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 her hand. “I’m not going to let you die, angel.”
“I’m … so cold.”
He dug in her pack, drew out a couple of hand warmers, got the exothermic reaction going, and tucked them inside her parka close to her heart, wrapping the emergency blanket around her once again. “Is that better?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
Hurry the fuck up, Henriksen!
“Jason, I want … to tell you … to thank you. I’ve never … felt so close to … or cared about a man more ... than you.” A tear slid from the corner of her eye. “You … You’re the best.”
“I care about you, too, Win.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
Then the truth hit him with the force of a body blow.
He didn’t just care about her.
He loved her.
A part of him tried to object. He’d known Win for only a week and a day. He couldn’t love her. He was just on the rebound and strung out on great sex.
That’s bullshit, and you know it.
Truth was truth.
He loved her. She was like the missing part of him, the soul mate he’d never known he was lacking and had never expected to find. And he had to leave her.
Not yet.
“We’ll get you to the hospital, and they’ll do all they can to save your leg. I’ll be right there. Henriksen will be back soon. Help is on the way.”
God, he hoped he was right.
But Winona was unconscious again.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. This wait was unbearable.
The wolf whined, came closer, still on its belly.
“I’m watching you.” Jason prepared another syringe of ketamine.
The wolf’s ears went up. It jumped to its feet, growled deep in its throat.
Jason drew his Glock. “Don’t do this, little brother.”
Rather than attacking, the wolf turned to flee.
“Shit.” Jason shoved his Glock back into its holster, grabbed the tranquilizer gun, and raised it, sighting on the wolf, which broke into a run. “Oh, no, you don’t. Winona came here for your sake.”
Jason pulled the trigger, hit the wolf in its hindquarters.
It yelped, dropped to the snow, nipping at the dart.
And then, in the distance, Jason heard it—the whirring of a helicopter.
A cacophony of voices crashed in on Winona, but the snatches of conversation made no sense, the words just beyond her comprehension.
“Let’s get a second IV going… Antibiotics … Tetanus at the hospital.”
“… O positive.”
“How long has that tourniquet been on her?”