After serving as a Navy medic, Dawson Callahan is back in the States and ready to start over. Leaving his native Texas, he heads for the wide open spaces of Wyoming, where he finds work as a wrangler. True, he’ll mainly be wrangling chickens—and wrangling Sarah Carter’s granny, who’s still spry, but in need of a little caregiving. But ranch work is ranch work, and it’s hard to turn down a job offer from the beautiful Sheriff Carter—especially when she deputizes him as one of her lawmen.
Sarah loves her grandmother, but with her law enforcement career keeping her busy, they could both use some help from a strong, steady man. And policing Lincoln County has only gotten tougher since a merciless drug lord arrived in the area. When Sarah takes a bullet on the job, it’s Dawson who comes to her rescue—and though they both thought they left war behind in Afghanistan, they’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s theirs, even if it means facing down traumas they’ve buried for years. Because love isn’t for the faint of heart . . .
*************************************************************************************
An excerpt from Wind River Lawman by Lindsay McKenna
June 5
“Are we the only help on this call?” Dawson asked, looking around. The valley was composed of farms and ranches all the way to the Wilson Range on his right and the Salt River Range on the left. There weren’t many cars on the highway this time of morning.
Sarah said, “Shift changes mean people are coming and going in one concentrated area, the courthouse. We aren’t out on the county highways patrolling like we should be.” Her lips compressed, and she gripped the wheel a bit tighter, pushing the Tahoe to eighty miles an hour down the empty highway. The light bar was flashing, the siren screaming.
“I never thought of it that way,” Dawson said, “but you’re right. It’s sort of like one of our Marine recon squads coming in while the other is going out beyond the wire. The Taliban would sit for weeks watching our coming and going, keeping tabs and times on us. That’s when they’d jump us.”
“I was in the Corps, too,” Sarah said, wanting to connect with Dawson. For a Texan, he sure seemed laid back, more a type B than a type A, but maybe she was wrong about that. She’d read the unredacted version of his DD Form 214. He’d earned the Bronze Star with a “V” for valor, a Silver Star and three Purple Hearts. He was a true hero. And typical of black ops types, those men and women in combat never pushed their weight around, bragged or boasted of what they’d done to earn those medals. She doubted, once they had time to sit down and talk, that Callahan would admit any of that unless she brought it up first. And even then, he’d probably modestly resist admitting anything.
“I guess I’m not too surprised,” Dawson said and gave her a wry look. “I knew you’d been in the military.”
“Oh. How?” Sarah was pleased by his insight. The man saw a lot. She needed someone who was observant like that to monitor her grandmother’s busy, hectic life, to be a\ support to her. A mind reader of sorts.
“The way you carried yourself at Charlie’s feedstore. Squaring your shoulders. There’s no slouch in your spine, Sheriff.” He’d said it lightly, with a teasing note, not wanting to make her feel insulted. Or hit on. The longer he sat in the cab of the SUV, the more she interested him. There wasn’t anything to dislike about this woman, he discovered, much to his chagrin. He needed a job. Not a relationship.
Laughing a bit, Sarah said, “You can’t take the military out of a person, can you?” Slanting a brief look in his direction, she felt warm all over. The man was tall, ruggedly handsome and a gentleman. The old-fashioned kind, but hey, he was from Texas, and they tended to be that way, from her observations in the past.
“No, you can’t.”
“We’ll have to trade Corps stories when we get off this call,” she said. “Are you up for some coffee and chatting at Kassie’s? I’ve read your résumé and it all checks out. And after meeting you in person, I think you might be a good fit for Gertie, my grandmother. But we can talk about that later.”
“Yeah. I see a car on the berm about half a mile ahead. I thought you said it was a rollover accident?”
“That’s what Dispatch was told by the driver who called 911.” She eased off the accelerator, starting to coast, eyes narrowing. There was a dark burgundy van, an older one, maybe a Toyota at first glance. Frowning, she said, “That van looks to be in perfectly good condition, as if it’s never been in an accident.”
“That van isn’t a rollover. It’s got no dents along the side panel nearest the highway and the top isn’t crushed in either. And all four tires are still inflated. You wouldn’t necessarily see that in a rollover. Usually one or more are blown by the impact.”
The hair on her neck stood up. They were within a quarter of a mile of the vehicle.
“The hood is up. Two men are standing on the ditch side, below the berm, but I can barely see them,” he added.
She appreciated his attention to detail. “This doesn’t feel right,” she muttered, starting to brake.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
Before Sarah could speak, three men rushed from the hidden side of the van, all sporting AR-15s and firing directly at them. Bullets smashed into the windshield, thunked along the top of the vehicle, ripping and peeling back the metal. Glass shattered into thousands of glittering, sharp pieces, each a slicing projectile. Sarah cursed. She’d taken evasive car training, and she slammed on the brakes, wrenched the wheel, making the Tahoe perform a one-eighty in the middle of the highway, its nose pointed toward Wind River. The smell of burning rubber, the scream of the tires skidding across the asphalt, entered the vehicle, hurting her ears.
She’d ducked her head, but never let go of the wheel. Tiny, hot pinpricks of pain struck her chin and neck. Her mind snapped to survival mode. To getting out of this alive. Worse, she had a civilian in the Tahoe with her. “Get down!” she yelled at Callahan as the gravity hurled her back against the seat, the belt biting hard into her shoulder as they swung around.
There was no way she could take on three heavily armed men with combat rifles. Hell, she had one rifle and a handgun in the SUV and that was it. Worse, a civilian in her Tahoe, and he could be killed. She had to protect him, first, and then herself. They had to escape. More bullets crashed into the vehicle. Her whole life, her only focus, was getting out of those gun sights. “Cartel!” she yelled to him as he ducked his head below the dashboard. The vehicle anchored after it turned. Stomping on the accelerator, Sarah hunched over as more bullets came slamming through the cabin. The rear window blew outward.
Weaving the cruiser, crushing the accelerator with her foot, she tried to make them less of a target. Please don’t let them hit the tires! Zigzagging erratically, she tried to avoid the armor-piercing bullets that tore so easily through the metal. If any of those rounds hit, they would destroy a human. Sarah yelled, “Keep down!” She had on a Kevlar vest, but he didn’t. She powered the vehicle forward, the engine screaming along with the siren.
Son of a bitch! Sarah would bet her paycheck Pablo Gonzalez was behind this hit. He was setting up sex trafficking in Wyoming. Gonzalez was a well-known drug lord from Guatemala who had hired merciless, hardened Central American soldiers to invade Lincoln County.
She jerked a quick glance at Dawson, who had his head and shoulders pressed below the dashboard, hands over his neck to protect it.
“Grab the radio!”
Dawson reached over, unhooking it from the dash, thrusting it in the direction of her open hand.
Taking it from him, Sarah saw that the cartel members had stopped firing at her. They were almost a mile away from them. Instantly, she straightened, one hand on the wheel, the other around the radio, calling Dispatch and giving them the situation and instructions. She tried to keep her voice calm and low. Every few seconds her gaze shot from the rearview mirror to the side mirrors, making sure the men weren’t following them in the van.
When she got off the radio, she saw Callahan sit up, his eyes narrowed. She heard him say as he looked behind him, “The van just left in the opposite direction from us. They’re heading south on Route 89.”
Sarah called Dispatch again, giving them the information. Damn! She’d been lured into a trap by Gonzalez. And he’d timed it perfectly. His soldiers would know this was shift-change time, that there was no one who could come to help her, much less tail the van and catch up with it. “They’ll take one of many, many dirt roads off 89 and disappear,” she growled, hanging up the radio. Glancing over at him, she asked, “Are you all right? Any wounds?” The wind was screaming through the Tahoe, cold and sharp.
“No, I’m fine. You?”
“Pissed, but I’m okay. I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”
“Don’t be. I’m used to this sort of thing.” His mouth twisted. “I thought I’d left this shit behind in Afghanistan.”
Snorting, Sarah rasped, “Since Gonzalez, a Guatemalan drug lord, moved into Wyoming last year, it’s been an escalating war zone between his soldiers and our law enforcement.
Reminds me of Afghanistan, dammit.” The explanation came out gritty, filled with disgust. She saw Callahan give her a long, appraising look, but he said nothing more. The man was unfazed by this firefight. If she had any worries about him should Gertie need sudden medical help, this man would be her guardian angel, no question.
*************************************************************************************
Want to read more of Wind River Lawman? Click on the links below!
Amazon Barnes & Noble Books-A-Million Walmart Kobo Google Play Apple iTunes
About Lindsay McKenna
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lindsay McKenna is the pseudonym of award-winning author Eileen Nauman. With more than 185 titles to her credit and approximately 23 million books sold in 33 countries worldwide, Lindsay is one of the most distinguished authors in the women’s fiction genre. She is the recipient of many awards, including six RT Book Reviews awards (including best military romance author) and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. In 1999, foreseeing the emergence of ebooks, she became the first bestselling women’s fiction author to exclusively release a new title digitally. In recognition of her status as one of the originators of the military adventure/romance genre, Lindsay is affectionately known as “The Top Gun of Women’s Military Fiction.” Lindsay comes by her military knowledge and interest honestly—by continuing a family tradition of serving in the U.S. Navy. Her father, who served on a destroyer in the Pacific theater during World War II, instilled a strong sense of patriotism and duty in his daughter. Visit Lindsay at https://www.lindsaymckenna.com/.