Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk

“Is that legal?”

“Probably not in the lower forty-eight,” he told her, “but we do it here. Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.” He moved toward the cockpit, retrieved a black binder and a stack of papers from the passenger seat and crammed them into the space between the two seats.

“Go on in and sit down,” he said, “while I see to the kids.”

Abbey climbed awkwardly inside and carefully edged her way forward. By the time she fastened the seat belt, she was breathless.

Sawyer settled Scott and Susan in the remaining seat behind her. One look at her children told Abbey neither was pleased with the arrangement. But it couldn’t be avoided.

“What about our luggage?” she asked when Sawyer slipped into the seat next to her.

He placed earphones over his head, then reached for the binder and made a notation in it.

“Our luggage?” she repeated.

“The suitcases don’t fit. We’re going to have to leave them behind.”

“What?” Abbey cried. “We can’t do that!”

Sawyer ignored her and continued to ready the plane for takeoff.

“How long is the flight?” Scott asked.

“About an hour.”

“Can I fly the plane?”

“Not this time,” Sawyer responded absently.

“Later can I?”

“We’ll see.”

“Mr. O’Halloran,” Abbey said with a heavy sigh, “could we please discuss the luggage situation?”

“No. My contract is to deliver the mail. That’s far more important. I’m not going to unload cargo for a bunch of silly female things you aren’t going to need, anyway.”

Abbey gritted her teeth. “I didn’t bring silly female things. Now if you’d kindly—”

Sawyer turned around and looked at Scott. “Do you like dogs?”

Scott’s eyes grew huge. “You bet I do,” he answered breathlessly.

Sawyer adjusted some switches. “When we get to Hard Luck, I’ll take you over to meet Eagle Catcher.”

“Is he a husky?”

“Yup.”

“Really?” Scott sounded as if he’d died and gone to heaven. He was so excited it was a wonder he didn’t bounce right out of the seat.

“Um, about our luggage?” Abbey hated to be a pest, but she didn’t like being ignored, either. It might be unimportant to Buck Rogers here, but she’d rather they arrived in Hard Luck with something more than the clothes on their backs.

He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he started the engines and chatted in friendly tones with a man in the control tower. Come to think of it, he chatted in friendly tones with everyone but her.

Before Abbey could protest further, they were taxiing toward the runway.

In no time they were in the air. Above the roar of the twin engines, Abbey could hear nothing except the pounding of her heart. She’d never flown in a plane this small, and she closed her eyes and held on tightly as it pitched and heaved its way into the clear blue sky.

“Wow!” Scott shouted. “This is fun.”

Abbey didn’t share his reaction. Her stomach did a flip-flop as the plane banked sharply to one side. She braced her hands against the seat, muttering, “Come on! Straighten up and fly right, can’t you?”

Still talking to the tower, Sawyer glanced at her and grinned. “Relax,” he said. “I haven’t been forced to crash-land in two or three months now.”

“In other words, I haven’t got a thing to worry about.” Abbey shouted to be heard above the engines. She peeked over her shoulder to be sure Scott and Susan weren’t frightened. They weren’t—quite the opposite. They smiled at her, thrilled with their first small-plane ride. She, on the other hand, preferred airplanes that came equipped with flight attendants.

Abbey wasn’t able to make out much of the landscape below. She’d been disappointed earlier; during the flight from Anchorage to Fairbanks, Mount McKinley had been obscured by clouds. The pilot had announced that the highest mountain in North America was visible less than twenty percent of the time. He’d joked that perhaps it wasn’t really there at all.

She glanced away from the window and back at Sawyer. He’d already demonstrated a fairly flexible attitude to safety rules, in her view. Now he took out the black binder he’d wedged between their seats and began to write. Abbey stared at him. Not once did his eyes shift from his task, whatever it was.

A light blinked repeatedly on the dashboard. Abbey knew nothing about small planes, but she figured if a light was blinking, there had to be a reason. They must be losing oil or gas or altitude or something.

When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she gripped his arm and pointed to the light.

“Yes?” He looked at her blankly.

She didn’t want to shout for fear of alarming her children, so she leaned her head as close to his as possible and said in a reasonable voice, “There’s a light flashing.”

“Yes, I see.” He continued writing.

“Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“In a couple of minutes.”

“I’d rather you took care of it now.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ms. Sutherland—Abbey,” he said. Lines crinkled around his eyes, and he almost seemed to enjoy her discomfort. “All it indicates is that I’m on automatic pilot.”

She felt like a fool. Crossing her arms, she wrapped what remained of her dignity about her and gazed out the window.

Sawyer tapped her on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about your luggage, either. I’ve arranged with another flight service to have it delivered this afternoon.”

He might have told her sooner, instead of leaving her to worry. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“What’s that?” Scott shouted from behind her.