LITMIR.BIZ

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maybe he should pick up the phone and call Tammy. But something held him back. Mick jokingly told Marlee it’d be hard to date a woman who had jammed needle after needle into his bare butt. Although that didn’t ring true. Mick had lost all modesty after his accident. With Tammy, at least, if they ever reached the point of doing the deed, he wouldn’t have to explain the ugly puckered skin that ran from hip to ankle where he’d been riddled by shrapnel. Mick probably didn’t have a single physical asset Tammy Skidmore hadn’t clinically observed, so that was pretty much a nonissue.

      And if he crossed Tammy off his list of available females he was left with slim pickin’s. Available, suitable women didn’t grow on trees and there was little more than trees in this backcountry. Though a couple of old schoolmates in Whitepine had let him know at Pappy’s funeral that they were back in circulation. One was too straitlaced to suit Mick. The other lacked any scruples.

      A little voice in the back of his mind niggled. What about Hana Egan?

      What about her? Last fall, Pappy had told his twin sister that Mick was “sweet” on the smoke jumper. Mick had tripped over his teeth to deny it.

      “Mick!” Hearing his name drifting up from the foot of his ladder jerked Mick out of his daydream. He hastily jammed a lid on the grease bucket and began to make his way down the rickety ladder.

      Stella Gibson was waiting for him at the bottom. Judging by her worried expression, she’d anxiously followed his slow progress. The matronly widow, who lived in a cabin down the hill, had helped Mick in a variety of capacities since his medical discharge from the navy. She’d cleaned the house and left enough meals in the refrigerator to keep him and Pappy from starving.

      Those months when Mick had been laid up, when Marlee moved home and flew his route, Stella took care of Mick, Pappy and sometimes Marlee’s daughter, Jo Beth. But she had never made a secret of the fact that she was looking for a permanent job. It was only after Marlee married Wylie, and Pappy passed away, that Mick got smart and hired Stella to work half-time cleaning house, and the other half keeping order in Cloud Chasers’ office. That was a task his sister repeatedly said he was bad at.

      Hands on hips, Stella was obviously ready to give him a motherly lecture. “When I left yesterday, Mick Callen, you told me Josh Manley would be in today to service the helicopter. Why are you up on that ladder?”

      Mick set down the bucket, pulled a rag out of his back pocket and wiped the excess goop off his fingers. “Yeah, well, Josh’s mom phoned. His girlfriend conned Josh into driving her and a coworker into Kalispell today. Apparently they’re all invited to an early Halloween party at the home of his girlfriend’s boss, who happens to have an opening for a corporate pilot. I know Josh really wants that job. He’s a good pilot, and I can’t use him full-time.”

      “If he gets the job, who’ll help you, Mick? Between the upswing in freight orders and the mercy missions with Angel Fleet, it seems to me you need a full-time flying partner.”

      “With winter coming on, it’s a matter of weeks before I’d have to cut Josh’s hours. That’s the nature of the freight business in upper Montana.”

      “Running in high gear these last six or seven months, I never thought to ask. Will my hours be cut over the winter?”

      Wingman bounded up, his tongue hanging out. The part Lab, part shepherd, part some unknown breed, nosed Mick’s leg until he crouched to rub the dog’s furry head. “Actually, Stella, I’ve been juggling my finances, hoping I can afford to spend the winter bumming around some island with white sandy beaches, ice-cold margaritas and bikini-clad babes. I’d like you to look after the place. You know, see the pipes don’t break and my planes don’t blow away. Up to now, no one’s had time to scan in all the old accounts or shred the mountains of paperwork Pappy stored in those damned cardboard boxes, either. I’ll pay you to handle everything.”

      “I can do that. Are you planning to take the dog?”

      Mick let the animal lick his chin. “I wish. But this guy’s a cold-weather mutt. I intend to corner Marlee and Wylie and ask them if I can pay his son to take care of Wingman until I get back in the spring. Last time I visited them for a weekend, I let Dean take care of my dog. Since Jo Beth has Piston, it evened the odds in their ‘yours, mine and ours household.’”

      Stella’s dark brown eyes sparkled when she laughed. “You’d do that to your poor sister? Add another creature when she’s dealing with Thanksgiving, Christmas and having a baby? Last time we talked, she said Dean had rescued a half-grown grizzly who’d been shot by a neighboring rancher. That boy already has twin wolf cubs and numerous small animals in various stages of healing.”

      “Was Marlee complaining?”

      “No. She sounded happy, in fact.”

      “Yeah, she does.” Mick straightened and patted the dog. He gazed blankly at the horizon. “I was just thinking, Stella, it’s perfect flying weather. I should shake out the chopper and see if the maintenance I did takes care of the rotor wobble Josh was complaining about. Last week when I flew to Missoula for my last visit with the physical therapist, I picked up some things for the baby. I also bought a few Halloween goodies for Dean and Jo Beth. Maybe I’ll take myself up to the ranger station. See if Wylie can use an extra hand with the addition he’s madly building on their house.”

      Stella snapped her fingers. “That’s why I came to find you, Mick. I took a phone order from Trudy Morgenthal at the rangers’ base camp, and the smoke jumpers would also like some supplies delivered no later than tomorrow afternoon.”

      Mick’s grease-stained fingers fondled the dog’s silky ear. “I delivered Captain Martin’s winter supplies weeks ago. He said he wouldn’t need anything until spring.”

      “I gather this is private supplies for the smoke jumpers. None of them are in your billing system, which brings up the next question. Will you fly out such a small order for cash? Jess Hargitay promised to pay on delivery.”

      “I guess. Jess has been with Martin for a few years. Not all the jumpers return each season.” He frowned. “I’ve never known any of them to request private supplies. In fact, I understood they were all leaving next week, except Captain Martin and his assistant.”

      “Mr. Hargitay mentioned that a group is planning a farewell climb in Glacier Park. One of the taller peaks, but I don’t recall which. They’ve ordered ready-to-eat meals, long johns and miscellaneous stuff.”

      “Huh. Long johns for sure. I see there’s quite a bit of snow up along the ridge.”

      “If the report I heard this morning is correct, we’re liable to lose this fine weather soon. They predict we’ll see snow in the valley by early next week.”

      Mick laughed. “Stella, you can’t trust the news channel weather staff to get it right. If you want the skinny on the weather, you need to phone the service pilots use.”

      She tipped back her head and scanned the sky that was visible through a row of majestic pine trees that blocked north winds from battering the house. “You’re right.” She looked at him again. “So, then, you want me to phone Trudy and this Jess guy and say you’ll take both jobs?”

      “Sure. Sounds good. I never turn down an opportunity to earn money. What’s today? Thursday? Ask Trudy if tomorrow’s soon enough to deliver her order. I’ll fly to Kalispell this afternoon and fetch the supplies in the Arrow. At first light tomorrow, I’ll transfer the load to the Huey. That’ll allow me time to phone Wylie and Marlee, and arrange to spend a couple of nights with them.”

      “I’ll confirm the times with Trudy ASAP. Unless you want my help in carting that big old ladder back to the work shed.”

      “Thanks for the offer, Stella, but my PT said I’m good as new. Maybe better than, what with all the hardware installed in my hip,” Mick said with a wink. He forgot the condition of his hand and raked still-greasy fingers through hair that needed more than a trim, as curls fell over his eyes and skimmed the lower edge of his collar.

      “You

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