Love by Design. Christine Johnson
Читать онлайн книгу.
harbor any regrets. “We never made it to Newfoundland thanks to the icing problems. Solving that is a big part of a successful polar attempt.”
“Polar attempt?” Now Dan was truly stunned. In such a small town, he’d never expected to hear the words polar and attempt in the same sentence. He must have misunderstood. “I thought the navy scrapped their dirigible expedition. Is it back on?” He looked from Hunter to Simmons. If they were making the engines for some as yet unannounced naval expedition, then there was big backing behind Simmons Aeromotor. This was exactly what Dan was looking for. “Or are you supplying engines to Amundsen?” It seemed a far stretch for a company in a tiny American town to send motors to the Norwegian explorer, but he supposed it was possible.
“Nope.” Hunter grinned. “We’re not helping any other expedition. We’re competing.”
Dan’s jaw dropped at the audacious statement. “You? Attempt to fly to the North Pole?” He raked a hand through his wavy hair. “That takes a lot of logistics and some mighty big funding.”
“That it does.”
Apparently the man had a lot more backing than Dan had figured. “Who is on your flight crew?” He looked at Simmons. “Do you fly?”
Simmons shook his head violently.
Hunter laughed. “Hendrick’s no aviator. My wife planned to come along.”
“Your wife?” Dan sat back in shock. Many women flew. Some, like the Stinson sisters or Ruth Law, had done so with unquestioned expertise. Still, a polar attempt was different. Dangerous. Deadly. “You’d risk your wife’s life?”
“I wouldn’t have had a choice. This was her dream.” Hunter’s expression softened. “But she pulled herself off the expedition. We’re expecting a baby.”
“Congratulations,” Dan said automatically. “She’s a smart woman.” He shuddered at the memory of the accident that had ended his season. If a baby had been involved, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself. As it was, he couldn’t shake the taste and smell of death. “Some people don’t know when to stay on the ground.”
Hunter gave him an odd look. “Enough about our plans. Hendrick tells me you want to run in some pretty tough conditions.”
The change of topic had to be deliberate. Hunter had mentioned their plans to impress him, not interest him. Fair enough. Dan had plans of his own. “Montana gets bitter in the winter. Snow, wind, blizzards. The airmail route I’m aiming to bid on goes clear to the border. Some of these folks are isolated. Receiving and sending mail would be a godsend. I could even bring in a few supplies. Medicine, food, necessities,” Dan ticked off an impressive list. “This isn’t just an airmail contract. This is a lifeline for those folks. I need a more reliable motor than what I have now.”
The next hour was absorbed by a discussion of Dan’s current plane, a modified Curtiss Jenny, and the motor’s limitations. Neither Simmons nor Hunter seemed to recognize him. He’d wanted it that way to keep prices down. Most men figured Daring Dan Wagner, headliner on the air-show circuit, had barrels of money. He didn’t. His earnings went to keeping the family ranch out of the bank’s hands. Every year seemed to bring a new crisis that tapped his funds. This year had been quiet—except for his accident—and he aimed to keep it that way. Daring Dan had made his last death drop.
“I assume you’ve had problems?” Hunter asked.
“The motor works great in the heat,” Dan said, “but I have fits keeping it going in cold weather. I’m hoping your engine will solve the icing problem.”
“We’re working on it,” Simmons said.
That did not sound good. “Are you close? The bids are due by the end of next month.”
“We plan to make the next test run as soon as the winds die down,” Hunter chimed in. “Could be tomorrow if the forecast is right.”
“I’d like to see that flight,” Dan said. “Your engine could give me the edge I need to land the contract.”
“Fine with me, if it’s all right with Hendrick.”
Simmons nodded. “We couldn’t produce another engine in time for your deadline, but we could get it done in, say, three months.”
“That’ll have to do.” Dan hoped a letter to that effect would sway those making the decision. “First we have to make sure it does the job.”
“It will.” Simmons seemed confident.
Hunter was less so. “Even if this engine takes care of carburetor icing, how do you plan to combat icing on the wings and fuselage?”
Dan was impressed. Hunter had nailed the next biggest problem right on the head. Wing icing was deadly. Any pilot worth his salt knew it. “You’re the one planning a polar attempt. You must have come up with some ideas.”
Hunter shook his head. “Weather will be an issue. Too cold, and the engines won’t start. Too warm, and moisture ices the plane.”
“Then you haven’t found a solution.”
“Not yet.”
Dan sensed opportunity. “Surely bright minds like ours can come up with something.”
Simmons looked skeptical. “How? There’s not a material out there that’ll prevent icing.”
“Not that anyone has discovered yet.” Dan looked each man in the eye. “But we have to try—for both our projects. I’d stake my reputation on the experience gathered in this room.” He sat back with a grin, waiting for one of them to admit they’d recognized him. When neither did, he hinted, “I do know something about flying. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
Hunter echoed his grin. “I’d be a fool not to know who Dan Wagner is. Altitude, distance and speed records, not to mention the number of downed enemy planes over France. I don’t suppose you’d consider—”
The office door burst open, drawing Hunter’s attention away from his question and toward a tall woman with the brightest hazel eyes Dan had ever seen.
“Jack, I wondered if—?” The woman stopped midsentence when she noticed Hunter was not alone.
Her flustered confusion sat so awkwardly that Dan suspected she was seldom at a loss for words. She obviously didn’t care about public opinion, because she wore men’s trousers, a flannel button-down shirt and a ragged mackinaw. Her cracked and scuffed men’s leather boots dripped muddy snow on the floor. Her cropped brown hair stuck out in all directions, as if she’d just yanked off a knit cap. She wasn’t at all the type of woman that usually attracted him, so the tug in his gut came as a big surprise.
“I’m sorry.” She looked around the small room, pausing when she reached him. “I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.”
Her cheeks, already pleasantly flushed from the cold, got even pinker. Dan was surprised to feel his pulse quicken with the hope that he was the cause of that blush.
She squared her jaw and thrust a hand toward him. “You’re new in town. I’m Jen Fox.”
He allowed a slight smile. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Fox.” He noted her frown. “Not much for formalities, eh? Well then, I’m Wagner. Daniel Wagner.” That was a test. Did she recognize Daring Dan by his full name or was she just another gal who swooned over aviators?
She matched his smirk. “Pleased to meet you, Wagner.”
He shook her hand. Her grip was as firm as that of a vigorous man. He flexed his fingers when she let go.
She cocked her head to the side, as if assessing him. “Are you a new instructor at the school?”
Hunter snorted and then pretended to cough.
Dan grinned. This gal was definitely not an aviation devotee. She could use a little brushing