From Out Of The Blue. Nadia Nichols
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don’t always play by their rules.”
“Were you having an affair with your CO’s wife?”
“Of course not. She was twenty years older than me. The whole trial was a fiasco and it made my CO look like an idiot, which didn’t improve our relationship much.”
Kate shot him a skeptical look, then shook her head and faced front again. “I didn’t know you were going through all that.”
“Would you have been less mad at me if you’d known?”
She stifled a wry laugh. “No, at the time probably not. I probably would’ve been glad you were paying for it. Sorry.”
He nodded, as if that was explanation enough for him. “I hope you like dogs,” he said as he turned down Pike’s Creek Road.
“I do. Why?”
“Thor’s been banned from the airstrip because he chases planes, so I’ll have to drop him at the cabin before bringing the part to Wally’s.” When they got to her rental car, he stopped just long enough to replace the repaired flat tire, then continued on. Where the road forked, he headed left and nodded to the right and said, “That way leads to the airstrip.” A few miles later, after passing two somewhat ramshackle dwellings, one of which looked long abandoned, the road ended at his cabin.
Kate had prepared herself for a plywood-and-tar-paper shack with blue tarps strung everywhere and rusted fifty-five-gallon drums lying about. She was surprised by the attractive complex of log buildings. There were several sturdy outbuildings in addition to the charming cabin, including an authentic log food cache raised high on four posts. The hand-hewn main cabin had dovetailed notches, a real stone chimney and a porch that practically hung out over the creek. The clearing itself was large, and a garden space was surrounded by a rustic staked fence fashioned from alder and willow poles, but it looked as though nothing had been planted inside for several seasons. There was a wonderful view of the rugged snowcapped mountain range, including the mighty Denali, who was still showing her face to the world.
“Is that a dogsled on the porch roof?”
“Yup. A dog musher used to live here. One day his wife decided she’d had enough of living the backwoods life with a bunch of sled dogs and a guy who was always out on the trail, so she left him, and after a few years he lost heart and got rid of all his dogs except Thor, who slipped out of his collar and ran off.” He wrenched open the truck door, jumped down and walked around to open her door. “He sold me the place for a song because I happened to ask him about it on the right day and then he followed his wife back to Florida. Thor reappeared a week later and decided to stay. It worked out well for me because it was so cheap and it’s only seven miles from the airstrip. Plus I got a sled dog thrown in for free. Nice, huh?”
“Yes,” she admitted. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
“Will you be okay here for a little while, or do you want to help me put a fuel filter in the plane?”
“I’ll be fine.” Again surprised by his manners, she took his hand and let him assist her out of the truck. He’d done the same thing back at the deli.
“I’ll give you the official tour when I get back, and we can talk then. Thor will keep the bears away. Help yourself to anything and everything and don’t mind the mess—I wasn’t expecting company. There’s a satellite phone in the kitchen, if you need to use it. Here, take your sandwich.” He fished her napkin-wrapped lunch of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t just look at it, eat it.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said, stepping back and giving him a mock salute.
Kate watched him drive back down the rutted gravel road and wondered when he’d realize the dog was still riding in the back. Thor obviously preferred Mitch’s company, which was okay with her. She’d just have to deal with any bears that came along. Meanwhile, she’d prowl around the cabin and investigate the domestic side of Mitchell McCray.
CHAPTER THREE
MITCH WAS SURPRISED to see Wally’s Harley parked outside the warming shack. He must’ve had a fight with Campy, but it couldn’t have been a bad one because Campy’s old Subaru was parked right next to the shiny bike. Wally came out when he heard the truck and the first thing he said was “Where the hell you been all day?” as if he’d been working his ass off since before sunup.
“In Talkeetna, picking up the part for your plane, which, by the way, didn’t want to start this morning. Good to see you, too, boss. Didn’t expect to, being as it’s a Monday.”
“Polar Express called to thank us for the referral of the German climbers. Said they made a great tip off that one. I came over to see what was wrong.”
“Plane’s broke, as usual. That’s what was wrong.”
Wally was fiftysomething, bald, overweight and often-times contentious, but he could work wonders with the Stationair and was a passable pilot for a guy who was mostly self-taught. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Babe. She started right up for me. Hand over the fuel filter.”
“How’d you know that was the part I went to get?”
“I’m psychic. Thought I told you to leave that damn dog at home.”
Mitch looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, Thor was standing with his front paws on the diamond-plate toolbox wearing that sly wolfish grin. “Thor, I thought I told you to stay the hell home!” Thor’s ears flattened back and he wagged his tail in response. Mitch looked back at Wally. “The bad news is, we lost a job this morning because of that clogged filter. The good news is, Raider called last night and said he’s seriously considering my latest offer for the Porter.”
“We can’t afford that plane. Thought we already had this discussion.” Wally was fishing in his pockets for a half-smoked cigar, which he stuck in his mouth and lit.
“Where’s Campy?”
“Inside.”
“Campy! Get out here, woman. I need you to bear witness. Wally’s changing his story on me again.”
The door to the airfield’s warming hut opened a crack and a thin face framed by bleached blond hair stuck out, cigarette dangling from pouty red lips. She looked to be in the same kind of mood as Wally. “Go to hell, Mitch, and take that bastard with you,” she snarled around the cigarette and slammed the door again.
“I told Raider I could have the money by next week,” Mitch said, as he followed Wally toward the plane. “If we called Yance, he’d front us the money, and if I had it in hand I know Raider’d except my offer. We could sell the Stationair and pay back some of that loan right away.”
“We ain’t selling Babe and we ain’t buying a Pilatus/Fairchild Porter. It’s a good plane, I’m not arguing with you on that score, but Raider wants too much for it. Thinks its a goddamn Concorde jet. Besides, Yance’ll tack a high interest on that loan if he’d even give it to us. He’s a friggin’ shark. Bottom line, we can’t afford it.”
“The price is fair and the plane’s in great shape. Dependable. Flying a plane like that will boost our business a hundredfold. You know it’s true and you know we need it, and I think Yance’ll back us, so just bite the bullet and get it over with.” Mitch jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, ducked his head and rounded his shoulders, hesitating. “Forget the plane for a minute and tell me what you think about this. This woman I knew over four years ago, Navy pilot, suddenly shows up out of the blue, and she…”
Wally stopped abruptly, turned and took the cigar out of his mouth. “K. C. Jones?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“It’s not rocket science. It was my saloon you wooed her in back at Eielson, and you showed us the article about her in Air Force magazine. She’s here, in Alaska?”
“She’s out at my place.”
“And