LITMIR.BIZ

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Griff called from the door. “Safe to come in?” he teased.

      Cat headed toward the door. “Yeah, it’s safe. Come on in.”

      “Miss Gus is asking to see Talon.”

      “Oh.” Cat quickly went to Zeke, grabbing a hold of the dog’s leash. “Okay, I got him.”

      Griff opened the door.

      “Well,” Miss Gus said, holding a bowl of water in her hands, “can you make friends with Zeke for me?”

      Zeke was looking at the silver-haired woman, suddenly tense and alert.

      “Zeke, allow,” Cat told the dog firmly.

      Instantly, Zeke thumped his tail and began to pant.

      “Good doggie,” Miss Gus murmured, coming forward with a slight limp. “I got water for you, boy. You should be glad to see me.”

      Cat held on to the leash, worried Zeke might do something. But as Miss Gus slowly bent over and set the bowl of water down in front of the dog, he thumped his tail in a friendly fashion and whined.

      “Good boy,” Gus praised, reaching out with her parchment-thin hand and gently patting the dog’s head. “Now, you need to drink.”

      Cat was amazed when the dog instantly dipped his head, eagerly lapping up the water. She grinned at Gus. “You have a way with animals.”

      “I have a way with everyone!” Gus snorted, putting her hands on her hips, grinning widely.

      Cat chuckled and released the leash, allowing it to fall beside Zeke. Gus was dressed in a long-sleeved red blouse with a blue apron around her tiny waist. She always wore black wool slacks because of the chill of the long winter in Wyoming.

      “That you do,” Cat warmly agreed. Even though Cat’s grandparents were dead, Miss Gus had taken her under her wing and treated her like a granddaughter.

      Gus turned, looking over at Talon. “How’s he doing, honey?”

      “A tiny bit better. The oxygen is helping him a lot.”

      “Come around yet?”

      Cat shook her head. “He was very dehydrated, Miss Gus. And he’s got a really bad case of pneumonia. He’ll eventually become conscious, but I don’t know when.”

      Patting Cat’s arm, Gus said, “If anyone can pull him through, you can.”

      A fierce love for the old woman flowed through her. “He’s going to need a lot of prayers, too, Miss Gus.”

      “We can do that.” She crinkled her face and looked up at Cat. “Hungry?”

      Groaning, Cat said, “Yes, I’m starving.”

      “Go on out to the kitchen. I got a plate of vittles waitin’ for you. I’ll stay with Talon until you get back.”

      Griff set a bowl of kibble down in front of Zeke. “Val’s got the coffee poured for you, Cat.”

      Cat hesitated, not wanting to leave Talon. It was a silly, emotional reaction. Zeke dived into the bowl of kibble as if starved. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I finish.”

      * * *

      VAL MET CAT out in the kitchen.

      “How’s Talon doing?”

      Cat sat down and told her. She grabbed the cup of coffee and took a sip. “This is great. Thanks, Val.” The red-haired woman sat down opposite her. Val’s hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. She wore a heavy cream-colored fisherman knit sweater, jeans and boots.

      “Someone should call Sandy Holt,” Cat said between bites.

      “I’ll do it,” Val said. She frowned. “Sandy’s not in good shape. Should we tell her how bad Talon is?”

      Cat shook her head. “Just tell Sandy that Talon’s here and a little under the weather.”

      “She’ll want to know when Talon can see her.”

      “Sandy’s immune system is really down,” Cat warned. “As long as he’s sick, he can’t visit her or she could contract the pneumonia. It might finish her off.”

      Val nodded and picked up her cup of coffee. “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe we need to tell her he’s got pneumonia and she’ll understand why her son can’t see her right now?”

      “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Cat said. “But say it in such a way that she doesn’t worry. The poor woman has enough stress.”

      “I know,” Val said softly. “I feel helpless.”

      “Me, too.” Cat knew Val had left her career as an Air Force officer to come home to help Gus keep the Bar H alive. She wasn’t a woman who scared easily at all. And once a week, Gus and Val went to visit Sandy Holt. Talon’s mother was destitute, having lost her job at Mo’s Ice Cream Parlor two months ago because the cancer had come back and was twice as virulent as before. Cat made a point of dropping in to read to her and stay with her for at least a couple of hours once a week. Gwen Garner, who owned the quilting store, had a number of quilters who came over to visit weekly with Sandy and help her where and when they could. Cat felt her heart twinge. Now her son was in dire need of help himself. But that was what a small community did—it rallied those who were weak, sick or in need of help.

      “Do you think Talon can talk to her directly?”

      Shaking her head, Cat said, “He’s unconscious. And he’s got major trouble breathing. I’m hoping—” and she held up crossed fingers “—that he responds to the antibiotic. Maybe in a couple of days he can talk to her.”

      “It sounds like Talon should be in the hospital.”

      “Really. But it’s going to take two days to clear the roads after this blizzard leaves,” Cat griped unhappily. She finished everything on her plate and took a sip of her coffee.

      Val frowned. “That bad?”

      “Yeah. I’m sure they’d put him in the ICU if we could get him to the hospital.”

      “Could he die?” Val asked, worried.

      “I don’t think he will,” Cat said. “He’s young and he’s strong, although, he’s terribly underweight and dehydrated.”

      “Gus said Talon was wounded a year ago. Bad wound, whatever that meant. He might have just gotten out of the hospital?”

      “I saw a lot of scars on his back and shoulders.” Again, Cat’s heart ached for Talon. Thanks to an abusive father, she was usually wary of men. Inexplicably, Talon had worked through the protective walls she had up against men in general—he’d gotten to her—and that was disconcerting. But she couldn’t dwell on this right now.

      Val stood. “God, the guy has been through his own hell,” she muttered, going to the coffeepot and pouring herself another cup.

      “You were in the military,” Cat said, watching her come back and sit down. “What do you know about SEALs?”

      “They’re Navy black ops. I worked with them on some missions over in Iraq when I was stationed in the Middle East. I was an intelligence officer in the Air Force and, sometimes, we’d have joint missions with them, Army Special Forces and Air Force PJs.” She sipped her coffee. “Those guys go where angels fear to tread, Cat. They’re the best of the best at black ops. And they take the fight to the enemy. No fear.”

      “Assertive?”

      Val smiled a little. “For sure. Type-A personalities with egos just as big. They’re used to working as a team. Even though SEALs are U.S. Navy, they are found globally on sea, air and land. Talon was with SEAL Team 3 from what his mother told me. He was a shooter. A guy who was out with a rifle fighting Taliban and al Qaeda over in Afghanistan.”

      “I

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