Lindsay McKenna - High Country Rebel

Cat said nothing, but felt even more deeply for Talon. “And his mother has no money to loan him to get him from the hospital to here. Rough deal.”

Val grimaced. “Being in the military is always tough, Cat. And Talon’s going to have his hands full once he gets back on his feet. Sandy’s in bad shape and the chemo is really taking her down. I worry....”

Because she was a paramedic, Cat knew what chemo did, understood it took a poison to kill a poison, but the person suffered horrendously during the process. “I wish we could do more for Sandy.”

Val picked up some of the mason jars from a box on the floor and started lining them up on the counter. “Talon is coming home at a terrible time. I’m worried he won’t be able to handle it all.”

Cat bent down and put the last of the canning jars on the counter. She picked up the box and got it out of the way. “No one goes through life alone. Maybe Talon’s going to need support himself.”

Val pulled open a drawer and drew out two aprons, handing one to Cat. “We all need help from time to time. He should go see Jordana. She’s an expert on PTSD and helped a lot of vets in this county.”

Gus pulled out a huge kettle and set it in the sink to fill it with water. “Well, that young man has a job here at the Bar H. He’s a hard worker. And once he gets well, Griff is going to need a full-time wrangler to help him. Talon grew up on the Triple H, which was next to our ranch, and then Curt Downing stole it from under Sandy Holt’s nose for a song.”

Cat remembered that Curt Downing was dead, shot by an escaped convict on a trail up in the Tetons. All his holdings, according to his will, went to a nephew by the name of Chuck Harper, who sold the ranch to an Easterner. And he was an even worse person that Downing had been. “I wonder if he’ll sell the Triple H?”

Gus snorted. “I’m having Griff look into it. We need more land and it makes sense to buy it. The present owner did nothing with it except try to put condos on it. Thank the good Lord that the mayor said no to his plan.”

Gus had made a lot of money off the sale of her own ranch on the other side of Wyoming decades earlier. She didn’t know exactly how much, but Griff had an MBA from Harvard and was now taking care of the woman’s money for her. Gus had told her one time that Griff was making her a lot of interest and she was very happy to have her son-in-law handle the finances. “If you could buy the Triple H, that would make Sandy and Talon happy.”

Gus nodded, then became sad. “It was such a shame Sandy’s second husband, Bradley, died in that auto accident. He was in the process of expanding the ranch, doing good things with it. But Sandy wasn’t up to dealing with the ranch after his death. And then, suddenly, there was the cancer. Griff’s going over to see about the ranch after the blizzard is done blowing through. I’d really like to buy the Triple H. Fingers crossed.”

Cat smiled to herself. Gus was a big thinker and dreamer. But she had the money, the smarts and Griff helping her to make her vision come true. Gus was unstoppable when she wanted something.

Cat heard Zeke urgently begin to bark.

“Uh-oh,” Gus muttered, peering toward the hallway. “That dog’s barking. Wonder what’s wrong?”

“I’ll go see,” Cat said, hurrying out of the kitchen. Her heart amped up a little as she opened the door. Zeke instantly whined, wagging his tail at the doorway. He turned around and hurried to the bed.

Cat frowned and quietly shut the door. Talon Holt was sitting up, his long legs hanging over the edge of the bed, most of the covers pulled aside. His maleness struck her. He was naked, his body massive and powerful even though he was underweight. His head was hanging almost on his chest, his large hands gripping the mattress to stay upright. Only a few blankets lay across his hard, thick thighs. His feet were large, his legs spaced apart as if to stop him from keeling forward and falling off the bed. She heard his labored, rasping breaths. Her eyes widened as she saw he’d yanked the IV out of his right arm, bright red blood streaming down his forearm. No wonder Zeke was barking.

“Talon?” she asked, keeping her voice low and soothing as she walked toward him.

He barely raised his head, his eyes slits as he regarded her.

Cat felt sudden alarm. Talon was pale, breathing hard, his eyes glassy looking. She crouched down in front of him to make eye contact. “Did you take your IV out?” Did she dare touch him? He was different when he was awake. He’d been so approachable in sleep. Now he trembled, as if it took every last bit of his strength for him to remain upright.

“Yeah,” he managed with a croak.

“I need to stop the bleeding,” Cat said softly. She slowly reached out, placing her fingers on his right hand. His fingers dug deeply into the mattress. When she touched him, he winced. Instantly, she withdrew her hand. Something was wrong. She sensed it.

“Talon, you’re safe. You’re here at the Bar H. My name is Cat Edwin and I’m a paramedic. I’m here to help you. Will you let me touch you?”

He scowled, staring sightlessly past her, his attention on something else she couldn’t fathom. Was he hallucinating? The way his naked shoulders were bunched, Cat felt in danger herself. Maybe it was overreaction from her past, from her childhood. And then she saw him lift his chin and look directly at her.

“Blue?”

Cat stared, her lips parting. “Blue? Who’s Blue?” she asked softly. And then tears came into his murky gray eyes. He seemed to fight them back. He swallowed convulsively several times.

Talon had to be hallucinating. Cat eyed the dark red blood still leaking from the IV wound. He must have ripped it out of his arm, because the flesh looked torn and ragged. She had to stop the bleeding and get him to see and hear her instead of whatever held him prisoner.

Slowly getting up, she called Zeke over. She guided the dog over to Talon.

“Talon? This is your dog, Zeke. He needs you to pet him. He’s worried about you.”

Zeke began licking the blood off Talon’s arm, whining and anxious.

Holding her breath, Cat watched Talon slowly blink a few times. His mouth opened and then closed. His eyes became harder and more focused on the dog sitting between his legs. The dog was thumping his tail against the pine floor, the only sound in the room. Talon slowly released the fingers of one hand from the mattress and he laid his hand on the dog’s broad skull. A little fear left her and she slowly unwound from her crouched position.

“Talon? I’m going to fix your arm. Is it okay if I touch you?” Cat stood uncertainly, her own senses telling her that if he wasn’t yet here with her and Zeke and if she touched him again, he might lash out at her. She had no experience with soldiers or anyone with PTSD. Druggies, yeah. But not this. And she knew enough to go slow, to allow Talon to process her request.

Zeke whined, reaching up, licking Talon’s bearded cheek.

“Yeah...go ahead,” he rasped thickly, his gaze fixed on his dog.

Relief sped through Cat. She went to her medical bag, drew out items and then walked to his side. Putting on a pair of gloves, she cleaned the area inside his right arm and quickly patched it up, halting the bleeding. There was a bowl of water on the dresser and she took the washcloth and wiped away the blood left on his arm and hand. When she crouched down to gently pry his fingers out of the mattress, she felt the heat of his stare on her. Her skin prickled and her heart took off in an unsteady beat. He turned his large hand over for her and she saw the many calluses across his fingers and palm. After wiping his hand free of blood, she placed Talon’s hand back on the mattress.