“What happened?”
He touched his fingertips to one of the lacerations. “Tree bark.”
She moved his hand away. “Those are deep. I should treat them.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m the doctor here. I’ll worry if I want to.” She grabbed her medical kit from the back of Jack’s cab, then walked to the rear of the pickup and lowered the tailgate. “Sit.”
Jack chuckled. “It sounds like you’ve been given an order, son.”
“Right.” Jason sat.
While she tended Jason’s wounds, cleaning away the blood and disinfecting them, she went over her plan. “We leave the crate here and head up with my gear and the tranq gun. I tranq the mama wolf and put her in restraints. Then we get her onto a gurney, and the Team trails her out to this parking lot. We load her and the pups and drive them to my clinic. I can do a health assessment on them, and Heather from the wolf sanctuary can pick them up there.”
“What about the pups?” Nate asked. “I’d say they’re about thirty pounds each.”
“I’ll have to see how feral they are.” By the time she finished with Jason, the Team was arriving, Megs and Ahearn first in Rescue One.
Megs’ boots hit the snow. “Hey, Jack, Win, Jason. I should’ve known I’d find the three of you here. Now, will someone tell me what the hell’s going on?”
Chapter 15
Jason climbed onto Jack’s UTV, sitting next to Winona, her gear strapped onto the back with bungee cords together with some of the Team’s rescue gear.
Megs hurried over, handed something to Winona. “Take this.”
A radio.
“Thanks.” Winona clipped the handset to the collar of her parka, slipped the radio into her pocket, and tucked the earpiece in place. “I won’t tranquilize her until you’re there. I don’t want to risk having to drug her twice.”
“Got it.” Megs turned to the Team members. “On the double, people.”
Some wore skis, while others had snowshoes on their feet. Everyone carried heavy backpacks. They all set out up the snowy road.
“Win is riding, but we have to walk?” The exaggerated whiny tone of Herrera’s voice let Jason know that he was joking.
The ride up to the camp seemed to take longer than it had this morning, Jason’s gaze on the forest. Until the bastard who’d shot at them was caught, he wouldn’t let his guard down.
Nate dropped them off at the creek and turned back. “I’ll start bringing up Team members and see if we can’t speed things up.”
Up at the camp, they found Deputy Marcs and a ranger photographing, bagging, and tagging evidence—the porn mags, ammo cans, traps, weapons, tools.
“Look what we found.” Deputy Marcs held out a small plastic bag. “He left us this lovely fake ID. Meet Thomas Jefferson. Does he look familiar to you guys?”
Nate took the evidence, glanced at the photo, then handed it to Jason. “If it isn’t our sovereign citizen. Thomas Jefferson?”
Jason handed it to Jack. “I got a bad vibe off that guy.”
“Always listen to your gut.” Deputy Marcs took the evidence when Jack was done looking at it. “We ran the name on the ID. The name is bogus, too, of course, but we got a ping off the image from the fugitive database. His real name is Thomas Paul Graham. He’s done hard time. It would be easier for me to list the crimes he hasn’t committed than the ones he has.”
Winona didn’t want to see the ID. “What’s he doing up here?”
“He walked off a prison work detail in Alabama more than three years ago. Don’t worry, Win. We’ll catch him. He’s a fugitive, so the Marshal Service is involved now.” Then Deputy Marcs led Winona toward the kennel. “Come see our furry friends.”
Winona grabbed her gear and followed Deputy Marcs, a shocked look coming over her face when she saw the wolves. “He’s kept them locked up in this tiny kennel?”
“He chained the other one up here.” Deputy Marcs rested her hand on top of the large doghouse. “I’m sure the wolf loved that.”
While everyone else stayed back, Winona knelt beside the kennel, speaking Lakota in soothing tones. Jason didn’t understand a word, but he recognized the care in her voice.
“She’s not a wolf,” Winona said after a moment. “She’s a wolfdog crossbreed. You can tell by her eyes and how far apart they’re set. That doesn’t change our plans in any way. Her pups are about sixteen weeks old, and they’re all wearing collars. You don’t want us near them, do you, Mama? I understand.”
Winona sat back on her heels in the snow and got her gear ready, preparing the darts, setting out the restraints. Jason could only respect her skill.
“Are those critter handcuffs?” Deputy Marcs leaned closer, trying to get a look. “Aren’t they cute?”
“They’ll ensure that she can’t hurt herself or anyone else if she starts to come out of it early, but I’m usually pretty good at gauging how much to give. The mask is to muzzle her and protect her eyes from drying out.”
“Right.”
While they waited for the Team to arrive, Jason led Jack over to the smokehouse and opened the door. “He’s been smoking your beef and feeding it to his animals.”
Jack glanced inside. “That son of a bitch.”
By the time Team members began to trickle into the camp, Winona was ready. She explained to Jason what the Team members were doing.
“Jesse Moretti is setting up the anchor. That’s usually Chaska’s job.”
“The anchor?”
“They can’t wheel the gurney on this steep, uneven ground, so they have to carry it. We don’t want Team members tripping or falling and dropping the gurney, so we set up an anchor by tying the ropes to trees. It has to support the weight of the rescuers, as well as the gear, the gurney, and the person—or animal—on the gurney.”
“That makes sense.” Jason found it fascinating—the speed with which they worked, the way everyone seemed to know his or her job, their camaraderie.
“Anchor ready,” Moretti called out.
Winona knelt next to the kennel again, the wolfdog baring her teeth, growling. “I’m sorry, sweet girl, but I need to stick you.”
Winona fired two darts, one after the other, hitting the animal in its hindquarters. The wolfdog yelped—and slowly sank to the snow, darts in its hip. After a moment, she lay on her side and began to twitch.
“Is she okay?” Sasha asked.
“That’s completely normal.” Win motioned to the padlock on the kennel. “Can someone please grab my bolt cutters and cut that lock?”
She hadn’t wanted it cut before the wolf was sedated just in case the door accidentally came open.
“On it.” Ahearn walked over to the kennel, bolt cutters in hand. “Done.”
Winona didn’t open the door immediately. She spoke to the pups in Lakota, held gloved fingers through the holes in the fence, testing their response. They whined, wagged their tails, licked her gloved fingers, putting a smile on her face. “I think we’re good. They’ve got collars, so he must have tried to socialize them. Let’s use leashes.”