Wind River Lawman

by Lindsay McKenna

  “You understand it’s going to be dangerous? That you’ll have to go back into black ops mode? The Elson boys will probably be hunting me as soon as they bury their father.”

  “I know that.” One corner of his mouth hitched upward. “I survived Afghanistan. I’m sure I can get us through the next six weeks. I want you alive and getting back on your feet.”

  Tears burned in her eyes, but she fought them away. “Okay . . . thank you . . . I couldn’t ask for a better partner in this. We’ll be stronger because of our shared background. Two is better than one.”

  “SEALs have a saying,” he told her. “‘One is none, two is one.’ And they, more than any other black ops group, understand teamwork. We’ll get through this together, Sarah, so wipe that look of anxiety off your face. We’ll outwit the Elsons. It won’t be easy, but we’ll work like the good team I know we’ll be. Do you think your parents and grannies will be upset over your choice?”

  “No. Probably, if Dad were to be honest, he’d be relieved because he’s got enough on his plate right now. So does my mom. Gertie and Nell will understand. Gertie will squawk a lot, but underneath, she knows this is a better plan to keep our family safe.”

  “They won’t be able to visit you; I’m sure the Elsons will stake out their and the grandmothers’ homes, thinking you’re at one of them,” he pointed out. “You won’t be that far away, but you’ll have to rely on Skype, phone calls and emails to stay in contact. They won’t like it, but they’ll accept it.”

  “And they will want to stay in touch. According to Dr. Martin, I have a long way to go yet. You really want to do this, Dawson?” She saw his gray eyes lighten, felt a wonderful sensation enveloping her as he considered her question. Every cell in her body screamed at him to say yes.

  “I gave you my word I’d be there, and I will, Sarah. I promise not to play jokes on you either.”

  She laughed a little. “What? Were you the joker on your team, Callahan?”

  “Just a little. I never did mean teasing, though. When we were behind the wire we got bored as hell, so I used to liven the guys up with a joke here or there.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” She pointed to her leg. “Well, you can’t scare me to death or anything like that or I’m liable to tear my bullet wound open.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Sarah. Not ever. I promise to be on my best behavior with you.”

  “Then you’ll be my medic?”

  “I’ll be more than that. I’ll protect you.”

  She tried not to allow his low voice, the look he gave her, affect her, but it did. “Gertie has you doing a lot of things around her home and business. Will you have time for me, Dawson? Really?” His eyes narrowed, and she saw a brief flit of emotion, unsure of what it was. The impression he was burning her into himself, as if this conversation mattered more than anything else in his life, flowed through Sarah.

  “I wouldn’t want it any other way, Sarah. When I leave here, I’ll go talk to your parents and then speak to Gertie and Nell. I’m sure they’ll be relieved for you and for themselves.”

  “When the Elsons figure out I’m not at any of their homes, they’re going to come searching for me, Dawson. But at least they’ll leave my family alone.”

  Shrugging, he said, “Let them. We need to get permission from the Forest Service to use that cabin. I’m assuming it has Wi-Fi?”

  “Yes, it’s a central station for them during the summer months, when people sometimes get lost up in the mountains. It has all the electronics you could want. There are solar panels on the roof to provide electricity. It’s hidden up at the end of a little-used dirt road, high on a slope where you can see anyone coming your way from below. No hikers go there because it’s not on any Forest Service maps. It’s a well-hidden jump-off point for rangers searching for missing persons.”

  The burning look in his darkening eyes sent a shiver of light and hope through Sarah. He was so serious, it served to tell her how loyal he really was, that she could lean on him all she needed to. Ordinarily, she didn’t look to any man for her safety. Her parents had raised her to be completely self-reliant. Right now, however, she was feeling weak, unable to fully defend herself. She hated the feeling, but she was more than relieved Dawson would be with her.

  “I’ll talk to your family. Are you up to calling the forestry supervisor? Or is that something you want me to handle?” Her cell phone was on the bed stand.

  “I’ll handle the cabin. I know they’ll approve our use of it. I’m going to push my surgeon to find out how soon I can leave the hospital. The longer I’m in here, the more this hospital remains a possible target.”

  Slowly standing, Dawson nodded. “You’ve got my cell number. Call me when you know something?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “You’re looking whipped, Sarah. Want to sleep for a while? Sleep is the most important thing you can do to heal your body.”

  Her lips twisted as she leaned over, picking up her cell phone. “In a little while.”

  “What about groceries? Is there anything you don’t like to eat? I’m pretty good around a stove.”

  She managed a soft smile. “I’ll eat anything that doesn’t move first.”

  Nodding, Dawson went to the door. Lifting his hand, he said, “Okay. I’ll be in touch with you a little later.”

  The look in his eyes, that intense quality deep within them, that sense of protection swirled around her, immediately made her feel better. “See you soon,” she said, her voice hoarse, but full of emotion.

  Sarah watched him disappear after speaking briefly with the deputy at the door. Dawson seemed unperturbed by the turn of events. Maybe Marine recons were all of that same temperament: confident, unflappable and easygoing. Yet, she’d seen something else in his eyes, recognizing it as his warrior side. She had no doubt that if one or more of the Elsons did find them in that hideaway cabin, he’d turn into a highly dangerous opponent. Recons were known for their stealth, their ability to fade into their surroundings, make absolutely no noise, then use surprise as a way to win the battle against any enemy. They, like snipers, were known as force multipliers; one recon could wreak havoc on a company of enemy, 120 men. It served to assure her that Callahan really was best suited to take care of her under the circumstances. Once she explained that to her family, Sarah was sure they’d be enthusiastic about her disappearing to heal.

  Dragging in a breath, Sarah admitted she was scared. Scared for her family, worried that the Elsons might go after them to get even for her killing Brian. This was such an ugly, dangerous mess. It felt as if the malignant situation might overwhelm her, a strange feeling for her because this wasn’t the way she normally thought. Dawson was right, she acknowledged; the anesthesia was playing hell on her mind and emotions. Inwardly, though, she was breathing easier because he was going to help her get through these next weeks. The look on his face when she’d asked if he would consider doing it had shaken her. He’d leaped at the chance to care for her.

  Sarah didn’t know very many men other than her deputies who would have the same reaction. But she didn’t want to use any of Lincoln County’s deputies now, because there were fewer of them on duty because of budget constraints and the loss of Jeff and Craig to their injuries. The people of Lincoln paid their taxes and Sarah was damned if she was going to haul one of the few left to guard her. Dawson was the perfect choice in every possible way.

  Her mind moved over the many things that had to be done and handled. Most important to her was being able to run the sheriff’s department even though she was in hiding. It could and would be done.

  Chapter Twelve

  June 20

  Dawson tried to minimize the feelings for Sarah rushing through him because they distracted him. Now was not the time for them. Issues revolved around his worry about the Elson boys coming after Sarah and her family. After visiting her parents and the grannies, he was glad she didn’t have to go through the process. Her family was just as stressed over the possibi
lity of having their home attacked and going after Sarah as she was.

  David Carter was particularly relieved to hear that Dawson would be at Sarah’s side, rendering medical support as well as being her badass guard. Nell understood and agreed with the plan. Gertie didn’t, saying she’d hire armed security guards and Sarah would be safe at her homestead. It took a lot of diplomatic wrangling on Dawson’s part to get the upset oldster to see the wisdom of keeping everyone safe. Just the same, Gertie was hiring three security guards. She had a lot of employees working on her ranch and she was going to make sure no one got through the front entrance without being fully vetted and checked and on the list of people who were allowed on her property.

  He was driving to the courthouse, where the sheriff’s office was located, when he got a call on his cell. Pulling off to the side of the road, he placed his truck in park and answered it. It had been three hours since he’d left the hospital.

  “Callahan,” he answered in a clipped tone.

  “It’s me, Sarah.”

  “Are you all right?” All the brusqueness dissolved from his tone. She sounded tired.

  “I’m fine. Everything’s quiet around here. Listen, Commander Tom Franks of the Teton Sheriff’s Department is having his dog trainer, Deputy Sheriff Jasmine Delano, drop off one of their working dogs, King, to my office. Can you go there to meet her? She should be arriving any minute now. She’s going to show you the commands King knows, and how to work with him. Then, you’ll bring the dog back to Gertie’s place until I can get moved into that cabin. King will be with us for the duration of my healing.”

  “Hey, that’s great! I worked with a number of working military dogs in Afghanistan. We used WMDs on our recon missions with great success.”

  “Oh, good! Tom is a longtime friend of our family and he told me that they’re sending their best combat-trained dog to help keep me safe. King has better hearing, better vision and can smell an intruder better than any human.”

  “For sure,” Dawson said, grinning. “This is a great break for us. I’m about ten minutes outside of Wind River. How are you doing?” She was never far from his mind—or his heart.

  “Exhausted, but feeling better. The supervisor for the Forest Service has okayed my request to use their missing person’s cabin headquarters, so that’s good news, too.”

  “I knew the people of the valley would rally around you, Sarah,” he said, hearing the sudden emotion in her voice. Her speech was still hoarse; it would take days for it to return to normal.

  “I hope you’re including yourself, Dawson,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  It felt good to hear that. As injured and still in shock as she was, she was able to move beyond her own pain to connect with those around her. “Well,” he murmured, his own voice growing husky with feeling, “thanks, but from where I stand? You rock. You always did and always will.” For a moment, she was silent. Dawson wasn’t sure if she was insulted or complimented by his statement. He knew Sarah was trying to coordinate so many things from her bedside a day after getting shot and having major surgery. It was far too soon for her to be doing it.

  “Let me help you,” he urged. “I don’t need you stressed out any more than you already are, Sarah. You need your rest. If there are other phone calls to make? Or people to see? Tell me. I can come back to the hospital and we can create a mission plan so that most of that is off your shoulders.”

  She sighed. “You’re right. I’m feeling raw, Dawson. There’s just so much I didn’t anticipate from that domestic disturbance call. It was a FUBAR in every possible way.”

  Both of them had unconsciously slipped into military speak because that was still stronger than their civilian slang. He smiled a little. FUBAR meant fucked up beyond all recognition, and it was a favorite maxim in the military. “FUBAR is the right word for it. Domestic violence calls must be the most dangerous you folks in law enforcement have to answer. It’s always a crapshoot, from what I can see. A FUBAR in the making.”

  She gave a short, bitter laugh, but Dawson heard relief in her voice, too. Sarah was a one-person army as sheriff of her county. She was used to juggling God knew how many issues and problems all at once with her super-capable staff. But she couldn’t do it herself right now. She couldn’t rise to that level of physical energy or mental focus while she was dealing with the violent ups and downs of emotion ripping through her. It was a major distraction for her, and he could hear the frustration in her voice because no one could completely control their emotions forever. He needed to situate himself in her life a lot more than he was doing presently to remove the demanding loads he knew were coming for her in the days and weeks ahead. He wanted Sarah to focus on healing, not try to run the sheriff’s office from her bed. Add to that the threat of the Elsons’ revenge against herself and her family, no small threat.

  “Okay . . . you’re right.” She sounded defeated.

  “I’ll go see that deputy and her dog at your office,” he said, trying to sound soothing and calm. “Once I get the lowdown, and take King to Gertie’s, I’ll call you from there. We’ll keep him there until we get you moved to the cabin. If you’re a glutton for punishment? I can eat supper with you, if you want,” he teased.

  “Cece’s a great cook. I’d love to eat anything Gertie has in her refrigerator. I’m not on a restricted diet here at the hospital. Bring whatever it is to my hospital room, okay?”

  “Consider it done. I’ll call you when I’m coming your way. Get some sleep.”

  * * *

  Dawson arrived at Sarah’s room three hours later. He had a large brown bag in one hand that contained leftovers from Gertie’s fridge. Sarah’s entire bed was covered with files, papers and a notepad, a radio and a cell phone, plus her iPad tablet, where she was typing something, as he entered.

  “Did you get any rest?” he asked with a grin. He knew from talking to Cade Jameson, the assistant commander at her office, that Sarah had had the work on her desk brought to her earlier.

  She looked up and gave him a wry glance. “A little.”

  Laughing, he brought the huge sack that contained their dinner and set it on the nearby bed stand. He wasn’t going to chide her for working. Dawson understood Sarah’s drive. She took her responsibility as sheriff first, above her own suffering or personal issues. Silently, he applauded her stance, but it wasn’t a good one right now. She needed good, quality rest, to be nurtured and cared for, to be made to feel safe once more. Few people knew what a bullet wound could do to a person, but he did. And he knew what steps could be taken to help Sarah through the horrendous emotional process that anyone who’d been shot had to go through. He could help her.

  Dawson turned, shutting the door after letting the deputy on duty know they needed to talk privately. Coming back into the room, he saw her gathering up the files from around her bed. Every once in a while, if she stretched too much, he could tell by the thinning of her lips that she’d aggravated her wounded thigh. He brought the rolling bed stand closer to the right side of her bed. When he opened the sack, fragrant, mouthwatering odors wafted into the air.

  “Mmm, that smells good,” Sarah murmured, placing the closed files on the other bed stand, to the left of her bed. “What did Gertie give us?”

  “She had leftover meat lasagna, French bread slathered with butter and bits of garlic, and Cece made you a fresh salad with your favorite dressing: Thousand Island. Best of all?” He pulled out a large plastic container. “She had Cece make tiramisu the day before yesterday, and she wanted to put some in for us. Said you loved it.” He saw her face mirror gratefulness.

  “That’s so sweet of Gertie,” she said. “I love tiramisu.”

  “There’s a thermos of coffee in here, too. If you want? I’ll put it all together on your tray?”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, smoothing out the blanket and pushing a strand of ginger-colored hair away from her face. “You saw the dog, King. What did you think of him? Did you take him over to Gertie’
s? Did King get along with Gram?”

  He placed several containers on her table, smiling to himself at her rapid-fire questions. “Yes.” He pulled out his cell phone and clicked on the photos he’d taken. “Here, take a look. King is a Belgian Malinois male. Deputy Delano gave me instructions and the commands to use. He was a combat WMD from age three to seven. Then the Marine Corps retired him, and Commander Franks bought him when he was brought back to the States. Jasmine Delano, who you’ll see in one of these photos, worked with him for a year to bring him into the way law enforcement works versus what he was trained to do in combat circumstances. He’s ten years old now. Pretty-looking dog, don’t you think?” He slid the cell phone into her hand and went back to getting her dinner ready.

  “They’re a nice-looking pair,” Sarah said. “I’ve never met Deputy Delano, but I’d heard of her good work with King. She looks to be in her late twenties?”

  “Yes, twenty-seven. And she’s typical of dog handlers: quiet, calm and doesn’t get rattled easily.”

  “Sort of like you,” she noted, lifting her lashes, meeting his amused gaze.

  “Callin’ me a dog, Sheriff?”

  Sarah laughed a little. “No, but when I was in Afghanistan, all the dog handlers I met were like you in temperament.”

  “Hope that’s an unqualified compliment.” He opened all the containers, placed the plastic ware and several white napkins next to them.

  “It was a compliment, so relax, huh?”

  “Whew.” He saw her shake her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. Their parrying was good. He wanted to lift her spirits because he knew how stressed out she still was. Typical of all military-trained people, she jammed down what wasn’t essential for survival so she could place her attention on what she felt was vital. But that skill had a negative side to it, too, and he was determined to try to stop that from happening. It would take another military person to do it, too. And he was up for that challenge.

  Sarah was getting her old self back little by little. At least for the moment. Dawson said nothing, continuing to unload the fragrant contents from the sack. He cleared off a space on the bed stand for his containers of food as well. Sarah was intently studying the four photos he’d taken of Jasmine and King. He could almost see her committing both to memory.