no dark shadow indicating a deep gorge in the way. Thank God.
The nose was completely buried and he left it that way. Every bit of insulation would do them good until this blizzard passed, cutting the wind, keeping the inside temperature up.
But he felt something very close to sorrow as he walked back along the plane’s length. Even with deepening snowdrifts he could see buckled metal on the fuselage, and that the engines had vanished from under the wings somewhere upslope, leaving behind their twisted pylons. Any fuel that was left would be seeping into the snow from broken lines, but he couldn’t see any melting to indicate it.
God, what had happened? He hadn’t had time to wonder before. He’d gone from half-full tanks to empty so fast it had seemed almost impossible. His fuel pumps must have been spewing precious liquid as fast as they could from somewhere. Just where he wouldn’t be able to tell now.
He’d had the damn thing overhauled and checked out last week. That’s why he’d been in Seattle. All he could think now was that some mechanic somewhere had failed to do something right. Make some connection. Tighten some clamp, whatever. Somewhere between pumps and engines, there had been a critical failure.
By the time he’d known things were going wrong, they’d been over the mountains with a storm catching up. At forty thousand feet, that was no big deal, but it sure cut his options. He’d had no choice but to hope they’d make it to the Conard County Airport. There was nothing closer that hadn’t already been closed by the storm.
He supposed he ought to get down on his knees and thank God they were in one piece. But right now he wasn’t feeling all that thankful. He was feeling furious, and worried. Most especially worried about that sick woman in the back of his plane.
Chapter 2
Rory had added more blankets to cover Cait as the cabin temperature dropped a bit because of the opening and closing of the cabin door. She was grateful the air felt fresher now, but worried, too. How were they supposed to keep warm?
Cait barely stirred as Rory tucked blankets around her all the way up to her ears. A knit stocking cap would probably be good, she thought, since Cait didn’t have enough hair left to keep her head warm.
She went out to ask Wendy about it. Maybe the other woman had one.
“Actually, I do,” Wendy said. “And I’m glad to tell you it’s in the overhead bin. Let me get it out. Didn’t you bring something like that for when you got to Minnesota?”
“An ambulance was going to meet us. I wasn’t expecting Cait to be exposed at all.”
Wendy nodded as she rose to open one of the overhead bins. She wore a baggy sweater and jeans, and a very sensible pair of work boots. Just like Rory herself. Accustomed as she was to being on work sites, Rory dolled up only for business meetings, and this trip hadn’t qualified for that.
“What about you?” Wendy spoke as she fought with the bin door, at last managing to yank it open.
“I have a parka I dug out before we left.”
“Good. I don’t usually carry spares of those.”
Wendy pulled a thick-knit cap out of a leather duffel and passed it to her. “There you go.”
“Thank you so much!”
Wendy smiled, and the expression reached her eyes. “Hey, we’re all in this together.”
Cait murmured quietly as Rory put the stocking cap on her, but then settled back into sleep. Rory stood looking down at her sister, wishing that for just a few moments she could see that spark again in Cait’s expression, but it had vanished long before Rory got home.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she couldn’t afford to let them fall. Not now, not ever. She had to remain strong for Cait’s sake, no matter how tough it got. And right now it was tough. All her worst imaginings for Cait’s future had just been compounded by a plane crash in the wilderness. In a storm.
Sometimes she thought the gods enjoyed a laugh at human expense. If so, they must be finding this all hilarious.
Time. There was so little time for Cait now. And this accident was eating away at it like a miserable rat. Just enough meds for four days. Then what? Not that the meds were doing much but holding the beast at bay, and not doing a very good job at that. In the days since she’d gotten back to Seattle and had gathered the information and recommendations that had led her to the decision to fly her sister halfway across the country for experimental treatment, she’d watched Cait drift away further and further. Losing even the energy to smile, or whisper more than a few words.
Days, hours, minutes were precious right now. And they were slipping uncaringly between her fingers like the finest of sands.
Her spine stiffened suddenly, and she turned around to march back into the main cabin. There was a pilot who had a lot of explaining to do, and she was going to get her answers the instant he came back inside.
She might not be able to change the situation, but she was sure as hell going to understand it and all that they were up against. She didn’t function well in the dark and she refused to be kept there.
Chase and Yuma returned to the plane after a mere thirty minutes. Long enough to assess their situation outside, long enough to dig through the snow at the forest’s edge to find some wood and pine needles. They’d even dug a place near the plane to build a fire safely, although that was going to be difficult in this wind.
But Chase had candles onboard, and chafing dishes for those fancy flights where people expected exquisite meals. Plenty of candles. He could heat some soup, maybe even brew some coffee, but open flames in the plane made him uneasy, and they’d suck up the oxygen.
He was holding an internal debate as he and Yuma closed the door behind them. And the first words he heard were:
“Why the hell did this plane crash?”
He turned slowly, his cheeks stinging from the cold outside. He stared at the Campbell woman, reminding himself that she was undoubtedly edgy because of her sister. And, yes, because of the crash. Plenty of reason to be truculent.
He pulled off his leather gloves while staring at her, and threw his hood back. “Well,” he said slowly, “that’s the question, isn’t it? We ran out of fuel. Unexpectedly, inexplicably. All of a sudden. And since I had the plane in Seattle for an overhaul, I’m going to guess that somebody screwed up. But once that fuel started draining like Niagara Falls, there wasn’t much I could do except try to get us down in one piece.”
He waited, expecting to get his butt chewed about something, but amazingly, it didn’t happen. Then she nodded. “Okay. What now? What are our chances?”
He unzipped his jacket and shrugged it off, tossing it over a seat back. “The charts I looked at before takeoff suggest the storm might last two days. That was then. It wasn’t supposed to catch up to us as fast as it did. That’s now. It’s a helluva blow, and we aren’t going to stir from the safety of this plane until it lets up.”
“Two days,” she said, and sounded almost frightened.
“Two days,” he repeated. “If the emergency beacon is working, rescue should come soon after.”
