High Country Rebel. Lindsay McKenna

pull his hand up, scrub his face and force the lashes to break free. Blinking rapidly, Talon got them open. Up! He had to get up! Zeke couldn’t freeze out here. Talon couldn’t let that happen.

      Just as Talon got to his feet, wobbling and staggering around, he saw headlights come out of the thick veil of snow. Blinking unsurely, he thought he was seeing things—hallucinations due to his high fever.

      Zeke whined, placing his strong body against Talon’s leg to help him remain upright.

      Talon gasped for air, like a fish thrown out of the water. He jammed his hands down on his knees, head down, trying to stay upright as the big, black SUV appeared like an apparition out of the blinding blizzard. It stopped in front of him.

      A car door opened and slammed shut.

      Jesus, he had to be imagining this! No one in their right mind was out in a blizzard like this. Wyoming people knew to stay home to stay safe. Was this how death happened?

      Zeke barked a warning.

      There really was someone walking toward him! Zeke was in combat assault dog mode. Anyone making a move toward Talon was seen as the enemy. Zeke’s growl rumbled warningly, and the hackles of fur stood up on his neck.

      “Allow,” Talon rasped to Zeke. The command to the dog meant not to attack, but allow that person to touch or be around him. Instantly, Zeke stopped growling and watched the person who was heavily bundled up in a coat.

      Talon forced himself to stand. He was so dizzy he had to step back so that he wouldn’t fall over. He tried to focus his eyes on the person coming around the SUV. Whoever it was, he or she wore a down black jacket, white knit cap, a thick muffler around their neck, hands positioned beneath their armpits.

      And then the apparition spoke.

      “Hey, climb in. No one should be out in this blizzard.”

      A woman’s voice. Husky. Filled with concern. She eyed him worriedly, her blue eyes warm. The snowflakes were landing on strands of her black hair peeking out from beneath her white knit cap.

      “Hey?” she called. “Are you all right?”

      Her hand came to rest around his upper arm, steadying him. Jesus, she’s real! His mind shorted out. He couldn’t talk. He knew he looked like what he was: a homeless military vet. He hadn’t bathed in ten days. His hair was long by military standards. He hadn’t shaved in God knew how long.

      She saw the dog, suddenly becoming wary.

      “Won’t hurt you,” Talon forced out, his voice rough and barely intelligible.

      “Good to know. I’m Cat Edwin. Come on, I need to get you inside my SUV.”

      Her hand became firmer on his arm as he tried to take a step toward it. Everything whirled and he halted, shutting his eyes. “Pneumonia,” he muttered.

      “Yeah, I hear it. You need medical attention pronto.” Cat slid her arm around his waist and pulled his one arm across her shoulder. “I’ll help you into my SUV. What’s your name?” He looked awfully familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Right now, she didn’t have time to figure out why.

      Cat slowly guided him toward the passenger side of her SUV. The man could barely keep his feet beneath him, his knees continuing to collapse beneath him.

      “Talon,” he managed, his feet barely working. In the next breath, he rasped, “Holt.”

      Cat gasped. Now she knew who he was. Sandy Holt’s son! “Okay, Talon Holt, hang on.” Cat reached for the handle and pulled open the door. “Let’s get you inside. You’re wet and freezing.”

      He hesitated. “My dog...”

      “He’s coming along, too,” she reassured him.

      Talon grunted and worked to climb into the SUV. He had a helluva time getting into the seat and she practically shoved him into the SUV. Zeke jumped into the front, sitting on the floorboards between his legs, facing him.

      The door slammed shut. He could feel heat in the SUV. It felt wonderful. Talon lay back, closing his eyes, gasping for air, his lungs hurting with each wheezing breath.

      Cat climbed in and shut the door. “I’m going to the Bar H. It’s about a mile up the road. The roads are closed beyond that. I’ll get you to the ranch and try to help you there.”

      He had to be dreaming. Talon couldn’t answer, too weak to speak. He felt Zeke’s warm, wet tongue licking his hand. Just as she put the SUV into motion, his last memory was of Cat Edwin’s face. She was attractive, slightly curled strands of black hair across her broad brow. He liked her large, readable blue eyes. Talon had seen every emotion in them. Her face was oval with wide cheekbones. Her nose was clean with slightly flared nostrils. He especially liked that wide, soft mouth of hers. If Talon had been healthy, he sure as hell would have wanted to know her a lot better. And with that last thought, he sank into unconsciousness.

      CHAPTER TWO

      CAT FELT A sense of urgency. As a fire department paramedic, she took one look at an unconscious Talon Holt and knew he was in serious shape. The snow was dumping in buckets and she could barely see ten feet in front of her SUV as she drove slowly through the foot-and-a-half snow on the highway. If it weren’t for the snow poles placed every tenth of a mile, she might literally drive off the road and slide down the rocky slope and into the churning Snake River below. Not what she wanted to do.

      Blindly, she reached out for the fire department radio she had installed in her SUV. She needed to call the Bar H and let them know she was coming in with a sick passenger.

      “Hey, anyone awake at the Bar H? This is Cat. Over.” Her heart was pounding a little harder in her chest. The man, who lay slumped, his head tipped back, touched her for some reason. Cat had taken care of hundreds of sick and dying people over the years. What was it about this man that moved her emotionally? Cat had no answer. His beard was scraggly, his hair longish, dirty and unkempt. And that dog of his, Zeke. The animal’s large, intelligent brown eyes never left his master’s wan face. She swore the dog looked as worried as she felt.

      “Cat? Don’t tell me you’re out in this godforsaken blizzard?”

      A smile twitched at her lips. “Hey, Miss Gus. I figured you’d be up by now.” Gus was eighty-five years old and the matriarch of the Bar H.

      Gus snorted. “I was just cooking breakfast for Val and Griff. I didn’t think you’d come in this morning with this blizzard.”

      “Yeah,” Cat said with a chuckle, “but I really wanted to learn to can fruit and veggies with you and Val today.”

      “What a sucker for punishment you are, my dear,” Gus cackled.

      “Listen, I just picked up a man on this highway a few minutes ago,” Cat told her. “He’s in rough shape. I’m bringing him to you, Miss Gus. He needs to be in the E.R. but there’s no way I can make it ten miles back to town in this blizzard. Can you get Griff to meet me out front? The guy is unconscious and has a bad case of pneumonia.”

      “Who on earth would be out in this weather?” Gus demanded.

      Cat cast a quick glance over at the man. She could smell him. “He told me his name. Talon Holt.”

      “Lordy!” Miss Gus exploded. “Talon Holt? He’s Sandy Holt’s son!”

      “One in the same.” Cat gulped and felt a lump form in her throat. “That’s right. I knew there was something familiar about him.”

      “Sandy said her son, who was a U.S. Navy SEAL, was wounded a year ago. She told me he was coming home, but didn’t say when. Said he was coming with a dog. Is there a dog with him?”

      “Yes,” Cat said, driving carefully, feeling the SUV begin to slide a little. She eased off the gas. There was no way to hurry in this stuff. “I remember Sandy saying he was wounded.”

      “Yes.