High Country Rebel

CHAPTER SIX

“TELL ME ABOUT yourself.” Talon sat on the edge of his bed, Zeke nearby. He picked up his knife and fork to cut into the roast. The food smelled heavenly and his stomach growled.

Cat sat in the chair, a tray across her lap. She didn’t want Talon eating alone at dinnertime. It had been Gus who suggested she keep him company. Of course, she couldn’t argue.

“Not much to tell,” she murmured. Zeke thumped his tail as Talon gave him a piece of cooled meat. The smile that came to Talon’s face made her melt. He looked so different from the hard, focused man she had seen before. When he lifted his chin, those gray eyes focused on her, Cat felt that pull, that euphoria. It was as if she were wrapped in light, held, loved. Loved? Cat slowly set her flatware on her tray, confused by her senses.

“Where were you born?” Talon saw her cheeks flush and she avoided direct eye contact. Why?

Zeke whined.

Talon pulled his gaze off Cat and patted the dog’s head.

“I was born near Cheyenne, Wyoming,” she said simply.

Talon sampled the beef, closing his eyes and savoring the hot, delicious food. It had been two months of walking from San Diego to Wyoming, on foot with Zeke, to reach home. He hadn’t eaten well but had made sure Zeke was properly fed. The meal on his lap was a banquet. A feast of unimaginable proportions. And it all smelled so good.

“What did your parents do?” he asked casually, hoping to defuse the wariness in her eyes.

Cat frowned and pushed her food around on the plate. From the quiet way Talon asked the question, she could tell he cared. But it was like stirring up a toxic waste dump from her past, the last place she wanted to go. She’d spent the past ten years of her life distancing herself from it, from him, her father. She never wanted to go back to that time. Now Talon was forcing her to and she was resistant.

“My father worked as a wrangler on a ranch,” she mumbled.

“Your mom?”

“She died when I was ten.” She glanced up and gave him a sympathetic look. “Breast cancer.”

Talon scowled. “I’m sorry.” He could see the tension on her face. “Listen, if I’m being too nosy just tell me to back off.” Because he had no desire to bring pain to Cat. God knew he carried enough in him.

Cat shrugged. “My childhood wasn’t pretty and I don’t like talking about it.”

Okay...well, that answered some of his questions. “How did you get interested in being a firefighter and paramedic?” he asked instead. Maybe that was safer ground for Cat. Some of the fear left her eyes. She started eating again.

“I always wanted to be one since I could remember. I went to college in Cheyenne and took Fire Science.” She didn’t want to tell him how much she struggled with reading. Or the nights spent with a teacher who helped her catch up. “When I graduated, I came here, to Jackson Hole, and got a job.”

Talon nodded, enjoying her as she relaxed. “Are there any other women on the fire department?”

“I’m the only one.”

“You picked a tough career.”

“No man is going to tell me what I can or can’t do in my life.”

Talon heard the steel grit behind her words. She was frowning, paying attention to eating, not looking up at him. Yeah, he’d sensed a toughness in her, like Kevlar plate armor. It wasn’t that obvious, because he’d been privy to her paramedic side, the healer—not the firefighter. “I imagine some of the men didn’t want you in their ranks, thought you couldn’t perform the physical work.”

“That’s for sure,” Cat said. “Lieutenant Matt Sinclaire, though, gave me a chance. Half the department didn’t want me. The other half was okay with it. I’d taken all the physical tests and passed them with flying colors.” Cat smiled a little and held Talon’s interested gaze. “I’m not exactly petite, as you can see. I’m five foot ten inches tall and strong. I can pull a two-and-a-half inch hose filled with water just as well as any man. I’m not even the smallest firefighter, either. Steve, who is twenty-seven and near my age, is a few inches shorter and definitely weighs less.”

“I’ll bet you two are best friends?”

She caught the amusement in Talon’s eyes. “Yes. From the get-go we were tight. Maybe misery loves company, although the guys at the fire department never made it tough on Steve like they did to me.”

“But you had paramedic skills. That must have helped convince them.”

“It did. But it was Matt who stood by me. He fought for me and, fortunately, I was good at my job.”

“And how many years ago was that?”

“Seven,” Cat said, feeling the tension dissolve. She didn’t mind talking about her life from eighteen years old onward.

“Now are you fully accepted?”

“I am.”

“And why are you working out here at the Bar H on your days off?”

“Because I want to buy a house.”

He grinned. “What’s your dream house look like?”

She laughed a little, finishing off the vegetables. “You’ll laugh.”

“Try me.”

“Why do you want to know?” she challenged.

“Because I care.” He held her mutinous look. Cat really didn’t want anyone within those walls she had erected. He added gently, “Because you saved our lives this morning. I’d like to know more about you as a person.” That was the truth, but Talon didn’t add that he was attracted to her. If he admitted that, Cat might disappear.

Cat looked down. “I’m a very private person, Talon.”

He said nothing and resumed eating. Cat wasn’t someone to be pushed into a corner. She’d shut down, just as she had right now. There was definitely some baggage in her life.

“In some ways, you’re a shadow warrior like me,” he admitted.

“Is that what SEALs are? Shadow warriors?”

“Black ops always works in the shadows,” he told her. Talon handed Zeke another morsel of beef. The dog’s eyes were alight with happiness.

“Why did you join the SEALs?”

Talon studied Cat for a moment, trying to decide if she really wanted to know or if she was turning the tables on him and deflecting more questions. He decided she was genuine in her curiosity. “I wanted to make a difference.”

“You could have done that any number of ways. You didn’t have to be a SEAL to protect the country or do your patriotic duty.”

“I liked what they did,” Talon said. “I grew up hunting and tracking and felt my skills could be best used in that way.” His stomach tensed. They were going into forbidden territory. He didn’t want to talk too much about his work, his past.

“Sandy always loved getting your emails. She said there was a lot you couldn’t tell her.”

Nodding, Talon said, “My military life is top secret. I can never talk about it.”

“She said you’re a hero.”

Talon cringed inwardly. He didn’t feel like a hero. More like a failure. He’d failed to rescue Hayden. His mouth flexed. “I’m not.”

Cat regarded him for a moment, sensing his pain. Maybe it was in the sudden tightening of his face or the way his fork and knife hesitated over the food. “She said you’d earned two Silver Stars, a Bronze Star and two Purple Hearts. In my world, that makes you a hero even if we never know what you did to earn them.”

“They’re just medals,” he growled. “They mean nothing.”

Cat remained silent and cleaned up the rest of the food on her plate. She risked a look at him. His mouth was hard. Zeke was watching his master intently, as if sensing his withdrawal.

Standing, Cat said, “Do you want some dessert? Coffee? I’m going out to get mine.”

Talon shook his head and gave her his unfinished tray. “No...thanks. Tell Miss Gus it tasted good. I’m just not up to eating that much right now.”

There was misery in his expression. She ached for him. “After we’re done with dinner, are you up to walking down the hall to your room? I’ve got it ready for you.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I just need to rest a little bit.” Because he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, Hayden’s death. His inability to save him.

“Sure,” Cat murmured, taking the tray and putting it on top of hers. “I’ll be back later.”

Talon stretched out on the bed. Outside, it was dark. “Could you turn the light off when you leave?” he asked.

“Will do.”

* * *

“HOW IS TALON?” Gus asked as Cat sat down with her rhubarb pie with vanilla ice cream.

“He’s tired. His fever is lower, but he’s really underweight, and pneumonia can fell the strongest of men.”

“I had pneumonia once as a kid,” Griff said. “Miserable stuff. Took me almost a month to recover fully from it.”

“It’s nothing to mess with,” Gus agreed, grim. She looked over at Cat. “How’s Talon really doing?”

“I think he’s on an emotional roller coaster. He talked to Sandy and he’s upset,” Cat said.

“Anyone would be,” Val offered, giving Cat a gentle look. “How are you doing, Cat? You’re on the front lines with Talon. He’s got PTSD.”

“He sure does,” she admitted, enjoying the tart, sweet rhubarb pie. “I accidentally walked in and woke him up earlier. He sat up in the bed, his fists cocked, and the look in his eyes scared the hell out of me.”

Gus shook her head.

Val reached over and touched Gus’s arm. “Talon just left the hospital. He’d been wounded. I’m sure he’s reliving all the hell he went through.” She looked pointedly at Cat. “And you have to be careful with him. Those black ops guys, when they’re wounded, they pose a threat to the nurses and doctors. They’re taught how to kill with their hands and if you get too close to them accidentally, they can take you out. If you have to wake him, just stay by the door and call his name. That way, you’re not within arm’s reach.”

“That’s what he told me afterward,” Cat admitted. “Val, you’ve never talked much about your Air Force service or being an intelligence officer. How do you know so much about what Talon did?”

“Because from time to time, as an intelligence officer, I went out with black ops groups into the field. It was dangerous, clandestine work.”

Griff studied his wife. “And I’m glad you’re no longer doing it.”

“Makes two of us,” Val assured him. “I’m glad I came home.”

“Makes three of us,” Gus said. “The Bar H is coming back to life under your and Griff’s guidance.” She grinned and rubbed her hands together. “And now, with Talon agreeing to work for us full-time, that’s going to help us with the plans we’ve got on the back burner for the ranch.”

Cat smiled, always enjoying Gus and her fiery personality. “Don’t expect him to start doing much of anything for about two weeks.”

“Don’t worry,” Griff assured her, picking up his coffee mug. “May is always testy and we get more snow than spring sunshine. I’ll go easy on him.”

“Good,” Cat murmured, “because he’s really underweight, Griff. He’s lost forty or fifty pounds from what I can tell.”

“Why so much?” Gus demanded, scowling.

“Maybe six months in the hospital did it,” she suggested. “He doesn’t talk much about himself and he didn’t like my questions when I asked him.”

Val nodded. “Just give Talon time. Don’t press him too much, okay? Chances are him getting wounded has something to do with it. He’s probably going through a lot of emotional trauma he can’t share with anyone.”

“That must be tough,” Gus muttered, “not being able to talk about it to anyone.”

Val put her empty pie plate aside and slid her fingers around the coffee mug. “It’s being caught between a rock and a hard place, Gus.”

Griff sat back, watching his wife with concern. “And that’s why after we got married, on some nights, you’d wake up screaming.”

Val sighed. “Yes. I still get them, but not as much as before.” She reached over and touched his cheek. “Because I have you, I feel safe now.”

Cat tilted her head. “So, you have PTSD, too.” It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did, because Val seemed so calm and collected.

“Yes. I’m sure not one-tenth as bad as Talon has it. He was out on the front lines against the enemy all the time. My work was off and on for a couple of years over in Iraq. Still, when your life is on the line, it affects you.” Her voice lowered and she held Cat’s gaze. “Talon has probably seen terrible things, Cat. He’s jumpy and he’s been finely trained until his reactions are all based on muscle memory. He doesn’t think about his defensive moves—they are a part of him. That’s why you can’t be near him when he suddenly jolts awake for whatever reason.”

Griff nodded. “I remember the first time you sat up screaming in bed shortly after we got married. You scared the living hell out of me. I thought you were hurt.”

Val smiled sadly. “Yes, I remember that night. That dream.”

“What did you do to help her, Griff?” Cat wondered.

“When I realized she wasn’t hurt, I just held her.”

“Love always heals,” Gus uttered, eyeing the couple with tenderness. She reached out, patting Val’s arm. “I wish you’d told me this before.”

“It’s hard for military vets to open up, Gus,” Val said. “Man or woman, it doesn’t matter. We carry so much toxic crap inside us, we’re afraid to release it.” She glanced over at her husband. “I guess that’s why we have nightmares and maybe we’re working it out in the landscape of our mind. So much of it is top secret and we can’t speak about it to our spouse or friends. We’re like time bombs.”

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