It felt so right as she nestled herself next to his lean, hard body, his arm falling around her shoulders, drawing her gently against him. She balanced the mug on her knees where she’d drawn them up against his legs.
“This feels so good,” she whispered, giving him a look of thanks. There was a predatory look in his darkened eyes, but it didn’t scare her off. She knew that look. He needed her. And she needed him.

  “Sure does.” He leaned over, placing a light kiss on the damp hair she’d brushed into place. “I sat up in that tree wondering if we would ever be given a chance to know each other on a personal level, when there wasn’t a threat constantly surrounding us.”

  “I was thinking the same thing, Dawson. Even with Hiram Elson going to jail and then prison for a long, long time, it still leaves two other brothers in this valley.” She sipped her chocolate, the mug warming both her scratched and bruised hands.

  “We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now, all I want is you next to me, enjoying this peace and quiet.”

  She nodded and relished the dark chocolate taste. Licking her lower lip, she said, “Time hasn’t been on our side, has it?”

  “No. But I want to build more time for us after things calm down around here. Is that what you want?” and she lifted her lashes, holding his smoldering gaze.

  “Yes. It’s easy enough helping Gertie, and she’s been good about giving me time off to be with you when I asked.”

  “It’s my career that’s making it tough to be with you.” She said it more to herself than him, feeling his fingers move in a slow pattern on her right upper arm. His touch was evocative, making her want to be with him more than ever. “I liked staying in the cabin with you, Dawson. It was the first time we’d been in tight quarters together.”

  His mouth lifted. “Yeah, and we didn’t mind it, did we?”

  “No. I wanted that time alone with you. Helluva way to get it, but that six weeks with you showed me who you really were.”

  “Same here. No regrets, Sarah. Only question is: do you still want to move forward with me?”