extra mile. I don’t recall them having a female pilot before, though. Not that it matters. I grew up north of here, and I’ve seen some of the so-called landing strips.” He made a face.
“Yeah,” Josh said. “My mom worried that a plane couldn’t land at our ranch. Marlee did. But she scared the shit out of me taking off. Uh, sorry.” He turned red when Jo Beth let go of his hand and tsked.
“Mama, Josh said a bad word!”
“It’s okay, Josh. I’ll admit I had a few tense moments clearing those trees.”
The doctor was shaking his head. “Everyone believes my job takes nerves of steel. But I wouldn’t trade places with you.”
An older nurse approached. “Doctor, your patent’s alert. Should we move him now?”
Dr. Black turned to Josh. “Ready to see your dad? Come with me.”
The two started down the hall. “Marlee,” Josh called back. “I see my aunt and uncle coming. Will you tell them what’s going on and have them call Mom? And if Wylie phones again, will you bring him up to speed?”
Marlee didn’t want to be a go-between for Wylie Ames, darn it. But Josh had already slipped through the door. She turned her attention to the approaching couple and met them with an extended a hand. “Hi. Marlee Callen. Josh has been allowed a minute with his dad. Mr. Maclean’s gone from recovery to ICU.”
A tall, lean rancher-type stripped off a straw cowboy hat. “We’re Rod and Samantha Maclean. ICU? That’s not sounding good for Gordy.”
“A precaution, according to his surgeon. Your brother lost a fair amount of blood before we got him here. They’ve given him transfusions and stitched him up.”
“Ah, you’d be the volunteer pilot who flew Gordy out?” said Samantha Maclean. “My sister-in-law says you’re awesome. She’d read articles about Angel Fleet, and knew a family whose child the Angels flew to Seattle for a liver transplant. But she never dreamed they’d ever need Angel Fleet themselves. I guess no one ever does, huh?”
“I’m sure that’s true. I didn’t expect it, either. I was on a routine supply flight to a guest lodge when the call came in. My daughter was with me.” Marlee indicated Jo Beth, who’d retreated to a waiting room chair.
“She looks ready to drop,” Samantha Maclean whispered.
“We still have to drive back to the airpark, and then fly home to Whitepine. Josh said he’ll meet you here and asked if you could call his mom. I wanted to keep him company until Mr. Maclean came out of surgery, but I think we’ll be on our way now. If you’re going to help out around their ranch, I hope you steer clear of that bull.”
“Rod spoke with Gordy’s hired man when we hit town,” Samantha said. “A park ranger friend of theirs has arranged a kind of bull posse to chase down Chili Dog tomorrow.”
Wylie. Marlee pictured him astride a horse. She shook off the image, but couldn’t help wondering if catching crazed bulls was part of a ranger’s duties. She imagined he’d be capable of that or any outdoor activity. A few indoor activities, too.
“Jo Beth, honey, we’re going home.” Marlee lifted her daughter. Before she left, Marlee rang Mick’s room to say good-night.
He sounded tired, or else he’d taken pain medication. She didn’t keep him on the phone, but promised she’d be in touch the next day.
Jo Beth fell asleep before Marlee exited the hospital parking lot.
Thirty minutes later, they were at the airfield. When her phone played its tune and she answered, she wasn’t really surprised to hear Wylie’s voice. Marlee figured he must’ve gotten an update from Mrs. Maclean.
“Time got away from me,” Wylie said. “I’ve been organizing a few friends to help Gordy’s family. How is he?”
“Out of surgery. Out of recovery and into ICU for the night. I heard you were rounding up a bull posse.”
As Marlee unbuckled Jo Beth and locked the Caddy, she listened to his deep, thoroughly masculine laugh and couldn’t resist smiling.
“For being in the backwoods, news does travel fast. Bull posse, huh? Did Josh come up with that, or did his little sister, Carrie?”
This didn’t sound like the taciturn man Marlee had met. “Neither,” she said. “Josh’s aunt. I’ve left the hospital. In fact, I’m about to board my plane to fly home.” Unable to help herself, Marlee yawned. “Sorry. It’s not that late. Barely ten.”
“Late enough when you’ve had a long day. Mick said this was your first flight in a while. I could tell he felt bad that you had to deal with an accident on your first day.”
“If anyone could predict accidents they’d avoid them.”
“Right.” He was silent for a moment. “I figured you’d spend the night in Kalispell.”
“Mick’s planes are equipped for night flying.”
“The plane, yes, but it’s the pilot who takes off and lands.”
“About that…not to brag, but I can probably count on one hand the number of times my landings haven’t been glass-smooth.”
There was a smile in Wylie’s response. “No need to be defensive. We all make mistakes.”
“I’m not defensive.” She slapped the Caddy key down on the counter so hard the young clerk, deep in his novel, nearly fell off his stool.
Wylie stifled his muffled laughter when Marlee growled, “I’m hanging up. Do me a favor—wear a red shirt tomorrow when you chase that bull. On second thought, don’t. With my luck, Cloud Chasers would get another call from Angel Fleet.” She hung up and shut off the ringer, then shoved the phone in her back pocket while she strapped Jo Beth in the plane.
“Who were you yelling at, Mama?”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“Grandmother Rose would call it yelling.”
Marlee clipped her own harness and put on her earphones. And felt an insistent throb against her butt. Thinking Mick or Pappy might be trying to reach her, she dug out the cell. “’Lo.”
“Call me after you land at home.”
“You know, Ranger, it’s been years since anyone’s asked me to check in.”
“Huh. That attitude could be why your husband took a powder. He did, I presume.”
“My husband died, you insensitive jerk.” She jammed her phone into her pocket, unaware of how every nerve in her body trembled until it took her three tries to contact the tower for permission to take off. All the while, she felt every quiver of her cell phone’s insistent bleat, which she flatly ignored.
Her wings wobbled on takeoff. Damn the man to hell and back. Whoever was handling the tower would think she was a novice flyer, for heaven’s sake.
The phone stopped pulsing. Marlee rolled her tight shoulders, and trimmed the wings. She probably shouldn’t have snapped his head off.
Casting a glance in Jo Beth’s direction, Marlee wondered what her daughter would say about that last outburst. The girl’s soot-dark lashes had drifted down. Moonlight glittering through the side window splashed shadows across her baby’s cheek.
The phone danced yet again. Marlee touched the metal case through the material of her jacket, then just as quickly withdrew her fingers, too tempted to take the call.
She massaged a pain lodged beneath her breastbone. Heartburn. Marlee was no stranger to it. In five years she’d been treated twice for peptic ulcers. The flight surgeon said she needed yoga or some other relaxation technique to combat what he diagnosed as increasing anxiety, resulting from Cole’s worsening condition.