Part 3
Tom moved sideways and closed the path without drawing his weapon.
Behind him, the female tried to rise. The cable stopped her, and her growl traveled through the rock. Miles froze at the sound.
A county deputy appeared at the bottom of the northern trail, one hand near her holster.
“Miles Gentry,” she said, “face the boulder and keep your hands visible.”
He complied. By the time Deputy Elena Ruiz reached him and secured his wrists, his expression had flattened into something Tom remembered from court: not innocence, but the refusal to give anyone more of him than they could prove they owned.
Leah came down behind the deputy carrying a hard case. A knit cap covered her ears, and her dark braid had been doubled through the back. Tasha Reed followed with the portable oxygen unit and monitor, her once-broken wrist braced against the weight.
Leah did not greet Tom. “Observation point?”
He led her behind the granite shoulder.
Through binoculars, Leah studied the female. Tasha knelt beside the cases and began connecting tubing with her left hand while steadying fittings against her right forearm. The injury had healed, but her wrist no longer rotated fully.
“How long has she been down?” Leah asked.
“Unknown. Tracks were covered before the latest snow.”
“Yesterday morning,” Miles called from beside the deputy. “First alert showed her standing. By noon, she wasn’t.”
Leah turned toward him. “What time was the alert?”
“A little after two.”
“And you watched?”
“The cub kept leaving the frame. I couldn’t get close while she was still able to charge.”
“You could have called.”
Miles looked away.
“Where are the images?” Deputy Ruiz asked.
“Remote account. My phone is in the dash.”
Ruiz retrieved the phone without attempting to open it and informed dispatch. Its contents could wait for lawful access. Leah already had the medical fact she needed: the jaguar might have been restrained for more than thirty hours.
“Thank you,” she told Miles.
He looked almost startled. He had given her information that might save the animal and deepen the case against him. Leah accepted the useful part without offering him anything in return.
She outlined the rescue in short instructions. The female would be immobilized from behind cover with a dose adjusted for shock and cold. Tasha would monitor her. Tom would keep visual contact with the cub and help build a shielded path to the transport crate. Nobody would approach until Leah judged the sedation adequate.
“I’ll choose the ascent route,” Tom said.
“I direct the transport,” Leah replied.
“The direct line crosses beneath loaded snow and broken talus.”
Leah looked toward the slope. “Show me both options.”
Tom traced them in the snow with a gloved finger: a shorter eastern line beneath the overhang and a longer route west around a granite fin.
“We decide after she’s stabilized,” Leah said. “If I stop the litter, it stops.”
Tom nodded. “Agreed.”
The old argument remained between them, but for once neither used it to erase the other’s authority.
Tom took position behind a clear shield. The cub had returned to the hollow between its mother’s neck and shoulder. When the dart struck the female’s rear leg, the cub sprang into the rocks.
The mother roared.
The sound struck the overhang and came back hard enough for Tom to feel it through his ribs. She lunged, pulled against the cable, and twisted toward the dart. Tom stepped out from cover before he realized he had moved.
“Back,” Leah said.
He stopped.
“Behind the shield.”
Tom obeyed.
The jaguar fought the drug for several minutes. Her head lowered, rose again, and turned toward the space where the cub had vanished. Gradually, the tension left her shoulders. Leah watched her breathing, jaw, and ears before raising one hand.
Tasha approached behind a second shield. Tom joined her, and together they formed a broad corridor between the ledge and an open crate.
The cub hissed from the rocks. One paw struck the plastic with a crack.
“He won’t cross while she blocks the opening,” Leah said.
Tom saw his patrol coat where the cub had left it. With a fiberglass pole, he eased one sleeve toward the crate and pushed the cuff across the threshold. Then he and Tasha widened the corridor and backed away.
The cub emerged. It looked at Tom, smelled the coat, and stepped onto the sleeve. At the crate entrance, it turned toward its mother.
Tom held still.
The cub entered. Tasha pulled the door closed from behind the shield. It struck the bars once, then crouched on the coat, sides heaving.
Only after the crate was covered did Leah approach the female.
She confirmed the depth of sedation, placed an airway, and started oxygen. Tasha established monitoring while Leah obtained access for warmed fluids. Tom held the light and reported changes in breathing.
Up close, the jaguar’s body showed what shadow had concealed. The cable had cut into the lower foreleg above the paw. Tissue bulged around it, blackened in places and raw in others. There was no visible bone, but the paw did not respond when Leah tested it.
“Can the leg be saved?” Tom asked.
“I’m trying to save the cat,” Leah said. “The leg gets an answer later.”
They positioned dressings before releasing the pressure. A rescue worker brought a manual spreader from the truck. Tom stabilized the anchor while Leah protected the limb and Tasha watched the monitor.
When the cable opened, blood welled into the damaged tissue. Leah controlled it, dressed the wound, and secured the limb in a padded splint.
The monitor changed pitch.
“Pressure’s falling,” Tasha said.
Leah adjusted the fluids and warming packs. “We move now.”
Deputy Ruiz took Miles toward the county vehicle. Before getting in, he twisted to look back at the ledge.
“The winch key is under the visor,” he said. “Use it if you need it.”
Tom did not thank him. One useful decision could limit harm. It could not turn the restraint into an accident.
They placed the female on an insulated litter. The cub’s covered crate rode on a second sled. His thin cry repeated from beneath the blanket.
Before starting uphill, Leah compared the monitor with both routes.
“East saves about ten minutes,” she said.
“And puts the whole team below that shelf.”
“Her circulation is getting worse.”
“Loose rock won’t care.”
Tom expected the familiar hardening in Leah’s face. Instead, she studied the shadow where wind had built snow against the fractured ledge.
“West,” she decided. “Tasha stays at the head. Tom calls every grade change before we reach it.”
He took the front of the litter.
They moved through the trees in a tight line. Tom tested the ground with a pole before each turn. Leah walked beside the jaguar’s head, one hand on the litter and the other guarding the airway tubing. Tasha ventilated in a steady rhythm.
At the first switchback, the pulse tone slowed.
“Down,” Leah said.
They lowered the litter without tilting it. Leah checked the airway and pulse, made an adjustment, and waited until the rhythm strengthened.
They moved again.
Snow deepened behind the granite fin. Tom’s thighs shook from controlling the litter on the climb, and melted snow worked through his gloves where he gripped the frame. The tracked vehicle’s amber marker glowed through the trees less than a hundred yards away.
The monitor slowed a second time. This time the tone did not recover. “Set her down,” Leah said. She pressed two fingers into the femoral pulse point, shifted them, and tried again. Tasha looked from Leah’s hand to the flat line. Leah raised her eyes to Tom. “No pulse. Start compressions…”
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