Lobo's Mate: After the Crash Book 4.5

Prologue

Prologue

North Central Nebraska, December 2067

The man who called himself Lobo rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp and squinted at the horizon. The sunset painted deep shadows over the snow, silhouettes of the bare trees that lined the creek. There was a town about five miles north of here. Broken Bow was the biggest town in fifty miles, but with fewer than four hundred residents it was still a small town. Did it have a doctor? He combed his memory for an elusive shred of rumor he could almost remember about Broken Bow. A witch woman who doctored animals? Was that Broken Bow or another little town he’d never set foot in?

A whine from the dog at his feet dropped him to a crouch. His scarred, callused hand was gentle on The Beagle’s head and neck as he stroked her fur. Even in the frigid December air, her ears were hot with fever.

“I’m gonna find you help, girl,” he promised.

Where he would find help for a sick dog in the wilds of Nebraska he didn’t know. Eighty miles south he could find help at Kearney. He had kin near there, and the town was big enough that they had a doctor. But The Beagle wouldn’t make it that far, so Broken Bow and its maybe-real witch woman it was. He could ask around about the witch woman. If his memory was right, maybe she could help The Beagle. If his memory was faulty, well, he wasn’t any worse off than he was now.

Broken Bow was close, but it presented a few challenges. He glanced down at his bare body. Clothes, for instance. Most towns expected visitors to wear pants at the very least. He and his kin rarely bothered with clothing when they traveled in wolf form. A bundle of clothes, no matter how light, got uncomfortable when strapped to their backs or hanging from their necks. Well, he would find something to wear in town.

Another challenge was money. He had no money to pay for The Beagle’s care. He shrugged, an irritable jerk of his shoulders. Work didn’t scare him. He was strong. There would be something he could do to pay the doctor’s bill.

If there was a doctor. That was the biggest challenge. If they were closer to Kearney… He shook his head, lips in a tight, flat line. Wishing didn’t change anything. Broken Bow would have to do. Even if he was wrong about the witch woman, there had to be someone in that little town who could help.

The Beagle whined again as she sank onto her side in the snow. Lobo wasn’t a man who feared much, but the prospect of losing his companion, the best dog a man had ever had, compacted his heart to a ball of ice in his chest.

“Can you go a little further?” he coaxed. “Just a little way, girl.”

She lifted her head, moving her paws weakly in a valiant attempt to rise. She fell back with a whine that hurt him. So instead of letting his wolf out to take over he gathered The Beagle up in his arms and set off for Broken Bow at a run.