Lindsay McKenna - High Country Rebel

“Sure,” Talon said, clearing his throat. “But if I could get someone’s cell phone? I need to call my mother first. She needs to know I’m all right.” He had a cell phone but couldn’t pay the bill, so it wasn’t working. Not something he wanted to admit to anyone. Talon felt ashamed that he was destitute, relying on the goodwill of others to help him scrape through this harsh period in his life.

“I’ll tell Miss Gus. She’s got a cell she can loan you.”

Talon watched Cat turn and leave. Man, the sway of her hips, that very nicely defined butt of hers and his fantasy of wrapping his hands, grabbing—

“Talon!”

He lifted his head, seeing Miss Gus limp into the room. “Hey, Miss Gus, good to see you,” he rasped.

Gus grinned and stopped in front of him. “Talon, you look awful.”

“Thank you, I think.” And then he lost his smile, slid his hand into hers and squeezed it gently. “Thanks for giving me room and board.”

Snorting, Gus leaned over and kissed his recently shaven face. “Welcome home, Talon. You know you’re always welcome here.” She released his hand and sat down in the wooden chair near the bed, intently studying him. “Cat said you’re doing better. Your fever’s down but not gone.”

Talon nodded and lay on the bed, his back against the headboard. “Whatever she’s doing is helping me a lot.”

“Cat’s the best. Thank the good Lord she found you out there this morning or a snowplow would’ve discovered your frozen body tomorrow morning on that highway.”

Grimly, Talon sighed. “It was a close call, Miss Gus.”

“Well, you weren’t meant to die just yet.”

Flinching inwardly, memories of Hayden and him strung up, being tortured, slammed into Talon. Hayden did die. Talon had almost died but clung to life until Zeke brought help and he had been rescued, a hairbreadth from death himself. His throat tightened and he croaked, “Yeah, it wasn’t my time.”

“The soup good?”

“Wonderful,” Talon admitted, suddenly emotional. “I remember you making me those chocolate-chip cookies when I was a kid, Miss Gus. I knew your chicken soup would be good.” Tears pricked the backs of his eyes and Talon quickly willed them away. “You and your family have been very kind to me and I appreciate it.” Shame flowed through him. He wanted to tell Miss Gus why he’d sunk to such an all-time low, a homeless vet, without money, without any support, but he couldn’t go there. At least, not yet. His focus was on his mother, Sandy, not himself or trying to explain why he was in this predicament.

Gus pulled out her cell phone and handed it to him. “Listen, you call Sandy. Lord knows, she’s on tenterhooks waiting for your call.” She waved her finger at him. “But you can’t go see her, Talon. You could give her your bacterial pneumonia and she’s on chemo right now. If she caught your pneumonia, she could die. Okay?”

He nodded, opening the cell phone, seeing that Gus had put his mother’s number up on the screen. “Got it,” he rasped.

Gus stood up. “Okay, you call her. And oh, tell her that once you’re well, you’re a full-time wrangler at the Bar H.” Her eyes gleamed with pleasure. “We need help here, Talon. And I can’t think of hiring anyone better than you. Are you agreeable?”

Agreeable? Hell, he was downright grateful. Tears burned in his eyes. Again, Talon shoved them deep down inside himself. Into what SEALs referred to as their kill box. That’s where all their unwanted emotions, good or bad, were shoved. Never to see the light of day again. That way, he could continue to function, continue to be a warrior on the front lines, not distracted by human feelings. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, that’s agreeable, Miss Gus. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, I’m having Cat fix up a small bedroom down the hall from my room here. Cat always takes the room next to yours. She’s getting yours ready for you right now. After calling Sandy, if you feel up to it, we’ll move you to your permanent room here in the house until you’re well. Will that work?”

Talon’s mouth pulled into a grin. “That will work, Miss Gus. Thank you.”

She limped to the door. “My granddaughter, Val, and her husband, Griff, agreed to hire you. It wasn’t just me who wanted you. I told them you’d grown up next door and were pushing cattle around and mending fences since you were a kid. We’ll all be happy you’re here with us, Talon.” She waved a finger at him. “Come out to the kitchen when you’re done speakin’ to your mom if you’re up to it. You are so skinny it’s scary. You need to eat some of my freshly made biscuits with some strawberry jam I made last August.”

Talon felt new warmth flow into his heart. Hope, maybe. He had a job, thank God. It was the one thing he desperately needed. Talon tried not to think about everything, focusing in on calling his mother. His heart wrenched as he punched in her phone number. He tried to shore up his emotions. How he wanted to be with her, hug and hold her. A phone call was going to have to do for right now. He was just grateful he was alive to give her a call in the first place. Talon didn’t want her to know how close he’d come to dying this morning. Or before that, either. He wanted her focusing on herself.

CHAPTER FIVE

TALON SQUEEZED HIS eyes shut, desperately trying to stop the tears after he finished the emotional phone call to his mother. He gripped the cell phone so hard he thought he might destroy it. Finally, he dropped it on the bed beside him.

Zeke came over, whining. Blindly, Talon reached out, rubbing the dog’s dark ears, something he enjoyed. It felt as if there were a bunch of writhing, angry snakes in his tight gut. Unconsciously, Talon rubbed the area, still fighting back the tears that wanted to fall.

His mother sounded like she was dying. As if she’d given up. Talon understood it better than most. He’d given up this morning out on that highway.

Lifting his head, Talon blinked back the tears, angrily stuffed them into his kill box and glared around the bedroom. A sense of suffocating helplessness overcame him. His shoulders sagged and he leaned over, pressing his brow against Zeke’s broad head. The dog whined and pressed his seventy-five-pound body in between his legs, always a sign of affection and care toward his master.

Chest tight, his throat aching, Talon ran his long hands across Zeke’s soft, dry fur. “What the hell am I going to do, Zeke?” His voice cracked. “What?” It felt comforting to have his dog pressed against his leg. How many times in Afghanistan had Zeke done this? Known when he was upset, needing a doggy hug? So damn many times. This dog had saved his life so many times that Talon had lost count.

Lifting his head, Talon shoved the tears away. He glanced at the clock on the dresser. Four-thirty. Dinner would be at six. Miss Gus had asked him to come to the kitchen but, dammit, he didn’t want to. The thought of talking to anyone right now, with the exception of Cat, rubbed him raw.

Talon needed her. He yearned for Cat’s quiet sense of stability, her husky, honeyed voice soothing his rough, jagged and exposed edges. Every time Cat touched him, he felt a moment’s peace. She gave him a corner of quiet in a violent, stress-filled world of combat that lived and raged inside him nonstop. Six months in a hospital had done nothing but agitate him. The only thing that had healed was his physical body. God, he needed Cat. She was like a battle dressing around his bleeding heart. Talon felt as if he were hemorrhaging emotionally.

His mother was dying.

Just then a soft knock came at the door. Talon scrambled to control his feelings. The only person he wanted to see was Cat. Anyone else, and he’d send them away, telling them he was too sick to get out of bed. It was the truth.