Love by Design
Christine Johnson
Romance Takes FlightJen Fox won't let anyone stand in her way of joining the first flight expedition to the North Pole. Even if the person trying to take her seat is the dashing world-famous stunt pilot Dan Wagner. Being on that flight crew would fulfill her father's last wish for her. And Dan should know better than to unseat the dressmaker's determined daughter.When Dan arrives in Michigan, he's intrigued by the offer to fly over the North Pole. He needs the money, even if it means taking the spot from the driven–and attractive–Miss Fox. Yet their strictly business relationship hits turbulence when they realize they both wish for something more personal…The Dressmaker's Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time
Romance Takes Flight
Jen Fox won’t let anyone stand in her way of joining the first flight expedition to the North Pole. Even if the person trying to take her seat is the dashing world-famous stunt pilot Dan Wagner. Being on that flight crew would fulfill her father’s last wish for her. And Dan should know better than to unseat the dressmaker’s determined daughter.
When Dan arrives in Michigan, he’s intrigued by the offer to fly over the North Pole. He needs the money, even if it means taking the spot from the driven—and attractive—Miss Fox. Yet their strictly business relationship hits turbulence when they realize they both wish for something more personal...
The Dressmaker’s Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time
“I was never serious about any woman, and I never will be as long as I fly airplanes.”
Jen gasped. Dan had made himself perfectly clear. He would never have a serious relationship with a woman as long as he flew. That meant forever, as far as she could see. “You can’t mean that.”
“I won’t risk making a woman a widow.”
Now he was making her angry. “Don’t you think she ought to have a say in that?”
“No.” The man didn’t even have the grace to hesitate. “A relationship can’t work unless both partners work together. Until I stop flying, that can’t happen.”
“Why not? Jack and Darcy have made it work.”
“Oh?”
That simple question infuriated her. “We are not here because both Jack and Darcy fly airplanes. This could happen to anyone. At any time.” That reality finally sank in. “No one can remove all risk from life.”
“Perhaps, but I can minimize it. I won’t make a woman suffer from losing her husband.”
“That sounds to me like you’re afraid of losing someone you love.”
His expression darkened, all sense of calm gone.
She had finally pushed him too far.
“If that’s true, Miss Fox,” he growled, “then we both are.”
A small-town girl, CHRISTINE JOHNSON has lived in every corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. She enjoys creating stories that bring history to life while exploring the characters’ spiritual journeys. Though Michigan is still her home base, she and her seafaring husband also spend time exploring the Florida Keys and other fascinating locations. You can contact her through her website at christineelizabethjohnson.com (http://christineelizabethjohnson.com).
Love by Design
Christine Johnson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To give unto them…the oil of joy for mourning.
—Isaiah 61:3
To God belongs all the glory.
My deepest gratitude to Mary Hayes, RN, MS, CNM, who helped me understand the potential problems faced during pregnancy and answered my many questions. Your ideas and assistance were vital.
Contents
Cover (#u93d34724-5328-58aa-9a10-cea0161d0964)
Back Cover Text (#u11cc2c07-188f-5d7f-8fb4-29611b31ec69)
Introduction (#u782c05dd-8428-53a1-a541-eb6867005b92)
About the Author (#u0e4c5bbd-b252-5090-854f-c4fc9f7cf59f)
Title Page (#ub3d9d281-173c-53e9-bb92-9ab423288d0e)
Quote (#u66d9469a-8931-5608-a18c-3953f8c8f63b)
Dedication (#u58654837-3ddd-55b7-848d-ca4486dac3ae)
Chapter One (#ulink_f4406543-3d7b-5093-8029-d63fdd6c3a93)
Chapter Two (#ulink_fa60857b-c245-5cf7-932e-d63c3afc25ed)
Chapter Three (#ulink_b0c5103e-0d67-5304-93d7-41c59233f403)
Chapter Four (#ulink_0f5e24a0-3129-58bf-9adb-1da6562783f4)
Chapter Five (#ulink_a98f8af9-6f14-5b58-96ee-dfd0999173f5)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_29a99397-8eb3-5ad4-9457-e7d6f514c812)
January 1925
Jen Fox had to pass the test this time. She had to.
She nervously tapped the end of her pencil on the tabletop, drawing a glare from the flight instructor who was scoring her written examination. Already the instructor’s red pencil had scratched the paper two times. Two more marked incorrect and Jen would fail for the third—and final—time.
“Perhaps you should take a walk,” suggested Darcy Hunter, who in addition to serving as proctor was also Jen’s instructor and mentor. “Go home for lunch, check on the dress shop or visit one of your sisters. Surely there is something you can do.”
Jen glanced out the window of Darcy’s dining room. Brilliant winter sun sparkled off last night’s snowfall. Despite a cutting breeze that whirled the powder into tiny white cyclones, it would make a fine day for ice-skating or snowshoeing. With her entire future in the balance, Jen had no taste for sport, and she couldn’t stomach lunch or casual visits. That left the dress shop. She glanced at her trousers and flannel shirt. Dressed like this, she would not project the proper image at the family business. Her older sister would shoo her away.
“No, thank you.” Jen set the pencil in the middle of the table and knit her fingers together so she wouldn’t tap them on the tabletop. Deep breath in.Blow it out. Still the nerves wouldn’t settle. “I’ll wait.”
Darcy didn’t look pleased, but she returned to scoring Jen’s examination.
Jen puffed out her breath, lifting the bangs of her cropped hair. “I’m going to pass the test this time. I spent hours and hours studying. I could do the calculations in my sleep.”
“Good,” Darcy murmured. “Then there’s no reason to be anxious.”
Still, Jen’s stomach tumbled over and over. She had arrived at eight o’clock sharp this morning and spent the next three and a half hours working through the problems. The mathematics in the navigation section gave her fits. She could figure out anything mechanical as long as the machine was in front of her, but angles and vectors and calculations drove her crazy.
Darcy cleared her throat and pointed at Jen’s feet. “Quiet would be helpful.”
“Oh.” She must have been tapping her toe, which was one of her bad habits. She tucked the offensive foot under her chair. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Darcy resumed scoring at the top of the sheet.
“I think you already did that question,” Jen pointed out. At Darcy’s glare, she added, “It looked like you were farther down the page.”
Darcy sighed. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll bring the score over when I’m finished.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.” Jen clenched her hands until her knuckles turned white.
“Then I’ll telephone the dress shop. Please. You’re making me edgy.”
Jen bit her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything depends on passing this test.”
Everything was really just one person—Daddy. Jen squeezed her eyes shut. His passing last October had sent her into what aviators called a stall, when the airplane stopped dead in the air. Despite a weak heart, he had survived so many scares that she’d assumed he would continue to rebound. Not that time. When she’d walked into his room and seen him, she’d known he was gone.
Flying had been their dream. They’d talked about it for ages, since they first saw Darcy take to the air over Pearlman. In that moment Jen had seen the future she wanted. Unlike her sisters, she had no taste for dresses or sewing. Daddy recognized that and encouraged her to fly. But then his health had deteriorated, and her savings went toward his care. She’d told herself that she’d take lessons when he got better, but he never did.
Now she owed it to his memory to succeed. With Darcy and her husband, Jack, planning a record flight over the North Pole, she had to get her license now or miss out on the chance to put her father’s name into history as her inspiration. Twice already, she’d failed the navigation section. Time was running out.
She rolled the pencil back and forth against the tabletop. Its faceted surface massaged her stiff fingers.
Rrrrrrep, rrrrrep, rrrrrep. The rasping sound released tension.
Mother had given her the money for this final attempt, but there would be no more. She wanted Jen to pursue a “reasonable” career like nursing, which could be learned without charge at a hospital school.
Rrrrrep, rrrrrep, rrrrep.
Nursing? Jen couldn’t picture herself in the stiff white cap and uniform.
She bore down on the pencil. Rrrrrrep.
Darcy held out her hand. “Give me the pencil.”
“I’m sorry.” Jen handed it to her. “I guess I am nervous.”
Darcy sighed. “Look, Jen, this is going to take a while. I have to check all your calculations. It could easily take me as long to score the test as it took you to complete it. I need complete silence in order to concentrate. Go home. Go to the dress shop. Go anywhere, but let me finish in peace.”
“But you don’t understand. If I don’t pass this time...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought aloud.
“It’s all right.” Darcy clasped Jen’s hand. “If you fall short, you can always take the test again.”
Except that she couldn’t. Time and money had run out.
Darcy must have noticed Jen’s stricken expression, for she gave her what was meant to be a reassuring smile. “Trust me. You will be fine, but right now your presence is making it difficult to complete the scoring.”
“All right. I’ll go.” Jen scooted back the chair and decided to ask the only thing that mattered. “If I do pass, will I have a chance at the expedition? Providing I complete the flight training and get my license, of course.”
Darcy returned a tight smile. “As you know, that’s Jack’s decision.” Her husband headed the expedition.
“But he’ll consider me, won’t he? He does know I’m studying for my license.”
“Yes, he does.” A wistful look crossed Darcy’s face. “He still needs a navigator to replace me.”
Darcy had taken herself out of the cockpit once she learned she was with child. That open spot was Jen’s best hope, but navigation was her most troublesome area. Would Jack accept someone who had failed that section of the test twice?
Darcy leaned toward her. “You might want to remind Jack of that need while I finish scoring your exam. You can find him at the flight school.”
Darcy must be very sure Jen was going pass in order to make that suggestion. Before she could find another error, Jen hurried out into the bitter cold afternoon.
* * *
The flight school office was as frigid as an icehouse and just as quiet. Dan Wagner set his Stetson on the battered oak table and took a seat. Across from him sat Jack Hunter, owner of the school, and Hendrick Simmons, owner of the aeromotor factory that he’d read about in one of his aviation magazines. If the article was right, they had an engine that would win him the airmail contract and let him leave stunt flying forever.
After introductions, Dan drove straight to why he’d come across the country in this coldest of months. “I’m looking for an engine that’ll run reliably at temperatures well below freezing.”
He had already told Simmons that when he visited the factory this morning. Instead of answering, Simmons had brought him to the flight school to talk to Jack Hunter. That name was vaguely familiar, but Dan couldn’t quite place the man. Why Simmons insisted on this meeting was beyond his comprehension. Either he had an engine that met the specifications or he didn’t. End of story. Bringing in a third party only muddied the waters in Dan’s opinion, but Simmons wouldn’t back down.
Hunter, a suave sandy-haired man with the look of a first-class aviator, glanced at Simmons before taking the lead. “We’ve been working on that problem for over a year. Longer, in fact. My wife and I first started puzzling it out after our failed transatlantic attempt. We brought in Hendrick once he had the factory up and running.”
Simmons, a man of few words if today was any indication, nodded.
“Transatlantic attempt?” Dan couldn’t get past the tidbit that Hunter had glossed over so casually. “I followed all the newspaper reports back in ’19, but I don’t recall your name. How far did you get?”
Hunter’s easy grin told Dan he didn’t 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 up on the social graces and a decent wardrobe, but her directness was refreshing. “No, I’m not.”
“Oh. You look like a flight instructor.”
“I didn’t realize flight instructors had a certain look.”
“Oh, yes.” Her head bobbed emphatically. “They’re confident, almost arrogant, as if they think the world revolves around them.”
Hunter didn’t succeed in covering up his laugh this time.
“Except Jack, of course,” she added hastily.
Dan was surprised at the informality. Clearly the pair knew each other. Perhaps some relation of Hunter’s wife.
Hunter chuckled at Miss Fox’s backtracking. “I’ll admit that there’s some truth to what you said. We are an overconfident lot.”
Mollified, she turned back to Dan. “Then, Wagner, if you’re not an instructor, you must be a student.” Her hazel eyes twinkled, as if enjoying some unknown joke. “Sorry, but the flight school doesn’t open until March.”
That sent Hunter into unbridled guffaws.
Miss Fox drew back. “What did I say? Why else would anyone be here in January?”
Since Hunter was laughing too hard to speak and Dan didn’t want to spoil the fun, Simmons ended up explaining, “Dan Wagner is interested in the cold-weather engine we’ve been testing.”
Her eyes widened. “Dan Wagner? The Dan Wagner?” She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I thought you looked familiar.”
Dan groaned. From the impudent upstart, she’d turned into the dreaded ingenue. He sank back in his chair. “Afraid so.”
Her cheeks glowed red, but apparently not from embarrassment. “You should teach stunts. Shouldn’t he, Jack? Everyone wants to learn them. The loop-de-loop, the death drop—”
“No.” Dan cut her off. “I retired from stunt flying.”
“Retired?” Her shock mirrored that of his former manager.
The man had nearly wept when Dan delivered the news. Then he had pleaded, even offering to decrease the number of appearances or raise the fee they demanded from air-show sponsors, but Dan could not be swayed. As much as his manager had glossed over the accident by calling it a casualty of aviation, that single event had changed everything. His stunt flying days were over.
“But you’re famous,” she exclaimed.
“I’m alive,” he said dryly. Surely she’d read about the crash. The newspapers had seized the story and blown it into something even more horrific than it had actually been, if that was possible.
The office door opened again, ushering in a lovely brunette, clearly with child. Must be Hunter’s wife. Though more conventionally dressed in a wool dress and pretty by anyone’s assessment, she didn’t have Jen Fox’s spunk.
She smiled at her husband and then addressed Miss Fox, “Jen, let’s go to the classroom.”
“The classroom?” Disappointment briefly flashed across Miss Fox’s face before being replaced by trembling hope. “Did I pass?”
Mrs. Hunter smiled and pointed to the door. “To the classroom. We have to work out a schedule for flight training.”
“I passed! I passed!” Her whoops could have been heard clear to the train station. “You know what that means, Jack.”
Hunter squirmed in his seat. “Congratulations.”
She must have taken that as confirmation of whatever she expected from him, for her smile outshone the electrical lighting. When she next turned it on Dan, unexpected pleasure surged through him. “Pleased to meet you, Wagner. I hope you stay in Pearlman for a while.”
“That will depend on the test run of the new engine.” Yet as he said it, Dan found himself hoping that the winds stayed too strong for the test flight, at least for a day or two.
* * *
Jen could hardly rip her gaze from Dan. Just think. Dan Wagner. Daring Dan Wagner was right here in Pearlman at Jack and Darcy’s flight school. Sure, some aviators got bigger newspaper headlines, but in her estimation Daring Dan was the top flier in the country—if not the world.
It didn’t hurt that he was incredibly handsome. Wavy auburn hair. Brilliant blue eyes. A commanding jaw and that absolute confidence she’d spotted at once. Sure, a pale scar slashed across his chin, probably from the horrible crash he’d suffered in November, but it only added to the legend. She tried to recall the details of that accident. Somebody got hurt, she thought, but she’d been too distraught at the time over Daddy’s passing to concentrate on newspaper articles.
Dan Wagner!
Her knees wobbled as she left the office. She was glad to sit down in the classroom, but the cold wooden chair couldn’t diminish her excitement. Finally, for the first time in ages, something truly exciting was happening in Pearlman. In addition, it meshed with her dreams. A pilot the caliber of Dan Wagner could teach her stunts. Even if he wasn’t flying air shows anymore, he could talk the sponsors into hiring her. Maybe he could not only teach her, but he could also become her manager. The possibilities were endless.
“Thank you, God.” She’d never received a better answer to prayer.
“For what?” Darcy asked as she took the seat across the table. “That Dan Wagner is here?”
Jen hadn’t intended anyone to hear that. “I’m thankful that I passed the examination.”
“Of course.” Darcy grinned. “But you do seem taken by Mr. Wagner.”
“No more than I would be for any other star aviator.” Jen stared at the chalkboard, which was still covered with notes from last fall’s classroom sessions. “This is my dream. Why wouldn’t I get excited to see the best pilot in the world?”
“The best in the world?” Darcy chuckled. “Some might debate that, but he’s certainly accomplished.”
“He can do everything. Don’t you see? It’s the perfect opportunity to learn from the best.” Jen frowned. “But Jack said he’s not an instructor. And Mr. Simmons said he’s only here to look at the new engine. Do you really think someone like Daring Dan Wagner would come all the way to Pearlman just for a motor?”
“I have no idea, but there isn’t a lot for a pilot to do this time of year other than the exhibitions in Florida and California.”
“And he said he’s done with air shows.”
“He did?” Darcy seemed as surprised as Jen had been. “Interesting. The crash must have gotten to him. I can see why. Jack was pretty shaken up by our crash. It took a lot of nerve to get in a plane again.”
“But he did. And so did you. Wagner doesn’t seem like the type to run away.”
“Wagner?”
“That’s what he told me to call him.”
Darcy shook her head. “Oh, Jen.”
“What do you mean by that?” Though she knew perfectly well that Darcy thought her hopeless when it came to men. Many a time Jen’s friend had counseled her to give a man a chance, but Jen had yet to meet someone who made her pulse race.
Darcy smiled coyly. “You must admit that he is a handsome man.”
Jen’s stomach fluttered despite her attempt to appear aloof. “I suppose some might think so.”
Darcy laughed. “Your reaction reminds me of when I met Jack. I remember noticing how handsome he was—and how arrogant. The man annoyed me to no end. Did you know that at first he refused to teach me to fly?”
“He did?” Jen had never heard that part of the story.
“Oh, yes. I thought he considered women incapable of flying an airplane, but then I learned he was afraid I’d get hurt.”
“But he did teach you.”
“With a little persuasion.” This time Darcy’s laugh tugged up the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t give him any choice. Remember that, if Mr. Wagner proves to be as frustrating as Jack was.”
“I don’t think he’s going to stay. The way he talked about seeing the test flight makes me think that’s the only reason he’s here.”
“Hmm. That’s not much time to get to know him,” Darcy mused, “Nor is a test flight the best place to show your finer qualities.”
“Why would I want to show him my finer qualities, whatever those are?”
“A woman should always show a man her best side, especially when that man could help her achieve her dream.”
Jen sucked in her breath. “You read my mind. He could teach me stunts and get me in air shows.”
“He could. Did he seem interested in teaching you?”
“I didn’t ask,” Jen admitted.
“Then we’ll need to arrange an opportunity to do so. The engine test won’t do. He won’t want to talk about anything but the motor.” Darcy’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’m thinking a dinner invitation might be in order. We can celebrate your success at the same time. Say six o’clock?”
“Tonight?”
“Why not? We can’t afford to wait a single day.”
Jen’s pulse accelerated. Dinner with just the Hunters and Dan Wagner. Darcy would make sure she had plenty of time to talk with Daring Dan. She would start by asking him to show her a stunt or two on one of the school’s planes and work up to the rest. “I’ll be there at six o’clock sharp.”
“Oh, Jen?” Darcy touched her arm in the same manner her older sisters did when they were about to suggest something they knew she wouldn’t like. “You might want to wear a dress.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_3ac715bc-2009-5922-9c76-47b9c3064893)
“What did you say?” Jen’s oldest sister, Beatrice, stood rooted to the slate floor of her foyer, her jaw dropped.
“I need to borrow one of your dresses.” Jen thought she’d stated that plainly the first time. “I need a dress, and you’re closest to my size.” It also didn’t hurt that Beatrice had a sizable wardrobe of fine gowns, courtesy of marrying into the most prominent local family. True, they’d hit hard times lately, but even an outdated gown from Beattie’s closet was better than anything in Jen’s.
“You need a dress? You? What on earth for?” Beatrice asked. “You only wear dresses to church and special occasions, like weddings and...um, dances and such.”
“I have a dinner engagement.”
“Dinner engagement?” Beattie echoed, still shocked. “Such as with a gentleman?”
“Such as at the Hunter’s house.”
“Darcy and Jack won’t care if you wear a dress or not.”
“They’re not the only ones who will be there.” Jen hesitated to reveal that Dan Wagner would be in attendance. Beattie would leap to the wrong conclusion, thinking Jen was sweet on him, which she wasn’t. She was only interested, in a general and businesslike sort of way.
“Ohhhh.” Naturally, Beatrice still assumed a man was involved.
“It’s not what you think. It’s just a dinner.”
“You need to borrow a dress for that? Surely your Sunday best would suffice.”
“It’s old and worn.” Jen gritted her teeth. She would not feed Beatrice’s matchmaking inclinations. “Besides, I think Jack and Darcy are inviting others, people interested in the expedition and whatnot. I don’t want to ruin the night for them.”
“Oh.” Beatrice’s hopeful expression fell. “I suppose I could find something that would do, but none of my gowns are in the latest fashion. We haven’t been able to...um...afford many new things lately.”
“Old is fine. It’s bound to be in better shape than mine.”
“All right.” Beatrice flinched at the screeching and squealing coming from the nursery upstairs. “Excuse me.” Her heels tapped across the slate to the thick carpet at the base of the staircase. “Branford! Tillie! That’s enough. Your Aunt Jen is visiting.”
“Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen,” Jen’s nephew and niece cried in high-pitched voices. The squeals of delight were soon followed by the clatter of two sets of small feet racing down the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Beatrice apologized, though she knew full well that her children would come running the minute she mentioned Jen was here. “You know how much they love their aunt’s company. I’ll look for an appropriate gown while you spend time with them.”
Seconds later, five-year-old Tillie and three-year-old Branford grabbed Jen by the hands and dragged her upstairs to the nursery. Books and dolls and wooden blocks were strewn across the floor. After Jen played a game of jacks with her nephew, ensuring he won, she received an invitation to a tea party from Tillie. Thankfully Beatrice returned before Jen had to join her niece and three dolls for the formal affair.
“I’ve laid out a few gowns that I think might work,” Beattie said as they walked across the hallway to the bedroom. Five dresses were lined up on top of the quilt. Every one of them was covered with lace or ruffles or bows.
Jen cringed. “These aren’t exactly my style.”
“You want to look nice for all those expedition supporters, don’t you?” Beattie’s tone made it perfectly clear that she doubted even one subscriber was invited.
Jen saw no reason to confirm her sister’s suspicions, even if it meant wearing a ghastly dress covered in ruffles. She looked for the least frilly gown. “Maybe we are celebrating something else.”
“Oh! I almost forgot. Today was the day you were taking the examination, wasn’t it? Darcy mentioned it earlier this week when she stopped to look at Branford’s and Tillie’s old baby clothes. So, how did it go?”
“I passed.”
“You did?” If at all possible, Beattie looked more surprised than when Jen had asked to borrow a dress. “Congratulations.” The automatic response lacked warmth.
Beattie had never liked airplanes. She didn’t understand her friend Darcy’s interest in aviation and couldn’t believe she continued to fly after crashing twice. From the first time Jen had mentioned her desire to fly, Beatrice had tried to talk her out of it. The reasons varied—unladylike, too dangerous, unbecoming—but the message was always the same.
“Flying is safer now,” Jen reassured her.
Instead of responding, Beattie picked up a garnet-colored velvet gown. “This one would suit your coloring.”
Despite the hideous gown, Jen was glad for the change of subject. “It has lace. You know I don’t like lace.”
“There’s only a little.”
“There must be ten yards of it around the waist and neck and hem.”
Beattie, the fair beauty of the family, pursed her heart-shaped mouth. “When did you say the dinner was? If there’s enough time, you could ask Ruth to remove the lace.”
“The dinner is tonight.” Jen tossed down the gown she was holding. “These are all too frilly for me. Do you have something...plainer?” That was probably a futile hope. Beatrice had always chosen the most elaborate, feminine styles.
“My everyday maternity dress.”
“Definitely not.” She held up the garnet-colored gown. Though it was a couple years old, it had the dropped waist currently in fashion. With Jen’s greater height, it fell at exactly the right length. Beattie was right about the color suiting her, but she would feel ridiculous with all that lace.
Beattie shooed away Tillie, who had come to watch the spectacle, and turned back to Jen. “Perhaps you could cover the lace. A sash around the waist might help. Or a cardigan. It is winter. A sweater would not be out of place except at the most formal occasions. Is this formal?”
“No.” Darcy and Jack Hunter definitely would not host a formal dinner. Given that Dan Wagner wore an old Stetson and Levi’s to the flight school, she doubted he’d appear in a tuxedo or tails. “Maybe I should wear my Sunday dress.”
“Take this one, too. If you decide not to wear it, nothing is lost. At least you’ll have a choice.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Who is he?”
Jen felt a flush of heat. “No one.” What was wrong with her? She never blushed. Never. “I didn’t say anything about a gentleman coming to dinner.”
“You didn’t have to. The fact that you want to wear a pretty dress says it all. Come now, you can tell me.”
“Like I said, it’s just a dinner. And a celebration.”
“Mmm-hmm. And who will be sharing that celebration?”
Jen sighed. Since Darcy was Beattie’s closest friend, she’d find out soon enough. “Dan Wagner.”
“Dan Wagner?” Beatrice frowned. “Who is that?”
“Daring Dan? Surely you’ve heard of him.”
Beattie shook her head.
“He’s only the top stunt pilot in the world.”
Beattie blanched. “Stunt pilot? Like Jack?”
“Jack doesn’t do stunts. As far as I know, he’s only been a test pilot and a flight instructor. Nothing as exciting as doing loop-de-loops and the death drop.”
“Death drop?” Beattie gasped.
Jen closed her eyes and envisioned doing the death drop with Dan Wagner. “That and so much more.”
“I see.” Beatrice’s voice hardened. “I thought you had grown up.”
“What do you mean?”
“That you’d stopped playing around with dangerous preoccupations.”
“This isn’t a preoccupation.” Jen fought back. “This is my dream.”
“What about Mother? Do you ever think about her?”
“Of course. She’s the one who gave me the money to study for the examination.”
Beatrice frowned. “What about the rest of the family? We need you. We couldn’t bear another loss.” She paused, probably to swallow the same knot that had formed in Jen’s throat. “You need to focus on the right priorities. Flying stunts is foolish.”
“No, it’s not. Daddy wanted me to learn to fly. It was our dream.”
“Daddy isn’t here anymore.”
Jen reeled at her sister’s insensitivity. “Maybe that’s why I have to do this. Maybe I’m going to do something really important, like join the polar expedition.”
“Are you quite out of your mind? That’s even more dangerous. Think of Mother. She’s just lost her husband and best friend. Do you want her to mourn the loss of a daughter, as well?”
Jen brushed aside her sister’s ridiculous fretting. “I don’t intend to die.”
“I doubt Daddy did, either.”
“I’m not listening to this.” Beattie would never understand. “We disagree, and that’s that. I’m sorry I asked you for anything.” Jen tossed the garnet gown on the bed. “I’ll wear my Sunday dress.”
Beattie’s eyes misted as she picked up the gown. “I’m sorry, Jen. I know you’re hurting. You were so close to Daddy. We all miss him, but you must miss him most. But think of Mother. Promise you’ll keep her in mind?”
“I always do.”
“And take the dress.”
“No, thank you.” Jen forced a smile for Tillie, who still stood in the doorway, a stricken expression on her face. They shouldn’t have argued in front of her. She knelt before the little girl. “Don’t worry. Your mama and I just disagree on some things, but we still love each other, and we always will.” She kissed Tillie’s forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow for that tea party, all right?”
At the promise, Tillie’s expression brightened, and she hurried back to the nursery. If only Jen’s spats with her sisters could be fixed so easily.
“I’m sorry,” Beatrice whispered. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Her lip trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Oh, bother.” Jen threw her arms around Beattie. “You only want the best for everyone.” She had to keep in mind how much Beattie had suffered this past year with her husband’s arrest and subsequent trial. Though he had avoided jail in exchange for testifying against the bootlegging ringleaders, his reputation had been tarnished. Beattie bore the shame. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I’m sorry I said anything.” Beattie wiped her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Will you forgive me?”
“Forgotten.”
“Oh, Jen, I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know.”
Beattie placed the garnet dress in a garment box. Then Jen linked her arm around her sister’s, and they walked downstairs.
After Jen donned her coat, Beattie handed the box to Jen. “Whatever you wear, I hope he notices.”
Jen opened the door.
Beattie stopped her with a touch. “And I hope he’s worthy of your notice.”
* * *
Dan figured a home-cooked meal would be a welcome break from eating at restaurants. That was before he got the news from home.
When he reached the boardinghouse, the plump proprietress handed him a telegram. The minute he saw that his pa had sent it, he knew it was bad news. Pa never wired for any other reason. Congratulations and pats on the back could wait until they could be given at no cost. Disaster couldn’t.
His father kept it brief.
Thirty head lost. Stop.
Dan sat apart from the other boarders in the cluttered Victorian parlor and read the message again. It wasn’t clear. Were the cattle missing or dead? If the latter, Pa would need money, but he was too proud to ask outright. Dan scratched his head.
If the ranch had telephone service, he would place a call, but wires hadn’t been run out that way yet. Even if they had, Pa would resist. He figured a real man stood on his own, and these newfangled contraptions made a man weak. Dan’s brothers favored progress. Eventually the younger generation would win out, but for the moment Pa’s stubborn independence ruled the day.
On the other hand, it left Dan in a tough spot. Pa expected him to come home to clear up the problem. That meant packing up and heading back across the country before getting an answer on the new engine.
“Great stars,” he muttered as he folded the telegram and tucked it in the pocket of his waistcoat. If his father had spent a little extra to explain the situation, Dan wouldn’t have to throw away this opportunity.
He blew out his breath and considered the alternatives. He could place a call to Joe Portco at the feed store and hope he knew what was going on out at the Wagner ranch. Between Joe and his wife, no local happening went unreported. Joe might know enough to buy Dan time to examine the engine and see it in action.
“Supper is served.” The boardinghouse proprietress, known by all as Mrs. Terchie, bustled through the parlor rounding up the boarders.
Dan stood. “Excuse me, ma’am, but I need to place a long-distance telephone call. Do you know where I might find the exchange?”
“Now, don’t you go running all the way downtown. Use the one out front,” she said with a wave toward the front hall.
“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am.” Dan pulled some bills from his wallet. “This ought to cover the cost.”
After protesting sufficiently, she jammed the money in her apron pocket. “Ain’t you the gentleman, Mr. Dan?”
“And I’ll be eating elsewhere tonight.”
Her cheery smile vanished. “You not like my food?”
“No, ma’am,” he hurried to assure her. “That is, I do favor your cooking. Why, it’s the finest I’ve tasted in years, but I’m obligated. I expect the food I’ll get tonight won’t come close to what I could’ve had here.”
The woman beamed at him before following the boarders into the dining room.
Once the door closed behind her, Dan pulled out the telegram. It was a couple hours earlier back home. The feed store would be open. He could catch Joe.
For a moment he considered sending his regrets to the Hunters. He had no taste for dinner parties. They inevitably included the overbearing and the clinging sorts. Considering Hunter was planning a costly polar expedition, he would no doubt invite potential subscribers. Rubbing shoulders with Daring Dan Wagner would bring in the financial support.
The whole thing made him feel like an organ grinder’s monkey, doing tricks to line other men’s pockets. He hadn’t figured Hunter for that sort. He’d seemed a straight shooter whose interests happened to align with his. Since Hunter had been working on the engine for years, his expertise couldn’t be overlooked. Dan needed that engine. So he’d go to the party and play the famed aviator for Hunter’s potential subscribers.
For a moment he wondered if the lively Miss Fox would attend. She didn’t look as if she had two pennies to her name, but Dan had been misled by looks before. After she and Mrs. Hunter left the room, Jack Hunter had told him that Miss Fox aimed to fly air shows. That meant she had enough money to afford costly flight time and instruction. It also meant he had to nip her aspirations in the bud. That spunky gal was just crazy enough to attempt dangerous stunts. She was too young and too full of life to end up like Agnes Finette.
The pall of memory pushed down on him, heavier than the burgundy brocade drapes shrouding the darkened parlor windows. The gathering gloom could not blot out the memories that raced through his mind like scenes from a tragic film. Agnes had laughed and turned back to look at him. Her bright red lips opened wide. She reached for him. The plane dipped. He pushed on the pedals. They wouldn’t respond. She screamed and crawled out of her seat. And then...
Panting, he hurried from the parlor and grabbed the earpiece on the wall telephone. When the operator answered, he prayed she wouldn’t hear the tremor in his voice.
“Would you like to place a call?” A woman’s voice scratched over the line.
“Yes, please.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to place a long-distance call to Boynton, Montana.” He reeled off the number.
“One moment, please.”
While waiting, he leaned against the papered wall and breathed in slowly, eyes closed, until his heart stopped racing. I have to make it through this. I have to repay the debt.
One life saved might assuage the guilt, but many lives helped would erase it.
When the call connected and Joe assured him that the thirty head were missing in a blizzard and might still be found, he could stay for the engine test run.
“Call here if things get worse,” Dan said. “I’ll pay the charges.”
“I’ll put ’em on yer tab,” Joe answered before the connection broke.
Dan took a deep breath. The first life he’d save belonged to one spunky gal with dreams too big for her ill-advised britches. Another starstruck girl would not die before her time. Not if he had anything to do with it.
* * *
Despite telling her oldest sister that there might be expedition supporters in attendance, Jen had expected an intimate supper. She was horrified to find Mayor and Mrs. Kensington chatting with Dan Wagner in the Hunter’s small parlor.
“I’m sorry,” Darcy mouthed, nodding toward her husband to indicate he had invited the prominent pair.
It didn’t take long for Jen to figure out why. Although he had refused to pay off his only son’s debts—consequently hurting Beatrice and the children—Mr. Kensington had given Jack a considerable amount toward the polar expedition. Now he blustered on about the adventure to Wagner.
Jen wanted to join that conversation. She took the tray of punch glasses from Darcy and angled toward the men, but Mrs. Kensington artfully stepped in her way.
“I’ll take one of those.” After plucking a glass from the tray, Mrs. Kensington looked Jen up and down. “That is one of Beatrice’s old gowns, is it not? I believe I remember it from three Christmases ago.”
Mrs. Kensington clearly intended to embarrass her, but Jen didn’t care two pins what the woman thought.
She lifted her chin and put on the most lethal smile she could muster. “Why, yes, it is. How perceptive of you to notice. In my opinion, it’s better to use a garment than stuff it in a closet, don’t you agree?”
Mrs. Kensington’s pinched lips tightened. “That might be the case if one has no need to make a good impression.”
The first comment had been a veiled insult. This barb was out in the open. Though Jen was tempted to accidentally dump the tray of punch glasses down the front of Mrs. Kensington’s navy suit, the ruckus would ruin Darcy’s party and cost Jack a big subscriber. It wouldn’t impress Dan Wagner, either.
So she pretended not to understand. “How true, and I have you as an inspiration.”
The woman’s gaze narrowed.
“More punch?” Jen asked with excessive cheerfulness.
“Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t understand your rude comment. If your sister wasn’t married to my son, I would make the hosts aware of your insulting behavior. As it is, I suppose we should be grateful that you at least wore a dress.” Having delivered her crowning blow, Mrs. Kensington glided off to offer advice to Darcy.
Though Jen was thoroughly miffed, at least the pretentious woman’s departure gave Jen a chance to join the men. Naturally, Mr. Kensington dominated the small group, shoulder to shoulder with Jack and Dan Wagner, who looked perfectly at ease with the statesman and town father. Wagner made a joke. Mr. Kensington belly-laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“You should have seen the one I shot back in ’09,” the mayor chortled. “Big as a locomotive.”
Jen could only imagine. Mr. Kensington had gone on game hunts out west. He’d traveled from one side of the country to the other and loved to tell anyone and everyone about it. He owned half the property in town and a handful of the businesses. He’d served as mayor most of Jen’s life. Yet his only son had managed to run amok without the slightest notice.
Wagner, however, couldn’t know that, so he laughed and traded tall tales, each one more outlandish than the last.
“Punch, anyone?” Jen thrust the tray in front of the men.
Mr. Kensington took a glass without breaking the flow of conversation. Jack nodded his thanks, but Dan Wagner winked.
Winked? Jen drew back, jiggling the remaining glasses on the tray.
“Nice dress.” Dan’s grin revealed perfectly aligned teeth. “You clean up pretty good.”
Jen’s stomach fluttered again. Her mind turned to mush. “Uh, thank you.”
Thank you? Was that the best she could muster for a man who’d winked at her and paid her a compliment?
His attention had returned to Mr. Kensington’s tale of landing a thirty-pound trout in the midst of a thunderstorm with the rising waters tearing him from his feet.
“I don’t wear them often,” Jen blurted out, drawing puzzled looks from all three men.
Oh, no. That was just about the most idiotic thing she could have said. Moreover, she’d interrupted Mayor Kensington’s story to inform them that she seldom wore a dress.
She forced a smile that probably came off more like a sick grin. “What do you think of the flight school, Mr. Wagner? It’s got everything a student could need, right, Jack?”
Jack grimaced.
“Sure.” Wagner examined his dusty boots.
As she’d suspected, he hadn’t bothered to change, though he’d left the Stetson at the door. Considering the Hunters also dressed informally and the Kensingtons wore everyday attire, Jen stuck out like a sore thumb in Beattie’s holiday dress. Moreover, the cardigan didn’t match and hid little of the frilly lace.
“I’ll get more punch.” She scooted away, drawing only Wagner’s notice.
He winked again, and she nearly dropped the tray of bright red punch. According to the reflection in the mirrored glass of the china cabinet, her face was nearly as red as the punch. The little glass cups jiggled against each other, drawing a sharp glare from Mrs. Kensington.
“What do you think of our Jack, Mr. Wagner?” Kensington bellowed, his exuberant voice impossible not to hear. “Flying to the North Pole. Quite an endeavor.”
“Yes, it is,” Wagner said slowly, “but with the right backing, planning and personnel, it can be done.”
Jen set the tray next to the punch bowl before she dropped it.
“My thoughts exactly,” Kensington said. “Seems like an accomplished aviator like you would be chomping at the bit to come on board.”
Jen’s pulse raced. If Dan Wagner joined the expedition, he would stay in Pearlman. He could help her hone her navigation skills and supervise her flight training.
“I already have obligations,” Wagner said.
“Come now, this kind of opportunity happens once in a lifetime.” Mr. Kensington seldom took no for an answer. “It’ll never come around again.”
Jen lifted her gaze only to find Dan watching her.
“My family depends on me,” he said.
Family? Dan Wagner had a family? He couldn’t be married. The newspapers followed each new lady friend with avid attention, speculating if she would be the one to capture the elusive aviator.
“You’re not married,” she stated.
Wagner’s chin tucked back, and his gaze narrowed.
In fact the entire room grew embarrassingly quiet.
His gaze locked on her. “No, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have family. They depend on my income to keep the ranch running.”
“Oh. You have a ranch.” Her head spun. Family. Ranch. That sounded a great deal like the sort of family that involved children. “Are you widowed? Or divorced?”
Mrs. Kensington gasped. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The mayor guffawed.
Dan Wagner didn’t bat an eye. “Neither. My parents, brothers and their families run the ranch. It’s beautiful land but tough to eke out a living.”
Darcy attempted to rescue Jen by steering the conversation in another direction. “Is that why you want the airmail contract? Jack told me you’re trying to get the contract for a route in Montana. I didn’t realize the Post Office was offering routes to individual pilots. Or did they hire you?”
“They’re still running the service, but they’re beginning to turn over some routes to qualified contractors. It’s the perfect opportunity to return home.” Though Dan answered Darcy, his gaze never left Jen. “Family is more important than records or fame. They come first, and they could use the extra income.”
“Why didn’t you say that, son?” Kensington said. “If money’s the problem, I can ease your mind. A top-notch aviator like you commands top dollar. Name your price.”
That drew Wagner’s attention away from Jen. “Are you offering to hire me?”
“Didn’t I just say that, son?” Kensington looked at Jack. “Back me up, Hunter. You could use someone like Wagner here on your side.”
“Sure could. In fact, we’re in need of a navigator.”
“What?” Jen squeaked. That’s the position she wanted, the one she’d worked so hard to get.
The men didn’t hear her.
“A navigator, eh?” Wagner smoothed a thumb across his lower lip. “If the pay’s right—”
“I’ll make it right,” Kensington interrupted.
“If the pay’s right,” Dan Wagner reiterated slowly, “I don’t know how I could turn it down.”
“That’s what I want to hear,” Kensington bellowed.
The two men shook on it, and, in the matter of a moment, the dream that Jen and her daddy had shared slipped quietly away.
Chapter Three (#ulink_7ab53417-98a3-5065-9b1c-35b700654fd8)
Dan had figured Kensington for a blustering fool until he offered to pay him to join the polar expedition. Then he knew the man was. No one hired an expedition crew. Either a crewman paid his own way or gathered support from home in exchange for the privilege of risking his life in the pursuit of glory. Financial rewards came later, if at all.
Even with the generous wage, Dan would have hesitated to sign on if not for the look on Jen Fox’s face. She wanted to fly on that expedition. He’d heard that squeak of dismay she’d let out when Hunter asked him to join as navigator. She must think she deserved the position. From what he’d heard earlier, she must have passed some sort of written exam, even though she hadn’t yet started the flight training. Passing a written exam did not qualify her to fly on the polar expedition. She had no flight experience. None. No one—man or woman—belonged on a risky flight unless he or she had a lot of experience in the air. It took massive accumulated experience to deal with unexpected changes in weather, fickle air currents and fallible machinery.
Dan had carried the lifeless body of one overconfident novice off the airfield. He would not be party to another woman’s death. Since Kensington threw in more than enough to cover the cost of thirty lost head of cattle, Dan had to snap it up. This time of year he had few options to raise funds, and he’d already plunked down most of his reserves modifying his plane for cargo service. The rest would go to a reliable engine. The airmail contract could wait. If this expedition succeeded, he would make a fortune selling the story to newspapers and on the lecture circuit. If it failed, he could bid on another route.
The meal had been awkward. Clearly Mrs. Hunter had placed him next to Miss Fox so they could converse, but the gal sat stiff as a railroad spike and was just as silent. Any fool could tell she was angry. His attempts to placate her fell short. He put on his best manners and went out of his way to compliment her hair.
That drew a steely glare.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he threw out. “I understand you passed the written flight exam.”
She nodded curtly but wouldn’t look at him. Then she asked Mrs. Hunter to pass the potatoes.
Mrs. Hunter gave him a sympathetic look that said to give it time.
Dan Wagner was patient with family, finicky engines and weather delays. He drew the line at sulking women. Life was too short to waste effort trying to talk reason into someone who didn’t want to be reasonable. Soon enough he’d be elbow-deep in expedition preparations. Miss Fox could pout all she wanted. He would stick to what he knew best.
He asked Hunter how many he planned for the flight crew.
“Two.”
“Both pilots?”
Hunter grinned. “You and me. Do you think we need more?”
“I would have someone for backup.”
Miss Fox brightened.
He corrected himself. “An experienced aviator, of course. A lot can happen before and during the attempt that might take a man out. Sickness. Injury. Even if the conditions are perfect, the cold is going to take a toll on the people and machinery on such a long flight.”
Miss Fox gave him an icy glare.
Dan tried to concentrate on the task. That was another reason not to include women. They had a way of distracting a man that could lead to disaster. He stared at the white linen tablecloth until his head cleared. What had he been about to say? White. Snow. Cold. Ice. That was it. “We might have to deal with ice.”
“Probably will,” Jack said. “That’s why we’re working on the engine.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Dan glanced at Jen to see if she had perked up.
She turned to Mrs. Hunter.
“I don’t see a solution for wing icing other than watching the weather,” Jack said.
“I meant the runway or whatever spot you have for taking off. Do you plan to use skids or wheels?”
“I planned skids. What’s your opinion?”
They debated the merits of each form of landing gear as well as the best places to use as a takeoff location. Though Alaska and Greenland were temptingly close, Point Barrow wasn’t accessible until late summer. They could get to Etah, Greenland, by the first of August, but Spitsbergen Island was accessible by April. The latter made the most sense, but getting the plane across the Atlantic would be costly. Dan hoped Hunter didn’t plan to fly it there. Transatlantic flight was as difficult as it had been in 1919. Doing so in spring would be almost impossible.
The conversation should have fascinated anyone interested in the expedition. It certainly held Mayor Kensington’s attention, but Jen Fox looked away every time he glanced her way. That disappointed him more than it should have.
Dan returned his thoughts to the expedition. “How much flying have you done in subfreezing temperatures?”
“As much as the weather allows,” Jack answered.
“Any in subzero?”
Jack shook his head. “It hasn’t gotten that cold yet this year.”
That was a problem. “Then the new engine hasn’t been put through its paces yet.”
Hunter admitted that was true.
“It’s a good engine,” Jen blurted out.
Dan grinned. In return, she pointedly turned away. That woman was definitely not worth the effort.
Again he focused on the status of the engines. “If the engine isn’t ready, then I assume the plane isn’t, either.”
Hunter shook his head, and a bad feeling gnawed at Dan’s gut. Why was Hunter waiting to run the tests? Without testing they wouldn’t know if the engines could perform under the rigorous Arctic conditions.
“As soon as the wind drops, we’ll take her up,” Hunter said.
It took a minute for Dan to calculate what Hunter was saying. “Are you telling me the new engines are on the plane already?”
Hunter grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Dan whistled. No wonder Hunter was holding back. It was one thing to lose an engine, but crashing the whole plane meant the end of the expedition.
By the time the evening ended, Dan had a good grip on the status of preparations and no grip at all on Miss Fox, whose initial spunk had vanished behind a wall of ice. It shouldn’t have bothered him. After all, she wasn’t his type. Nothing about her fit the kind of woman that usually attracted him. Her hair was too short. She had no feminine grace and almost no social skills. She was moody and strong-tempered and spoke her mind. She had unfounded confidence in her abilities and an irrational idea that she belonged on a dangerous expedition. In short, she offered nothing but trouble.
Yet as he walked the short distance back to the boardinghouse, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
* * *
The next day Jen sat across from her sisters at the dress shop’s worktable, the place where the three of them generally ended up working out problems. With the flight school closed and the winds high, Jen had nowhere to go but home and the dress shop. Both were filled with memories of their father, but at least at the shop she didn’t have to endure her mother’s pointed questions.
“How will you pay for the flying lessons?” Mother had asked as Jen headed for the kitchen door.
Jen didn’t have a good answer. Flight time cost a dollar and a half a minute, and that was the discounted rate that Jack and Darcy extended to her. She needed hours and hours of practice. With no job this winter and no savings, she couldn’t hope to pay for a single fifteen-minute session.
“I’ll figure something out,” Jen had answered as she donned her coat.
“Consider nursing,” Mother had urged for the umpteenth time. “It will only take two years. Doctor Stevens thinks you have the perfect temperament for it.”
Jen had shut the door on the conversation, but she couldn’t put that neat an end to the problem. She had to find a source of income sufficient to pay for flight lessons. All the hospital nursing programs Mother had promoted lasted two years. It might as well be forever. By the time she finished, every aviation milestone would be conquered, including reaching the North Pole.
So she looked to her sisters for ideas.
Her older sister, Ruth, and younger sister, Minnie, both worked at the family’s dress shop. Ruth managed it along with her husband, who was in the back room placing orders at the moment. Minnie helped with the sewing and oversaw the shop’s new upholstery service, at least until she got married in May.
Both worked while Jen recited the events of last night. “Can you believe Jack would ask Dan Wagner to be the navigator? He wasn’t even interested in joining the expedition until Mr. Kensington offered to pay him.”
“Mmm,” Ruth mumbled around a mouthful of pins. She was putting together a new dress, which, based on the sketches, was just the type of gown Beattie would love.
“In one shot, they killed my dream,” Jen mourned. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Minnie cocked her head. “It seems to me that you’re the one who is always telling us to fight for what we want.”
“That’s true,” Ruth agreed as she finished pinning a panel on the dress form. “You told me to go after Sam, and look what happened.” She gazed at little Sammy asleep in the cradle by her side. “Everything my heart desired and more. I agree with Minnie. You need to fight for what you want. Tell Mr. Wagon—”
“Wagner,” Jen corrected.
“Wagner. Tell him that you want to be the navigator.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then tell Jack.”
“I can’t.” Jen’s sisters meant well, but they didn’t understand. “Jack offered it to Dan. He accepted. Mr. Kensington is paying him. Moreover, he’s a professional. He has his license. He’s experienced. He has set dozens of aviation records. How can I compete with that?”
“You’re a friend of Darcy and Jack’s,” Ruth said, as if that made any difference. “Friends always come first.”
“Not with something this important. Besides, even if Jack changed his mind and gave me the spot, what would Mr. Kensington say? He’s paying Dan, not me.”
Ruth lifted an eyebrow. “Dan? Do you realize that’s the third time you used his first name?”
“Wagner, then. But that’s not the point. No one ever gets paid to go on an expedition. They sure wouldn’t pay me.”
“You don’t have the license,” Ruth pointed out.
“I know that, but I intend to get it as soon as I get my flight time.”
“Then do that,” Minnie said.
“I can’t afford it. Mother only gave me enough for the written lessons. Moreover, it’s winter. By the time the weather clears, the expedition will be headed to someplace called Spitsbergen. It’ll be too late.”
“It’s never too late.” Ruth fit another panel to the emerging dress. “Not if you’re following the Lord’s will for your life.”
“That’s the hard part,” Minnie chimed in. “Figuring out where you’re meant to be. I thought I wanted a life of glamour until I realized I was much happier with Peter.” Her expression softened when she said her fiancé’s name.
“None of this helps at all.” Jen spun a pincushion between her hands. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Dan Wagner is going to be the navigator for the polar expedition, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll never be the navigator. It’s hopeless.”
Ruth looked at Minnie, who grinned back. Together they said, “No, it’s not.”
“If anyone can do it,” Minnie said, “you can. Look at how much you know about engines. You spent half your time at the aeromotor factory watching them build the motors for the plane. Peter says Hendrick told him you even came up with some good suggestions.”
“He said that?”
Minnie nodded vigorously.
“Use the talents God gave you,” Ruth seconded. “Maybe it’s not navigation. Maybe it’s not in the cockpit. But you have other, equally valuable, talents. Understanding how machines work, the ability to inspire people, determination, creativity. Use what talents you do possess.”
The fog that had engulfed Jen since last night’s dinner party began to lift. “Maybe there is something I can do for the expedition. They will need lots of mechanical help. And logistics. Ordering and organizing the supplies is a huge task. I do it all the time for the flight school. There’s a lot I can do.”
“That’s right,” Minnie said. “Besides, there’s nothing like working alongside a handsome man to lift your spirits.”
Jen glared at her little sister.
“Very true,” Ruth seconded. “I heard that Mr. Wagner is most handsome.”
“Maybe,” Jen snapped, “if you like arrogant, self-centered cowboys.”
“Aha.” Ruth chuckled.
“No aha. No anything. My dream has nothing to do with Mr. Dan Wagner’s looks. He could go back to Montana today as far as I’m concerned.”
“Is that so?” Ruth’s smug smile was beginning to grate on Jen’s nerves. “What do you think, Minnie? Shall we?”
Minnie nodded.
“Shall you what?” Jen asked. Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t good.
Ruth pointed to Jen’s hands. “I do believe that’s the very pincushion we all touched when we vowed to help each other find husbands.”
“That’s right,” Minnie agreed. “You can’t duck out of that vow now, after helping Ruthie and me. Now it’s our turn to get you married.”
“Wait a minute!” Jen dropped the pincushion like a hot brick. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
Minnie smirked. “Sure you are. Didn’t you once say that everyone wants to get married?”
“I said no such thing.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Minnie wiggled her finger at her. “Nothing you can say will change our minds. We aren’t about to let you down, right, Ruthie?”
“Right. Who knows, maybe the Lord has a more interesting expedition in store for you.”
“Stop it!” Jen threw a wad of cotton at her sister. It fell harmlessly at Ruth’s feet and sent both sisters into spasms of laughter.
“Stop it this instant.” Jen stomped a foot for emphasis. “I am not looking for a husband. Understand? And even if I were, it wouldn’t be Dan Wagner. He’s arrogant and prideful and thinks he knows everything. He’s not interested in me, and I am definitely not interested in him.”
For some reason that made her sisters laugh harder.
Chapter Four (#ulink_31c42ea8-0b2d-545e-a40b-8efe4ea0746e)
Jen wanted to talk to Jack Hunter right away, but she couldn’t find the expedition leader anywhere. The flight school was locked. No one answered her knock at their house. She even checked the aeromotor factory. The Hunters seemed to have vanished into thin air.
All that walking around did give her ample time to think. By the time she’d received the same negative response at Simmons Aeromotor, a brilliant idea came to mind. Her steps grew lighter along with her heart. If Jack agreed, she would get her flight lessons. Though she could not find him today, the proposed barter would still be good tomorrow or a week from tomorrow.
Since she’d promised Tillie she would attend her tea party, she headed back across town for her oldest sister’s house. Main Street was busy. Jen hunched against the knifing wind. As always, she looked at the window displays. Most stayed the same for weeks at a time, but the department store, mercantile and drugstore changed often. The brand-new cowboy hat in the mercantile window would look a lot nicer on Dan than that battered old thing he wore. On her, it would make her look like the sharpshooting Annie Oakley.
After a chuckle, she moved on. That’s when she spotted the Hunters in Lily’s Restaurant. Dan Wagner was with them. They huddled around a table, engaged in deep conversation. Jack was writing on a piece of paper and gesturing as he talked. Darcy watched her husband with a contented smile, but Dan Wagner looked as if he would hop off his chair at any moment. He leaned over the table, stabbing at the piece of paper with his index finger. Darcy nodded, but Jack clearly disagreed with whatever he’d just proposed.
Jen glanced at the clock on city hall. Twelve-thirty. Tillie was probably eating lunch. Tea could wait long enough for her to talk to Jack.
She pushed open the door to the diner and waved at Lily before pointing to Jack’s table. “I’m joining them.”
“Coffee?” the restaurant owner asked even as she picked up a cup.
Jen checked her jacket pockets. Empty except for a wadded-up handkerchief and a penny.
“No, thank you,” she said to Lily. “I won’t be staying long.”
“Sure, you won’t.” Lily plunked the steaming cup down at the empty spot on the square table.
“But I don’t have any money.”
“I’ll put it on your account,” said the proprietress with her gravelly voice. “Stop by and pay on it sometime. Do you want something to eat?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be by later to pay you back.”
“Sure you will, honey,” Lily said over her shoulder as she headed back to the kitchen. “I could use a dishwasher tonight.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jen shot back.
By now they had their parts down pat. Jen never had money on her. Lily always gave her food or drink, and Jen would pay when she got another paycheck, which wouldn’t be for a long time unless she worked off her debt by washing dishes.
“Jen,” Darcy and Jack said nearly at once.
It was amazing how often married people did that. She’d noticed Ruthie and Sam saying the same thing at the same time, too.
Dan Wagner looked less enthused, but he rose along with Jack. “Miss Fox.”
“Wagner.” She loved his expression when she called him by his last name. He always flinched and then turned up his nose as if he’d just sniffed a cow pie. “Sit down. I won’t take up much of your time. Jack, I have a proposition for you.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise while Dan’s tugged down to match his scowl.
She didn’t give either of them a chance to shoot her down. “I can help you with the expedition.”
That low growl of displeasure had definitely come from Dan.
Jack, on the other hand, took her offer in stride. “We can use all the volunteers we can get.”
She didn’t miss the stress he put on the word volunteer. Well, until Wagner, no one got paid. She sure wasn’t asking for money. “Good. I figure with my experience at the flight school and all the time I’ve spent learning about the engines, I can at least help out with the supply lists and ordering.”
“That’s true,” Darcy seconded, though her sly smile indicated she figured Jen had an ulterior motive that was centered on one arrogant stunt pilot.
Jen was just about to correct her assumption when Jack added, “But we can’t pay you.”
That was her opportunity. “Maybe you can. Not in cash but in flight time.”
“Flight time?” Jack looked lost.
“I need flight training to get my license. I’ll exchange work for training.” It made perfect sense to her, but Jack looked less than enthused.
“It costs us fuel and oil every time we take the planes up. You know that.”
Jen stuck to her plan. “It’s a fair exchange, and I’ll only use the minimum amount needed to get my license.”
Jack tugged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”
Darcy, however, backed Jen. “It’s a good trade-off. Jen understands all the terminology. She knows a plane inside and out. She’s familiar with our filing system and knows all the suppliers. Any other volunteer would take hours of training.”
Jack still looked concerned. He whispered something to his wife.
Jen couldn’t hear what he said.
Darcy countered her husband’s misgivings. “We won’t be able to start flight training for a couple months. By then, we’ll have student deposits.”
A couple months? Jen fidgeted. That was the traditional start of the flight school, but by then it would be too late to join the expedition. She would have to train for weeks and weeks. “Are you sure you couldn’t start sooner?”
Darcy looked sympathetic, but she didn’t give her approval. “You know that it depends on the weather and a whole host of other issues. The training planes are all laid up for the winter. Taking any of them out of storage means fitting them out and then laying them up again if the temperatures drop too low.”
“It’s January,” Jack pointed out. “Snow and ice make flying difficult for professionals. I’m not comfortable with the risk, especially since there’s no reason for it.”
But there was. Her whole chance at the polar attempt rested on getting her license now. She could be that backup aviator.
“But there are occasional days perfect for flying. Calm. No precipitation,” Jen pointed out. “Couldn’t we start then? After all, I’m here. The school is here.”
“You wouldn’t build up any continuity,” Jack insisted. “That’s no way to learn to fly. I’d never send a student out in the worst weather.” He cast a tender look at his wife. “Darcy might disagree, but without a good reason, the risk just isn’t worth it. I promise we’ll start as soon as the conditions warrant.”
Jen heaved a sigh. “Then there’s no hope.”
Jack looked perplexed, but Darcy understood.
“Jen wants to learn the basics in case she’s needed at any point leading up to the expedition.”
“The expedition?” Dan Wagner blurted out. “You can’t seriously expect an inexperienced student to take part in a risky flight into bitter cold conditions.”
“That’s why it’s important to learn now, in the winter,” Jen pointed out.
Dan shook his head. “You can’t possibly get enough experience in that short a time. Any flight instructor with an ounce of self-respect would never risk a student’s life.”
“I expect a flight instructor to use proper caution,” Darcy countered, “but Jen has a point. If the weather is fair, why not take advantage of the situation?”
“Because I will be testing the expedition airplane,” Jack answered bluntly and turned to his wife. “And you are grounded. That means no lessons until the weather is good on a consistent basis.”
Under those criteria, Jen wouldn’t be flying until May. By then, they’d all be gone to Spitsbergen.
Darcy must have noticed her consternation. “Perhaps Mr. Wagner would be willing to train Jen. From what I’ve heard, he is quite the cold-weather aviator.”
“What?” His face darkened along with his scowl. “You can’t be serious. I was hired on to a polar expedition, not to fulfill some starry-eyed woman’s daydreams. No. Never. Impossible.” He stood and tossed some money on the table. “It’s not going to happen. If I have to teach, the deal is off.”
Instead of looking threatened, Jack grinned. “All right, but I do need you to work with Jen on the supply lists.”
Dan looked as if he might refuse that, too. Instead, he turned and stomped out of the restaurant without another word.
* * *
Teach Miss Fox to fly. In the winter, no less. Dan fumed all the way back to the boardinghouse. He had his bag packed when the proprietress, Mrs. Terchie, knocked on the door to his room.
“Mr. Dan? Message come for you.”
Dan whipped open the door and took the handwritten note. “Long-distance telephone call?”
She nodded. “Joe Something-or-other.”
“Portco. Joe Portco. He runs the feed store back home.” He had no idea why he was blathering except that he was still furious with Jack Hunter. The man might let his wife take a plane up in bad weather, but Dan sure wouldn’t risk a young woman’s life just to fulfill her whim. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She looked past him with a frown. “You leaving?”
Dan sighed. He might have overreacted. After all, he had a verbal contract. And the train only left this small town once a day. He couldn’t storm out of here at a moment’s notice. “No, ma’am. Not just yet.”
Her plump cheeks rounded above her broad smile. “That good, Mr. Dan. I glad to hear it.” Her smile vanished. “Sorry about the bad news.”
Then she toddled off down the hall, broom in hand.
Dan closed the door and looked down at the note. Mrs. Terchie’s handwriting was a little peculiar, and the spelling was poor, but he could make it out.
Blizerd kilt cows. More then 30. More like 50. Woovs got em.
He figured Joe had told her the wolves ate the carcasses. Wolves, coyotes, dogs. It didn’t much matter what got to the cattle. Fifty head were lost. They wouldn’t make one cent off them. Moreover, Dan would have to replace them come spring.
He growled. Why couldn’t his pa corral them at the ranch during the winter like his neighbors? Why was he so stubborn about doing things the way they’d always done them? Every time Dan argued with him about it, his pa would point out that the land was made for grazing. It had once supported hundreds of thousands of bison. The natives didn’t pen them up. They didn’t pen their cattle now.
Tradition, Pa called it.
Dan had no use for tradition when it meant unnecessary loss.
When Pa added to that his confidence that God would see them through, it took all of Dan’s patience not to point out that his air-show money was the only thing seeing them through. Without that, the ranch would have gone on the auction block years ago.
He’d counted on his brothers to bring Pa around, but Dale and David didn’t like to stir up controversy. Dale’s wife had backbone, but over time she’d swallowed Pa’s ideas to the point that she was spouting them, too. David’s new bride was too shy to speak up. That left Dan.
He crumpled the note and tossed it in the wastepaper bin. Then he unpacked his bag. There would be no backing out of his contract now.
* * *
“Can you believe that?” Jen sputtered to Minnie as they ladled stew into bowls for supper. “Wagner refused to teach me to fly. Ever.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t a flight instructor.” Minnie took the bowl from Jen and carried it to the table.
“That’s beside the point. He acted like Darcy had asked him to commit a crime.”
“Aren’t you overreacting?” Minnie had stiffened, and Jen realized she shouldn’t have mentioned anything to do with criminal activity.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have used those exact words.” After her youngest sister’s brush with a bootlegging ring last year that nearly got her killed, she was a little sensitive about anything illegal. “I meant that he was appalled.”
“I know. I’ve just learned how easy it is for good people to get caught up in a bad idea.”
Jen had, too. Both Minnie and Beatrice had watched their beloved men fall victim.
Minnie returned to the stove, and Jen scooped some potato-laden stew into a bowl and handed it to her.
Minnie peered into the bowl. “This one doesn’t have any salt pork.”
“How can you tell? Salt pork looks the same as potatoes.”
“No, it doesn’t. Just add some, all right?”
Jen fished out a chunk of pork and dumped it in the bowl. The meat was pretty meager. It was getting close to the end of the month. Their credit must be running low at the mercantile, as it had every month since Daddy died. The Kensingtons would extend more credit, but Mother refused to fall any deeper into debt. In a couple weeks, the dress-shop receivables would start coming in, and then they could pay down their bills.
“The bread smells wonderful, Mother,” Ruthie said from around the corner, where she was nursing little Sammy. “You must have baked it today.”
“Yes, dear,” Mother said absently.
Her attention was riveted on the newspaper, which was unusual. Daddy had been the one who devoured every news story. Mother had constantly chided him to set aside the paper during meals. Now she was doing the very same thing.
“I don’t see what the problem is, Jen,” Ruthie said as she returned to the kitchen and burped the baby. “The flight school is closed. Jack and Darcy never fly this time of year.”
“But they will for the expedition.” Jen slopped stew into another bowl. “And if I don’t get my license before spring, I’ll never be able to go along.”
“Go along?” Ruthie exclaimed. “Why would you go with them? Even Darcy won’t be able to, not with the new baby.” She held up a hand. “I don’t care what she says now. Once the baby arrives, her whole world will revolve around him.” She leaned down and kissed Sammy’s forehead before cooing and holding out a finger for him to grab.
Sammy giggled and squealed.
Jen rolled her eyes. Babies were fine and all, but she would never give up something important, like the polar expedition, in order to have a baby. Not that Darcy had a choice. She’d been married for years, after all. A baby was bound to happen along, and with this being their first she was extra cautious.
“What I need to know is how to convince him,” Jen mused. “Darcy said Jack didn’t want to teach her at first, but she was able to persuade him. She might have some idea how to change Wagner’s mind.”
“Wagner?” Minnie said, holding out her hands for the next bowl. “No more Dan?”
Jen made a face at her little sister. “That was a slip of the tongue, when I was feeling more charitable. Ruthie, is Sam eating with us?”
“Yes, but don’t dish up any stew just yet. He had to place a telephone call to New York. It could take a while. He said to start without him.”
Jen carried her own bowl to the old wooden table. It was battered and stained from years of use. Everyone sat in their usual places, leaving Daddy’s place empty, as they had since he’d moved to the parlor. At first, she’d figured he would return as soon as he recovered his strength. But he never recovered. Still, the empty place remained.
When Sam arrived, he would sit in Beatrice’s old spot. Jen ran a finger over the holes she’d poked into the wood when she refused to eat peas and had to sit at the table until dark. The battle of wills had lasted until bedtime, when Mother finally let her go to sleep, but in the morning, Jen found the peas in her breakfast bowl. She’d swallowed them whole with large gulps of milk rather than go hungry.
The stain in the center of the table happened when a jar of beets exploded after removing it from the home canner. Even Mother had jumped and shrieked. Then they’d all laughed at their squeamish reaction when the red juice ran all over the table like blood. Though they’d cleaned up the mess, the stain remained and over the years became a treasured memory.
“Oh, my.” Mother sighed. She closed the paper and set it aside while they waited for Ruthie to finish wiping Sammy’s face. “Such a terrible story. All those little ones without any hope of help.”
Ruthie laid Sammy in the cradle. “What little ones?”
“In faraway Alaska. There’s a diphtheria outbreak and no antitoxin.” She shook her head. “They are shipping some by train from Anchorage, but apparently this town is hundreds of miles from the railroad lines, and there’s no way to get it to those little ones.”
“An airplane could take it,” Jen said.
Ruthie shook her head. “If airplanes can’t fly here because of the weather, how could they possibly fly in Alaska?”
“If they can get the engines running, there’s no reason a plane can’t do it.”
“What about snow and wind?” Ruthie countered.
Jen had no answer for that. It was exactly the problem Simmons Aeromotor had been working on with Jack and Darcy. What if the weather wouldn’t allow them to make the polar flight? Then all that cost and effort would go for nothing.
“That’s enough, girls.” Mother put an end to the discussion. “Let’s bow our heads and give thanks to Our Lord for all the blessings He has showered upon us.”
Jen wasn’t so sure about blessings. Her father was gone. Dan Wagner recoiled at the thought of teaching her. Children in Alaska were sick without hope of life-saving medicine. And their stew didn’t have much meat. Yet one by one, her mother and sisters listed blessing after blessing. Then it was her turn.
Jen could think of only one thing. “Thank you for letting me pass the written flight examination.”
Minnie rolled her eyes, and Ruthie sighed, but Mother ended the prayer with “Amen” just as Sam stomped through the kitchen door with a blast of cold and snow.
Ruthie looked up expectantly.
He nodded, his expression glum.
Ruthie’s hopefulness changed to concern.
Mother looked from Ruthie to Sam, who’d shed his coat, hat and boots in record time, and then went back to her daughter. “What is it? What happened?”
Ruth shook her head.
Sam took the lead. “My father suffered a setback.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mother said. “I know you’ve had your differences, but he is still your father.”
“Yes, Mom.” Sam dished some stew into a bowl.
Jen found it fascinating that he called her mother by such an informal endearment—and that she allowed it. She had never been anything but Mother to Jen and her sisters.
“How is your mother faring?” Mother asked as Sam took his seat. “Caring for an ailing husband can be stressful.”
Sam bowed his head to give thanks and didn’t answer until he’d finished. “It’s definitely a challenge for her.” He took a slice of bread. “Father is used to giving orders. I suspect he’s doing the same thing at home, though my mother would never admit it.” Again he glanced at his wife.
Ruth gave an almost-imperceptible nod, as if she understood exactly what he didn’t say aloud and approved it.
“She’s not a strong woman,” Sam said after swallowing a bite of stew. “Not like you, Mom. Sometimes I think the only thing holding her together is her faith.”
Mother gave him a reassuring smile. “That will carry her through, Sam. During tough times, the Lord is our strength. I’m glad to hear she’s leaning on Him.”
Sam smiled, but not with confidence. Again he looked to Ruth. This time she shook her head.
Ruthie turned conversation to business at the dress shop. Mother and Minnie seemed glad to discuss the latest projects, but Jen wasn’t fooled. There was a whole lot more going on than Ruth and Sam were letting on.
Chapter Five (#ulink_6abd8b6f-311b-5d36-b38f-47fbcf23bd71)
“Ready?” Hunter yelled.
Dan gave the thumbs-up.
Hunter released the brake and the airplane rolled from the barn.
The morning had dawned clear and cold and calm. Perfect for the test flight. If Dan had left yesterday, he would have missed this. Maybe some good could come out of bad news after all. Fifty head of cattle was a big loss for a small operation like his pa’s. Dan would come through as he always had, but it would cut into his savings and his future. If this polar attempt got off the ground, he stood to make it all back and a whole lot more. A newspaper or magazine exclusive could pay in the tens of thousands of dollars.
Hunter taxied the plane toward the head of a grass and gravel runway, which in late January was more ice than grass or gravel. Good thing, considering the plane had the skids on instead of the wheels. Dan sure hoped Hunter could stop the plane after they landed or they’d have a quick trip into the snowbank at the end of the runway. The fuselage had a sturdy frame, but that kind of impact would damage any airplane.
With every bump, Dan’s nerves inched a level higher. He hadn’t set foot in an airplane since the accident. Now he didn’t even have control. Yes, the plane had dual controls, but Hunter was flying. Dan wasn’t to take control except under direction or in an emergency. The copilot’s wheel was right there in front of him, but he couldn’t touch it. He flexed his fingers, anxious to grab on to something and opted for the clipboard. His job was to log every second of the flight, from instrument readings to weather conditions to engine operation.
Hunter had installed every instrument available for an airplane, but some things still fell to chance even here. Near the pole, magnetic and gyroscopic compasses would operate differently, making them useless for finding direction. The flat white landscape and twenty-four-hour sunlight erased the horizon and gave no landmarks. Snow blindness, drift and imprecise means of direction-finding made for a treacherous trip. That didn’t even take into account weather issues—fog, updrafts, downdrafts and blizzards. Every element worked against them.
Today’s winter flight would give them the tiniest taste of what they’d face, except this landscape offered landmarks in buildings and trees, a blue sky and working compasses. The conditions were perfect. It was cold enough to tax the engines, yet calm and clear. If something did happen to one of the motors, this big plane would be a challenge to fly on a single engine. Many years of flying meant Dan knew every little thing that could go wrong. He usually scoured every inch of his plane before takeoff. He knew each strut and bolt. He knew which tended to loosen and which held fast. He didn’t know this plane.
For years, Daring Dan had ignored danger, had reveled in the thrill. Minor problems hadn’t fazed him, but causing someone’s death? That was something else entirely.
He glanced over at Hunter. The man exuded confidence despite the crash that had ended his transatlantic attempt. If not for the coming baby, he would have let his wife in the cockpit for the polar attempt. Dan didn’t understand that reasoning. He would never again put someone he cared for in peril. Agnes had been his latest in a long line of gals. Like the rest, she hadn’t touched the heart that he kept locked in its hangar. But he hadn’t thought twice about agreeing to teach her to fly, and look what happened. Never again.
He was not going to put Jen Fox in the cockpit of any airplane.
Hunter pulled the plane into line with the runway and accelerated. The roar of the huge twin engines literally hurt. Dan was glad he’d stuffed cotton into his ears, but he’d need more than that for the long flight to the North Pole.
The brake released, and they sped down the runway, bouncing and sliding on the skids. The plane was large and heavy. Was the runway long enough? Dan pressed back on the seat as the end loomed closer and closer. At the last second, Hunter nosed the plane up, and she cleared the snowbank and climbed into the crystal-blue sky.
That’s when the exhilaration rushed in. That feeling of invincibility had driven Dan to the skies over and over. Up here, the world and its troubles looked small. Up here, he had control. The initial thrill of rising on nothing but cloth and wood soon wasn’t enough. He’d learned stunts from fellow aviators, watched them crash and bettered the trick. Daring Dan did not fail. He hadn’t until November’s crash.
Today’s flight made him edgy. He had to write constantly to avoid the impulse to seize the wheel. Dan did not like giving the controls to anyone, but as they circled the tiny town and came back down for the landing, he had to admit Hunter knew his craft. He slowed their airspeed to just above what would send them into a stall. Then he dropped the plane to the runway. The skids hit, bounced and hit again. The claw brake dug in, jerking Dan forward, and they slid to a comfortable taxiing speed.
When Hunter turned the plane for the taxi back to the barn, Dan saw her. With her arms waving in that ragged mackinaw, Jen Fox grinned wider than a country mile.
* * *
“That was perfect,” Jen crowed after Jack killed the engines and crawled out of the plane.
She’d heard the plane take off on her way to the flight school to start her volunteer assignment and had run the three blocks so she didn’t miss a minute of the flight. The big bird had soared high against the rising sun, circled slowly overhead and then made a perfect landing. The engines didn’t hiccup once.
It had coasted into the big barn that they were using as a work area this winter since the school’s hangar was full of training airplanes and other equipment. The barn was also smaller and easier to heat. She’d hurried up the shoveled path between the school and the barn, arriving just as the pilot and copilot disembarked.
Jack hopped to the ground and removed his helmet, but instead of acknowledging her cheers, he met Wagner behind the tail. “Great run. A little touchy on takeoff, but she made it.”
Wagner had peeled off his helmet, pulling his auburn hair into a mass of curls. “Takeoff? That was a breeze compared to landing. That runway’s not a foot too long. Had me grabbing for the brake.”
Jack laughed. “Must feel strange not to have the controls.”
“You’re right about that, but I was there for you if anything went wrong.”
“I know you were.”
The men chattered away as if she wasn’t even there. Just like at the dinner party. What was it with men, anyway? Get them together over something mechanical, and everyone else might as well not be there.
Jen tromped across the barn, ignoring the poofs of years-old straw dust that rose with each step. A workbench and tables filled the extra space. Tools littered every tabletop. A handful of crates were stacked along the barn wall.
She stopped within reach, but they still didn’t notice her.
“Good flight!” she yelled.
That drew their attention.
“Jen.” Jack tugged off a glove and pushed back his jacket sleeve to check his wristwatch. “I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”
“I saw the plane take off and had to watch. Great flight.”
“Thanks.” Neither Jack nor Wagner was as jubilant as they’d been with each other.
“Great day for flying, isn’t it?” she hinted. “Practically anyone could take a plane up on a day like today.”
Wagner frowned. “Not a student.”
That man was going to be a thorn in her side. If she didn’t change his negative opinion, he was going to convince Jack not to let her train until summer. “Why not?”
“The field is solid ice,” Wagner shot back. “We’re fortunate we didn’t end up in the snowbank.”
“You’re skilled. Between the two of you, there was never a doubt.” Though Jen knew her odds of flying the expedition plane were slim, she wasn’t about to let Wagner win the argument. “That’s why Jack is such a great teacher. He can handle any conditions. Besides, students start with grass cutting.” That first step used a governor on the motor to keep the student pilot on the ground. “They don’t even get into the air. An icy runway won’t make a bit of difference.”
Wagner laughed. No, it was more like a derisive snort. “That shows how little you know, darling. On ice, you can do some serious damage grass cutting. I doubt Mr. Hunter is eager to lose one of his training planes before the season begins.”
She could have stomped on his finely honed superiority. Darling, indeed. She was not and never would be his darling. “Since you know so much, Wagner, maybe you’d like to demonstrate the proper way to practice on ice.”
His gaze narrowed.
Jack chuckled. “Enough of this, you two. I’m not bringing any of the trainers out of storage, Jen, so you can forget that crazy idea of yours. Flight lessons can wait until the weather breaks, so you might as well go home.”
She felt the disappointment clear to her bones. If she couldn’t get her license by April, she would have no chance at the backup spot for the polar attempt. Handling supplies might be a necessary part of an expedition’s success, but those people didn’t get their names in the record books. Her father wouldn’t be remembered as the source of her inspiration. No, she would not give up.
“But I can’t go home. I’m here to start on the expedition preparations, just like I said I would.”
“That work is back at the flight school.” Jack jerked a thumb in that direction and turned back to Wagner, who was looking at her with a very peculiar expression.
“You’re going to have to show me what to do,” she pointed out.
“To begin, I could sure use your help sorting out the supply orders. I brought Dan up to speed earlier this morning. He’ll show you what to do.”
Jen’s stomach tightened. “You want me to work with Wagner?”
“Actually, he’ll be a sort of supervisor,” Jack said.
Jen balked. “But I know my way around the school. I’ve worked with suppliers and placed orders for years.”
Jack gave her a dazzling smile. “That’s why we’re so glad you’re helping out. Thanks, Jen. You’re the best. Dan, why don’t you take her on over? I’m going to check the engines and then talk to Hendrick about their performance today. I’ll take that clipboard off your hands.”
At least Wagner looked as upset with this arrangement as she did. He gave over the clipboard with a lot of reluctance.
“I should go with you over to the plant.” Dan pulled cotton from each ear. “I took a lot of notes, listened carefully. I might have noticed something you didn’t.”
Jack scanned the paper on the clipboard. “Nope. Makes perfect sense. If Hendrick has any questions, we’ll come on over to the school.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm and headed for the open barn doors.
Jen glared at his retreating back. She and Wagner were expected to obey, as if they were in the military—or primary school. Though she’d never been good at following orders, this was Jack’s expedition. He had put out a lot of time and effort and funds. That gave him the right to call the shots. If she wanted to be part of the end result, she’d better learn to follow orders.
She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and followed Jack.
“After you, then,” Wagner snipped, apparently still perturbed at being shuttled off to supplies. He plunked that tattered old Stetson on his head and never broke a scowl.
That made her grin. Dan Wagner’s unhappiness was her joy.
“Why, thank you,” she said with her best imitation of Beatrice’s cultured elegance. “I do so appreciate good manners in a gentleman.”
She was pretty sure she heard him growl behind her.
* * *
That gal was going to drive Dan crazy. Not only had Jen Fox pulled him away from following up on the engine test, but she threatened to disrupt the entire expedition with her single-minded determination to get in the cockpit on the polar attempt. Sure, it started with lessons, but a reasonable student understood that training couldn’t begin until spring. No, her agenda clearly pointed to the expedition.
She sure didn’t like hearing that he was going to supervise her work. Dan had suspected that would be the case when Hunter proposed it earlier that morning, but the aviator had brushed off his concerns, saying she understood the situation completely.
Apparently, Hunter was the only person who did not understand the trouble he was bringing on board by agreeing to Jen Fox’s proposal. That gal would not let up until she got what she wanted.
As Dan pulled the barn doors closed and locked them, Hunter got into his old Model T and putted off to Simmons Aeromotor. That left Dan alone with Miss Fox. Her arms were crossed over that old mackinaw. The trousers bagged at the knees. Given her disheveled appearance, the pink-and-green knit hat looked so out of place that he had to scowl to keep from laughing.
She eyed him with a mixture of indignation and curiosity, her expressive mouth twisted into a smirk, as if she figured she had the upper hand. Since she apparently worked for the Hunters when the school was open, she probably did. That didn’t mean he was going to let her stomp all over him. Dan liked challenges. He intended to break through that crusty shell of hers to discover if there was a woman inside.
“Well?” Her hazel eyes sparked in the sun, defying him to say just one thing that would set her off again. He opted instead for a little Western gentility.
With a tip of the finger to his Stetson, he nodded toward the flight school. “Why don’t you lead the way, miss? You’re more familiar with the layout around here than I’ll ever be.”
His statement was ridiculous. Not only had he already received a tour of the facility, but she knew he’d gone over the paperwork with Jack earlier. Moreover, even an addle-brained gal would notice that only one path led from the barn to the school. Jen Fox was far from witless. Thus far she’d proven a tenacious opponent. Still, she seemed to appreciate that he’d let her take the reins.
Her expression softened. A little. “I also happen to know a whole lot more about ordering supplies than you ever will.”
He choked down a retort. He wasn’t a novice who’d never seen a plane before. He’d done his fair share of locating aviation parts. The owner of an airplane had to know suppliers. A squadron commander in the Great War learned how to claw parts out of anyone and anywhere. But pointing out his experience would only irritate her, so he swept out an arm.
“All right, darling.” He threw on the cowboy charm that worked wonders on most women. “I’ll put myself in your capable hands.”
She looked a little suspicious but must have decided to take him at his word, for she headed toward the school at a rapid pace.
Dan stayed right on her heels. “Worked here long?”
“A few years. In season, of course. I volunteered before that, once I got out of high school, that is.”
He didn’t care to guess how long ago that might be. She looked fairly young but not a girl, maybe in her early twenties. “Is that when you got interested in flying?”
“No.”
The path widened, so he hustled to walk by her side. She didn’t spare him a glance.
“Then what did grab your interest?”
“Darcy.” Her pace slowed a fraction. “Jack’s wife. My father and I—” She turned her head, clearly battling emotion. “We saw her fly the very first time. I wanted to learn how.”
Dan was glad to see the woman had some feelings other than anger, but her statement didn’t quite add up. “My understanding is that Mrs. Hunter learned to fly before the transatlantic attempt. That was quite a few years ago.” He calculated exactly how much. “At least six or seven years. What took you so long?”
Her shoulders tensed. “First of all, I was still in school. Then I couldn’t afford lessons, all right? That’s why I didn’t do it before now. I was setting aside money, but then—” She broke off and ran to the door of the flight school.
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