Breaking Free: A Colorado High Country Crossover Novel, Pamela Clare [i can read book club .TXT] 📗

to take the next exit and follow a winding, paved road south for another three miles. He had expected a city neighborhood. Instead, he found himself passing big, luxurious homes that were set back from the road and surrounded by forest with lots of space between. The house ahead on his left had glass walls, while the one on the right had a row of columns along the porch like a Greek temple.

No, that wasn’t ostentatious at all.

McBride had clearly done well for himself if he lived in this neighborhood. Then again, his old man had once been a US senator and was loaded.

As a teenager, Jason would have been bitter, envious. He’d caught glimpses of the world beyond the reservation, and he’d felt ashamed of his family’s circumstances. It was his grandparents who’d taught him O’odham history. After his parents’ deaths, they’d taken him in. They’d shown him the riches to be found in their culture and traditions, straightening him out, putting his feet on a sure path.

Hell, he might not even be here if not for them.

“The destination is on your right.”

Jason turned onto a paved driveway and found himself outside a sprawling, one-story house made of native flagstone with lots of floor-to-ceiling windows. He knew the house also had a pool and a Jacuzzi because McBride had told him to bring a suit.

He parked, climbed out, and grabbed his duffel bag from the back just as McBride stepped outside, his wife Natalie standing in the doorway, their little boy, Aiden, beside her. Jason bit back a grin. The first time he’d seen McBride and Natalie together, they’d been on O’odham land, naked and having sex.

No, he’d never told McBride.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” McBride clasped Jason’s hand in a homie handshake and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good to see you, man. Hey, Natalie. Hey, little buddy.”

“You hungry? Let’s get some steaks on the grill. I’ll grab you a beer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jason followed him inside.

Scarlet Springs

Winona Belcourt woke with a start, heart hammering, a scream trapped in her throat. She threw back her covers, sat up, and looked around her, her blood like ice. She was safe in her bedroom, safe in her own home.

It was just a bad dream.

She drew a deep breath, did her best to let go of the nightmare, terrifying images of John Charles Ready sharp in her mind. It had been five years ago this past summer, but in her dreams, it always felt like it was happening again.

He’s dead. It’s over. You’re safe.

She repeated the words in her mind until her heartbeat slowed.

It wasn’t quite six o’clock, the sun not yet up. She’d set her alarm for six anyway, so she got up, walked into the kitchen, and lit the sage bundle she kept in the middle of the table. Wafting the smoke over herself, she thanked Creator for another day, the sage purifying her, cleansing her of the nightmare.

She took a hot shower, the water reviving her, washing the dregs of her nightmare away. She put her towel-dried hair into a French braid, her gaze on her reflection. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, but she’d never worn makeup and had no idea what to do about it. With her hair braided, she slipped into her bathrobe and made herself a cup of coffee, sipping while looking out her kitchen window.

She’d bought this house not long after her older brother, Chaska, had married Naomi, moving out of the home she and Chaska had once shared. Grandpa Belcourt now slept in her old bedroom when he was visiting from Pine Ridge, while she lived around the corner next door to her clinic. While there were good things about living in her own space—like having a bathroom and all the hot water to herself—she found it hard to be alone at night. That’s when the fear and the nightmares crept up on her.

If Shota had still been here, nothing would have scared her. But Shota’s enclosure stood empty, its tall fence just visible beyond her back gate. It had broken Winona’s heart to let him go. Still, it had been best for him, and that’s what mattered. He was now where he was meant to be, running wild at a sanctuary with other wolves.

She finished her coffee and dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a button-down denim shirt she’d borrowed from her brother a few years ago. She packed for the day, grabbed her keys, and was out the door.

There was frost on the grass as she made her way out her back gate to the clinic’s rear entrance, the aspens on the mountainsides above town shimmering gold in the dawn light. Because she was a wildlife vet, summer was her busiest time of year. Things had begun to slow now, but she still had a few winged and four-legged patients, among them a beaver, a red fox, a raccoon, and a golden eagle recovering from a broken wing.

It gave a cry when she entered the aviary and flew from one perch to another.

She smiled, happy to see it in the air again. When the game warden had first brought it in, she hadn’t been sure she could help it. Birds’ wings were part of their respiratory systems. That was especially true in soaring birds, like eagles. She’d had to operate, carefully pinning the fragile hollow bone back together.

She tossed in its breakfast—raw deer hearts donated by local hunters—and locked the aviary once more. “You’re almost ready to leave us, aren’t you?”

It swooped down, talons out, and tore into its meal with its powerful beak.

She left it to feed in peace, tended the other animals, and locked up the clinic.

Around the corner, she found Chaska loading a box of egg crates into the back of his SUV. “How many eggs is that?”

“Seven dozen.” Chaska settled the box inside. “We’ve also got eight pounds of bacon, three pounds of ground coffee, and five half-gallons of orange juice, flour, lard, cut