Wind River Lawman

by Lindsay McKenna

  “How’s your leg feeling?” he asked, opening his containers, inhaling the spicy, garlicky fragrance wafting from the lasagna.

  “The pain medication keeps the worst of it away. I asked the nurse to reduce the opioid IV drip because I couldn’t think straight. All I wanted to do was go to sleep.” She dug into the square piece of lasagna with her fork. “I’m more clearheaded since she did.”

  Sitting down next to her bed, he pulled his containers to him. “You seem more alert. But do you still have some pain in your leg?”

  “A little,” Sarah hedged. “I’d rather deal with that, though, than feel like I have nothing but cotton balls rolling around in my brain so I can’t string two sentences together.”

  “Give yourself another twenty-four hours, Sarah, and you’ll probably feel like you have your brain fully back in line. Very few people realize how insidious anesthesia and its aftereffects are.”

  She swallowed. “Do you like King? Did he like you?”

  He noticed she’d pivoted away from herself, but he let it go. “It went okay. He’s a beautiful dog. I like that black mask on his face and his fawn-colored body.”

  “Is he all work and no play?”

  “Pretty much. He’s not an ordinary dog. His job is to be alert and protect.”

  “Kinda like you?”

  He met her warm gaze. “I don’t have a tail, Ms. Carter.” His joy amped up as she laughed a little, some pink flushing her cheeks. He wanted to make Sarah happy. He wished for some time out for her sake, to let her be a carefree girl once more because he saw when he saw that sparkle in her eyes, that deviltry that made her winsome, she was so damned desirable.

  “No, good thing you don’t have a tail, Callahan,” she deadpanned between bites.

  Dawson chuckled. For the next minute or so, silence cloaked the room except for the usual hospital sounds.

  “I can hardly wait to get out of here, Dawson.”

  “Are you looking to me to abscond with you to that cabin without them knowing you left?” he teased, hooking a thumb toward the door and the nurses’ station. He saw her lips flex with frustration. Getting serious, he said, “Have you talked to your doc yet about a release date?”

  “Yes. He said tomorrow. I wanted to leave today, but he said no.”

  Brows raised, he said, “Has anyone made plans on how to get you to the cabin without being seen leaving here?”

  “Yes. There are going to be two ambulances at the ER entrance at around 4 a.m., when it’s dark. I’ll be put into one of them, and the other will turn and go south on the highway, in the opposite direction. I’d like you to tail my ambulance in your truck. Keep some distance, looking for any suspicious vehicles.” She pointed to the stack of files on her bed stand. “I’ve got color photos of all three Elson boys. And the vehicles they drive. You need to commit all of this to memory.”

  “Easy enough to do. So? What kind of stuff do we need besides groceries for that cabin?”

  “The supervisor is sending two of his rangers up there today to make sure we have linens, towels and other supplies. We just need to bring food.”

  “And your favorite pillow? Gertie said you had a special pillow you liked to sleep with.”

  “Yes, but it’s back at my house,” she muttered, shaking her head.

  “Is anyone watching your house, Sarah?”

  “No. I don’t have the person power to do that kind of thing.”

  “I can go over there after we eat and check it out, pick up your pillow and any clothes or other stuff you want.”

  “That would be great. I’ll make a list. Thank you for doing this. I’m so glad you’re helping me, Dawson.”

  “I try to put myself in the other person’s shoes if I can,” he said between savory bites.

  “Just before you came in? I got cleaned up by a nurse, who came in and gave me a bed bath. The doctor wanted one more day with no weight on my leg so the artery will heal fully.”

  “Not exactly like a real shower or bath, though.”

  “No, but it sure feels good to be somewhat clean.”

  He gave her a wry look. “Is the doc going to let you take a shower at the cabin?”

  “Yes. He’s got watertight dressings packed in a bag that I’ll take with me in the ambulance. The head nurse is putting all other medical items, prescriptions and anything else you’ll need to take care of me and this wound.”

  “Good to know. But who’s going to clean your backside?”

  He saw her ponder the dilemma. “Just getting to stand up under a warm shower with water running down my back will be good enough for now.”

  “I understand. Water’s always been healing and calming for me, too.” Dawson wasn’t about to tell her about the torrid dream he’d had about her last night. He hadn’t gotten much sleep. As confident and able to take care of herself as Sarah was, he still wanted to protect her. Chalk it up to him still being a Neanderthal in an age when women didn’t need men rescuing or protecting them anymore. That was passé. What was really needed, in his view of the changes in relationships between men and women, was an equal partnership, and that was what he dreamed of with Sarah. He’d stopped avoiding a deep truth about his growing feelings for her last night. The woman turned him on, turned him inside out; simply thinking of her made his day go better. She had that kind of positive effect on him. Never mind the more intimate sexual component he kept trying to tamp down, ignore and push into the background.

  After eating, Sarah murmured, “I’ll be glad when we can get to the cabin, Dawson. I’m so worried about my family . . .”

  “One good thing? Your family isn’t helpless. They know what’s going on and they’re very capable of defending themselves.”

  She fretted with a thread from the blanket, brows drooping as she focused on it. “I know, but the Elsons are known for taking their revenge on anyone who crosses them.” Lifting her chin, she looked at him. “Their father’s funeral is tomorrow. That’s why I thought it would be strategic to get out of here unseen and to the cabin. I don’t think any of them are going to miss it.”

  “We’ll take precautions anyway. One thing I learned a long time ago about the enemy: you never underestimate them.”

  He saw her mood turn somber. “You’re right. Still, I’ll be glad to leave here for so many reasons. I have a county to run.”

  He rose and came close, moving her table aside, beginning to put all the leftovers and containers back into the large paper sack. “The cabin will be a good place for you to heal.”

  * * *

  Sarah would never be able to thank the small army of men and women who transported her from the hospital to the log cabin on the slopes of the Salt River Mountain range enough. The cabin was hidden from view by the Douglas fir that surrounded it. Exhausted, she lay in one of the four bedrooms. Most of the people had left by eight a.m., only one ranger remaining behind with them. He would go over all the radios and electronics utilized when searching for a missing person with Dawson. It didn’t take much time—he was a quick learner—and she was once more glad he was there with her. King, the Belgian Malinois, lay on a brown-and-white-braided rug near her full-size bed. He was alert, ears up, listening and watching through the partially open door that led into the hall.

  The orthopedic nurse had fitted her with a removable brace for her thigh, to give it stability when she got up to walk every few hours. It was on the oak dresser opposite her bed, ready to be used shortly. Right now, she was relegated to taking a few painful, careful steps with it on, using a pair of lightweight aluminum crutches. She had a wheelchair, which she would have to tolerate being pushed around in. She insisted on the crutches, too. She didn’t want to be seen to rely on the wheelchair. Her pride just wouldn’t allow her to go there.

  Sarah hadn’t felt so helpless in a long, long time, not since she was seven years old. Dr. Martin had a daily regime for her to follow to get her up and moving, to strengthen her healing bone and wound, to minimize the possibility of a
blood clot forming. At the hospital, they’d taken her out of bed every hour with the wrap around her thigh, walking in mincing baby steps around the room on her crutches. Exercise brought blood to the wound and would help it heal faster, they explained. It was painful, but Sarah wasn’t going to whine. Anything to get her leg back under her and working was her goal. Anything to get out of that damned, confining bed.

  All the clothes Dawson had gathered from her home had been put into the dresser or hung in the closet on the other side of the door. She had her pillow, which was great. It looked as if Dawson had combed through her small house, picking up any items he felt she might need that weren’t on the list. As worn out as she was? Her heart blossomed with warm feelings for the man. Everything he did, it seemed, was on her behalf. She’d never met a man quite like him before. And on top of that? He was a warrior. She felt a new sense of safety because King and Dawson worked like a well-oiled team. The dog obviously respected the man, and Sarah could understand why. She did, too. She just wasn’t going to admit it to him yet.

  Hearing the main door to the cabin open and close, and then Dawson’s footsteps echoing down the pine hall and coming her way, she looked expectantly at the half open door of her room. King was already up, focused on the sounds coming their way.

  “Hey,” Dawson called, pushing the door open all the way, “how do you like your new digs?”

  King lay down once again.

  “Much better,” she admitted. “How’d things go with all the electronic gadgets the ranger showed you?”

  He leaned down, patting King’s head. “No problem.” Straightening, he held her gaze. “You look happier,” he said, and he grinned.

  Warmth flowed through her, sweet and filled with promise. “I am. I’m relieved that if the Elsons try to find me, they’ll realize pretty quickly I’ve disappeared. It would be like them to stake out my family and grannies’ homes. There are three of them, and they’ll lay in wait in the weeds, trying to figure out where I am. I’ve already had my deputies let out word that I’m in Denver. That’s far enough away that they may be too lazy to try to follow me. And it leaves my family no longer suspected of harboring me.”

  “Will there be extra swings by the houses for a while?”

  “Yes. I worked out a schedule where we’ll use our unmarked cars for that. We all know the Elson vehicles and can spot them in a heartbeat. If they do find them nearby? They’ll haul them into jail for forty-eight hours. I’m hoping when one of my men sit down with them, one of the Elsons might slip and let the cat out of the bag about what they’re doing to find me. I’ve talked to another of my men, Jesse Hernandez, about going to see Roberta. Jesse’s going to let her know we have an eye on her sons. And he’ll advise her to tell her sons to leave my family alone. That I’m not with any of them.”

  “Good plan.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You didn’t get to see how nice this cabin is. The ranger helping me with the electronics said it has four rooms, one of them the radio room. There are so many bedrooms so the trackers looking for lost people have a place to sleep and get some food in them to start another day of search and rescue.”

  “This area of the Salt River Mountains has a lot of beautiful trails, and we get called in to assist them from time to time, looking for lost hikers.” She looked around the large room. “I’ve known about this cabin but never been here before. A number of my deputies have, especially in the summer, when the tourists arrive.”

  “Well, on to you,” he said. “We need to get that brace on your thigh and then get you out of bed and walking to at least the bathroom on this first trip. What do you say?”

  “Sounds good. I’d love to noodle around to see what the place looks like.”

  With a chuckle, he said, “Let’s get that brace on, then.”

  Sarah was glad to be in a pair of loose-fitting gray gym pants instead of her hospital gown. She wore a red T-shirt that hung on her. Right now, loose-fitting clothes that were easy to take on and off were her new uniform. She was sitting on top of the bed and inhaled Dawson’s scent as he leaned over, gently affixing the stabilizing device around her thigh. His touch was incredibly gentle. She instinctively knew he’d be a good lover. Trying to erase that unexpected thought, she touched the black brace as he straightened. “Feels okay. Next time? Let me put it on. I need to get friendly with the contraption.”

  Stepping aside, he said, “Sounds good. Now, try to move your legs over to the side of the bed. Or do you want some help?”

  “No, I need to do this, Dawson. Let me try first.” The device would minimize the pain of the movement, but Sarah knew there would be some, regardless, until her bullet wound healed. She moved slowly, relishing the act of moving at all. She no longer wore a catheter and both IVs were gone from her arms. That felt so freeing to her, as if she owned her own body once more. She struggled, but finally made it to the edge of the bed, proud of herself.

  “In much pain?” Dawson asked.

  “Like a toothache. I’ll live.”

  He took the set of crutches leaning against the wall next to her bed, handing them to her. She’d been shown how to use them at the hospital. “I’ll shadow you,” he said, and stood back to give her room, but not so far away that he couldn’t help her if she needed it. Sarah was bound and determined to do it on her own. She had to get well.

  Sarah suddenly felt strange as she stood up on the crutches. Opening her mouth, she felt as if someone were tearing her consciousness away from her.

  “Easy,” Dawson said, moving in, placing his hand on her upper right arm, positioning himself to her side, his other arm slipping around her waist. “You got up too fast,” he said. “The blood is leaving your head and you might faint. Lean on me for a moment until your head clears.”

  There was no choice. Not that she wanted one. Dawson had placed his tall, powerful body against her right side, one arm around her waist in case her legs decided not to support her. Sarah leaned against him, fighting not to faint. He stood without moving, silently coaxing her to lean against him. She inhaled his scent, part woodsy and part male. Resting her head against the span where his shoulder met his chest, Sarah closed her eyes, feeling dizzy. If she shut them, the dizziness went away.

  “Good,” he praised, his lips against her hair. “Anchor yourself. Let your heart pump blood back into your head.”

  Giving out a tremulous sigh, Sarah reveled in the hard warmth of his body, his arm embracing her, keeping her upright. “What happened?”

  “In medicalese, it’s called hypervolemia. In common terms, it means you stood up too fast and your heart didn’t have time to pump enough blood volume back into your head to compensate for your quick action. It usually happens to the elderly or people who have been sick in bed and off their feet a lot of the time. It should go away in another minute; just lean against me until that happens.”

  Snorting softly, she opened her eyes. It felt incredibly wonderful to be in his embrace, as awkward as it was with a crutch standing between them. Sarah could feel care radiating from him, felt the taut strength of his body against her weaker one. He smelled so good! The dark green cowboy shirt he wore, the fabric rough beneath her cheek and the scent of him combined, called to her in a very intimate way. She wanted much more of this. Of Dawson holding her. Sarah tried to tell herself that she had to remain strong, not become entangled in him as a man who set her heart and body to yearning for more of his touch.

  Dawson didn’t move. He kept his arm light around her waist, not trying to haul her against him or do anything that suggested intimacy. She felt tiredness overwhelm her as they stood there in the silence. Killing a man had upset her more that she dared connect with until now. Almost getting killed herself was piled onto it. Coupled with her own drive, and her responsibility to continue to protect her county was a third weight pushing down on her shoulders. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes and she gulped once, forcing them away. So much of her, the human being, wanted to turn fully
toward Dawson, allow herself to be weak, allow herself to be cared for.

  Chapter Thirteen

  June 20

  Dawson closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing Sarah leaning against him, trusting him. The warmth of her cheek against his chest, the silky quality of her hair against his jaw told him just how much he wanted to love her. His heart soared with unparalleled joy as she finally trusted him completely, allowed him the honor of caring for her, if only for a minute. He ached to take her into his arms, carry her to bed and love her. All dreams, he told himself. But he’d never dreamed she would lean on him like this either. For a moment, he felt her quiver. It wasn’t anything obvious, and maybe it was his imagination. But he sensed something was going on within her, felt her inner turmoil.

  “I—uh,” she whispered unsteadily, “feel so broken, Dawson.”

  “Anyone would under the circumstances you just survived,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to her hair, slightly tightening his arm around her waist and then relaxing it. Sensing she was on the verge of crying, he remained unmoving. This was the first time they’d embraced, albeit a highly awkward one. Dawson didn’t want to try to remove the crutch between them, to break the spell that was warm and caring swirling between them.

  “Only you would understand,” she admitted, nuzzling her cheek against his chest, seeking safety.

  “The military connects us,” he agreed. “It always will. You can never get rid of it, even if you wanted to.” He wanted to ask why she was feeling that way right then, but he clamped down on the question. Sarah was a strong, proud woman. She wouldn’t be browbeaten, herded or pushed into a corner to reveal her inner workings to anyone. No, her coming to him had to be earned, her letting down her shield and being brutally honest with him. Dawson tried to temper the joy thrumming through him over this simple act. “What else?”