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

away from him, lying on its belly, gnawing on the chunk of frozen beef it held between its front paws—the beef that Winona had tried to throw its way.

Damn.

It was huge, with dark gray fur and almost yellow eyes.

Jason’s gaze dropped to the blood on his hands, the blood in the snow, the blood on Winona’s leg. He had no idea how the hungry animal would respond to the scent of so much blood. Would it attack?

He took his Glock out of the holster, checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber, then slipped it back. Then he reached into Winona’s pack and drew out the bag with the frozen beef.

He spoke in a calm voice, broke off another chunk, and tossed it over. “Are you hungry, boy?”

The wolf was startled by his motions and withdrew a few feet before returning and feeding hungrily.

“He’s… hungry.”

Jason was relieved and surprised to see Winona’s eyes open. “How much ketamine did you want me to inject?”

He wanted to double-check.

“Seventy-five milligrams… every thirty minutes. Keep track … how much. Tell the Team.”

He glanced at the time. “Twenty minutes until your next injection. Are you getting relief?”

“Enough.” There were lines of pain on her face, but her gaze was on the wolf. She spoke to it in her mother tongue, her voice reassuring, both of the animal’s ears turned toward her. “He’s … beautiful. We should … dart him.”

Leave it to Winona to think of the wolf when her own life was in danger.

“How do I do that?”

“The darts… my medkit. They’re ready. The dart gun. Strapped to the side of my pack. It’s easy.”

Jason had qualified as an expert marksman with rifles, so he ought to be able to figure this out. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Without moving Winona, he managed to get the dart gun. He played with it for a moment, examined the action, saw that it was essentially an air gun that used compressed gas to propel the dart, which was, from the look of it, a ballistic syringe.

Okay, he could play.

He loaded a dart into the contraption.

“How long … before they come?”

Jason had been too busy to ask himself that question. He glanced at his watch. “It’s only been about twenty minutes. I don’t know how far Henriksen has to go to get back into radio contact.”

When Henriksen did reach dispatch, it would take several minutes to tone out the right people and another hour for the Team to get to the parking area. They’d hiked for three hours to get to this spot.

Jason’s heart sank.

They won’t make it in time to save her leg.

Not unless they came by helicopter, and even then…

With a tourniquet, she had two hours, and that was it. After that, the tissue damage from lack of blood flow would be too severe. Though he’d originally been trained to release the tourniquet every thirty minutes, that recommendation had changed after too many people had slowly bled to death, one release at a time.

Winona put her hand on his. “Wait. We can’t … dart the wolf yet. Too long … until they get here.”

Jason’s chest constricted to think that she’d been asking about time for the wolf’s sake and not her own. “Okay, then. We’ll wait.”

He set the dart gun aside and got the next syringe of ketamine ready for her.

Chapter 20

Jason injected Winona with another seventy-five milligrams of ketamine, watched the pain on her face ease a little, her suffering tearing at him. “Better?”

She nodded, her eyes drifting shut.

And for a few minutes, she seemed to sleep.

The wolf sat nearby, watching through those golden eyes. It hadn’t shown aggression or gotten closer, which was a relief. It also hadn’t run off. If it stayed here, he’d be able to dart it, and Winona’s suffering wouldn’t be for nothing.

He broke off another chunk of meat, tossed it, watched the wolf snap it up with powerful jaws. “You really are hungry.”

“He wants … to be with people.” Winona’s eyes were open.

“You think he’s lonely?”

“He’s … alone and scared. He misses ... his pack. He’s not used … to being by himself.” She spoke to the wolf in Lakota.

As if it understood, it whined and crept a few inches closer, still sitting.

She had such skill with animals—and more than her share of courage. Jason had never been this close to an apex predator, and he couldn’t say he felt comfortable with two hundred pounds of hungry carnivore sitting ten feet away.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. Though it was mid-afternoon, the sun had moved far enough to the west to leave them in shadow, and the temperatures were dropping. The IV of fluids he’d set up had run, the bag empty.

It had been an hour since Jason had applied the tourniquet. In another hour, it would be too late to save Winona’s leg. By his estimation, help was still a good two hours away.

Goddamn it.

Winona moaned, her eyes flying open. “Jason?”

“I’m right here.” He took her hand, held it tight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Winona drifted in and out, sometimes lucid, other times seeming unaware of her surroundings, speaking in Lakota. Was it dissociation from the drug? Shock? Blood loss?

God, he wished he knew. He’d never felt so helpless.

He found himself humming an O’odham basket song, the music played for his grandmother and other women at basket dances. The sound seemed to comfort Winona, who, for fifteen short minutes, fell asleep.

Moving slowly so as not to alarm the wolf, he checked her leg to make sure there wasn’t any bleeding that he’d missed.

The wolf crept closer.

Jason tossed it more meat, but he was running low. He didn’t want to run out before it was time to dart the animal. “That’s all for now, boy.”

The wolf ate, licked its paws, stared at Winona.

“My leg.” Winona’s eyes opened. “I’m going to lose it… I know. But I don’t … want to die here.”

Jason hoped it was the drug talking, her words cutting through him. He squeezed