Joy Takes Flight (12 page)

“No sign of anyone,” Matt said. “Figure our culprit's hiding. We'll have to find the victim first. Maybe he can give us some information.” He peered into the forest. “You two keep your eyes open and your heads down. And stay close.”

With her heart thrumming against her ribs, Kate asked, “Which way's the camp?”

Angel stayed at her side, as if she knew Kate might need her.

“Down by the creek. You can hear it,” Matt whispered. “We'll have to move in slow and see what's going on.”

Staying low, Matt moved forward toward the sound of the stream.

Every nerve in Kate felt like it was vibrating. What was she doing out here, hiding in the forest with a gun in her hand? She didn't remember that being included in the pilot's handbook. She stayed behind Matt and Paul, watching the forest and praying someone didn't have a gun trained on them. When they came upon a rustic cabin, Matt motioned for them to stay put while he moved cautiously toward it.

When he reached the side of the shelter, he crept along one wall to the door. Leaning away from the entrance, he used the toe of his boot to push the door open. Holding his gun with both hands, he looked inside, then stepped through the doorway. Kate prayed. A moment later he emerged, then motioned for them to follow.

When Kate and Paul caught up to him, Kate asked, “What'd you find?”

“Nothin'. It was empty, doesn't look like anyone's been using it.”

Angel trotted ahead, her nose to the ground, and Kate called her back. They moved along the edge of the creek until they reached another cabin. This one had smoke rising from a chimney. It was a little larger than the first. Again, Matt moved in while Paul and Kate held back and watched for signs of anyone sneaking around outside. Kate's mouth was so dry it felt like her tongue was glued to the roof of it. She knew this wasn't something she ever wanted to do again.

The trooper stepped inside the cabin and then motioned for Paul and Kate to join him. “You've got one dead and another needing help.” His brows were furrowed. “I've got a madman to find.” He headed toward the creek.

Paul moved into the cabin with Kate beside him. There was a man and a boy both lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Kate's heart leapt at the sight of them. It looked like the man had tried to protect the child, who couldn't be more than ten years old. Angel stayed with Kate.

Paul knelt beside them and felt for the man's pulse. “He's gone.”

Kate moved to the door and crouched just inside while peering out. “What about the boy?” She glanced at Paul as he examined the child.

“He's alive.” Paul carefully rolled him onto his side and stripped off his shirt.

Kate wondered how long he'd stay alive. There was a lot of blood. Who would shoot a child? “Is he going to be okay?”

“Don't know yet. He's lost a lot of blood, but it looks like the bullet went right through him—that's good.” Paul examined the exit wound in his back, then laid him on the floor and put a stethoscope to his chest. “Lungs sound clear. We need to get him to the hospital.”

“We can't leave 'til—”

A gun blast pierced the forest. A second followed the first.

Kate dug her hands into Angel's ruff and prayed, “Lord, let Matt be all right.”

She waited and watched while Paul bandaged the youngster's wounds. Angel stepped onto the porch and stood at the foot of the steps. Kate could see movement among the trees. Was it Matt or someone else?

Holding her revolver in both hands, she aimed toward the sound. “Someone's coming,” she whispered and pulled back the hammer of the gun. Her hands quaked. A branch snapped. If it was Matt, wouldn't he say something?

Matt emerged from the trees. “Hold on there. It's me.”

Kate released the hammer, lowered the gun, and let out her breath. She hadn't realized she'd been holding it. “Thank God it's you. When I heard the gunshots . . . ”

Matt glanced back the way he'd come. “Well, we won't be transporting any prisoners today. Darn fool.” He looked at the cabin. “How's the boy?”

“He needs a hospital.”

Matt stepped past Kate and into the cabin. “Is he gonna make it?”

“He's lost a lot of blood, but I think he'll be all right. He needs more care than I can give him here.” Paul gave a nod at the man lying on the floor. “Figure that's his father.”

“I'll get him and you take the boy,” Matt said.

“The man's dead.”

“Yeah, well, he still deserves a ride back to Anchorage and a proper burial.” Matt hefted him up off the floor. “Especially because of the boy. Let's get out of here.”

“Of course.” Paul gently lifted the child.

“What about the man you shot?” Kate asked.

“I'll have to come back for him.”

The idea of leaving a dead man lying in the forest for the animals to scavenge made Kate's stomach lurch. She didn't say anything and hurried ahead. At the plane she grabbed a couple of blankets for the injured youngster and a bag used for carrying out game. They could lay the dead man on it.

With the two settled in the back, and Paul caring for the boy, Kate started the engine and they headed for Anchorage.

An ambulance transferred the child to the hospital. The man presumed to be his father was moved to the morgue. Kate and Paul filled out forms for the sheriff's department and answered a few questions, and then they headed toward home. For a long while they didn't speak. Kate's mind kept replaying the sight of the boy and his father lying in the cabin, blood all over them. Bile rose into her throat and she started to quake. The echo of the gunshots reverberated through her mind. What would have happened if the trooper had been the one killed? Her legs felt weak.

“You all right?” Paul asked.

“I'm fine. Why?”

“You look pale.”

“I'm okay. Just a little queasy.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Kate nodded. She didn't tell him she'd been feeling queasy a lot recently. And that she'd missed her monthly. Now was not the time to talk about it. “Do you think that little boy will be all right?”

“Yeah. He'll be okay. But,” Paul shook his head, “he lost his father over a piece of land and a gold rock.”

“I wonder if he has a mother?”

“I hope so.”

“What if he doesn't? What happens to him then?”

“Don't know. Maybe he has family.”

Kate remembered how steady and skilled Paul had been. Love and admiration for him swelled inside of her. “He probably wouldn't be alive without you.”

“Someone would have gone after him.”

Kate reached out and squeezed Paul's arm. “I'm so proud of you.”

Paul didn't reply for a long moment. He rested his hand on Kate's and stared out the window. “Seems like we're always running into trouble these days.”

“It's my first shoot-out,” Kate teased, trying to lighten the conversation. “I kind of felt like I was in one of those western movies.”

Paul wasn't smiling.

More seriously, Kate added, “Everything turned out all right. We have a lot to be thankful for.”

His voice grave, Paul said, “We're okay, but a little boy lost his father and he's got several painful weeks ahead of him.” He compressed his lips. “Sometimes it seems like God just watches and lets the world go on while people do whatever they want. Like he's not here.”

“He's here. And he cares, but we're not puppets. He doesn't pull our strings and make us do what he wants. People make choices.” Kate searched her mind for the right words. “I don't know why that man died today, but the boy lived and so did we. And I'm thankful for that.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” Paul said, but his tone didn't sound agreeable. He squared his jaw, folded his arms over his chest, and stared straight ahead.

Kate wanted to cry. Something was wrong with Paul. He was so angry. And she knew it had something to do with why he'd come to Alaska. “What happened today was awful and we're both understandably upset. But why do you shut me out? Please tell me what's wrong.”

He looked at her. “What do you think is wrong? An innocent man died. Isn't that reason enough to be upset?” He turned his gaze back to the window.

Kate felt sick inside. If only she could talk to her mother. She'd know how to help. Maybe she should speak to Helen. When Kate landed on the sandbar, she stayed in her seat and didn't turn off the engine. “I'm going back to Anchorage. I need to speak to Helen.”

Paul stared at her, surprise and hurt in his eyes. “Okay. I've got plenty to keep me busy here.”

He didn't kiss her or even touch her. He just grabbed his bag and climbed out of the plane. Angel trotted up to Kate, then climbed onto the front seat. Kate buried her hands in the dog's fur.

She watched Paul walk away and climb into the dory. Maybe she should stay. She wanted to be with him, to tell him she loved him and to make things right between them. She nearly shut down the engine. But she knew that before she could do any of that, she needed advice.

And while she was in town, she'd see a doctor. He could tell her if she and Paul were going to have a baby.

S
taying in Anchorage had its advantages, such as grocery stores. Kate had managed to get everything she needed in no time at all. She clutched two bags of groceries against her chest as she stepped into the house. Angel squeezed past her and went to work investigating. Using her foot to close the door, Kate moved to the kitchen and set the bags on the shelf.

She turned and gazed into the front room while memories of Mike cascaded over her. For a moment, it felt as if her breath were being choked off. If only he were still alive. He'd been a true pal, someone who understood her in ways no one else did, not even Paul.

Paul was right. They ought to sell this house. Their home was on the creek, not here. But no matter how reasonable it seemed, Kate couldn't bring herself to part with the place. It was a piece of Mike. She couldn't simply dispose of it.

In spite of the cool June weather, Kate opened the kitchen window. The house smelled musty and felt chilly, so she started a fire in the kitchen stove. It didn't take long before she had a crackling fire going. The sound of it made the place feel more cheery. And the aroma of burning wood chased away the stale odor.

She put the groceries away, hung her coat in a closet by the front door, then turned and eyed the front room. It was tidy and looked clean, but she knew the floor needed to be swept, and the furniture encased with a thick layer of dust needed cleaning. It would have to wait until morning.

She walked into the bedroom and set her bag on a bed draped with a brightly colored quilt Helen had given her when she'd first moved into the house. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the bedstead drawer. It was empty—like the house. Loneliness enveloped Kate. She thought of Paul and wondered what he was doing. Maybe she shouldn't have come.

Opening her knapsack, she took out a handkerchief and her Bible and placed them in the drawer. Now it was no longer empty. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Scrambled eggs and toast sounded just right for dinner.

After the coffee was brewing, Kate went to work on her meal, clacking eggs into a bowl. She caught sight of a neighbor mowing his yard and breathed in the aroma of freshly cut grass. She decided that before she returned to the homestead she'd mow her own lawn.

Angel nuzzled Kate's hand. “Hey, girl. How you doing? Does it feel like home?” Kate knew the answer was no. The cabin was home. She scrubbed the dog's fur. They'd both be happier out at the creek. She'd acted too hastily. She should have waited, cooked dinner for her husband, and maybe they could have talked about what had happened.

She picked up the phone and called the airfield. “Jack. This is Kate. I was wondering if you could radio Paul for me. Can you tell him I'll be home late tomorrow?”

Jack agreed and Kate hung up, feeling slightly better. Her mind moved to the visit she'd arranged with Helen. When she'd stopped at the store, they'd agreed to meet the next day. She wished there were some way to get together tonight. She needed to talk to someone now. But she was tired and certain that, after a day's work at the store, so was Helen.

One thing she could do was to make an appointment with the doctor. The idea of seeing him made her heart skip. She picked up the receiver again and tapped the ringer. When an operator picked up, Kate asked, “Can you connect me with Dr. Malone's office, please?”

“Certainly. One moment, please.”

Kate waited until a woman answered. “Hello. Dr. Malone's office. May I help you?”

“Yes. This is Kate Anderson and I was hoping I could see the doctor tomorrow.”

“Let me check his schedule.”

Kate could hear the shuffle of paper. Her stomach tightened. Until this moment, the possibility of having a child hadn't seemed real. She'd explained away her symptoms and wasn't even certain she was ready to be a mother. There were so many changes going on in her life. And she was busy. How would she keep up her flying schedule if she had a child to care for? Maybe she wasn't ready for a baby.

“Would 3:30 in the afternoon work for you?” the woman on the other end of the line asked.

“Yes. That would be fine.”

“Good. Did you say your name was Kate Anderson?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I know you. You're the pilot.”

“Yes. I am,” Kate said, feeling a bubble of pride inside. She really
had
made a name for herself.

“Well, we'll see you tomorrow, then. Good-bye.”

Kate hung up and stared at the phone. A baby—could it be possible? Her stomach turned. She didn't know how to be a mother. Would she be any good at it?

Stop worrying. I don't even know if I'm pregnant.

Right now she needed to eat. Tomorrow she'd think about mothering. After she had the eggs cooking, she placed two slices of bread in an electric toaster—an indulgence she'd made when she moved into the house. Toasting bread was so much simpler. Scrambling the eggs with a fork, she cooked them until the yolk was nearly hard and then slid them onto a plate alongside her toast.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, sat at the table and went to work on the eggs. Eating alone didn't feel right. She was used to sharing her meals with Paul. The house felt too large and too quiet. If she hadn't gone off in a huff, Paul might be here with her. And they could have visited the doctor together. That's how it should be.

Feeling melancholy, Kate propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. She didn't feel like eating. Gloominess draped itself over her. “That's enough,” she told herself. There was nothing to feel bad about. She'd had an adventure and lived through it. That was something to be thankful for. And a wife couldn't expect her husband to always be cheerful. She straightened and took a bite of the eggs.

After finishing her meal, Kate cleaned the dishes, added wood to the fire, and then dressed for bed. Fluffing her pillows, she settled beneath her covers, pulled the sheets and blankets up under her chin, and closed her eyes. She prayed for Paul, for the two of them, and about the possibility of their having a baby. She also asked that God show her what kind of wife he wanted her to be.

When she finished praying, a picture she'd seen of Charles Lindbergh in the newspaper flitted through her mind. It had been taken after his record-breaking flight from Long Island to Paris, France. He'd looked jubilant. What would it be like to accomplish something so amazing? He'd made the flight in thirty-three and a half hours. She doubted she'd ever do anything really spectacular like that. Especially if she was pregnant. Dreams like those would have to go.

She picked up a book from the bedstead that she'd purchased at the store. Helen had raved about it and had acted as if she'd swoon when she mentioned a character called Rhett Butler. Kate smiled at the notion and opened the book to chapter one.

The following morning, Kate woke with the book lying on the bed beside her and the lamp still on. She'd been more exhausted than she realized and hadn't even made it through the first chapter before falling asleep.

Kate dragged herself out of bed, feeling slightly ill. She decided to skip breakfast. After getting dressed, she worked on household chores. She started on the indoors first, then tackled the weeds in the flower beds along the front of the house. There wouldn't be time to mow the grass. She and Helen had agreed to meet for lunch.

The morning passed quickly and Kate realized almost too late that she'd left herself very little time to clean up before meeting Helen. She hurried indoors, showered, and changed, and then headed for Third Street, enjoying the June sunshine.

Maybe she'd been overly upset the previous day and made too much of Paul's mood. Still, it would be good to spend time with Helen.

When she stepped into the store, Helen peered at her from around the end of a row of shelves. “Good morning, young lady.” She glanced at a large, black-framed wall clock. “I mean afternoon. Where has the time gone?” She untied her apron. “Albert,” she called. “I'm going out. Can you mind the store?”

He walked from the back of the mercantile. “Anything for you, dear,” he teased, then turned a smile on Kate.” How are you today? You look a little tired.”

“I am. Guess what happened yesterday wore me out.”

“I'd expect so,” Helen said. “We heard all about it. Why didn't you say something when you were here?”

Kate shrugged. “I don't know, just tired I guess. Have you heard anything about the little boy who was shot?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact we did,” Albert said. “Jolene Snyder—you know, the one who works at the hospital in admitting. Well, she's a friend of ours and she told me he's doing real fine.” He frowned. “Too bad about the boy's father, though.” He rested a hand on Kate's arm. “We're thankful you and Paul are all right.”

Kate blew out a breath. “Me too. It was pretty awful.” She didn't want to talk about it, so she turned to Helen and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“I am.” Helen hung up her apron and pulled on a coat.

Kate moved toward the door. “Where would you like to eat?”

“If you don't mind, I thought my place. I've already made up some goodies and it's so much homier there.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Helen gave Albert a kiss. “I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Take all the time you need.” Albert brushed his thinning hair off his forehead. “It was good to see you, Kate.”

“You too.” Kate gave him a hug, then led the way out the door with Helen close behind.

Helen had prepared a salmon salad with hardboiled eggs in it and fresh bread. The two friends sat across the kitchen table from each other. “This looks delicious,” Kate said, pushing her fork into the salmon mixture and spreading a little on a slice of bread.

Helen took a bite of salmon. “I made pound cake for dessert. I had berries left over from last summer and stirred some into the batter.” She smiled and the creases at the corners of her eyes deepened. “It's so nice to have you here, but I'm thinking you've got a purpose.”

Kate poked her fork into her salad. “I guess I do. But now that I think about it, I'm feeling kind of silly. I think after what happened yesterday, I was overly emotional.”

“Well, since you're here, maybe you'd like to talk about it and we can decide if it's just emotions or something more.”

Kate took a sip of tea. “When Paul and I were flying out to the creek yesterday, after we dropped off the trooper and the boy who had been shot, Paul acted angry. And as it turns out, he was—at God. You'd think he'd be mad at the man who did the shooting, but he blamed God for the death of the child's father.”

“Really?”

“It's not the first time. Ever since we first met, he's reacted that way when there's a tragedy of some kind. We've discussed it, but he's never given me a reason why he feels the way he does. I know it has something to do with what happened in San Francisco. He's seemed so happy since we've been married that yesterday took me by surprise.”

Helen pushed her plate to the side and folded her hands on the table in front of her. “Of course he's happy. He's a newlywed.” She smiled, then asked, “What was it about yesterday that got his dander up?”

“He said something about the man dying and leaving a son without a father. He was angry that God would allow something like that to happen. When Mr. Clarkson was killed by my prop, he reacted the same way.”

“Have you talked to him about San Francisco and why he moved here?”

“I've tried, but he won't discuss it.”

“I can only guess at what is hurting him, but I'm confident God will heal his heart . . . at the proper time.”

Kate nodded. “I wish there were something I could do to help. And . . . well, whatever it is, it affects our relationship. He's afraid something terrible is going to happen to me.”

Helen steepled her fingers, then pressed her palms together. “Is that an unreasonable fear, considering your line of work and what's happened recently?”

“No . . . I suppose not. But when he married me, he knew that what I do can be dangerous. I don't think he does it on purpose, but he makes me feel guilty because I want to fly. Sometimes he acts as if I'm trying to make him miserable. I'd never do that, but I can't stop flying.”

“He's asked you to quit?”

“Not exactly. But when the trooper was killed a couple of months ago, I kind of fell apart and . . . I said I wasn't sure I wanted to fly anymore. Paul was quick to let me know he thought it would be good if I quit. He wanted me to stay home and help him take care of the homestead—be a housewife.”

Tears blurred Kate's vision. “I thought he knew me better than that.” She wiped at her tears. “He wants me to quit, but he's not willing to just come out and say it. There's been tension between us that wasn't there before.”

Helen leaned over the table and gave Kate a hug. “It'll be fine. You'll see.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I'm not one to speak about being ‘just' a housewife. Albert and I have worked together at the store for years. We've shared the chores there and here at home. But, I'm not doing anything that puts my life in jeopardy.” She took a sip of tea and then set the cup in its saucer. “But . . . if Albert asked me to stay home . . . I would. He wouldn't ask if it wasn't important to him. He always thinks about me first.” A look of recollection crossed Helen's face. “Of course that's not how it was in the beginning. We were crazy in love, but he was headstrong and sometimes he was even a bit of a troublemaker.”

“Albert?” Kate couldn't imagine the quiet man as anything other than gentle and thoughtful.

“Oh yes. He was a rascal. But I loved him. And the more I loved him, the more he loved me. Over time he gentled down. Being an example to our husbands is the best way to help them.”