Campy thought they were both crazy, but then, she’d been pretty cranky ever since she quit smoking.
“Why would you idiots want to buy another plane when the hottest aircraft in Alaska is sitting right outside our warming hut?”
“Because it’s not our plane and we can’t afford to buy it from Kate,” Mitch said. “Isn’t that right, Wally?”
“He’s right,” Wally growled, “but if you ever want to buy me a plane like that Porter, Campy, you can bet I won’t refuse it.”
She looked from one to the other, tossed her hair out of her eyes and turned on her heel. “Idiots,” she repeated, leaving them to their business dealings while she went to work.
By 4:00 p.m. the next day the Cessna was sitting next to the Porter and Wally was fiddling with something under the cowling while Mitch cleaned up the interior. Campy came out of the warming hut with a scrap of paper in one hand and a small cloth satchel in the other. “I’ve figured out how much gas it would take to fly the Porter to Montana,” she announced, boarding the plane.
Mitch glanced up from cleaning the Cessna’s instrument panel. “Huh?”
She settled herself in the copilot’s seat and studied the paper. “One thousand gallons of fuel will land you in Bozeman with thirty gallons to spare. I happen to have enough tip money stashed away to front you the cost of the trip. You can leave today. We don’t have another booking for three days because the weather forecast is so lousy on the mountain, and Wally can cover for you if we get anything last minute.
“The airline ticket for your return trip is figured into my costs, and please don’t tell me you can’t accept this money. You can pay me back later and I’ll even charge interest if it’ll make you feel better.” She fixed him with a bitchy look. “If you’re not going to use that plane, Mitchell McCray, the least you can do is give it back to her.” She handed him the scrap of paper and the satchel. “And for the record, I think you’re making a mistake. You’re just being stubborn and stupid, which is exactly why you haven’t called her since she left. You’ve been moping around here like a kicked dog.”
“If she wants to talk, she knows where I am.” Mitch let the heavy satchel full of Campy’s tip money drop to the floor with a muffled thump. “But I doubt she’s waiting for her phone to ring. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye in person.”
“Maybe because she couldn’t. Maybe because it’s hard saying goodbye to someone when you know you might never see them again, especially if you love them.”
“Love?” Mitch snorted. “You’re way off base, Campy.”
“Am I?” She tossed her hair in an impatient gesture. “I think the world of you, Mitch, you know I do, but you’re definitely thick when it comes to matters of the heart. Go to Montana. Don’t let things end this way between the two of you.” She pushed out of the seat and prepared to disembark. “She needs you now, almost as much as you need her.” She slammed the door of the plane behind her when she left, making sure she had the last word.
Just like a woman.
IT WAS A SATURDAY NIGHT, and Brock’s Bar and Grill was packed. Mitch had been brooding about what Campy had said, and it hadn’t helped any to go back to his newly mortgaged homestead on Pike’s Creek to see that Kate’s little plot of forget-me-nots had already sprouted. Rather than pace his porch and brood, he headed for town with enough money for a few beers, and by 10:00 p.m. he’d raked in over three hundred in winnings at the pool table. By midnight, he’d stashed away another four. He handed Campy her satchel, retrieved from under the truck seat, before he left at the end of the night.
“Thanks for the loan, but with what I just won and what’s left in my bank account I think I’m covered,” he said. “Tell Wally I’m delivering the Porter to Montana and I’ll be back by Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest. I talked to Raider and he volunteered one of his newbie pilots to fly for us in the meantime, if it gets busy.”
Campy shifted the tray of drinks she was carrying and kissed his cheek. “Give Kate our love, hon, and Hayden, too.”
By 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning, Mitch was refueling the Porter at the Talkeetna airport. His duffel bag was in the back, along with a big black dog who didn’t think much of flying because there weren’t many moose at five thousand feet above sea level. With a top cruising speed of 130 knots, it took them two days to make Bozeman with an overnight in Seattle, landing on vapors and sleeping in the plane for four short hours before continuing eastward toward the Rockies. By the time they landed at the Bozeman airport Thor had finally settled into a state of comatose boredom, but the beast was downright ecstatic to jump into the front seat of the cheapest rental Mitch could finagle out of the young woman who finally succumbed to his charms and said she wouldn’t tell anyone his passenger was a dog.
“Pets normally aren’t allowed in our rentals,” she apologized.
“He’s not really a pet,” Mitch explained. “He’s a therapy dog on a mission.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” she said, and handed him a business card with her phone number written on the back.
Mitch had Kate’s address in his wallet and a map on the seat. He figured it was a two-hour drive to her place, which would put them there at 5:00 p.m. or thereabouts. He’d spend some time with Hayden, tell Kate her plane was parked at the airport in Bozeman and then book a flight back to Alaska.
Short and sweet. That was the best kind of visit in a situation like this.
ON MONDAY AFTERNOON Kate got a call from the doctor in Seattle. The news was discouraging. In spite of the donor drives in Alaska and Montana, no suitable tissue match had yet been found. “The lab tests take time. Getting the results can take weeks,” she was told by the doctor who called. Mean while, she was scheduled for a third bout of chemo. That left her just another week, and each day passed more quickly than the last. Time was running out.
Hayden’s birthday was only days away and Ruth was planning a celebration along the lines of a coronation, something Kate had always avoided. “You’ll spoil him,” she warned her mother.
“He’s our only grandchild,” Ruth countered. “Indulge us.”
Kate acquiesced, against her better judgment. She’d seen way too many overindulged kids living on the base, ten-year olds with cell phones plastered to their ears, sixteen-year olds with brand-new cars. Hayden wasn’t going to be like that. Or was he? If she wasn’t around to rein him in, who would? She’d never had this conversation with Mitch. Then again, if Hayden lived with Mitch, he’d be lucky to even be wearing name-brand clothes. He definitely wouldn’t have a cell phone or an iPod or the latest and greatest computer game.
“Mom, I’m going riding,” she announced after the call from the doctor.
Her mother was making a batch of bread while Hayden built some sort of space-age vehicle out of interlocking plastic cubes. “Where?”
“Up to the fishing hole. I feel like trying to outsmart a trout.”
“Take a quiet horse.”
“I’ll take Bonnie. She’s so old she’s practically dead.”
“She is not!” Ruth dusted the flour off her hands. “I’ll saddle her for you.”
“Mom, honestly, I can manage. I’ll be back in time for supper. Maybe we’ll be eating fish tonight.”
“Yuck,” Hayden said as Kate left the house.
Bonnie was sleeping in the sun, lower lip sagging, eyes closed. “Sorry, old girl,” Kate said as she climbed through the corral fence. “Time to wake up. You can have a nap when we get to the meadow.”
It had been years since Kate had ridden. Nearly six, to be exact. It felt good to brush Bonnie, to smooth the blanket over her back and settle the leather saddle onto it. She missed being around horses, the sweet grass smell of them, the mingled scents of leather and sweat and wide open spaces. She tucked her pack rod into the saddlebag, led Bonnie out of the corral and, with a few hops, made it into the saddle. All of sudden she was on top of the world and her spirits lifted accordingly.
“C’mon, old girl,” s
he said, gathering the reins and tugging down the wide brim of her hat. “Let’s find a peaceful place.”
Bonnie’s steady walk was fast enough for Kate, who was content to let the sun beat down on her shoulders and listen to the summer insects buzz in the still heat of the day. As they climbed, the air cooled. A breeze came up, blowing tall, billowy clouds over the peaks and bringing the warm, resiny tang of pine down from the high places. By the time they reached the high meadow, Kate felt more like napping than fishing. She slipped off Bonnie’s bridle, loosened the cinch and tethered the mare with enough slack to graze in a shady spot. Then she assembled the pack rod and walked down to the swimming hole. It was almost warm enough for a dip, but knowing how cold the water was, she wisely deferred.
The fly she chose worked well and she caught four beautiful trout, one after the other. She released all of them, then set the rod aside and let the lassitude of the afternoon fill her. She lay back in a sun-warmed grassy hollow, relaxed into the curve of the earth and almost instantly fell asleep listening to the murmur of the water and the lonesome whisper of the wind.
MITCH HAD NEVER BEEN to Montana before and by the time he turned off the dirt road that had Kate’s family’s ranch sign at the end of it, he understood a little better why Kate was such a down-to-earth girl in spite of her lofty career goals. When he stopped in the yard of the place where she’d grown up, he knew why she’d wanted to come back home. It was like a scene out of another century, or at the very least, an episode of The Waltons. Laundry flapped on a clothesline, chickens pecked and scratched in the barnyard, flowers bloomed everywhere, and beyond the reach of the corrals and fields, the mountains rose toward the sky.
The house itself was humble and homey, a simple cape-style with a dormered roof and a covered porch facing the yard. A woman stepped onto that porch as he studied the lay of the place, and wiped her hands on an apron she’d tied over a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. She wore her gray hair in a long braid over one shoulder and was slender, attractive and friendly looking. Mitch got out of the rental and quickly shut the car door behind him before Thor could shimmy out and chase after the chickens.
“Hello,” the woman said with a surprised expression before Mitch could open his mouth to introduce himself. “You must be Mitch. Hayden looks just like you. Kate told me you were tall, but she didn’t tell me how handsome you were. Come inside and bring your dog. I expect Hayden would like to see him.”
“Mitch!” a young voice called out. Hayden burst through the screen door and flew down the porch steps. He plastered himself against Mitch’s legs the same way he had with Kate, and Mitch felt a twist of pride and something else, too, something distinctly paternal, as he lifted Hayden up and gave him a hug.
“Hey there, pard. How are you doing?”
“You staying?”
“I’m visiting. I brought Thor along. Thought you might like to see him.”
“Thor!” Hayden squirmed out of Mitch’s grasp and opened the car door before Mitch could shout a warning. Thor emerged like a black blur, streaking toward the barnyard with evil intent. Mitch took after him with a roar and there must have been enough thunder in his voice to squelch the instinctive chase of the squawking, flapping hens because Thor came to a reluctant halt and looked back over his shoulder. Then he spotted Hayden and forgot all about the chickens and moments later the two were wrestling happily in the yard.
Mitch blew out his breath. “Sorry about that,” he said to the woman who stood watching the show on the top step.
She smiled warmly and extended her hand to him as he climbed the steps. “Come on inside. I’ll get you something cold to drink. I’m Ruth, Kate’s mother.”
The kitchen was warm and smelled of gingersnap cookies and freshly baked bread. Ruth poured iced tea and sliced a lemon, speaking over her shoulder as she did. “Kate’s not here. She went fishing up on the mountain. She said she’d be back in time for supper. Her father should be back by then, too. He went to town to pick up some things and visit the office where he used to work. Do you want sugar in your tea?”
“No, ma’am, that’s fine just the way it is,” Mitch said. “How’s Kate doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” Ruth said, and he could read the worry lines in her forehead. “She tires easily and the results of her last tests weren’t very good. They haven’t found a donor yet but the doctor told her it takes time for the lab to test all the blood samples. She’s scheduled for another round of chemotherapy right after Hayden’s birthday.” Ruth handed him a glass and a plate of cookies. “She didn’t mention that you were coming.”
“She doesn’t know. I didn’t know myself until a couple of days ago.”
“Come sit out on the porch. It’s cooler there,” Ruth invited, and when they were seated side by side on the bench beside the door, she said, “Kate tells us you fly for an air taxi service.”
“That’s right. I suppose she told you about the plane, too.” Warm, chewy gingersnap cookies and iced tea were a great combination. Mitch ate four cookies, one right after the other, then took a big swallow of cold, lemony tea.
“The crash. Yes, that sounded terrible. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
“Not the plane that crashed, the one she bought.”
Ruth frowned and shook her head. “I didn’t know she’d bought a plane.”
“She bought it because she thought the one that crashed wasn’t safe to fly.”
“I guess she was right.”
Mitch took another swallow of cold iced tea and picked up another cookie. “The thing is, I can’t accept the plane. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to pay her back. It’s a beautiful plane but it’s too expensive for my bank account so I’m returning it to her. It’s here, in Bozeman.”
“You flew it all the way from Alaska?”
“She can keep it here and fly it herself, or sell it and put the money toward Hayden’s college education. Half a million bucks’ll get him a fine degree.”
“Lord a’mighty.” Ruth’s eyebrows shot up. “She spent that much money on a plane?”
“Good planes are expensive, and that Porter’s a great plane.”
“Well, she must have wanted you to have it. Kate doesn’t do anything on impulse. She’s like her father that way.” Ruth uttered a rueful laugh. “She said she had a good time in Alaska, but other than that she doesn’t say much about it. She’s been pretty quiet since she arrived. I read the article in the local paper about the Montana donor drive. They called it the Big Sky Drive. It was quite a success. They got over a thousand donors signed up for the registry, most of them of mixed blood, just like her. Thank you for initiating that. And thank you for what you did in Alaska, too.”
“It seemed like everything I tried to do for Kate, she took as a personal insult.”
Ruth laughed again, this time wryly. “Sounds like the two of you are a lot alike in that respect, but you know something, Mitch? Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for people is to let them help you.”
RUTH INVITED HIM to stay to supper and offered him the use of the old bunkhouse for the night. “There hasn’t been a cowboy hired on in years, but it makes a great guesthouse,” she said, leading him to the board-and-batten building on the far side of the barn. She opened the door on a small, clean room with bunk beds against the far wall, a woodstove for heat and a tiny bathroom. “Leave your duffel bag in here and I’ll show you the trail that leads up to Kate’s fishing hole. It’s a two-mile walk, and mostly uphill, but the view’s great up there. Hayden can help me get supper started.”
The trail, Ruth had told him, was originally used by the buffalo and the Crow to cut through the mountain pass back when both freely roamed the foothills. Cattle used it now, and horses, and Kate was up there somewhere, fishing. So Mitch leaned into the steep incline and headed up the mountainside and after about half a mile he was struggling to catch his breath. The trail switched back a couple of times, easing the steepness of the ascent; then cut throu
gh a dark, deeply timbered pass between two rugged peaks; climbed a little more, and broke through into a high wild meadow where the sun was so bright and unexpected that he stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust while his lungs played catch-up.
The meadow was large enough for a sizable herd of buffalo, its perimeters sharply defined by timbered mountainsides that climbed into a hot June sky. A bright spangle of wildflowers carpeted the green stretch of grass that rippled in the breeze and a creek bisected the meadow, curving sharply at one point and nearly reversing direction. The weather-bleached remains of an old log cabin stood on this curve, amidst a grove of trees where a saddled horse grazed, but if Kate was nearby, she wasn’t fishing. He could see no activity along the banks of the creek. For a few moments he stood at the meadow’s edge, admiring the view and soaking up the peace of the place, and then he set out to find the woman he’d fallen in love with in spite of all his efforts not to.
IT WAS THE MARE that woke her, the sharp snort of alarm penetrating through the layers upon layers of fatigue. Bear? Kate struggled onto her elbows with a surge of adrenaline. The sun had shifted, leaving her mostly in shadow now, but there was plenty of light left to show her what had spooked Bonnie. The sight of Mitchell McCray walking toward the horse was so unexpected that for a long moment she could only stare, and by the time she found her voice to hail him, he’d spotted her and changed his direction.
“Your mother told me you were up here,” he said in an offhand way as he approached, as if he’d just seen her yesterday. “She offered me a horse to ride. Said it’d be easier than walking. Stupidly, I declined.” He lowered himself into the hollow, he eased himself into a comfortable position and sighed a weary sigh. “Damn, that was a tough hike.”
“Pretty near vertical,” Kate agreed, still staring as if he might vanish at any moment. Was he real, or was she only dreaming? She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.
From Out of the Blue Page 24