CHAPTER SIX
Three weeks later
R UBY SWUNG THE BIPLANE INTO THE DAWN WIND AND OPENED THE throttle. The engine roared as the heavily loaded craft lumbered down the runway and caught the air beneath its wings.
As the Jenny began to rise, Ruby allowed herself a deep breath. It was natural to be nervous about this, her first solo delivery, she told herself. She operated the plane from the rear cockpit, packed in front with two hundred pounds of padded cargo and an equal amount behind her, carefully balanced. The flight would be a short one, to a ranch that lay a few miles south of Blue Moon. Piloting a plane that had been stripped of every extra ounce to allow for cargo, she was to land on the rough prairie, collect the money, help unload, and fly the empty plane back to the abandoned farm outside Miles City.
Simple. What can go wrong?
The irony of that thought coaxed a smile from her lips as she banked the plane and headed south, following the map she’d memorized.
Part of the distribution process remained a mystery, as it was probably meant to be. The base of operations was an abandoned farm about twenty miles east of Miles City. The planes, three Jennies now, were kept there in a big barn converted to a hangar. Crated liquor shipments from Canada—Ruby had no idea how they were transported over the border—were flown out to the clients almost as soon as they arrived.
So far, there were just two pilots, Ruby and her father. Between shipments, they lived at a boardinghouse in Miles City. When a new shipment came in, a car would pick them up and drive them to the old farm, where they would stay and work, swilling coffee and getting little rest, until all the deliveries were made. Early on, Art had made all the flights. Ruby had helped the ground crew and worked on her training. Now that business was picking up, she’d been pressed into service as a pilot.
At this early hour, there was barely enough light to see the contours of the land below—the hills and pastures, the roads and farms. Flying by daylight ran too much risk of being seen and tracked. Art was already making night flights, using the plane’s instruments to guide him. But Ruby was still learning. She needed the faint first glow of morning to find her way.
Worries plagued her. So many things could go wrong. The client was new—always an added risk. The landing with the loaded fuselage would be tricky, the added weight changing the dynamics of the plane. Then there was the rough terrain, a sure guarantee of a hard landing.
The worst of it was not knowing what to expect. She carried a small pistol in the pocket of her coveralls, in case she needed to defend herself or her cargo. But in some instances, a weapon would be useless. She could crash or land in the wrong place. Or she could climb out of the cockpit to be surrounded by armed revenuers and carted off to jail.
Stop it! Just remember what you’ve been taught.
As Ruby flew the plane south over Blue Moon and began a slow descent, she willed herself to focus on her job. Everything would be all right, she told herself. All she had to do was land, collect payment, unload the crates, and take off again. By then there would be enough light to find her way back to the base.
She’d been told that a bonfire would be lit to guide her to the landing. Scanning the ground below, Ruby could see the burning beacon in the shadowy dawn. She was on target. Heart in her throat, she banked the plane, circled, and headed down.
* * *
Mason heard the distant drone of the plane before he spotted it in the sky—a dark speck, like a flying insect, above the pale horizon.
He added more dry wood to the smoldering bonfire. Flames leaped, crackling in the morning stillness. The plane banked and turned toward him. Mason’s pulse quickened. His first shipment was about to arrive.
The cave was ready, the walls and ceiling cleansed by fire, the ashes on the floor covered with layers of canvas. All that remained of the mysterious dead man was his brass belt buckle, which Mason had dropped into his vest pocket. He had done all the work himself. There was no one he could trust to help him.
The roar of the engine grew louder as the plane swept in for a landing. There was no proper runway out here, and no way to build one without a construction crew. Using a horse and a chain, Mason had ripped out the larger sagebrush clumps, thistles, and cedars; but the long strip of ground was still dotted with low scrub, rocks, and holes. His telephone contact had assured him that the pilot would have the experience to land on the roughest terrain. Mason wasn’t sure he believed the man. Now the moment of truth had arrived.
The plane came in low and fast—too fast. After almost skimming the ground, it rose again, banked, and came in for a second try. Mason forgot to breathe as the craft touched down, shot forward, and bounced once, then again, coming down hard before shuddering to a stop.
Mason sprinted toward the plane. The engine had died. The plane’s only movement was the lazy turning of the propeller. Coming closer, he could see the pilot struggling in the rear cockpit.
Reaching up, he climbed onto the wing. The pilot seemed dazed, flailing at the controls. Unable to reach the seat belt, Mason lifted off the goggles and yanked off the leather helmet.
He gasped as he saw who it was.
* * *
Hand on the stick, feet on the rudder bar, ailerons up . . . the jarring collision with the ground. Where was she now? Was the plane all right? Ruby opened her eyes, but the cracked lenses of her goggles blurred everything.
Then the goggles and helmet came off, as if ripped away by an invisible hand. Her vision cleared, along with her mind. She was still in the cockpit. A face hovered above her—piercing green eyes, oddly familiar, gazed into hers.
“Thank God you’re alive, Ruby.” The voice seemed to echo in her head. And how did the speaker know her name?
“Is the plane all right?” She muttered the first concern that came to mind.
“It appears to be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
That rough-edged baritone . Where had she heard it? Ruby stared at him, finally remembering. “You,” she said. “I never expected to see you again.”
He shrugged. “Small world. Right now, we need to get you out of the plane. If you’ll unfasten your seat belt, I’ll give you a hand.”
She unbuckled the strap, ignoring his proffered hand as she climbed out onto the wing and jumped to the ground. “I’ll be fine. I just need to collect your payment, unload the cargo, and be on my way.”
“You’re not going anywhere until we make sure you’re all right. Sit down on that log. I’ll get you some water.”
“I’ll be fine.” Still standing, she struggled to collect her thoughts. She couldn’t remember stopping the plane, only the rough landing. The seat belt would have kept her from being thrown very far, but she could have struck the instrument panel or the windscreen, the impact cracking her goggles.
She needed to get back to the base. Returning late from her first delivery would worry her father and land her in no end of trouble with their employers. She owed Art that much.
“Here, drink this.” He handed her an open canteen. Ruby tilted it to her lips. The water was fresh and cool. She took several deep swallows and returned the canteen to him. She did feel a bit shaky, but that would pass, she told herself. Meanwhile, she had a job to do.
“Now sit down,” he said.
“Business first. I’ll take your payment now.”
“Fine.” He withdrew a white envelope from the inner pocket of his leather vest. “You can count it if you want. The money for this shipment is all there, along with a down payment on the next one. But we’re not unloading those crates until you’ve had some rest and we’ve made sure you’re all right to fly.”
Ruby took the envelope and tucked it inside her flight jacket. All she wanted was to leave. Surely, even without goggles, she’d be fine for the short return flight. But she couldn’t take off without unloading the heavy crates, and she couldn’t lift them out of the plane by herself.
With a sigh of impatience, she sank onto the log. For now, the man had left her with no choice except to stay.
* * *
Mason took a seat next to the woman he’d never expected to see again. She sat with her hands in her lap—slim, graceful hands, but stained with oil, the nails bitten off to the quick. They were not the hands of a woman who’d had an easy life. Somehow, he liked her for that.
“Are you all right, Ruby?” he asked.
“I will be. But you’re not supposed to know my name. And I’m not supposed to know yours. That’s how this business works.”
“My name is Mason. Mason Dollarhide. Now we’re even. Am I to understand that you’ll be my regular delivery person?”
“That’s what I was told. But if I get myself fired, you won’t be seeing me again.”
“That would be a disappointment. I’ll try to see that it doesn’t happen. How many pilots are working this operation?”
“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“And I don’t suppose you’d tell me how far you have to fly to get back to your home base.”
“You should know better than to ask.”
He did know. Safety depended on discretion. The less he knew about her, the better. But the loaded Jenny wouldn’t hold enough fuel for a long round trip, so it was probably close by. Miles City had an airstrip, but it wasn’t private. Maybe his suppliers had a facility of their own, somewhere hidden.
The question was, would it be safe to let her fly there?
Ruby fell into silence, gazing toward the east, where the morning clouds had taken on the soft pinks and violets of early sunrise. He studied her profile against the sky: the chiseled cheekbones, the stubborn chin, the soft curl of auburn hair lying against her cheek. Her tan flight clothes were probably a man’s. But there was nothing mannish about the way they fit her curvy body. Looking at her, Mason felt the tug of desire in his loins. He had yet to slake his lust with a woman. But he knew better than to mix business and pleasure—and this lady was business—important business.
She stirred, turning to fix him with those melting eyes. “I don’t know what your game is, mister, but you’ve paid for your delivery, and that’s all you’re going to get. Take your goods so I can leave. People will be waiting for me—my father and . . . others.”
“Yes, I understand.” He could imagine those others. He’d spoken with Leo Colucci on the ranch house phone to arrange delivery of his first shipment. Julius Taviani had put the two in touch. If Ruby was spending time with the likes of Colucci, she was in dangerous company. Should he warn her? But she looked old enough to know the score. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe she was already sleeping with the bastard.
She stood, brushing off the seat of her pants. “I’m feeling much better now. Let’s get those boxes unloaded.”
He rose to stand beside her. “You hit hard enough to break your goggles. Before we start, do you mind if I check your eyes for any injury?”
“Be my guest. Just get me out of here.” She stood facing him, defiance in her expression and in every line of her body. Mason turned her toward the light and brushed back her hair.
“Hold still. This won’t take long.” He took a flashlight out of his pocket. She gazed up at him, her expression one of suspicion. Looking into her dark eyes, he sensed fear coupled with courage, vulnerability coupled with strength. An ordinary woman—especially one so beautiful—wouldn’t be flying planes to rendezvous with smugglers. Despite his misgivings, Mason found himself wanting to know more about her.
But first things first. In prison, he’d spent time in the infirmary. Among other things, he’d learned how to check for a possible concussion. When he directed the beam into her eyes, the pupils reacted, shrinking uniformly, a good sign.
“Did I pass inspection?” The question carried an edge.
“I’m no doctor. I could be wrong, but everything looks fine.”
“I told you so.”
He pocketed the flashlight. “I can’t resist asking. What makes a woman get into a dirty, dangerous business like this one?”
“Why does any woman get into a dirty, dangerous business?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Because this job pays better than the air shows—a lot better.”
“What does your father think of what you’re doing?”
“He’s the one who got me into it. Come on. Let’s get this plane unloaded.”
The plane had overshot the cave entrance. Mason decided to unload where it had stopped. He could carry the crates back to the cave by himself after the plane left. There wouldn’t be that many. He’d hoped for more, but there was a limit to what the small plane could carry.
Ruby started with the forward cockpit, passing each box of bottles, emblazoned with the red Canadian maple leaf, down to Mason on the ground. The rest of the shipment was lined up behind the pilot’s seat to balance the load. The work was finished in a few minutes.
“I’m going to need more,” Mason said. “Will you be bringing me the next order?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s a risky job. I could crash or be fired—or be replaced by a better pilot.”
“Do you know how soon it will be?” Mason was just beginning to realize how much he wanted to see her again.
“I just fly the plane. The less I know the better.” She’d climbed back into the rear cockpit and was strapping on her helmet. “Right now, you’d better hope we can start this engine. Otherwise you’ll be stuck with me, and I’ll be out of a job.”
Except for the complications, that might not be so bad, Mason reflected. But for both their sakes, he needed to get her back in the air. She was probably supposed to keep the plane running while they unloaded the cargo. But the rough landing had cut the engine.
She appeared to be checking the controls. “Do you know what to do?” she asked.
“I watched you and your father at the air show. I’m assuming that starting a plane is something like cranking a Model T.”
“A little, maybe. Just listen and do what I tell you.”
Trying to remember what he’d seen and heard, Mason stood next to the propeller. “Ready,” he called.
“When I say ‘contact,’ you spin the propeller. Do you remember which way?”
“I remember.” He waited for her cue. When it came, he gave the prop a hard spin and jumped back, out of the way.
Nothing happened. They tried again with the same result. The engine wouldn’t even turn over.
With a broken sigh, she climbed out of the cockpit, holding a small canvas tool bag. “I’ll have to open her up.” She climbed onto the lower wing and opened the cowling door that covered the engine. “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious. I didn’t bring any spare parts because of the weight. Oh, blast, I don’t need this.”
The sun’s golden rim had barely risen above the mountains. On the land below, the shadows were still long and deep. Ruby stretched upward and peered into the dark recesses of the engine.
Mason stood close by, watching her from the ground. “I’m a fair mechanic myself,” he said. “I’d be happy to take a look.”
“I’m the one who knows this engine,” she said. “But if you’d come up here with your flashlight and hold it while I check, that would help.”
Mason climbed onto the wing and slipped the flashlight out of his pocket. To get the light where she needed it, he had to stand close behind her and shine it over her shoulder. The contact with her body, warm through her clothes and fragrant with her womanly aroma, sent electric tingles racing over his skin. His arousal stirred. With a silent curse, he shifted back a step, breaking the physical connection between them. But he could still feel her nearness going through him like a shimmering current.
“Can you see the problem?” he asked.
“Not . . . yet. Something could’ve gotten jarred in the landing. A nut or a wire, maybe. I’m checking all the connections.” A moment later, her breathing quickened. “There—I may have found it. Shine the light in closer . . . no, closer, right there.”
Mason leaned closer and did as she’d asked. He struggled to ignore the sweet pressure of her body against his. But as she braced against him, leaning to tighten a bolt in the engine, his imagination began to wander forbidden paths . . . caressing her . . . kissing that lush, moist mouth . . .
What happened next was a blur. Did she lose her footing on the wing, or did Mason’s fantasies get the better of him? All he knew was that she seemed to miss a step and was scrambling for balance when he caught her with an arm around her waist and swung her against him.
Neither of them moved. Mason could feel her trembling. He knew he should let her go, but she fit into the circle of his arms as if she belonged there. He ached to kiss her. Would she let him? Would she respond?
“It’s all right, Ruby . . .” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “You’re safe. I won’t let you fall.”
She stirred against him. That was when he felt it—something hard jammed against his ribs. “Let me go,” she said in a cold voice. “Now.”
Mason dropped his arms and stepped back on the wing, his free hand clutching a wire for support. That was when he saw the pistol she was aiming at his chest. The weapon was small, but big enough to do the job. Smart girl, carrying something to protect her from woman-hungry jackasses like him.
“You can put that gun away, Ruby,” he said. “I was only trying to keep you safe. I would never take advantage of a woman like you.”
But how many women and girls had he taken advantage of in past years? One of them had been the mother of his son. And there’d been so many others that he’d lost track. All of them had been willing—some more than willing. But he’d only been thinking of his own pleasure. Maybe it was time someone taught him a lesson.
She released the hammer on the gun and slipped the weapon back into her pocket. “I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am,” she said. “But right now, I need help getting this plane off the ground, and you’re the only help I’ve got.”
“Tell me what to do,” he said.
“I think I’ve fixed the problem with the engine. We won’t know until we try to start it again.”
“Fine. When you’re ready, I’ll be at the propeller.”
He swung down off the wing while she closed the cowling, climbed back into the cockpit, and fastened her seat belt.
“Good luck.” Standing at the ready by the propeller, he gave her a smile and a wave. “It’s been nice doing business with you, Ruby.”
She didn’t return his smile. All her attention was focused on the controls and the instrument panel. She needed the plane to fly. Mason understood that, even if it meant he might not see her again.
At last she was ready. As the risen sun flooded the land with light, she gave him the signal and the call. Mason threw his strength against the blades, giving the propeller a powerful spin. The engine sputtered, then caught and roared to life.
Mason stepped out of the way as she taxied to a takeoff position. She’d landed the plane with a heavy cargo. She was leaving empty. But the ground was rough and dangerous. Anything could go wrong.
He prayed in silence as the biplane lumbered down the makeshift runway, rocking and bucking all the way. Only as the wheels left the ground did he begin to breathe normally. If she ever came back, he vowed, she would find the way cleared to provide safer conditions.
He watched the plane until it was nothing more than a dot in the western sky. Then he turned to moving his merchandise into the cave. He was still working out the details of the distribution, but quality Canadian liquor would be in high demand. He should have no problem selling it for a healthy profit, enough to buy a bigger shipment next time—if he could arrange a bigger delivery.
Mason paused to rest his back and gaze at the empty sky. The irony hadn’t escaped him. He and Ruby were part of a complex criminal enterprise with ties to the underworld. They had both compromised their honor for the sake of money. True, what they were doing was harming no one. But it was nothing to be proud of.
So why did thinking about her make him want to be a different kind of man, not just rich but respectable and respected—a man like Webb Calder?
Maybe, when his fortune was made, he’d find a quality woman, set her up like a queen, and give her all the things she deserved. Even marriage and a family wouldn’t be out of the question. But that woman wouldn’t be Ruby. She’d hinted that she already belonged to somebody else—probably Colucci or a man like him, who could drape her in silks and diamonds as long as she was willing to pay the price.
But that was none of his business, Mason told himself. And right now, he had work to do.
Resolving to forget the beautiful pilot, he picked up another crate of illegal whiskey and lugged it to the cave. Later today he would bring a team of horses and start leveling the runway.
* * *
As she eased the plane into its descent, Ruby could see the farm below. Its shabby barns and outbuildings housed a growing bootleg operation, but aside from the landing strip and a few vehicles in the yard, there was little that might be noticed from the air. A large sign painted on the side of the barn advertised a crop-dusting service. It was there to justify the activity around the place and the presence of planes and a runway.
Her first successful run had been a nerve-racking experience. The client had been so unsettling that she’d had to restrain herself to keep from punching him. Everything about the man seemed to challenge her control, as if he expected her to melt in his arms like a helpless doll. When she’d slipped on the edge of the wing and he’d caught her, the heat between their bodies had taken her breath away. That was when she’d drawn her pistol—as much to save her from herself as to threaten him.
A glance at the fuel gauge showed her that the tank was almost empty. The can of spare fuel she usually carried had been jettisoned to allow for more cargo. A few more miles and she’d have run out. She would mention that to her father. Surely Art would back her insistence on carrying enough to top off the tank before the return flight.
In the dark morning hours, Art had delivered one shipment, returned to the base, and left with another loaded plane. These three deliveries, counting her own, would be the last of the current batch.
Her father planned to be waiting for her at the airfield when she landed. They would turn her plane over to the ground crew, collect their pay, and be driven back to Miles City, where they’d enjoy a celebratory breakfast and a few days of rest before going back to work.
By now the sun was up, giving her a clear view of the runway. Ruby’s spirits rose as the wheels touched the ground. She had completed her mission. Her father would be proud of her.
She taxied the plane to the hangar, stopped outside, and climbed out of the cockpit. She couldn’t see her father anywhere. Instead, waiting outside the wide double doors, looming tall in his black tailored suit, was Leo Colucci.
As Ruby jumped to the ground, he dropped the cigarette he was smoking, crushed it under his boot heel, and strode toward her. She was instantly on alert. Something was wrong.
“Where’s my father?” Her heart was pounding.
He laid a proprietary hand on her shoulder. “It’s too soon to worry, Ruby, but he’s overdue. We were expecting him back an hour ago.”
She stared up at him. “My father’s a good pilot. He probably just had engine trouble.”
“Let’s hope so. I’ve looked into equipping our planes with radios, but it’s not practical, especially not in this rugged country, so there’s no way of knowing what’s gone wrong.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “All we can do is wait and hope he shows up. Meanwhile, you must be hungry. We’ve got coffee and doughnuts in the kitchen.”
“I’ll stay here for now.” Ruby couldn’t imagine relaxing in the kitchen while her father was missing. “Oh—I have something for you.” She drew the envelope of cash out of her jacket. “I haven’t counted it, but I’m assuming the amount is right.”
He took the envelope, opened it, and counted the bills. “Fine for now. But after this you count the money before you turn over the cargo. Understand?”
“I understand.” But how could she be worried about money at a time like this?
“How was the delivery?”
“Fine, except for a rough landing and having to tinker with the engine.”
“The client—was he all right with you?”
An image flashed in Ruby’s mind. Those stunning green eyes meeting hers. “He was fine,” she lied. “I didn’t ask his name.”
“His name’s Mason Dollarhide. He’s new, which always makes me wary, but an important man recommended him. Evidently they were friends in prison.”
This information was new. “Dollarhide was in prison?” she asked.
“He served five years for bootlegging out of his barn and hiring locals to help. One of them turned him in for the reward. Let’s hope he’s learned his lesson.”
“Yes, let’s hope.” Ruby’s eyes were fixed beyond the runway, where she hoped to see her father’s plane appear in the blue, coming in for a landing. Please . . . she prayed silently. Let him be safe.
But the empty sky only mocked her prayer. As she felt the weight of Colucci’s hands on her shoulders, her instincts whispered that it was too late to hope. Her life would never be the same again.