“Mama, there’s a boy waving.”

Jo Beth waved back excitedly, and Marlee noticed a man standing at the end of the runway.

She throttled back, unable to take her eyes off him. It flashed through Marlee’s mind that from a distance the raven-haired, broad-shouldered man reminded her of Cole, her husband, before he’d taken ill and his fine body had wasted away. Suddenly her hands shook and the plane dipped.

She quickly regained control, but landed with an irritating hop – a beginner’s mistake that unnerved her as she powered down. Ripping off her headset, Marlee leaped from the cockpit and shook out her hair, only to discover as she watched the taciturn Wylie Ames that he watched her, too.

Marlee hurried around the plane’s nose to assist Jo Beth. For some reason, Marlee disliked the fact that Ames was too far away for her to tell the colour of his eyes. Ace-of-spades black would be her guess – to go with the scowl he wore.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

wrote her first book in 1989. She moved to the Superromance line a few years later and has published over twenty-five novels to date. Roz has been a finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award and also for the Holt Medallion and the Golden Quill award, among others. She lives in Tucson, Arizona, with her husband, Denny. They have two daughters.

Dear Reader,

I read an article in a rural newspaper about the area’s inclusion in a much-needed and longed-for volunteer life-flight organisation. The article discussed the vital role these groups play in helping with critical-care patients living in remote regions of the United States.

Intrigued, I began to look up and gather information on the many groups of volunteer pilots that exist across this vast country.

If my fictional flight group, Angel Fleet, bears any resemblance to a real mercy-flight corps, it’s purely accidental. The services they provide, of course, are similar, but my characters are totally of my own making.

Since my books are first and foremost love stories, I wanted to integrate my characters’ work with a story about how they meet and fall in love.

The first of these two linked books is The Single Dad’s Guarded Heart. It’s about renewal and finding love a second time around.

Best always,

Roz Denny Fox

I love to hear from readers.

Roz Denny Fox

e-mail rdfox@worldnet.att.net

PO Box 17480-101

Tucson, AZ 85731, USA.

The Single Dad’s
Guarded Heart

ROZ DENNY FOX

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CHAPTER ONE

MARLEE STEIN TOPPED a ridge, leaving behind Whitepine, Montana, the town closest to where she’d been born and raised. She rolled down the driver’s window, breathing in the autumn scent of the piney wilderness, and felt herself relax. Until then, she hadn’t been aware of how tense she’d gotten on the long drive from San Diego.

Who was she kidding? She’d been riddled with tension for the past five years.

But now, on this lonely stretch of highway with nothing but fall sunlight sprinkling pine-needle patterns across her windshield, she began to shed the stress that had become so crushing.

She’d realized that the sense of heaviness and regret might always be with her. It was barely a year since she’d lost Cole to the ravages of lymphatic cancer. Too young. His life snuffed out at thirty-six. There was so much they hadn’t done. One of the many things they’d talked about but never got around to was visiting this beautiful country Marlee loved.

They’d been introduced by mutual friends. Had dated for a whirlwind thirty days, married on base in a fever pitch driven by the demands of their jobs—she, a navy helicopter pilot on the verge of shipping out; he an officer with an eye to one day commanding his own ship. It seemed a lifetime ago, those scant six years they’d shared. Or not shared, since much of it had been spent apart. But…so many dreams, all left in tatters. Widowed at thirty-four, Marlee was running home to hide.

No, to rebuild a shattered life—according to her twin brother, anyway.

Mick Callen, her twin, knew about rebuilding a life. A pilot, too, he’d been shot down over Afghanistan—what was it—four years ago? Mick had come home to Whitepine and forged a new life. On almost a weekly basis during the past awful year, he’d insisted that Marlee could do the same. She wanted to believe him.

Averting her eyes from the ribbon of highway, she glanced in the rearview mirror of her packed-to-the-ceiling Ford Excursion. Jo Beth slept on. Without doubt, her daughter was the most precious part of her too-brief marriage.

Maybe their lives could get back on track. Mick thought so, or he wouldn’t have badgered his twin to join the family airfreight business, Cloud Chasers, originally started by their grandfather, Jack Callen. Everybody called him Pappy. He’d taught her and Mick to fly anything with wings, and they’d developed a love affair with flying.

It seemed unreal that they’d both come full circle. Fate, maybe? In the days immediately following Cole’s death, Marlee had thought about the circle of life, but Whitepine was the last place she’d envisioned herself ending up. Big plans, she’d discovered, were best left to starry-eyed innocents. Reality made its own claims. And to think she and Cole had worried that her naval career presented a greater risk of death. She, who’d done two tours in the Gulf.

Releasing a sigh, she wiped a sweaty palm on her jeans. Really baggy jeans, she noticed, and grimaced. She’d lost weight—was down to a hundred and five pounds. Skeletal, her lieutenant commander had growled when he’d signed her discharge papers.

Mick would probably be shocked. Or maybe not. He’d suffered through his own months of hell in military hospitals after he took a legful of shrapnel and debris from his F/A-18, when a handheld surface-to-air missile blasted him out of the sky.

The Callen twins, who’d left Whitepine for the naval academy with grandiose ideas, had come full circle, all right.

A mile to go. Nervous, Marlee wasn’t altogether sure what to expect. Three years ago Mick had said he’d found Cloud Chasers in sad shape. Pappy Jack apparently suffered from arteriosclerotic heart disease, which caused bouts of dementia. It must be true; otherwise he’d never have let the business decline.

Through hard work, Mick said he’d enticed old customers back and added new accounts. He regularly groused about needing an extra pair of hands. Marlee hoped he truly did. Because it was crucial to end her former mother-in-law’s influence on Jo Beth. Rose Stein spoiled her and undermined Marlee’s control. It had taken an unpleasant court skirmish to defeat her attempt at custody.

Dipping into the last valley, Marlee was finally home. The family holdings, house business—the whole panorama—was a welcome sight. The main log house and the three smaller cabins that were added over the fifty years Pappy built Cloud Chasers.

Marlee battled tears as she saw the runway, still with that tacky wind sock at the end. Home looked refreshingly the same. As did the metal hangar with its add-on maintenance bay and cubbyhole office—so small an area their mom used to complain about it daily when she answered phones and kept the books. Before Shane and Eve Callen were killed coming home one foggy night. At an unmarked train crossing out of Whitepine. Two more senseless deaths.

Marlee blinked rapidly and swung onto the gravel drive. Memories of the parents they’d lost when she and Mick were starting junior high threatened to overwhelm her; instead, she busied herself counting planes. A single-engine Piper Arrow and a newer turboprop Piper Seneca, a silver gleam in the last bay. The battered, refurbished Huey army helicopter she loved sat in the clearing between the smaller two cabins.

Marlee could handle every machine there. But she’d told Mick she wouldn’t fly. As Jo Beth’s sole guardian, she owed it to her daughter not to take any more risks. Her brother had expressed disappointment, but in the end he’d agreed that if she reduced his overflowing paperwork and helped ride herd on Pappy, who sometimes tended to wander, it’d be enough. A godsend, in fact. So here she was.

Her thoughts of Mick and Pappy Jack must have made them materialize—there they were, looking solid and welcoming and, well—beautiful.

She jammed on the brakes and the Ford’s tires skidded. Uncaring, Marlee jumped out, flinging her arms wide. Hugging Mick, she felt her tears on his blue cotton shirt. Still tall and blond and muscular, her twin squeezed her hard. And when he let go, Pappy Jack hugged her, too. At eighty-five, he was thinner than she remembered. His full head of hair was nearly white where it’d been nut-brown. Still the same, though, were his aquamarine eyes, a trait borne by all Callens. And his shimmered with unshed tears.

All three began talking at once. They were stopped abruptly by a wail from inside the Excursion. Spinning, Marlee dashed to the open door. She tried unsuccessfully to quiet the sobs and coax five-year-old Jo Beth Stein out to meet her uncle and great-grandpa. “Hey, tiddledywink, I’m right here. It’s okay, I haven’t left you. Jo Beth, this is our new home. Come say hi to Uncle Mick, and to Pappy Jack. Remember I showed you pictures of them before we packed my albums?”

A little girl with a mop of brown curls and weepy hazel eyes held a soft-bodied doll in one arm as if her life depended on it. She scrubbed her cheeks with her free hand but didn’t venture out of the SUV.

Marlee turned to the men. In an undertone she said, “Maybe if you went back inside to wait… I explained about her crying jags and temper tantrums, didn’t I? They started after Cole died and escalated through my tug-of-war with Rose. I’m hoping…” Marlee raked a hand through her tawny gold hair as her eyes begged her brother’s understanding.

“No problem, sis. We’ll take your luggage. Mrs. Gibson swabbed out the largest of the cabins for you. Or if you’d rather sleep in the main house until your furniture arrives, your old room’s made up. It has twin beds if you want Jo Beth to share.”

Marlee waved a hand toward the Ford. “What you see is our life in a nutshell.”

Pappy peered in the windows of the SUV. “That old broad stole your house, furniture and everything?”

She corrected his misimpression. “Cole and I rented a furnished condo because we were rarely home. As soon as I got pregnant, we decided to buy a house.” Marlee looked pained. “Pappy, it was during house hunting that I noticed Cole seemed tired. Finally, after weeks of tests, he was diagnosed.”

She would have let it go, but her grandfather said, “So, where did Cole’s mother get off trying to take your kid away from you?”

“Didn’t Mick tell you?” Her glance darted to her brother, then back to Pappy Jack. “Right after Jo Beth was born and I went off desk duty, I got orders to ship out. That’s when we let the apartment go and moved in with Rose. At the time we didn’t know how else to manage, what with a new baby and Cole undergoing treatments. We…just, uh, counted on the treatments working.” She sighed and fiddled with Jo Beth’s cap of curls.

“Don’t sweat it,” Mick said, ruffling his shorter, sun-lightened hair. “The cabin has the basics. We can add stuff as you figure out what’s missing. If you open up the back, Pappy and I can haul in your suitcases.”

Nodding, Marlee retrieved her keys. “Maybe we’ll sleep in the house until Jo Beth gets more comfortable. Set the two small bags in my old room, okay? Everything else can go to the cabin.” She couldn’t help but notice Mick’s prominent limp even before he picked up the suitcases. That gave Marlee pause. He’d told her he was fine now.

It took the better part of forty minutes to convince Jo Beth that she needed to go inside.

“Sis, I have freight to pick up in Kalispell for an early-morning delivery,” Mick announced. “And I’ve got an appointment, so I’ll be gone a couple of hours. Settle in, and if you feel up to it after dinner, I’ll show you around the office. You can take over where I left off billing. I’m warning you, I haven’t done any paperwork in months.”

“Filing’s time-consuming nonsense,” Pappy snorted. “All you need to keep the IRS guys happy is a record of income versus outgo. Most years, the latter tops the former,” he said, sounding more savvy than her brother let Marlee believe.

“Frankly, Mick, I’m anxious to start. I want to earn my keep. I hope you don’t object to Jo Beth playing with her toys in the office while I work.”

“Why would I? Mom raised us out there until we were old enough to tag after Dad and Pappy.”

A smile blossomed, the first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks. But then she watched Mick walk toward the Piper Arrow. She wasn’t mistaken; he favored his left leg. Maybe his old injury was affected by weather. The ground here looked as if it’d rained not long ago.

She took Jo Beth by the hand. “Pappy, while Mick’s gone, I’ll unpack a few boxes and suitcases and find storage space in the cabin. I want to dig out Jo Beth’s toys so she’ll feel at home. Care to tag along?”

“Nope. I let myself get involved in one of those silly afternoon soaps. You and the little squeak just come on back to the house whenever the spirit moves you.”

Marlee laughed. Pappy used to call her little squeak, too. Being home felt good. Natural, as though she hadn’t grown up and been left to deal with grown-up matters. If anybody deserved to kick back in the afternoon with TV it was Pappy. He’d worked from dawn to dusk for most of his life.

Already in a better frame of mind, Marlee struck out for the cabin. She’d forgotten the rustic charm of the knotty pine walls and cedar plank floors. Mick hadn’t been kidding. The cabin was basic, all right, boasting only the bare essentials. But Marlee didn’t want a lot of memories hanging around. It was better to leave them with Rose, who’d made one room of her home into a shrine for her husband, and a second for Cole.

Time passed as she unpacked. Before she knew it, two hours had disappeared. Now the cabin had a few personal touches, making it hers and Jo Beth’s. Collecting toys for her daughter, Marlee put them in a tote. Together she and Jo Beth wandered back to the main house.

Pappy appeared to be engrossed in another program, so Marlee set Jo Beth up near the couch, and emptied the tote onto a worn braided rug.

“Do they have a dining room, Mama? I’m hungry,” Jo Beth said suddenly.

“Me, too,” growled Pappy Jack. “I hope you can cook, girl.” Shutting off the TV, he leveled a hopeful glance at Marlee.

Since they’d come in, he’d been rocking contentedly in a scarred rocker Marlee knew had belonged to his dad. She remembered every square inch of this house, while Jo Beth had only ever lived in Rose Stein’s decorator-designed show home. What a contrast.

“Pappy, I wish I could say I was a great cook. I picked up some tips from my mother-in-law, but whenever I was at the house, it…just seemed easier to let her cook. It was, after all, her home.”

“Maybe you shoulda brought her. Mick says I put stuff on to cook, then go off and let it burn. Hell, he’s a fine one to talk. Half the time he gets to tinkering with engines and can’t remember it’s time to eat.”

Jo Beth looked up from arranging her Polly Pocket hairdresser and fashion model sets. “Mama, that man said a bad word.”

Marlee had Rose Stein to thank for Jo Beth’s prissy attitude, too. The woman had been married to an admiral, but even before his passing she’d insisted the profanity prevalent among military personnel not invade her home. Cole rarely slipped. Marlee often did and got taken to task by Rose. Jo Beth mimicked her grandmother.

Rather than take issue now, Marlee redirected the conversation to what she should fix for supper. Another difference for her daughter—in Rose’s home they dined.

But she needed to shut off her mind. Preparing a meal seemed a good outlet. She found steak thawing in the fridge, and fresh corn in the vegetable keeper. There were baking potatoes in a bin that had always been in the pantry. Just as she patted herself on the back for remembering, the wall phone rang.

“That’s the business line,” Pappy said, glancing up. “Mick says taking orders is gonna be your job. You might as well answer it and get your feet wet, twin.”

Marlee reached for the receiver and smiled. Another thing Pappy used to do—call one of them by their given name and the other twin. Sometimes he used boy or girl. “Hello,” she said, her voice reflecting the remnant of her smile. The caller mumbled that he must have dialed incorrectly.

“Wait—you’ve…reached Cloud Chasers.” She grabbed a pen and hunted for paper. “You’re Wylie Ames?” Marlee’s eyes sought Pappy’s, but he was watching TV again. “I’m sorry to have to ask if you’re an old account of Mick’s or a new customer. Mick? Oh, he’s gone to Kalispell. I expect him back anytime. Who am I? His sister.” She stopped short of adding isn’t any of your concern. Not a good idea to annoy a customer her first day on the job, the man was curt to the point of rudeness.

Her smile turned into a frown when it became apparent the guy didn’t trust her to deliver a message. Tersely, he said, “I have a generator on the fritz. The parts house in Kalispell promised to have my order ready for Mick by the middle of next week.” He sounded even more ill-tempered when Marlee asked if Mick knew where to deliver the goods, and snapped “Yes.” He clicked off without saying goodbye. Glaring at the receiver, Marlee banged it back into its cradle.

“Disagreeable jerk,” she muttered as her brother walked into the house, his limp more pronounced. There were fatigue lines around his mouth Marlee didn’t recall seeing earlier.

“Who’s disagreeable?” Mick shrugged out of a battered brown flyer’s jacket. Marlee remembered fondly when he’d saved up to buy it, or one just like it.

“A customer by the name of Wylie Ames.” She rattled off the reason for his call.

Mick took the message she’d scribbled on a corner of a brown grocery bag. “Wylie’s a good guy. He’s a forest ranger who lives year-round on a remote station on the Glacier Park perimeter. He’s the only official presence in thirty square miles.”

Marlene wrinkled her nose. “He could do with some manners.” Turning, she slid the potatoes in the oven and began to shuck corn.

Pappy had stirred when Mick entered. Stifling a yawn, he said, “You probably wanna steer clear of Ames, girl. Old-timers up-region say his wife disappeared in the dead of night. Just like that.” Pappy tried to snap his gnarled fingers.

Looking up from peeling corn silk, Marlee’s mouth sagged. “You mean people think he—” She broke off and cast a worried frown toward Jo Beth.

Mick hobbled to the couch, sat and picked up one of the child’s plastic dolls, turning it in his big hands. “Don’t pay Pappy any mind,” he said. “Those are crazy rumors, sis. You know how folks in the back country love to gossip. With each repeat, their bear stories get fiercer and fish tales bigger. Wylie’s a good man raising his son alone. Dean is a few years older than Jo Beth. So, you said Wylie expects his stuff when?”

Her mind shifted from Pappy’s warning. “Next Wednesday, he thinks, or Thursday. He said you could call Morrison’s parts house if you don’t hear by Thursday morning.” She found the griddle for cooking steaks and plugged it in.

Pappy Jack faced Mick. “What did the doc have to say about your hip?”

Marlee’s ears perked up.

“Same old, same old, Pappy. Hey, isn’t it good to see Marlee fixing us some decent food for a change?”

Pappy spiked a bushy brow. “Same old, how? You mean the bone doc still wants you in ASAP to replace that socket.”

“Mick? You need more surgery?” Alarmed, Marlee straightened and anxiously twisted the top button on her blouse.

Her brother pursed his lips. He took his time arranging Jo Beth’s doll in a tiny chair. He even clamped a bonnet hair dryer from the toy set over the doll’s head.

“You mean the boy didn’t tell you he’s put off havin’ that joint replaced nigh on four months now?” He turned to his grandson. “When Rusty Meyer called to say he couldn’t fill in to fly our freight runs, I thought you told him that it was okay ’cause Marlee was due in and she’d handle the route?”

Mick sent his grandfather a killer scowl. “Pappy, why do you forget what the hell day it is, and whether or not you took your blood-pressure medicine, yet you remember every frigging detail of my private business?”

Even as Jo Beth pointed out her uncle’s bad word, Marlee presented him with her back while she slapped steaks on a grill beginning to heat up. “Mick…I—”

He broke in. “I know, you made it clear you didn’t come here to fly. Josh Manley at the flying school in Kalispell has a student close to qualifying for solo. Unless the weather turns bad, he thinks the kid could manage our day runs. If he graduates in time. Of course, I’d have to notify Angel Fleet to take my name off their roster for mercy missions.”

“They still operate here? Why don’t people just use 911?”

“Oh, you city girl. Out here volunteers for Angel Fleet are 911.”

“I didn’t know you flew sick, injured or dying people around, Mick.” Marlee spun toward him, hands on her hips. “What else have you neglected to tell me?”

“Cloud Chasers is the charter service best situated to airlift needy folks out of the remote wilderness. Besides, most flights are tax-deductible. It helps offset the red.”

“Doesn’t Glacier Park have a search-and-rescue team?”

“Summers. They have a couple of small choppers. Since I’ve come home, I’ve seen an increase in accidents. They mostly occur in new, fairly inaccessible bed-and-breakfast sites or at fishing and hunting lodges. Tourists have discovered our area, Marlee.”

“I know you said one outfit cleared trees and put in a vineyard. And another planted a huge apple orchard. I suppose their workers might get hurt,” she said unhappily. “I’m just not sure about this growth….”

“Growth is good for Cloud Chasers. More lodges laying in food, liquor and such. I fly customers in and out. I didn’t think it’d be right to make money off tourists and not fly them to hospitals if they get hurt out here.”

“I suppose not. Besides, you know firsthand how a quick rescue can spell the difference between life and death. Which brings us back to the surgery Pappy said you need.” Marlee flipped the steaks. When Mick remained silent, she asked him again.

“Things aren’t that desperate yet,” he said, heaving a sigh.

When Marlee glared at him, she noticed him rubbing his face wearily with both hands. “Dammit, Mick, let’s have the truth,” she demanded, totally ignoring her daughter’s hissy fit over Mom’s swearing.

“The local sawbones says if I don’t get the socket in my left hip replaced soon, it’s gonna wear away the ball joint. Today I got a second opinion. Same report.”

“Pain?” She didn’t let up.

“Yeah. More all the time. I can’t take anything except industrial strength, over-the-counter, anti-inflammatory meds and still fly. But it’s my problem, Twin, not yours. I’ve got my fingers crossed that Manley will pass that student. My routes are straight-up flying. As a rule,” he added.

“I’ve seen some of those rinky-dink landing strips,” she said drily, dumping corn into boiling water. “Do you feel like setting the table?” she asked, changing the subject.

He climbed slowly to his feet. Marlee saw what it cost him to try to do that with panache. She said nothing else until they were all seated at the table, and Jo Beth had offered a simple prayer. Pappy alone dug into his meal.

“Out of curiosity, Mick, what timetable does the doctor give you for getting back in the saddle after surgery?”

“Eight to ten weeks. But I heal fast. I figure I can take the controls again later in the winter. Between more lodges, and more outpost rangers stocking up before snow socks ‘em in, I get busy. After November, calls are sporadic until spring thaw, except for an occasional emergency. And your military training qualifies you to handle those.”

Marlee nibbled a thin slice of steak. Jo Beth loved baked potatoes. She was making a healthy dent in the one Marlee had cut and buttered for her.

Pappy devoured his food, tuning them out. Marlee heard him humming. It wasn’t until he wolfed down everything on his plate, shoved it back and went outside without a word, that she revisited a previous topic. “Mick, I want to help. With a little refresher on fixed-wing aircraft, I can fly your route. Even into the winter, if need be. For God’s sake, I landed choppers on carriers in all kinds of weather. But…two things. It’s imperative that you agree to let me name you as guardian for Jo Beth should anything happen to me. It’ll probably take a codicil on my current will. And…after surgery, how do you propose to manage here if I’m on a flight? You’ll be on painkillers at first. Jo Beth can’t be given the freedom you apparently allow Pappy.”

“What would you say to taking her along? I mean, we flew with Pappy and Dad from the time we could crawl into the cockpit. Mrs. Gibson—Stella, a widow from down the road—does light housekeeping here now. She can look in on me’n Pappy. She often prepare meals for us to pop in the oven.”

“Taking Jo Beth wasn’t something I’d considered. I’ll have to think about that.” Standing, she started stacking plates. Jo Beth had excused herself to play with her dolls. Marlee wondered if her daughter would like flying. Until Cole got really ill, on weekends Marlee sometimes rented a plane and flew him out over the ocean he loved.

They’d told Jo Beth what her mother did for the navy—fly. Marlee had planned to request a discharge at the end of her first Gulf tour. But while she was on active duty, Cole had better medical coverage as a spouse than he did once he took a medical discharge. Marlee had let Rose talk her into signing on for another two years. She’d never once dreamed the Navy would promptly deploy her again. She’d already missed too many of Jo Beth’s formative years. Missed being on hand when Cole’s conditioned worsened. Hey, maybe a flight now and then would be good for her daughter. Except for her new tantrums, Jo Beth seemed far too serious.

Shaking off her sudden blues, Marlee carried her load to the sink. “I see you had a dishwasher installed. That’s a four-star improvement.”

“Yeah, but not in the cabins.” With a hint of the old Mick, he teased, “Guess that means you’ll have to fix all your meals at the main house. You don’t want to end up with dishpan hands.”

“I can afford a dishwasher, brother dear. Fighting Rose in court didn’t go through my entire savings, even if my lawyer did his best to see I didn’t end up too well off.”

“Ouch…life’s a real bitch, sometimes,” he said, lowering his voice.

“All God’s chilluns got trouble,” Marlee quipped back. “Let me put these dishes in to wash, then why don’t we go take a gander at your office?”

“I guarantee my plane engines are in better shape. While you finish up here, I’ll see where Pappy got off to.”

“You said he runs off?”

“Wanders. He’s usually messing around in the workshop. It’s important to lock the doors on the planes. Can’t trust him not to get it into his head to fly. That’s why I let him ride along, especially if I’m going to the fishing lodges. He loves gossiping with his old cronies.”

“I hate to see him going downhill, Mick. Is his health okay other than the arteriosclerosis? Is that what they used to call hardening of the arteries?”

“Uh-huh. He’s got the usual health issues of a man his age. His cholesterol’s sky-high. The doc said to limit red meat and dairy. Bad though I am in the kitchen, I did try. First time I told him no more steak he walked all the way into Whitepine and ordered rib eye at Sue Jensen’s restaurant. I went nuts when I couldn’t find him anywhere on the property. I called the sheriff, and Pappy gave us both what-for. So, call me negligent, but I let him eat steak or roast a couple of times a week.”

“I’d never call you negligent, Mick. Cole bucked his doctor’s orders, too. He loved the beach. One time, Rose summoned me home from the Gulf when things looked grim. Cole rallied and begged me to drive him and Jo Beth to the beach. He wanted to build sand castles with her. But he was too weak, so he persuaded me to build them for him. We dug in the damp sand while he watched. He kept urging us to build more.” She bit her lip. “Jo Beth was having fun, and I didn’t realize the sun had dropped. It’s always windy at the beach…but Cole got really chilled. He had no defenses to fight off infection. Rose accused me of hastening his death. I don’t know,” Marlee said slowly, almost absently. “He laughed that day, Mick. We saw his old sparkle.” Her throat worked and her voice had grown raspy.

“Leave the dishes. When we come back, I’ll help. Pappy heard us talking about the office, and I’ll bet he decided to straighten up.”

Grabbing the chance to shake off her thoughts of Cole’s last days, Marlee rounded up Jo Beth and found them both sweaters. They kicked through fall leaves, saying little until Marlee noticed Mick rubbing his hip and leaning into his left leg.

“When did your doctor think he could schedule surgery?”

“Next week if I give the word. If I called tomorrow, he’d probably have me under the knife on Tuesday.”

“That doesn’t give us much time to draw up an addendum to my will, or for me to check out the fixed-wing planes. But…do it, Mick. I can’t bear to watch you suffer like this.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got a run tomorrow. Nothing again till Thursday. Supplies going to Finn Glenroe’s lodge. You remember him and Mary?” As Mick opened the office door, Pappy turned, feather duster in hand. Mick hadn’t exaggerated; the place needed cleaning. The place looked junky. The desk held an ancient, dusty computer, nearly hidden by stacks of invoices.

“What about Finn?” Pappy flipped his duster, and they all choked. “Oops,” he said, “should’ve stepped outside.”

“I was telling Marlee which jobs are firm. Oh, I almost forgot Wylie’s generator parts. They go out whenever Don Morrison calls.”

“You tell Marlee that Wylie Ames is part Blackfoot?”

Mick shook his head. “He’s Chinook Native. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“He’s tight-lipped. I hear the boy’s got no native blood. Like maybe the woman he married cuckolded Wylie. Could be why he did her in—if’n he did.”

“Pappy, honestly! Shirl left him. Uh, that cop show you like is on in ten minutes.”

The old man surprised them by locating a pad and pencil. He handed both to Jo Beth. “Draw me a picture to hang on the fridge,” he said before he left.

Mick demonstrated his computer program for Marlee. They discussed flight plans and talked for an hour while shuffling papers.

“I’ll dig into this filing mess first thing tomorrow,” she promised. “It’s pretty straightforward. Same system Mom set up, except for the computer. Maybe you could build a better tracking system while you recover.”

“I swore you wouldn’t have to fly. You sure you want me to call the doc about the surgery?”

“Do it before I have second thoughts. Besides, seeing the planes and all…well, what flyer ever voluntarily grounds him or herself?”

Mick grinned cheekily and dusted his knuckles over her softer chin.

THE NEXT DAY he did phone Dr. Chapman. “It’s all set,” he told Marlee. “I’ll watch you fly touch-andgoes in the Arrow this weekend. Monday you take me to Kalispell for pre-op tests. By Wednesday I’ll be the proud owner of a space-age hip.”

“I’ll write up a note to attach to my will. I’m sure the hospital has a notary.”

“Sounds good. By the way, I’m taking Pappy with me today.”

That gave Marlee a chance to begin establishing a routine for Jo Beth. All in all, the girl threw only one small tantrum, insisting she wanted Grandmother Rose.

Marlee didn’t hate Cole’s mom. But with her own worry over him and the fact that Marlee was gone often, Rose had usurped her role as Jo Beth’s mother. The first time she’d come home on rotation, and Jo Beth refused to have anything to do with her, hurt more than Marlee had ever let on. Each trip, the gap widened. Still, after Cole died it’d been a shock when Rose sued for legal custody of her granddaughter.

The remainder of the week passed in a blur. Marlee spent four hours a day bringing order to the office. The rest of her time she divided between getting reacquainted with Jo Beth, flying, and leafing through her Mom’s old cookbooks.

She’d totally forgotten about Wylie Ames until she picked up the phone in the office on Saturday and heard him say, “You’re still visiting, huh? It’s Ranger Ames. Tell Mick that Don Morrison will have my stuff by noon on Wednesday. I’d like them delivered Thursday.”

“Okay.” Marlee jotted herself a note, but when she began to say she’d be the one flying in with his order, she discovered Ames had hung up. Muttering about his rude phone manners she slammed down her receiver.

She and Mick spent Sunday afternoon discussing his regular customers and their expectations. He talked about their landing strips. “Most are primitive, sis. Only a couple of them have lights, so I try to arrange morning deliveries. The smoke jumpers’ camp has an asphalt strip. Wylie wired lights on either side of his. If he knows I’m coming in late, he’ll fire ’em up with his generator.”

“I’ll make sure I only fly in daylight, Mick. I’m glad Ranger Ames’s parts don’t have to go out until Thursday. That way I can visit you in the hospital after your surgery, and collect his order in Kalispell.”

“Call him Wylie. Don’t want him to think you’re uppity.”

“Mick—all that stuff Pappy said about him… I, uh, plan on taking Jo Beth along. Is he…is it safe?”

Mick laughed. “As a rule, I time his deliveries so I can eat lunch with Wylie. His son, Dean, is a great kid. He’s homeschooled and I take him books on wild animals. He’s always healing a bird, a raccoon, deer or squirrels. I have a couple of books waiting to give him.”

“I don’t plan to socialize, Mick, only off-load the order.”

Over the next few days, what with Mick being in the hospital, Marlee had so much on her mind that Wylie Ames took a back seat until it came time to pick up his order in Kalispell. Even then, her mood was much improved because the surgery had gone well. She left Mick flirting outrageously with an attractive nurse, and went to refuel the Piper Arrow. She was glad the plane handled like a dream.

Thursday was a beauty for flying, with a clear blue sky and thready white clouds. Below stretched the orchards Mick had told her about, and the vineyards, laid out like quilt blocks. Jo Beth was excited about getting to fly, and Marlee, who’d worried how her daughter would do, finally relaxed.

Having decided to make the ranger station her first drop, Marlee spotted the landmarks Mick had mentioned. It wasn’t long before a runway came into view. She circled once to get the layout and to test the wind. As she started down, Jo Beth pointed. “Mama, there’s a boy waving.” Jo Beth waved back, and Marlee noticed a man standing at the end of the runway.

She throttled back, frankly unable to take her eyes off him. His dark presence embodied every last one of Pappy’s innuendos and warnings. It flashed through Marlee’s mind that from a distance, the dark-haired, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped man reminded her of Cole before he’d taken ill and his body had wasted away. Suddenly her hands shook and the plane dipped. She quickly regained control, but landed with an irritating little hop. A beginner’s mistake that unnerved her as she powered down. Ripping off her headset, Marlee leaped from the cockpit and shook out her hair, only to discover, as she watched the taciturn Wylie Ames, that he watched her, too.

Marlee hurried around the Piper’s nose to assist Jo Beth. For some reason, Marlee disliked the fact that Ames was too far away for her to see the color of his eyes. Ace-of-spades black would be her guess—to go with the scowl he wore.

A shiver of apprehension wound up her backbone seconds before she decided not to let Pappy’s rumors affect her. She purposely stiffened her spine.

CHAPTER TWO

WYLIE AMES MOTIONED to his excited eight-year-old son, Dean, to stay back until Mick Callen’s charter plane came to a full stop. Then the ranger saw a woman at the controls. Where was Mick? Damn. Wylie always looked forward to the bush pilot’s visits. So did Dean. Their outpost did get lonely. Not that Wylie minded solitude so much, but it was hard on his son, who was by nature more sociable.

Whoa! Not one but two females had invaded his bastion, Wylie saw, as the woman hurried around the plane to assist a child from the passenger side. A curly-haired girl.

The pilot studied him warily. Wylie figured she must be the woman he’d talked to on the phone—Mick’s sister. He couldn’t help but wonder what she might’ve heard about him. Right now, while Wylie stared into the sun, she had the advantage of checking him out. Even shading his eyes with a hand allowed him only sketchy impressions. So, he moved into the trees.

She was tall for a woman, and thin as a conifer sapling. Her hair was something, though. Like honey fresh from the comb. The thick mass fell to well below her shoulders. Nice. Very nice.

As she stepped out of the sun and he was afforded a better view, Wylie felt a kick to his sternum that left him gasping for air. He told himself to get a grip. He’d banned reactions of that kind long ago.

He clamped his back teeth tight as Dean bolted past on his way to greet the new arrivals. Feet welded in place, Wylie had some furious thoughts for Mick Callen. What the hell was his friend thinking? Of course, it was his right to put his own plane at risk. But there was the matter of Wylie’s shipment…. Parts for his ancient generator came at a premium and were getting harder to locate. Out here in the wilderness, a generator was vital, especially during tough winters.

His son’s chatter, followed by a higher-pitched response, shook Wylie from his thoughts in time to see the pilot lift a wood crate from the cargo hold. It was evident from her stiff steps that the crate weighed probably as much as she did.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, striding over to relieve her of her load. Up close, it looked to him as if she’d break more easily than a sapling. Irritation made him muscle her aside none too gently, and he carried the crate the rest of the way. “I don’t know why Mick sent you, but he should have his head examined. This stuff’s too heavy for a woman.”

Marlee, already simmering at being assessed by this backwoods oaf, glared up—and at just over five foot nine herself, there weren’t a lot of men she had to tip her head back to meet eye to eye. Confronted instead by Ames’s broad back, she wheeled and stalked to the plane to haul out another crate.

His expression was dour as he hustled toward her and reached for her load. Marlee offered a slight curl of her upper lip that some might mistake for a smile…seconds before she let go of the box. She knew her aim had been true when she heard him swear. Marlee glanced over her shoulder and saw Ranger Ames hopping about on one square-toed boot.

Satisfied, she returned to the plane for a third box.

The kids, still yakking up a storm, had progressed from the passenger side of the Arrow to its nose. A gangly boy with sandy red hair, freckles galore and lake-blue eyes said, “I’m Dean. Is it all right if Jo Beth goes with me to the tire swing my dad hung in our apple tree?”

Marlee paused to take in the pair of eager faces. This was the most animated she’d seen Jo Beth since before Cole’s death. “Is it far?”

“Nope. You can see our house from here.” The boy waved a hand toward a cabin visible beyond a forest of trees more diverse than the ones that grew in Whitepine. At a glance Marlee identified spruce, fir, larch, cedar and hemlock. Each emitted its unique scent—aromas Marlee had grown up with, but had forgotten. For too many years, she’d spent her days and nights at sea on the deck of a carrier where she smelled mostly jet fuel mixed with sweat.

All the same, the old familiar sights and scents settled her jumpy stomach. Jumpy because she’d more than half believed Pappy Jack’s gossip surrounding the supposed disappearance of Wylie Ames’s wife, this outgoing little boy’s mother. But Dean Ames certainly seemed happy and well cared for.

Marlee shot a surreptitious glance to where she’d left the grumpy father, only to discover he’d collected himself and hovered like a dark gloom over her shoulder.

“Dean, these folks won’t be here that long. I just need to transfer these last two crates and check the paperwork, and they’ll be off.”

“But, Dad, you made gumbo and baked bread. And you said we were having company for lunch.”

Wylie cleared his throat. “I, ah, expected Mick.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Marlee said drily. “I suppose I ought to introduce myself. I’m Mick’s sister, Marlee Stein. We spoke on the phone. Twice. I’m making deliveries because Mick had hip surgery on Tuesday. I’ll fly the route until he recovers.”

Ames pushed mirrored sunglasses into his hair and frowned. “Is Mick okay? I’m sorry as heck. He’s had…what? Four or five operations?” A cloud of sympathy filled eyes Marlee expected to be almost black, but which were a dark gray that didn’t conceal emotions well. His concern for her brother spurred Marlee to loosen up a little.

“We hope Mick’s new hip will mean his last hospital stay. I saw him yesterday before I picked up your parts. He came through the operation well enough be flirting with a pretty nurse.”

Unexpectedly, Wylie’s eyes crinkled at the corners as Marlee’s words elicited a knowing masculine grin.

“Before I forget,” she said, oddly feeling easier in his presence, “Don Morrison at the parts house mentioned that he wasn’t able to scare up everything you need. He said there’s no single supplier who stocks everything for your generator. He suggests you consider purchasing a newer model.”

The big man slid the heaviest crate from the plane. “I’ll have to remind Don that the powers that be in D.C. seem to think forest rangers should be able to live totally off the land.” His grin flickered. “Third time they’ve cut Parks Department funds so they can give more to the military.”

“You’re speaking to a very recently discharged navy flyer who cursed those same powers in Washington every time we had to scrounge for parts to keep our choppers aloft.”

“If you bounced the navy’s aircraft around the way you did the Piper when you landed, I understand why they broke.”

Gone was the fleeting goodwill she’d felt over his sympathy for Mick. “Look, buster, I assure you the navy regarded my flying skills very highly. I can fly anything with wings, I’ll have you know.”

Wylie merely grunted, presumably under the weight of the box.

Dean Ames, who’d stood patiently by while the adults traded insults, pulled on his dad’s sleeve. “Da…ad! Jo Beth and me could’ve gone to the swing and been back.”

Wylie raised a black eyebrow as if deferring the decision to Marlee before he continued over to the other crates.

“Oh, go on,” she said, removing the last item from the hold. “Jo Beth, I’ll call you when I’m ready to fire up the plane. It won’t be long,” she warned.

Even before her last word was out, the kids had darted up the trail into a thick stand of timber. Straining, Marlee could see the ranger’s cabin…and a window box overflowing with colorful marigolds? A trailing vine awash in red blooms? She gawked, which slowed her progress and allowed Ames to catch her off guard when he pulled at the crate in her hands.

“Hey, watch it,” she grumbled, trying to yank the box back. “Mick said part of our service is loading and unloading a customer’s freight. Which leaves said customer free to check the contents of a delivery,” she added pointedly.

“Well and good, but you aren’t Mick.”

“Ranger, I’m not a weakling,” she called after him. “A few months ago I was swooping into enemy territory and carrying shot-up soldiers to my chopper.”

Wylie offered no response. After dropping his load at the end of the runway, he returned for the bill of lading she’d retrieved from the cockpit, then silently strode to the crates and sliced open the first one with a wicked-looking knife Marlee hadn’t seen; it had been strapped to his boot.

She shuddered at the sight, but her attention quickly moved to the rippling of muscles beneath the ranger’s khaki shirt. Something about him reminded her of Navy SEALs she’d run into. A go-to-hell cockiness. Her gaze moved from his broad back to the tanned hands pawing through shredded paper. If indeed the man had Chinook blood as Mick claimed, Ames’s skin was probably the same smooth bronze all over. Marlee ran her tongue over dry lips as the simple image slammed desire into her stomach.

She caught herself up short, feeling heat flood her cheeks. What in heaven’s name had gotten into her? For years she’d worked mostly with men, and she’d never fantasized about what they looked like under their shirts.

Pushing aside her inappropriate thoughts, she joined Ames. “Does it all look okay? According to Morrison, a turbine you want should be in next week. The pump he wasn’t sure about. He said he’d call you, or us, when he tracks one down.”

A short nod was the only response Marlee got. “Uh, since you don’t need me until you’re ready to sign the invoice, I’ll just walk up the trail and get my daughter.” She jerked a thumb in that direction, but then realized he wasn’t listening.

Wylie felt her leave his space. He didn’t want to, but he stopped checking his order and watched her go. The scent of whatever fragrance she wore lingered. He sniffed, trying to identify it. He couldn’t. But it was something feminine. Nice. Compelling.

He didn’t consider himself the total recluse he was rumored to be. After all, he got together three or four times a year with his fellow rangers and their families. Mainly to catch up on everything that happened in other sectors of the sprawling national park—but also to give Dean an opportunity to play with other kids.

Wylie rarely looked twice at the women at those gatherings. Not even when one or another friend introduced him to a new, single female ranger. And there had been several who’d joined up since Shirl hightailed it. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall if any of them had worn such a tantalizing perfume. On second thought, he decided, he’d remember if they had.

In the distance, he heard the woman, Marlee, call for her daughter. Muttering under his breath, Wylie dived into his task. He didn’t glance up again until the sound of feet shuffling through pine and fir needles on the trail interrupted him. Marlee Stein’s worried expression yanked Wylie right out of admiring the picture she made. “Something wrong?”

“I found the tire swing. The kids aren’t there. I called for Jo Beth, but got no response. My daughter’s not used to being in the woods. She could easily get turned around.”

“Dean probably took her out to the animal pens.” Wylie, who’d been down on one knee checking the largest of the crates, stood and brushed off the needles stuck to his khaki pants.

“Animal pens?” Marlee’s face paled. “Oh, I suppose you keep hunting dogs?”

“Our pens house wild creatures that Dean and I have rescued.”

Marlee raked a hand through her hair. “Wild—oh, Mick said something about that. Isn’t that dangerous? Jo Beth’s a city girl. Where are the pens?”

“It’s a fair walk. I’ll take you.”

“How far?”

“We keep the environment as close to normal for the animals as we can,” he said in explanation. “So when they heal, it’s easier to release them back into their natural habitat.” He led the way to a junction in the trail Marlee hadn’t seen on her trek to the swing.

She had a hard time keeping pace with the ranger’s long stride. Suddenly he stopped. Slightly winded, Marlee caught up.

He parted the dense foliage. “That’s where they got off to, all right. I can hear Dean explaining how he stumbled across Boxer after a rancher shot its mother.”

“Boxer?”

“A griz cub. Yea big.” Wylie shaped his hands to the approximate size of one of the smaller crates.

“Griz, as in grizzly bear?” Her pitch rose, along with her anxiety level.

He nodded and Marlee found herself noticing how deep they were in the forest, enough so that every ray of sunlight was blocked. She prided herself on having a good sense of direction, but now realized she hadn’t paid attention to their route. She was at this man’s mercy and it unnerved her. That and the nonchalant way Wylie Ames discussed grizzlies and gun-toting ranchers.

Marlee bit her lip. “I don’t hear voices.” Closer to the runway, birds chirped and squirrels chattered, but here, surrounded by undergrowth, it seemed uncannily silent.

The ranger placed both little fingers to his lips and rent the air with a shrill whistle. Moments later he repeated the call.

As if Ames had flushed out small varmints, Marlee heard scuttling in the brush. Then an answering whistle sounded, quite some distance off. Very soon, though, childish giggles followed. And in no time, two bright heads burst out of a thicket. One sandy red, the other toffee-brown. Relief unfurled in Marlee’s stomach.

Dean Ames stared curiously at his dad. When the girl traipsing at his heels stumbled on a knobby tree root, the boy instinctively reached back and kept Jo Beth from falling. “Did you want us, Dad?”

Marlee rushed over and pulled Jo Beth tight against her legs as if to shield her from any threat. The woman’s frightened expression gave Wylie an idea of what he was dealing with.

“Son, you told us you were going to the swing. You shouldn’t have gone to the animal pens without telling anyone.”

Dean screwed up his nose as he squinted at his dad. “Where else would I be?”

“Mrs. Stein had no idea. You worried her.”

The freckle-faced boy gaped at Marlee. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I told Jo Beth about my pets and she asked to see them.”

“Mama,” the girl broke in. “Dean’s got his very own bear. The kind we saw at the zoo at home, only littler. Boxer got hurt, but Dean and his daddy are making him better.”

“That’s…commendable,” Marlee said with a quaver in her voice. “Tell Dean goodbye, Jo Beth. We have an order to deliver to Glenroe’s Lodge.”

“You’re going into the backcountry? Dean, run to the house and get Mary’s pie tins.” He turned to face Marlee. “Last time Mick came out, Mary Glenroe sent along a couple of fresh apple pies. Can you tell her thank you?”

“And tell her she can send us more pies,” the boy said.

“Dean, that would be ill-mannered.”

“Doesn’t that tell Mrs. Glenroe we liked her cooking?” “Well, yes, but…” Flustered, Wylie clammed up. He was more dismayed when Marlee laughed. The soft trill seemed to coil around places inside him long untouched. It was a nice sound, even if her laughter was at his expense.

“I’ll tell Mary you loved her pies, Dean. I recall enjoying a slice or two of her peach pies when I wasn’t much older than you.”

Marlee hadn’t realized that the roundabout path Wylie led them down now would end up not at the runway but at the back door of his cabin. Not until Dean darted ahead and she heard the screen door slam. The boy reappeared with pie tins before the others emerged from the woods into a clearing that held a vegetable garden fenced with chicken wire. She’d been so worried about not finding Jo Beth at the swing earlier, she’d completely missed seeing the garden. The neat rows of vegetables surprised her nearly as much as the flower box had. Ranger Ames was domestic, which one wouldn’t imagine looking at his very masculine body.

“Dad, the soup smells yummy. I’m hungry. Can’t Jo Beth and her mom stay and eat with us?”

Wylie and Marlee whipped out a simultaneous denial.

Jo Beth pouted and stamped a foot. “I’m hungry, too, Mama. Why can’t we eat with Dean?”

For the life of her, Marlee couldn’t find a way to tell the two children, who’d obviously hit it off, that neither she nor the boy’s father wanted to remain in each other’s company.

Ames reacted to his son’s disappointment by ruffling the boy’s red hair. Then he sighed, giving in to the pleas of the children. “Won’t take long,” he said to her, sounding gruff even though he smiled at the kids. “A matter of filling bowls and slicing bread.”

Marlee, who’d never felt more like turning tail, wasn’t about to be the bad guy in this setup. “Sure, okay. I’d hate to have Mary think she had to fix us something.” She gave a quick shrug. “They must be getting on in years, Mary and Finn. I haven’t seen them in…fourteen years.”

Wylie opened the back door and stood aside to let his guests enter. “Been three for me. Dean and I had to take a run to the lodge on the big snow cat that winter. Finn had complaints about a couple of guests. Whit Chadwick claimed they chased his sheep, and he’d recognized Finn’s snowmobile. The kids turned out to be Mary’s great-nephews, come from Dallas to celebrate her sixty-fifth birthday. And Finn’s even older.”

“Definitely not spring chickens.” Marlee followed Dean and Jo Beth through a laundry room into a country-style kitchen. She didn’t know what she’d expected—surely a cluttered mess much like she’d found at Mick and Pappy’s. Not so. The Ames’kitchen was spotless. Cheery curtains hung at the windows and bright place mats graced the table. A Crock-Pot on the counter emitted puffs of steam. Good-smelling steam. “Dean’s right,” Marlee said, stopping to close her eyes and sniff. “The soup smells delicious.”

The big man seemed to have retreated within himself once they’d left the great outdoors. He stepped to the sink to wash up, and quickly began to fill the bowls sitting out on the counter. Because he had to open a cupboard to retrieve a fourth bowl, Marlee was reminded that Ames had planned for Mick, and that she and Jo Beth were interlopers.

“Jo Beth, you and I need to wash, too.”

“Dean, show them to the main bath.”

The boy grabbed Jo Beth’s hand. Marlee trailed the chatty pair. As she passedWylie on her way into the hall, she sensed that he relaxed as his kitchen emptied. His son was his exact opposite. Dean and Jo Beth couldn’t seem to shut up, odd since her daughter was usually one to sit quietly, taking in everything around her.

That behavior had worried Marlee on her rare visits home. She’d worried that spending so much time with Cole during the worst of his illness might affect Jo Beth’s ability to relate normally. Her concern eased as the kids discussed what to feed a growing bear cub.

“Dean, that reminds me,” Marlee broke in. “Mick sent a couple of books. They’re still on the plane. Would you like me to go get them now or give them to you when we’re ready to leave?”

“When you leave’s okay. Wow, I wonder if he found the book I read about on the Internet! Bears as Good Neighbors.”

“I don’t know. Before he went for surgery, he gave me the sack and told me to be sure to bring it when we flew your father’s generator parts in.”

“I’m glad you came ’stead of Mick.” He stuttered suddenly. “I—I didn’t mean—gosh, I like him, but you brought Jo Beth. I know she’s littler than me, but it’s neat having another kid to play with.”

“I understand.” Marlee inspected Jo Beth’s hands. “And this one is mature for her age. She spent a lot of time with her dad and grandmother.”

“Does Jo Beth read and write? If she does, we can e-mail. That is—if it’s okay with you. A ranger friend of my dad’s won’t let his kids use a computer. They’re both older’n me, too.”

“Jo Beth doesn’t read well enough to handle e-mail. She’s just five.”

“Can we talk on the phone? I know it costs more, but we can take turns.” His eyes shone with hope as he shoved back a shock of hair with a still-wet hand.

“Yeah, Mama. I want Dean to call and tell me if Boxer’s well enough to go and act like a real bear. He said maybe we can come watch when they let him out of his cage to go live in the forest.”

Dean lowered his voice. “That won’t be for a while yet, Mrs. Stein. Dad and me hafta teach Boxer to forage for berries and roots, and how to fish in the river.”

“If it’s okay with your father, Dean, you can call me Marlee. Jo Beth’s grandmother is ‘Mrs. Stein.’” She laughed. “I used to be Lieutenant Stein, but I’m out of the navy now, so that no longer applies.”

“I think it’s cool that you and Mick both fly planes. I can’t wait to get old enough to learn. I wanna be a veterinarian who flies to ranches and takes care of animals. Oh, maybe Mick sent a book on planes. We were talking last time he was here about all the different kinds.”

“Dean,” a deep male voice said outside the bathroom door. “Quit talking their ears off. The gumbo’s getting cold. I expected you to wash and come straight back.”

Without looking guilty, the boy scooted from the room. “Dad, can I call Jo Beth one night a week so I can update her on Boxer? Marlee said it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you. Oh, and she said Jo Beth’s grandmother’s Mrs. Stein and she’s Marlee. Well, she used to be lieutenant, like Mick. Now she’s not.”

“Can you tell Dean’s glad to have someone to talk to?” Wylie said with a wry grin. “Let him know when your ears are blistered.”

Marlee just smiled. But as they ate, had it not been for Dean’s endless chatter, it would’ve been a quiet meal indeed. Marlee barely managed to extract one-word responses from her host.

“Ah, this is whitefish gumbo? I’ve only ever had it with shrimp or okra.”

Wylie passed around thick-cut slices of bread. “Uh-huh.”

Dean nattered on about the animals they currently had in their makeshift hospital. “Jo Beth, you didn’t see my gray squirrel, or the porcupine with the broken leg. I think they were asleep in their cages. Next time you come, maybe they’ll be out.”

“I really like this bread. Whole wheat with Parmesan cheese?” Marlee asked.

“Oat.” Wylie scooted the butter dish closer, again lowering his gaze to his bowl.

Marlee couldn’t fault the man’s manners. And he controlled his son’s swinging legs with a touch, accompanied by a look Marlee called, “parents’ evil eye.” Smiling, she spread a thin layer of butter on her bread. “There are so many personal touches in this cabin, it makes me think you’ve been a ranger for quite a while.”

“Sixteen years.”

“That long? I guess that answers the question as to whether you like your job.”

“Yep.”

In the background Marlee heard Jo Beth ramble on to Dean about her two favorite spots in their old hometown. SeaWorld and the San Diego Zoo. “Honey, quit talking and eat. We have to stop at Glenroe’s, and I’d like to make it home before dark.” Also, Marlee didn’t want her daughter telling strangers why they’d left a city the child chose to rhapsodize about.

Wylie pushed back his chair, went to the counter and returned with the remaining soup. “Seconds anyone?” He lifted the ladle.

Dean held out his bowl, but Marlee declined any for herself and Jo Beth. Although, if they’d found any common ground, she might have stayed. The gumbo was superb.

When Jo Beth slurped up her last spoonful, Marlee quickly snatched the girl’s bowl and stacked it with hers. Repeating the process with their bread plates, she then started to carry the lot to the sink.

“Leave the dishes,” Wylie ordered.

Startled by his tone, Marlee let the stack of dishes clatter back to the mat. “Well, then. I hate to eat and run, but…” She pointedly turned her watch around and studied it.

“Wait a minute,” Dean implored. “You said you’d give me the books Mick sent.”

“So I did. Tell you what, Dean. I have to run through a preflight check of the Arrow. If I’m ready to take off before you finish, I’ll send Jo Beth to the house with the books.” Marlee swung her daughter into her arms. “Much obliged for the lunch,” she said, tossing her casual thank-you at the back of Wylie Ames’s head of shiny black hair. Without further ado, she left the cabin as they’d entered, via the back door.

As Marlee started her check, she couldn’t recall ever enduring such an uncomfortable forty-five minutes. Not even in the most stressful days she’d spent with Rose Stein. Which said a lot.

“WOW, JO BETH AND HER MOM are really, really nice, don’t you think, Dad?” Dean gushed as he shoveled in the last of his second helping of gumbo, plainly anxious to run after the departing duo.

Wylie paused, a soup spoon halfway to his unsmiling lips. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he thought about this woman and her child.

Hell, who was he kidding? He found too much to like about Mick Callen’s twin sister. She had grit, and he admired that in a woman. She seemed to like Dean, which was more than could be said for the boy’s mother. Shirl had left him a mere babe in arms. He scowled. Marlee smelled—well, feminine. Sweet and sexy, the way a woman should smell.

“They’re okay,” he drawled reluctantly, letting as much time lapse as he dared. “Thing is, son, we don’t get deliveries often. Mrs. Stein didn’t say how long it’d take for Mick to recover. Soon as he’s well, he’ll fly our orders in again.”

“Dad! She said to call her Marlee. Mrs. Stein is Jo Beth’s grandmother.”

The mention of the girl’s grandparent suggested another question. Where was Mr. Stein? Junior, not the girl’s grandfather.

Divorced? Probably. Hadn’t Jo Beth rattled on and on about their life in San Diego? City folk. Even if Marlee Stein had once lived here, he knew how it was when women had a hankering for city living. Of course, he’d had other issues with Shirl than just her dislike of the backwoods. Like the fact that she’d lied to him.

“Dad…you aren’t paying attention. I finished my soup. Can I go and get the books Mick sent? One’s about bears, I bet.”

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you coming to say goodbye?” Dean had jumped up from the table, but he hovered half in, half out of the doorway, clearly expecting his father to follow.

Wylie’s first tendency was to tell Dean to run along. The more often he let the image of Marlee Stein burn into his brain, the more discontent would invade his jaded soul.

But he knew how excited Dean got watching planes land or take off. He couldn’t trust the kid to keep well away from the propeller. “I’m coming,” he said.

After Dean got his books and the pilot was strapped in for takeoff, Wylie hauled the boy far enough back to avoid the wind from the prop. Dean and Jo Beth began waving madly at each other. Wylie extracted his sunglasses from his shirt pocket and covered his eyes. He curbed the temptation to wave to Marlee. They hadn’t become fast friends as the kids had. Still, he stood at the end of the runway and watched her lift off much more smoothly than she’d landed.

He looked up and kept track of her slow circle. As her flight pattern brought her back over his head, Wylie noticed she dipped her wing the way Mick always did. His way of saying so long.

IN THE AIR, MARLEE COULDN’T resist making one last flyover of moody Wylie Ames. The guy didn’t even bend enough to acknowledge her leaving. He’d just covered his eyes with those damned mirrored shades and lazily hooked his thumbs in his trouser pockets as he stood immobile. The arrogant wide-legged stance served to warn any newcomer off this corner of the world. His corner of the world.

“Mama, I like Dean,” Jo Beth said into the mouthpiece, as Marlee had shown her to do before the trip. “Can I call him when we get home?”

Marlee’s lips twitched. She thrust the elder Ames out of her mind. “Listen, kid, you’re a little young to be running up a phone bill talking to a boyfriend.”

“Ma…ma! Dean’s my friend—friend is all.”

“I’m teasing. How about if I let you call him next week if his dad’s auxiliary motor doesn’t come in? If it does, I guess we’ll fly it up here.” She wouldn’t have expected the possibility of a return trip to the ranger’s cabin to bring a sense of excitement. But for whatever reason, it did.

“Oh, I hope the motor comes, Mama. We can stay for lunch again. And I’ll get to see Boxer Bear.” Jo Beth bounced excitedly.

Marlee dropped her sunglasses over her eyes to cloak her reaction to the memory of their recent lunch. “Don’t count on it, tiddledywink.” In spite of a definite sexual awareness the man had stoked in her, Marlee wouldn’t put it past Wylie Ames to garnish his gumbo with fish bones next time—if he knew that she and not Mick was slated to make his delivery.

CHAPTER THREE

GLENROE LODGE SAT in a pocket carved out of conifer trees. A single fire road led in and out of the site. Someone had constructed a runway that was little better than two grass tracks long enough to clear the trees on takeoff. Bush pilots loved the adventure and the challenge of taking off and landing in tricky conditions. Marlee wasn’t so far removed from hitting the deck of a carrier in a pitching sea that she enjoyed the thrill provided by Glenroe’s runway. But she was nevertheless pleased when she set the Piper Arrow down sweetly. If Ranger Wylie Ames had seen this, he wouldn’t have accused her of bouncing a plane around.

In the backcountry, a plane’s arrival was cause for excitement. Marlee barely had her door ajar when she saw the lodge owners on the porch. Guests rushed out of rustic cabins tucked almost out of sight deep in virgin timber.

Once she left her plane, Marlee lifted Jo Beth down, then pulled out the first box of Glenroe supplies. They’d ordered mostly dry groceries, such as bagged rice, beans and pasta, canned vegetables by the case and fifty-pound sacks of sugar and flour.

Unlike Wylie, Finn and Mary Glenroe let her carry the delivery to the lodge.

“Land sakes alive.” Mary elbowed her husband’s ribs. “It’s not Mick Callen bringing our order. If my old eyes don’t deceive me, it’s his twin come home. Marlee, what a pleasant surprise. When we saw the little girl run out from the plane, Finn and I were racking our brains trying to recall if we forgot to write down a family due to check in today.” Mary wrapped Marlee in a warm hug.

Marlee introduced Jo Beth, then hastily repeated the information she’d given Wylie about Mick’s latest bout of surgery.

It wasn’t until Finn Glenroe limped over to open the lodge door and pointed to where Marlee should stack the supplies that she remembered a tractor had overturned on Finn years ago and caused him to lose one leg.

Three dogs, ranging in size from large to miniature, rushed the opening and got tangled in Marlee’s feet.

“Mama, dogs!” Jo Beth squealed. “May I pet them?”

“Lord love you for asking so politely,” Mary chimed in. “Tinker Bell, the Chihuahua is skittish. Lola, our spaniel is the offspring of our old dog, Daisy. Your mama may remember Daisy. Lucifer is Finn’s bluetick hound.’ Bout all he’s good for is eating, sleeping and hunting.” The plump woman smiled at Jo Beth. “You sit yourself down yonder in one of the wicker chairs, those animals will gather round begging for attention.”

Jo Beth’s eyes grew big. “My grandmother said we couldn’t have pets while my daddy was sick. But Pappy Jack said he and Uncle Mick might get a dog. I hope they do.” The girl sat and, sure enough, the dogs bounded up to lick her.

Two of the guests—city-folk-turned-fishermen-for-a-week by the looks of them—offered to help Marlee carry supplies from the plane. She revised her thinking that Wylie had muscled her aside because he thought her puny. She’d forgotten in the real world, men assisted women. In the military, everyone pulled his or her own weight, and that’s what was expected. She let the men take some boxes, and thanked them.

“Marlee, have you two eaten lunch? I can easily scare up sandwiches.”

Marlee started to say they had to head home straight away, but Jo Beth piped up, “Me and Mama ate lunch with Dean Ames and his daddy. Dean’s got his very own bear.”

“A bear, you say? That doesn’t surprise me much.”

Marlee halted beside Mary. “I almost forgot. Ranger Ames sent back two pie tins. I put them in one of your supply boxes.”

The last of Glenroe’s guests, who’d plunked down a sack of flour, paused halfway down the steps. “Little lady, you’ll wanta take care flying into Ames’station. Heard tales floating around a year or so ago up along Kootenai River. Mary can fill you in. Fact is, a lone woman and a girl…you can’t be too careful.”

Marlee frowned as he whirled and trotted off in response to a call from his buddies who were gathered at the lake. Colorful fishing flies fluttered around the brim of the man’s floppy hat.

“Dave Modine, don’t be an old gossip.” Mary shook a finger at his scrawny back. “Sit a spell, Marlee. I have fresh cake and coffee. Catch me up on what all you’ve been up to since last you flew in here with Pappy. How is he? Mick said he has good days and so-so ones. Finn looks at Pap’s iffy health and says we’ve maybe got a couple good years left. Then we’ve gotta think about selling out and moving to town.”

“Gosh, Mary, you’ve had this place since before I was born.” Marlee stripped off the gloves she’d donned to better grip the bulky crates, and pulled out a wicker chair. “I take it neither of your boys plans to keep the lodge?”

“Nope, we sent them off to college where they met city girls. Matt’s an insurance broker in Spokane, Washington. Lewis teaches history in Bozeman. So does his wife.” As the woman spoke, she dashed in and out of the lodge, setting plates and cups on the glass-topped table sheltered from the afternoon wind by an ivy-draped trellis. “I’m surprised to see you back in Whitepine. Mick, now I understand.”

Marlee knew, of course, that she’d have to explain about Cole. She hadn’t expected that merely mentioning his death would be so difficult. After all, it’d been a year. And in her heart she’d guessed some six months before that, they were losing him. She lowered her voice and stumbled through minimal facts.

Mary listened, sad eyes cutting to where Jo Beth sat petting an oversize cat that had curled up on her lap. “I’m right sorry, Marlee. A woman your age shouldn’t have to lose her man when she’s still raising young’uns. How do you cope?”

“The navy chaplains do a fair job preparing personnel to accept loss.” Marlee patted the chair beside her, encouraging the older woman to sit. “Mary, when you scolded that fisherman, Dave, for gossiping, did you mean there’s no truth to the rumors concerning Wylie Ames?”

“Jo Beth, honey,” Mary called out. “Inside and down the hall is a place where you can wash up if you’d like a slice of chocolate cake. Would you like milk or juice?”

“Mama, may I have cake and milk?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Ms. Mary asked you, though. You can answer her directly.”

“Grandmother said I should always ask before I take anything to eat from a stranger.”

Marlee felt a twitch. Her mother-in-law had rules on top of rules. But this one made sense, and was one Marlee would have instituted if she had raised her daughter. “Thank you for checking with me first, Jo Beth. You don’t know Mary and Finn, but I’ve known them since I was little.”

“Then, yes, please.” The child carefully set the big gold cat onto the porch and slid out of her chair. Mary waited until the screen door closed to address Marlee’s question. “I’ll go on record straight away. I think Wylie’s gotten a bad rap. No one knows for sure what happened to his wife. He’s not much of a talker. But the kind of man who’d trek in here on snowshoes in the dead of winter, him carrying an infant son in a front pack, just to see how a couple of old folks are getting along, isn’t a man who’d mistreat a woman. I know him to be generous, honest and polite. Wylie’s raised his boy to be the same. And something else… those two rescue and treat injured animals. That doesn’t mesh with the rumors of foul play.”

“Was his wife’s disappearance investigated?”

“By whom? Rangers are more or less police themselves. Did something happen over at Wylie’s?” she asked.

Marlee spent a moment in thought. “Actually, no. It’s just that Pappy Jack mentioned the rumors, too. I have to say, though, I didn’t find Ranger Ames sociable.”

“Jo Beth said he served you two lunch.”

A ghost of a smile flickered at one corner of Marlee’s lips. “Dean invited us to stay. His dad tried every way possible to wiggle out. Lunch was delicious but far from the most comfortable time I’ve ever spent. Saying he’s not much of a talker may be too big of a stretch.”

As Jo Beth skipped out of the house, her mother’s smile broadened. “I was about ready to send out a search party. What took you so long to wash?”

“I saw another fluffy kitty and stopped to pet her. Gosh, that cake looks yummy.”

Mary patted a chair. “Climb up, and dig in. See if it tastes as good as it looks.”

Rising, their hostess excused herself to fetch Jo Beth’s milk. When Mary returned, the three ate slices of cake while the adults discussed how much Northwest Montana had grown in the years Marlee had been away.

“Growth’s another reason Finn’s talking of selling out. Used to be word of mouth brought in enough guests for us to make a decent living. Now there’s a resort, a lodge, or bed and breakfast in every scenic byway.” Mary stacked her plate and Marlee’s as she talked. “Owners have to advertise with the tourist bureau, the Ranch Vacation Association and the Board of Outfitters. We’re told we need a Web site that’s accessible through the chambers of commerce of nearby towns. People used to just call and book a cabin, and ask if Finn had time to show them the best fishing holes. Now they ask if we have certified river guides, liability insurance and oh, a lot of silly stuff. It’s like they want to claim they’re roughing it, but their kids demand cable TV, DVD rentals, a hot tub and swimming pool.”

Marlee shook her head in commiseration. “And in the few days I worked on Mick’s books, I saw how property taxes have tripled.”

Inside the house a phone rang. Mary excused herself and went to answer it.

“Are you almost finished with your cake, Jo Beth? Nice as this visit’s been, I want to head home before much more of the day slips away.”

The girl’s lower lip protruded. “I want to stay and play with the dogs. They like me, Mama. See, they’re all waiting for me to be done eating.”

Marlee glanced down at the ring of eager pet faces. She thought it more likely the animals were hoping for a crumb.

Mary burst out of the house clutching a cordless phone. “Marlee, it’s Pappy for you. Gordy Maclean has been gored by a rogue bull at his ranch near Whitefish Lake. Angel Fleet called to see if Mick would fly him to the Kalispell hospital.”

Marlee’s stomach dropped. She accepted the phone with a shaky hand. “Pappy, Marlee here. Mick said he’d ask Angel Fleet to remove Cloud Chasers from their roster until he’s able to fly again.”

The old man either wasn’t hearing the fear in Marlee’s voice or else he didn’t understand. She didn’t want to handle mercy flights. Her grandfather kept repeating Angel Fleet’s request. Finally, he took a breath and said, “Twin, here’s the deal. There’s no other plane available. Gordy’s wife told Angel Fleet he’s gonna bleed to death if somebody doesn’t transport him to a hospital fast.”

Marlee was rattled further by that news. The last thing she needed was for Jo Beth to see anyone else on the verge of dying. “Pappy,” she began, but he had hung up.

The cake and coffee Marlee had just consumed balled in the pit of her stomach along with the gumbo she’d eaten at Wylie’s.

“Are you all right, Marlee?” Mary collected the phone, which was sliding from the younger woman’s grasp. “Are you worried about landing without an airstrip? Gordy will have harvested his wheat. I think you can land in his field. If you look at Finn’s wall map, you’ll see exactly how to reach Gordon’s ranch. Will that help?”

“Probably.” Marlee stood on legs that felt pulpy. She concentrated on the issue front and foremost. No other plane was available. She tried not to think about what Pappy had said about a man maybe bleeding to death.

“Jo Beth, we need to make another stop. Please go to the bathroom if you can, and hurry.”

The girl scuttled off while Marlee checked the map showing an excellent overview of the northwest woods. She mentally logged coordinates. “Mary, thanks for the refreshments. If you’ll send Jo Beth out, I’ll go warm up the plane.”

Her daughter appeared before Marlee had climbed aboard. She boosted her in and helped settle her earphones.

Before Marlee taxied to the end of the runway for takeoff, she radioed Pappy. “This is Arrow one-three-six-niner. Come in home base.” Her radio crackled. “Pappy, I’m in transit to Maclean’s. Do you have any other word on the patient? Out.”

Pappy didn’t answer until after Marlee was fully airborne. “Affirmative on first directive. Negative on second.”

Marlee would’ve asked if he’d spoken with Mick today, but Pappy cut off their transmission. She’d heard a woman’s voice in the background. Probably Mrs. Gibson, the occasional housekeeper Mick had arranged to keep tabs on Pappy.

If she had to fly the injured man to Kalispell, she’d stop by and see Mick. It’d be good for Jo Beth to visit her uncle, and see him improving. Each hospital stay of Cole’s he’d gone progressively downhill.

The Maclean ranch had been hollowed out of an aspen grove. White-barked trees were resplendently decked in yellow and gold. Grassy fields were thick with cattle. Marlee banked and came around for a sweep at a lower altitude.

Mary Glenroe had suggested she land on wheat stubble, but Marlee spotted a gravel road running from the house to the barn and beyond to lodgepole pine corrals. There was room to set down there as long as the people who’d run out of the house didn’t get in the way. A huge yard flanked all four sides of a two-story farmhouse. If the grass wasn’t too soft it’d give her room to turn around and be headed outbound again.

She executed another perfect landing, and once again said to herself, Wylie Ames take that! Not that she gave a damn what Ranger Ames thought about her piloting acumen.

“Jo Beth, don’t unbuckle. Here comes our patient.” Two men were carrying him out of the house. “Honey, I just need a minute to assess his condition, then we’ll leave.”

A dark-haired woman and a girl of about fourteen ran up to Marlee as she exited the plane. Worry had settled in the woman’s eyes. “Angel Fleet said we should expect Mick Callen. I pray to heaven you’ve come to move Gordon.”

“I’m Mick’s sister. Did Angel Fleet happen to say if they’ve arranged for an ambulance to meet us at Kalispell airpark?”

“The dispatcher said they’d handle everything. My son and our hired hand tore up a sheet and wrapped Gordy’s chest real tight. But the blood has soaked through. I’m so worried. Is it okay if Josh goes with his dad? He’s old enough—sixteen.”

“The problem is, Mrs. Maclean, I have my daughter with me, and this is the smallest of Mick’s planes. Can you tell me approximately what each of them weigh?”

“I’m guessing Gordon’s one-eighty. Josh is maybe one-fifty.”

Marlee did some rapid calculations. “The only space I have available is the cargo area behind the seats. From the look of it, your husband needs to lie flat. I’ll depend on your son to anchor his dad in place on bare floor. Do you have a sleeping bag we can use to cushion him?”

The woman directed the teenage girl to run to the house and check in the hall closet with the camping gear. No one said much thereafter.

The hired hand and Maclean’s son worked to stabilize Gordon in the spot where the freight had been. When the man cried out, Marlee took a deep breath and stepped back. Irritated by her uneasiness, she told herself this mercy mission work wasn’t so very different from rescues she’d flown for the navy. Once she made that connection, her jitters dissipated.

“He’s not far from help now,” she said to Mrs.

Maclean in much the same way she’d reassured field medics who’d entrusted her to save lives.

However, her discomfort with the situation returned when she had to gather speed across the lumpy gravel road. As stoic as Maclean had tried to be when the younger men had manipulated him into the awkward space, his face now turned pasty white and sweat drenched his forehead. Even with earphones on, Marlee heard him scream seconds before she soared aloft. Jo Beth, however, calmly turned sideways in her seat and reached back to pat the injured man’s shoulder.

Marlee dredged up a warm smile for the child. She’d thought Jo Beth needed a break from all reminders of her dad’s long illness. Then Mick had announced he needed surgery, and now this unexpected mission for Angel Fleet. Neither fazed her daughter.

Some fifteen minutes out of the airpark, Marlee sensed more than saw that Gordy Maclean’s breathing had become shallower. What if she lost the first patient placed in her care? She unhooked a fleece-lined jacket Mick had draped over the back of the passenger seat. “Cover your dad with this,” she told Josh, as she coaxed more speed out of the Arrow. She recognized shock. God knew she’d seen enough men and women suffer from it during her two deployments. The big difference now was she wasn’t facing flying bullets.

So why was she a nervous wreck by the time she called the tower at the Kalispell airpark? She consciously restrained any shaking in her voice as she spoke to the controller. “I’ve got a man on board who needs immediate medical attention.”

“We’ve been expecting you, Arrow one-three-six-niner. Ambulance and medic are parked at runway four. You’re cleared to land. Do you have any special requests?”

“Blankets, blood, Ringer’s,” Marlee responded automatically. She knew this emergency routine well. More’s the pity, she thought.

The red lights of the ambulance cut through the thickening dusk, moving toward them slowly as Marlee set the Arrow down in the smoothest landing she’d made all day. This time she didn’t let visions of the smug Wylie Ames intrude—much. She braked, removed her headphones and was out the door, racing around the tail section to throw open the cargo doors well before the propeller stopped spinning.

A paramedic team hustled to load the patient onto a rolling stretcher. One medic strapped on a blood pressure cuff while another attended oozing wounds, then swabbed Gordon’s arm before inserting needles for blood and Ringer’s solution, which would keep him hydrated and hopefully from going deeper into shock.

Marlee lent a much-needed third pair of hands. It wasn’t until she heard Jo Beth’s shoes hit the tarmac behind her that she realized she’d reacted as she would have at her old job. In so doing, she’d left her daughter to fend for herself. Awash in guilt—of the type Rose Stein had heaped on her at their recent custody hearing —Marlee removed herself from the scene at hand.

She gathered Jo Beth against her. Mom and daughter stood with arms wrapped around each other, watching medics load the gurney and boost Josh into the ambulance. The doors slammed and the vehicle roared off into the night with sirens blaring.

Her part in the rescue was over and she didn’t personally know Maclean. But she recalled the fear etched on his son’s face. Marlee had spent more time in Josh’s shoes than she cared to think about. The kid was sixteen. What if his father’s injuries were too massive, and Gordon died in spite of their efforts?

“Mama, you’re squeezing me too tight.”

“Sorry, Jo Beth.” Marlee loosened the arm anchoring her daughter to her. Stifling a sigh, she raised an unsteady hand and rearranged her hair, which had come out of its clip during the afternoon.

“Why don’t we go inside to see if we can rent a car to drive to the hospital?”

The child looked up and nodded solemnly. “That would be good, Mama. Josh might need us. He’ll have to sit in the hospital waiting room all by himself.”

The understanding filling the eyes of her five-year-old surprised and concerned Marlee. “Honey, Grandmother Rose never left you alone in the waiting room. Didn’t you stay next door when Daddy went for his treatments?”

“Sometimes he had ’mergencies at night. Grandmother didn’t have time to wake up Mrs. Griffith.”

Marlee battled more nagging guilt. Of course, over time she’d come to realize Cole had kept the truth about how sick he was from her. He’d outright lied during her last ten-month deployment. But Jo Beth’s admission meant Rose hadn’t been honest, either. She had denied the extent of Cole’s illness. It stood to reason his mom would do that, she thought, as she opened the door to the so-called terminal office.

A single clerk stood at the counter working a crossword puzzle. “May I help you?” he asked, glancing up.

“I just landed the Piper Arrow. Do you have a car available to rent or if not, the number for a cab?”

“That Mick Callen’s plane?”

“Yes, he’s laid up at the moment. I’m his sister.”

“And you don’t trust that eyesore he parks here? Can’t say I blame you. Mick claims he leaves it in my lot so his grandpa can’t hop in and take off.”

Marlee found a smile. “Is it a ’62 Caddy, robin’s egg blue and cream?” At the man’s nod, she said, “Mick and I learned to drive in that old tank.” She studied a cork board filled with tagged keys behind the clerk. “I don’t suppose Mick keeps a key to it here.”

The young man turned and lifted one from a pushpin and handed it to her. “Now I know all pilots thrive on danger.”

“How late is someone here?”

“I’m here till midnight. If you come back later, park the car in the same spot and shove the key through the mail slot in the door.”

“Is midnight when the tower shuts down?”

“Yep. And that’s when we turn off all runway lights except for number one. That stays lit for emer gency landings.”

“We’ll be back long before then.”

Marlee helped Jo Beth into the back of the Caddy, and dug for a seat belt wedged under the seat.

“Mama, this backseat is the biggest I’ve ever seen. I bet it’s as big as my bed.”

“This was your grandpa’s car. They made them bigger in the old days.” If Jo Beth had been older—a lot older—Marlee might have joked about modern cars not being nearly as good as this one for making out.

Behind the wheel, she cursed the engine that wouldn’t turn over. It took five minutes but finally it caught. As she left the lot and merged with highway traffic, she decided she’d been wrong to tell Mick that she absolutely wouldn’t fly for Angel Fleet. If Gordon Maclean pulled through, it’d be due in large part to the fact that she’d had a plane in the area and been willing to help.

A sign on the highway told her where to turn for the hospital.

Marlee debated whether to go to Mick’s room first or try to locate young Josh Maclean. Stopping to see Mick won out, because she knew where his ward was. Maybe a nurse there could help her track down Gordon.

Two women in print smocks and white slacks were helping Mick out of bed when Marlee and Jo Beth walked into his room. The anguish on his face made it clear that standing was very painful. Marlee hovered in the doorway, not sure she should’ve brought Jo Beth, after all.

Mick hailed them. “There you are. What the hell, sis? Pappy’s called here three times in the last half hour. Didn’t you take your cell phone today?”

She quickly dug the phone out of her back pocket. “Oh. I thought I’d put it on vibrate, but it’s shut off. Is something wrong?”

“How’s Gordy?” Mick had been bent over with his weight distributed between the two nurses. He straightened marginally.

“So you know about my side trip? I don’t know yet how Mr. Maclean is. He looked pretty rough when we landed. Maybe a little better when they loaded him into the ambulance.” Marlee stepped into the room. “Why has Pappy been calling you? He reached me at Glenroe’s. I told him I’d take the Angel Fleet job.”

Mick mustered a brief smile. “According to Pappy you didn’t agree without dumping some harsh words on me. Not that I don’t deserve every one. I totally forgot to ask Angel Fleet dispatch to delete us from their roster. I feel doubly bad that you had to make a run without us ever discussing the process.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been helpful,” Marlee agreed, with a smile to soften her words.

“How it works is a coordinator phones the volunteer nearest to a victim. If the volunteer’s plane is free, we go. At the scene we touch base with Angel Fleet to let them know we’re underway. And volunteers sign in again after transfer is complete.”

“Ah, so I didn’t phone them nor did I contact Pappy from the airpark. It’s my turn to apologize, Mick. I’m not a novice at rescue. I guess since most missions I flew in Iraq were under strict radio silence, I didn’t even think to call in.”

“Pappy wasn’t the only one worried about your whereabouts. Wylie called Cloud Chasers twice. He apparently decided you’d fallen out of the sky.”

“Wylie, as in Ranger Ames?” Marlee’s chin shot up several inches. “Why, in heaven’s name? I left his place ages ago.”

Mick shuffled a few feet, but had the nurses take him back to bed. Once they’d settled him, he un-clenched his jaw. “Pappy said it started out with Dean Ames phoning to speak with Jo Beth.” He found a real smile for the little girl who still hovered in the doorway, staring at him with huge eyes.

She waltzed up to his bed, finally. “Mama said Dean and me could call each other.” She slid her small hand into Mick’s larger one. “Do you hurt a lot, Uncle Mick? Can the nurse give you a pill to make the pain go away? That’s what they did for my daddy.”

One of the nurses involved in exercising Mick flipped through his chart. “The doctor ordered Vicodin as needed. I see you’ve refused any pain meds up to now.”

“I’d rather not use painkillers. The months I spent in military rehab, I saw far too many guys hooked on prescription drugs.”

Marlee broke in. “On the other hand, Mick, won’t you heal faster if you take the edge off your pain?”

His features relaxed into a grin. “I wouldn’t be in pain if the nurses were nicer. If they didn’t barge in here and force me to get up and walk. Four times today,” he drawled, clearly angling for sympathy.

The petite brunette holding his chart rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of bull.” She glanced at Marlee and backpedaled, “Uh…we’re just following doctor’s orders. By the way, I’m Tammy, his evening nurse.”

“Don’t pay any attention to Mick. He’s squeaked by on charm since he was born. You have my permission to whip him into shape before you send him home. ’Cause we sure won’t be pampering him.”

“I’ll pamper him,” Jo Beth declared loyally.

“How sweet.” The nurse glanced at her patient. “Funny, I don’t believe you mentioned having a daughter, Mick.”

“I don’t,” he said. “This is my very best niece.” He tugged at one of Jo Beth’s curls. “Tell Nurse Tammy what a fantastic uncle I am, kid.”

“You’re my only uncle,” she scoffed. “Dean thinks you’re okay. He said you care a whole lot about kids and animals.”

“Hear that?” Mick winked at the young woman, but she was talking to Marlee, who had asked how to find Gordon Maclean.

Jo Beth leaned on Mick’s bed. “Dean said to say thanks for the books. And he asked if you got the dog you told him about on your last visit. I said no, but I wish you’d get one, Uncle Mick.”

“You do? We’ll have to see what your mom thinks of that idea. I’ll have time to train a dog while I’m recovering at home, I guess.”

“Train him to do what?”

Mick stopped rubbing his leg below his sore hip, and tweaked the girl’s nose. “To help keep track of you and Pappy Jack, since I’m not going to be fleet of foot for a while. Hey, it sounds as if you and Dean got along famously.”

“Uh-huh. He’s nice. And he’s smart,” she said, clearly enamored of her newfound friend.

“I agree. So, does your mom feel the same about Dean’s dad?”

Jo Beth wrinkled her nose and twisted her mouth from side to side before she shrugged both shoulders.

Mick turned to his sister, who’d just parted from Nurse Tammy, and was now using his bedside phone. “Marlee, did you have a problem with Wylie Ames?”

“Problem?” She smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “An earthworm is probably a better communicator. What? No, not you, Pappy. It’s Marlee. Sorry I’m late phoning. Jo Beth and I are with Mick. No, I don’t know his status. Hold on a sec.” Marlee put a hand over the receiver as the nurse breezed back in.

“Mr. Maclean is still in surgery,” Tammy said. “From what I gather, it’s going well. His son is one floor above us in the B Surgery Suite waiting room.”

“Thank you so much. We’ll run up shortly to see how Josh is doing.” She returned to her call and relayed an identical message. “Are you anxious for us to get home, Pappy? Are you on your own?”

She listened intently. “Why should I phone Ranger Ames?” After an irritated toss of her head, Marlee tried to temper her sharp response. “I’m sure everyone who lives in the backcountry is a friend of the Macleans, but I can’t call them all. Okay, Pappy. Someone will notify you and the ranger as soon as any report comes out of surgery. Mr. Maclean’s son is here. Maybe he’ll call everyone after he updates his mom. Pappy, I’ve gotta go. According to Mick, I need to call Angel Fleet.”

“Don’t!” Marlee put down the phone and held up a hand as her brother opened his mouth. “I know the ranger’s your friend. But he rubbed me the wrong way, okay? If you asked him, he’d say the feeling is mutual.”

“I was just going to give you Angel Fleet’s number.”

“Oh. I thought you were going to…never mind then. What’s the number?”

He gave it. “When you reach Arlene Thomas, their night coordinator, explain that I’m laid up. Have her take Cloud Chasers off the volunteer list until further notice.”

“Uh…Mick. I’ve had a change of heart. I forgot how isolated people are up here. Leave us on the volunteer flight schedule.”

“Are you sure? Gordy’s accident is a one-time flight. Sometimes our requests are the beginning of a series of treatments or doctor visits for a patient. Angel Fleet operates differently than some mercy groups. They feel it’s difficult enough when a very ill person has to be in and out of the hospital. If the patient gains confidence in a pilot flying them back and forth, it’s one less stress.”

Marlee knew what Mick was saying. “Surely no one expects weeks, months or years of continuous service. Rose drove Cole to treatments for four years.”

“Six flights is the most I’ve made for any single patient. If care is ongoing, most people arrange to stay temporarily near the hospital.”

“Then I can do this, Mick. What we went through with Cole was different. I’ll have no close ties, no relationship with anyone who may need us.” She broke away from Mick’s unwavering gaze to check her watch. Then she stretched out a hand toward her daughter. “Jo Beth, tell Uncle Mick goodbye.”

“Bye-bye. When I call Dean, is it all right to say you’re still getting a dog?”

Mick’s hearty laughter drowned out his twin’s reprimand. “Yes,” he said. “And when you call him, make sure you tell him how Mr. Maclean does in surgery. That’ll save your mother from having to communicate with an earthworm.” Mick pushed a button and lowered his bed. At once he groaned and grabbed for his bad hip, but he recovered enough to lean up on an elbow. “You two run along. Marlee, I’ll call Angel Fleet for you tonight. I’ll tell them to be kind to you.”

She gave him a tight smile over her daughter’s head. Mick’s bringing up Wylie Ames again produced a well-formed image of his brooding, handsome face, which Marlee did her best to push out of her mind.

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