“It’s a damned tragedy.” Deputy Marcs put her pen and notepad away. “Winona is one of the kindest people I know. Any word?”
Chaska looked up at the board again. “Not yet.”
“I’m supposed to tell you, Chaska, that Joe and Rain are taking dinner to your place tonight so that you don’t have to worry about your family. I think Megs and Ahearn are bringing your vehicle down so you can drive back to Scarlet when you’re ready.”
Chaska didn’t seem surprised by any of this. “Thanks for letting me know.”
But Jason was impressed. The people of Scarlet really did take care of their own.
“Also, the Forest Service is closing the area around the camp until they’ve had time to take down any traplines. I’ve asked the US Marshal Service to speak with the prisoner to get the locations of his traps. Hopefully, the bastard will cooperate. I’ve got to go and get this report filed. Please know I’m keeping Winona in my prayers.”
Chaska shook her hand. “I appreciate all you’ve done. I know Winona does, too.”
Jason held out his hand as well. “Thank you.”
Five minutes after Deputy Marcs had left, a group of deputy US marshals—DUSMs—walked down the hallway, McBride among them.
He saw them, stopped, told the others to go on ahead. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me it was Winona.”
Jason and Chaska nodded.
“Son of a bitch.” McBride sat, rubbed his face with his hands. “What happened? I got a call from the Forest County sheriff saying a woman stepped in a trap set by our prisoner and asking me to find out how many more traps he’s got out there.”
Once again, Jason told the story. Somehow, the weight of it got heavier each time. Seeing the chain. Shouting to warn her. The snap of steel jaws. Her screams.
McBride looked like he wanted to punch someone by the time Jason had finished. “I’m going to get the information from Graham about the rest of the traps. I’m also going to ask for an additional charge of assault. He needs to be held accountable.”
Jason stared at him. “That’s why you’re here. He’s here—in this hospital.”
Both he and Chaska stood.
McBride got to his feet as well. “Oh, no. I can’t let the two of you into his room.”
Jason pushed—hard. “I won’t touch him. I just want to give him a piece of my mind before you send him back to Alabama.”
But Chaska was more to the point. “I want to look the bastard who almost killed my sister in the eyes.”
McBride’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, and Jason knew he was thinking it through. When he looked up, his jaw was set. “If I take you with me, I need your word you won’t lay hands on him. If you do, it’s my ass. Understand?”
Jason didn’t need the explanation. He knew how things worked. “Got it.”
“I understand.”
They walked with McBride to the prisoner’s room, McBride sharing some of what he knew along the way. “Graham told us he was breeding wolfdogs as a source of income. He hoped to sell them for dog fights and use the cash for ammo, tools, and other supplies he couldn’t get from the land or steal.”
Jason hadn’t thought he could possibly hate Graham more, but that did it. “What a piece of shit.”
“He belongs in a cage, not the wolves,” Chaska muttered.
They came to a door where two DUSMs stood guard, the rest of McBride’s crew milling about, waiting for their boss.
One of the DUSMs looked from Chaska to Jason. “Who are they?”
McBride answered the question truthfully without explaining their connection to this case. “Jason Chiago is with the Shadow Wolves, and Chaska Belcourt did some tracking for us on a fugitive case. They need to talk with the prisoner.”
Eyebrows rose. Heads nodded.
“Shadow Wolves. Cool.”
McBride opened the door, followed Jason and Chaska inside.
Thomas Paul Graham lay on his back, a morphine pump attached to an IV in one arm, a special pillow beneath his hips. He grinned when he saw them.
Then he recognized Jason, and his grin vanished. “Now, look, I wasn’t tryin’ to shoot you in the face. I was tryin’ to scare you off.”
McBride did the talking. “You’re facing charges for firing on a federal agent—and a few other felonies besides. Poaching. Use of illegal traps. And now assault with a deadly weapon. A woman stepped into one of your old-time bear traps this afternoon and might lose her leg. We want the location of every trap and snare you’ve placed on Forest Service land—now.”
“Not ’til you tell me what you did with my wolves.”
“They’re fine—all six of them. The Forest Service placed the female with her pups in a sanctuary. The male will join them soon.”
“I want proof.”
Did this son of a bitch think he was in charge?
Jason walked to the head of the bed, bent down until his face was almost touching Graham’s, and let the full force of his rage show. “The woman who was injured means a lot to me. Give the nice marshal the information that he needs, or there won’t be a prison cell on earth that can keep you safe from me.”
McBride cleared his throat. “Chiago.”
Graham’s face paled, and he broke. “They’re all in a line up to the ridge heading west. There should be four more.”
Then Chaska stepped forward, contempt on his face. “The woman you hurt is my sister. Do you know what we Lakota used to do to our enemies?”
He let the question hang in the air for a moment, let Graham squirm.
“We used to ride up and touch them to show our bravery. But you’re pathetic. There’s no honor in counting coup on a sick son of a dog like you.”
Then he turned and walked away, Jason following him out of the room.
Chapter 21
Jason and Chaska waited, the minutes like hours. Megs and Ahearn came with sandwiches and the keys to Chaska’s truck.
Megs gave them an update. “Everyone in town is praying for her. Joe has already put a donation jar on the bar at Knockers to help cover her medical expenses. We got the wolf safely down. Dr. Keene examined it, fed it, and it’s now safely in Shota’s pen. The sanctuary folks are coming to get him tomorrow. I know Win will ask.”
Chaska hugged Megs. “Thank you.”
Megs stepped back, wiped her eyes. “We all love Win. Damned onions.”
Finally, four hours and twenty-two minutes after Winona went into surgery, the screen said she had been moved into recovery.
Several minutes later, the surgeon walked into the waiting area, his gaze moving over the room, settling on Jason and Chaska. “Belcourt family?”
As they were the only brown-skinned people present, it was a good guess.
Jason and Chaska stood.
He motioned them toward a private conference room. “Let’s talk in here.”
Jason’s stomach sank. He followed Chaska into the small room, closed the door behind them, and sat at the small table.
Chaska spoke first. “How is my sister?”
The doctor leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s groggy from the anesthesia. We’ve given her a nerve block, so she’s not in pain. Whoever put that tourniquet on her leg saved her life. One of the teeth on that trap severed her fibular artery. She would have bled out in five minutes. As it was, we had to give her two units of blood.”