Naomi wasn’t sure how to answer. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d run for her life from two escaped convicts, been shot in the arm, broken her ankle falling into a ravine, stayed awake most of the night in pouring rain afraid the bastards would find her, only to wake up and find out she’d been saved by a wolf. All in all, not her best day. “I’m okay—a little groggy. They had to operate on my leg.”
She tried to shift it, winced at the sharp jolt of pain.
“How long are they keeping you in the hospital?”
“I’m not sure.” Naomi knew that she and Winona were essentially strangers—two people brought together by bad circumstances. Still, she felt at ease with her, as if she’d known her for a long time. “Where’s Shota?”
“He’s back home. He’s got an enclosure behind the wildlife rehabilitation center that I run. I live next door, so his enclosure is kind of my backyard.”
“You’re a vet?”
“I specialize in rehabilitating wildlife.”
“Is that how you ended up with Shota?”
“I had just started my wildlife residency when a game warden arrested a man for illegally transporting gray wolf pups into the state. There were two females and one male. They were close to death when we got them—hypothermic, dehydrated, starving. We took care of them around the clock, but the two little females died.
“Shota survived, but he was socialized to accept people and couldn’t be released into the wild. I couldn’t bear to see him end up in a zoo. I offered to give him a home. I had to jump through a few hoops, but I finally got permission.”
“It’s legal here? Wait. Of course, it is.” Naomi had seen pastures with llamas and ostriches on her drive through Colorado. “Marijuana is legal here, so why not wolves?”
Winona laughed. “Some Colorado cities ban wolves and wolf-hybrid dogs, but not Scarlet.”
“Has he ever bitten you?”
“No. Chaska and I—we’re his pack. He likes you. I’ve never seen him—”
Someone knocked on the door, and a man in blue scrubs entered. “Hi, Naomi. I’m Doctor Renshaw, the orthopedic surgeon. How are you feeling?”
“A little groggy and sore. My leg hurts.”
“I bet.” The doctor explained the surgery at some length, then told her they planned to keep her overnight for observation because of her concussion. “The surgery went well. Your leg should heal without problems. I used glue on your incision so you can take showers. You might need a little physical therapy, but you’ll be back to hiking within a few months. I promise. You’ll need to visit an orthopedic surgeon in about ten days for a checkup. He can remove those stitches in your shoulder, too. You won’t be able to put weight on that leg for about six weeks, and that means no driving.”
The reality of her situation rushed in on her. “How will I get home? I drove here. My Honda is still up at my campsite—if it wasn’t stolen.”
God, what a disaster!
“You could fly back and return for your vehicle later,” the doctor suggested. “Or ask a family member to fly out and drive you and your vehicle home.”
She didn’t bother to tell him that she didn’t have family. “Yeah.”
What was she supposed to do now?
She forced a smile onto her face. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
“I’m sorry your vacation was interrupted. Let the nurse know if you’re not getting adequate pain relief. If all goes well, we’ll release you tomorrow morning. In the meantime, get some rest.” The doctor walked out of the room and shut her door.
Naomi drew a deep breath, fought to rein in a growing sense of panic. “I should be grateful. Last night, I was sure that I was going to be raped and killed. Today, I’m wondering how I’m going to get home again and how much all of this is going to cost.”
And then it hit her.
“My tools!”Damn it!“I brought some of my jewelry-making tools along. If those bastards stole my SUV, they took my tools, too. That’s thousands of dollars.”
How was she going to recover from this? Would car insurance cover that?
Winona closed a warm hand over hers. “I know this must be overwhelming. Chaska is working with the U.S. marshals, trying to track them.”
“He is?” Naomi remembered Chaska’s dark eyes, the intensity of his gaze, the reassuring calm of his voice. “Isn’t that dangerous?”