Jack carefully turned the truck around and headed out. “The plow is down. Should I stop and put it up?”
“Nah. The county should thank us.”
“Could hurt the plow blade.”
“Who cares?”
“Where we headed?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know. We need medical help. You tell me. We can call his parents from wherever…”
“Virgin River, I guess,” Jack said. “It’s just as quick to drive him straight to town where Mel and Doc can look at him as to call them from the farm. Besides, they have the Humvee ambulance. What’s his condition?”
“He tried to bury himself to keep from freezing to death, and he did a good job of it. But another couple of hours and we’d be outta luck,” Ian said. He absorbed the boy’s cold into his body. “He also got mauled by the cat, but the temperatures were low and the bleeding doesn’t look serious—but then what do I know? Plow faster, huh?”
“You got it, sir,” Jack said.
Ian settled back in the seat and pressed Travis’s face against his bare shoulder, feeling his carotid pulse picking up as he held him chest to chest. Momentarily, he felt him stir on his lap. Within fifteen minutes the boy’s eyes had drifted open. Surprise dawned on his face. “Who are you?” he asked weakly.
“The Christmas fairy,” Ian said. “You’re going to be okay, kid.” Ian pulled the bottle of water out of his jacket pocket and held it to Travis’s lips. “Take a little drink. Slow and easy.” Finished, Ian’s arms came around him tight, holding him against him. “I’m gonna get the heater fixed in this truck, if it’s the last I do. I think you got that cat, boy.”
“I shot at him, but he still lunged at me and I butted him in the head hard as I could. He just ran…”
“He was bleeding good. You must’ve hit him plenty hard.”
“I didn’t get him,” he said slowly. “Scared him away long enough to bury myself.”
“I had a dog,” Ian said. “My best friend for years. She used to sleep on my bed. She was a good dog…”
“Whip was a good dog,” he said.
Ian ruffled the kid’s hair. “I loved my dog. I’d have done the same as you. That cat’s a bad cat. I’ve seen it around.”
“You’ve seen it?”
Ian nodded. “I should’ve killed it. This is my fault—I should’ve shot the cat. He had my girl trapped in the outhouse for hours, in the cold, but I shot over its head to run him off. I’m sorry, kid. I should’ve killed the cat.”
“I should’ve, too,” the kid said, sleepily, laying his head against Ian’s shoulder.
“Drink another couple swallows,” Ian said, holding up the water for him.
A few minutes later Jack drove into Virgin River pounding the horn in long, urgent blasts that brought people out of the bar, including Mel and Doc Mullins. Jack pulled right up to the Hummer while Ian, bare-chested, carried Travis out of the truck and, as they were accustomed to doing, Mel and Doc sprang into action. They lifted the hatch on the Hummer, pulled out the gurney and Ian placed the boy there.
After a quick check of his vitals, Ian told them about the lacerations on his back from the mountain lion he’d been tracking. Mel rolled him onto his side while Doc lifted the jacket and glanced at the injury. “Not so bad. Hypothermia. Melinda, you get in back—start an IV and get him warmed up while I drive. Valley Hospital can deal with this, no problem. The boy’s going to pull through fine.” To Jack he said, “Call the farm—tell his parents.”
“Will do,” Jack said. “Then I’ll go out and fire a flare for Preacher, Mike, and the rest of the search party. You saying we’re home free?”
“Good as it gets,” Doc said. “Come on, Melinda! You slowing down on me?”
“Oh, shove it, you old goat,” she snapped, climbing in. “Jack—mind the baby.”
He grinned largely. “You bet, my love.”
Through it all Ian thought, I’m part of a unit. Even out here in the middle of nowhere, there were people to belong to. He’d always known that, but never thought he’d slip into their fold.
Jack just stood there, looking at Ian. He lifted one brow. “Your girl, huh?” he asked.
“I was just talking to the kid,” Ian said.
“Uh-huh. You better head for home, pal.”
Fifteen
B y the time Ian walked into his cabin, it was after eight at night. He was so tired and chilled, he thought it would be half the night before he’d warm up, much less be able to load the pickup with the next day’s firewood. He didn’t even have the door closed behind him when he heard a wild shriek and Marcie leaped at him, her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around him.