CHAPTER NINE
M ASON STOOD AT THE FOOT OF THE NEWLY CLEARED LANDING strip. His eyes scanned the eastern horizon, where the dark sky showed the first thread of light above the peaks. Unless something had gone wrong, his next shipment of Canadian liquor should be arriving any minute. This time he would be better prepared.
Kerosene-doused bonfires had been laid every twenty-five paces along the landing strip, to be lit when he heard the plane coming. But with daylight approaching and no sign of the craft, the fires might not be needed. It would be a waste to light them too soon.
Would Ruby be making the delivery? Mason had told himself that nothing mattered except getting the shipment. But he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Concern for Ruby’s safety had been the reason he’d brought the team of draft horses out here with harnesses and a heavy chain to clear the landing strip of brush, holes, and rocks and smooth the surface as best as could be done with primitive equipment.
No one had asked him what he was doing. The ranch’s two hired hands had long since learned to do their jobs and mind their own business. As for Mason’s mother, she seemed to be retreating into her own world, caring less and less for what happened around her. She probably needed to see a doctor. Maybe he could ask Sidney to take care of it.
Holding his breath, he listened for the thrum of an engine. But all he heard was the sigh of the breeze and the piping call of a bird. Where was that plane?
The cash for the transaction was in a fat manila envelope, stuffed into the inner pocket of his vest. As he checked to make sure it was in place, his fingers brushed the brass buckle that had survived the cave fire.
Restless, he took it out and polished it on his sleeve. He’d almost forgotten about the buckle—though he would never forget the body he’d found. But the evidence could be important if the man’s family showed up, or if he turned out to be wanted by the law.
Switching on his flashlight, he studied the buckle. It could be a rodeo trophy, an old one. Shining the light closer, he read the worn inscription— Preston, Idaho, 1896 . Could there be a name? He turned the buckle over. No name. But a pair of initials were etched into the metal: R.T.
Something stirred in Mason’s memory—a long-buried hunch that swiftly fled as a distant sound reached his ears—the approaching drone of an airplane engine. His springing hopes told him that the pilot might be Ruby.
Dropping the buckle back into his pocket, he hurried to light the bonfires.
He was touching a match to the last one when he realized something.
The sky was silent. The engine had stopped.
* * *
As the propeller slowed, Ruby checked the gauges, opened the throttle, and tried again and again to restart the engine. Nothing. The Jenny was dead in the air and losing altitude.
She would have to glide to a landing. She’d done it once before, but that had been in broad daylight, onto a field she’d known to be safe. And she hadn’t been loaded down as she was now, with all the heavy cargo that the plane could hold.
Why did it have to happen now, on the last flight in this damned plane before the newly arrived De Havilland could be prepared for loading?
The only sound was the wind rushing past her ears. But now, ahead and far below, she spotted the bonfires along the landing strip. She could just make them out, like a string of luminous beads in the dark distance. Using the rudder bar, she steered a course toward them.
Mason Dollarhide had laid the line of fires to guide her in. But even with the lights to mark the way, the landing would be tricky. She could overshoot the runway or come in too sharp and land nose first. The plane’s heavy cargo could take it down faster than expected. Minutes from now, given the slightest miscalculation, she could crash and die.
Ruby willed her nerves to freeze. With her feet controlling the rudder, she eased the stick back to raise the Jenny’s nose a few degrees to slow the descent. Would it be enough? Was the plane’s angle too sharp?
But there was no time to wonder. She’d done all she could. Bracing for the worst, she steered for the line of bonfires.
* * *
Heart in his throat, Mason scanned the sky for the plane. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was up there in the silent dark. And the pilot had to be Ruby.
Had she seen the fires? Would she be able to follow them? He could do nothing to help her. He could only trust skill, courage, and luck to get her safely on the ground.
Suddenly, as the sky paled, he spotted her. The plane was in line with the landing strip, but she was coming in too fast, with no way to stop.
He felt the wind on his face as she shot past him, a few feet above his head. With the plane in the grip of gravity and inertia, she was going to overshoot the landing strip and plow through the prickly scrub at the far end. If that didn’t stop the plane, the momentum would be enough to tear off its wheels and rip out its belly.
Heart bursting, Mason raced down the landing strip. Far ahead of him, the plane had crashed to earth. In the early dawn light, he could see it moving forward, tearing through the brush like a runaway locomotive.
By the time he reached the plane, his lungs were burning.
Through the settling dust, he made out Ruby, in her helmet and goggles, slumped in the rear cockpit. She didn’t appear to be moving.
The plane was tilted at a sharp angle. Mason clambered up a slanting wing to reach her. Wooden crates stamped with the familiar maple leaf were piled in the front cockpit, partly covered by a canvas tarp. They would have to wait.
Reaching Ruby, he pulled off her goggles. Her eyes were closed, but when he touched her throat to unfasten the leather helmet, he felt a pulse. At least she was alive. But as he peeled off the helmet, he saw the swollen bruise above her left temple. From beneath the plane came a faint dripping sound. If gasoline was trickling out of the line onto the hot engine, the plane could catch fire and go up like a torch. He had to get her out of the cockpit.
“Ruby.” He brushed her cheek with a fingertip. “Can you hear me?”
She shuddered. Then, to Mason’s relief, her eyes opened. “The plane—”
“The plane’s in one piece but it’s leaking fuel.” Even as he spoke, Mason could smell the gasoline vapors.
She groaned. “Oh, no . . . I’ll be in so much trouble.”
“Forget the plane. You’re hurt. We’ve got to get you out. Come on, I’ll help you.”
“I can do it.” She shifted, gingerly moving her limbs as she reached down to unfasten her safety belt. “No, I’m fine. Just—ow!” She yelped and laid her free hand on her shoulder. “That hurts.”
With luck, the shoulder would just be dislocated, but he couldn’t wait to find out. “Give me your free hand,” he said.
“Just get back and give me room. I’ll . . . manage.” She sounded groggy, barely aware of the danger. Unable to wait any longer, Mason wrapped his arms around her torso and hauled her out of the cockpit, onto the wing. She screamed in pain as he pulled her into his arms and jumped to the ground. For an instant he stumbled backward. She was heavier than he’d expected, her curvy body solid muscle beneath the khaki jumpsuit she wore. Barely regaining his balance, he staggered away from the plane—just in time. With a rumble of exploding gas, the Jenny burst into a ball of flame.
Still holding Ruby in his arms, he carried her away from the searing heat and set her down on a heavy log he’d used to clear the brush from the landing strip.
Clasping her arm against her side, she stared at the burning plane. The pop of bursting glass bottles mingled with the roar of the flames. The valuable cargo would be nothing but ashes and broken glass, but there was nothing to be done.
Mason stepped back, giving her time to catch her breath and process what had happened. When she didn’t speak or turn around, he sat down beside her on the log.
“We’ve got to do something about that shoulder,” he said. “You need to let me feel for the injury. It’ll hurt, but that can’t be helped.”
She glared up at him, distrust blazing in her dark eyes, but after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.
His fingers explored her shoulder through the thin khaki shirt. She grimaced and whimpered as he found the loose connection between the bones.
“Hurts?” he asked.
She nodded, her lips pressed tight against the pain.
“It’s dislocated. I can pop it back into place.”
“Why should I trust you? You’re not a doctor.”
“No. But I’ve treated injuries like this.”
“Where? In prison?”
Mason’s throat jerked.
“I know about you,” she said. “You served five years for bootlegging. And now you’re back at your old game. Some people never learn.”
“I learned plenty,” Mason said. “That’s why I’m doing things differently this time. Come on, let’s take care of that shoulder. If we don’t do it now, it could swell and get worse.” He shifted to face her on the log. “Ready?”
Having no better option, Ruby nodded. She held out her arm. He felt for the dislocation, took her hand, and braced against her side. Ruby turned her head away, not wanting to see what he was about to do.
“On the count of three,” he said. “One, two . . . three .”
She stifled a scream as the pain shot down her arm and rocketed down her back. There was a popping sensation as the joint snapped into place.
“Good as new.” Mason Dollarhide lowered her arm. “It’ll be sore. You might not be able to fly for a while.”
Clutching her arm against her body, she watched the fire consume her plane—the one she and her father had flown in their barnstorming days. By now, little more than the frame and the metal parts remained. The engine had fallen loose and lay on the ground. Parts of the wooden liquor boxes were charred and scattered. Broken glass lay everywhere.
As her situation sank home, she sagged forward, curling over her knees like a child. Salty tears flowed from under her eyelids and dripped onto her lap. The bruise on her head had become a swollen, throbbing lump. She felt dizzy and slightly nauseous.
Getting another plane shouldn’t be a problem. Jennies were easy to buy, and the new De Havilland should be ready soon. But what would she do if she wasn’t fit to fly? Would she be out of a job? With no other way to help her father, would she be forced to give Leo Colucci what he wanted?
Her shoulders began to quiver, then to heave as sobs racked her body. It was as if her life over the past few weeks had caved in on her—the crash, the threats from the government agents, her father’s arrest, Colucci’s possessive eyes, and the game of deception she was forced to play, even now.
The man who’d saved her life was an enemy. It would be her job to betray him to the authorities and put him back behind bars, probably for an even longer sentence—long enough to ruin his life.
“Are you all right, Ruby?”
She sat up. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?”
“How’s your shoulder?”
“It hurts. But I can tell everything’s in place. I suppose I should thank you.”
“That’s good enough for me. There’s some water back near the cave. Maybe we can put something cold on that bruise. It’s not far. Are you all right to walk?”
“I’m just fine,” Ruby lied. If this man knew how lightheaded she felt, he might try to keep her here. She couldn’t let that happen.
Her vision swam as she let him pull her to her feet. Her first steps wobbled. He slipped a hand under her elbow to support her.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine once I get my legs working.”
His arm tightened, pulling her in against his body. She could feel his solid strength holding her upright. “Don’t worry about getting home,” he said. “I’ve got a car. I’ll drive you. Just let me know where to go.”
“Miles City will be good enough. You can let me off on Main Street.” She knew better than to give him any hint of her living arrangements.
“The car’s at the end of the road. It’s a half-mile walk from the cave. If you can’t—”
“I can walk. I’ll be fine.”
“My sister’s a doctor. Her ranch is an hour away on the far side of Blue Moon. We could let her check that bump on your head.”
“Unless she understands the business you’re in, I’d call that a dangerous idea. You can’t trust anybody, not even family. That’s how you get caught.”
Fighting pain and lightheadedness, Ruby focused on matching her steps to his. Through the haze of morning light, she could see a jutting rock outcrop with a scattering of gear outside. That would be the cave Mason had mentioned. She couldn’t see the entrance, but this was no time for curiosity.
After giving her a drink of cool water from a canteen, Mason soaked his handkerchief and gave it to her to hold against the bruise on her head. The water was soothing but not cold enough to ease the swelling. After a few minutes, she squeezed out the handkerchief and gave it back to him. By now her head was beginning to clear. The ache was still there, throbbing like a drumbeat in the background of her brain. Waves of light passed over her vision. She probably had a mild concussion. It wouldn’t be the first time. She knew the signs. But right now, she had more urgent concerns.
Mason Dollarhide was a risk. He knew who she was. He’d met her father, and he knew men who would be in prison with him now. A word to the wrong people, even by chance, could put her and Art in danger. The longer she stayed with him, the more he was liable to learn about her. And since she was duty-bound to report his activities to her federal handlers, she was as much a danger to him as he was to her.
The sooner she could put some distance between them, the better off they’d both be. Meanwhile, she needed his help. And all she could do to protect herself was watch every word she spoke and every move she made.
* * *
By the time they reached the Model T, parked where the road ended south of the ranch, Mason could tell that Ruby’s strength was flagging. She was leaning against him, occasionally stumbling over her feet. She needed a doctor, but she’d refused to be taken anywhere except to Miles City.
He’d tried to keep her talking. But any efforts at drawing her into a conversation had been met with one-syllable replies, which was frustrating because he had questions and was hoping for answers. How soon could he get another shipment? Who could he contact to get more and bigger deliveries? And then there was the question that had chewed on him from the night of her last delivery—the question he had no right to ask. What was her relationship with Leo Colucci?
He helped her into the car and offered her the canteen. The deep drink she took seemed to revive her. Still, as he cranked the engine and climbed into the driver’s seat, he couldn’t help worrying about the risks she was taking. In a dangerous world with dangerous people, anything could happen.
But Ruby had made her choices, just as he’d made his. He had no business trying to save her. He had his own ambitions, his own problems. After their encounter this morning, only one course of action made sense. Leave the woman in Miles City, drive away, and forget her—before he was tempted to risk his future and ruin his life.
* * *
“I remember your father.” Mason made conversation as he drove. “Where is he now? Is he doing the same job you’re doing?”
“Not anymore. He’s—” Ruby caught herself. Her stomach clenched as she reminded herself of the lie she had to tell. “He’s dead. Killed in a crash.”
“I’m sorry. He struck me as an excellent pilot and a good man.”
“Yes, he taught me everything I know about flying. I miss him every day.” She swiftly changed the subject. “I’m sorry you lost your cargo. I feel responsible, since I crashed the plane.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Did you have a mechanic check the engine before you left?”
“Yes. And I double-checked it myself. But those Jennies have had a lot of use. Things can go wrong. My father would have brought the plane down safely. But with the extra weight of the cargo, I couldn’t manage it. I don’t have his experience.”
“Planes can be replaced. At least you’ll live to fly again. But you should stay grounded until you’ve had time to recover from that bump on the head.”
“When I’m ready, I’ll know.”
“I mean it. You could pass out in the air.”
“You sound like my father.” It was time to shut the conversation down. The rule was a sensible one—when doing business, don’t exchange personal information with anyone who can give you up to the wrong people. “Please, just drive,” she said.
He slowed the car as they passed through Blue Moon; the town was just awakening for the day. Then he picked up speed as the road opened up toward Miles City. The morning sky was streaked with clouds of mauve and amber that faded with the rising sun. Traffic was light on the road—here and there a farmer hauling produce or chickens to market, or a traveler rushing to catch an early train.
Ruby could almost have found the ride pleasant, except for the throbbing pain in her head and her worry about what would happen after she made her call to the farm. By now she would be overdue. Concerns would arise, not only for her but for the plane and the cargo. There would also be concern that she’d been arrested and forced to tell the authorities what she knew.
Colucci would be furious. But she couldn’t control what was going to happen. She could only react. And she couldn’t allow herself to trust anyone. Not the criminals she worked for, not the government agents who would abandon her—and her father—if anything went wrong, and certainly not the man beside her, driving the car.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “I know it’s none of my business, but I can imagine how worried you must be.”
“Worried?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I’ve just destroyed a valuable plane, lost several thousand dollars’ worth of cargo, and the people I work for aren’t known to be very forgiving. Why should I be worried?”
“You work for Leo Colucci, right?”
His words stunned her into silence, not because Mason knew she worked for Colucci, but that he would mention it to her.
“He’s my contact,” Mason said, “the man I’ll need to call to order a new shipment. I could put in a good word for you—make sure he knows the plane’s engine failure wasn’t your fault and that you did everything you could to land safely. Would that help?”
“Don’t be naive,” she said. “The only way you can help is to let me off in Miles City and forget me. I’ll deal with Colucci myself.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
His words slammed her. “He’s my boss. Trust me, the less you know about him the better.”
“Does that mean you can’t pull some strings to get me bigger shipments?” Mason’s voice held a teasing note. Was he joking? Ruby couldn’t tell.
“Don’t even ask,” she said. “Just let me off at the Olive Hotel on Main Street and drive away. For your own safety and mine, you don’t know anything about me.”
“Understood. How’s your head?”
“It hurts, but I’ll be fine.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“What could a doctor do that I can’t do myself? I just need to rest.”
* * *
They were coming into Miles City. The hotel was on the next block. Mason pulled up a couple of car lengths short of the main entrance.
Ruby glanced up and down the boardwalk. It wasn’t crowded at this hour, but she still appeared wary. “Turn right at the next corner and go around the block to the delivery entrance,” she said. “I don’t want to be seen getting out of your car.”
Mason followed her directions. By the time he pulled into the alley leading to the rear of the building, Ruby was already reaching for the door handle. “No need to help me,” she said. “I have a room inside. I know the way, and the key’s in my pocket.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” He pulled the car into a spot where it wouldn’t block any traffic. Right now the place was quiet, but workers and delivery trucks would be arriving soon.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’d just rather not be noticed. Thank you for the lift, Mr. Dollarhide. And good luck with your business.”
She flung the door open and stepped out into the alley. Before Mason could react, she was headed for the back door, which opened next to the loading dock above a short flight of steps. He could see that she wasn’t going to make it. She swayed and wove like a drunkard, struggling for balance with every step.
Mason sprang out of the car and sprinted after her—but Ruby had a head start. Before he could reach her, her legs buckled and she collapsed at the foot of the steps.
He scooped her up in his arms. Her eyelids were closed. They fluttered open as he carried her inside.
He’d expected to walk into the kitchen and get some help. Instead, he found himself in a shadowy hall with a staircase leading up to the second floor. It appeared that this passageway had been designed for discreet access to the hotel.
She cast her gaze around the dim space. “My room’s upstairs,” she murmured. “Put me down. I can walk.”
“Don’t push your luck.” Mason started up the stairs, still holding her. “What’s your room number?”
* * *
Ruby gave him the number. Being carried by Mason made her feel like a helpless child. But in its own way, being in a man’s arms was strangely comforting. Her body began to relax and soften. Tingles of awareness rose from the core of her body to trickle along her limbs. She released a long breath.
His arms were solid muscle, and his shirt smelled of smoke from the fires. Where her head lay against his chest, she could hear the drumming of his heart.
They reached the top of the stairs. The long corridor was empty except for a tired-looking maid pushing a laundry cart. She gave them a curious glance before disappearing into one of the rooms. Was she just doing her work? Or did that work include a call to Leo Colucci, who had spies everywhere? If Colucci got word that his pilot—the woman he wanted to claim—had been seen with a man, that could mean trouble for her and for Mason.
Ruby went rigid against him. “My room’s here, on your left,” she muttered. “Put me down and go. We mustn’t be caught together.”
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re all right.” He lowered her feet to the floor so she could get the key out of her pocket and open the door. Following her inside, he closed the door and locked it behind him.
“No!” She turned on him, frantic. “You have to leave. I need to make a phone call.”
He stood his ground. “If it’s to Colucci, I already know you work for him. He’ll want to know about the crash. So go ahead and call. When you’re done, I’m going to phone the front desk and have them send up a doctor.”
She shot him a murderous look. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Make your call. I’ll try not to listen.” He turned away and walked toward the far side of the room to stand next to the window. Moving the blind aside a few inches, he peered down into the alley.
Ruby sat on the bed, lifted the telephone from the nightstand, and forced herself to make the call. She braced for the sound of Colucci’s voice. But it was Mack, the young pilot, who answered.
“Ruby?” He recognized her voice. “Where are you? Everybody’s been worried.”
“I’m all right. I’m in Miles City. But the plane crash-landed and burned. The cargo was a total loss. I’ve got to tell the boss. Is he there?”
“He’s out at the hangar, probably watching for you. I can give him your news. He’ll probably want to phone you when he gets back to the house.”
“Thanks, Mack.” Ending the call, Ruby felt the tension drain from her body, leaving her exhausted. She lay back on the coverlet, her head sinking into the pillows.
“Better?” Mason had come around the bed.
Ruby nodded. “I still have to face Colucci. But at least I won’t have to give him the news. For now, I just need to rest. You can forget about calling the doctor.”
“Not on your life. You didn’t even make it to the steps out there.” He picked up the phone and made a quick call. “The concierge knows a doctor who’s close by and should be able to get here sometime before lunch. Meanwhile, let’s get you comfortable.”
He soaked a washcloth with cold water from the bathroom basin and laid it over the bruise. Then, sitting on the end of the bed, he lifted her foot, loosened the laces on her military-style boot and worked it off. He did the same with the opposite boot. Closing her eyes, Ruby allowed him to strip off her woolen socks and massage her bare feet. His powerful thumbs pressed the tension from her arches and the base of her toes. The sensation was heavenly. She recalled rubbing her husband’s feet to soothe him. But she couldn’t recall a time when anyone, especially a man, had treated her with such tenderness.
A moan of pleasure escaped her lips.
“How did you learn to do this?” she asked, beginning to drift. “Who taught you?”
There was a beat of hesitation. “Trade secret.”
“Was it a woman?” The words swam in her head. Words she might never have spoken in her right mind. “It was, wasn’t it? What else did she teach you, Mason Dollarhide? Anything you’d care to pass on?”
“Just rest, Ruby. If you fall asleep, I’ll wake you when the doctor comes.”
“Come on . . .” She was sinking, letting go. “Your secret is safe with me. . . .”
* * *
Mason lowered her bare feet to the coverlet and laid the spare blanket over them. Ruby’s eyes were closed, her breathing deep and regular. Would it be safe to let her sleep like this? He would stay nearby and watch her to make sure.
As he stood by the bed, looking down at her sleeping face, a wave of compassion swept over him. He had never known a woman like her—so bold, so intelligent, and yet so vulnerable. She deserved to be cherished and protected like the treasure she was, not have to fight for survival in a brutal world where life was cheap and profit was everything.
Mason had long since stopped counting the women he’d been with. He’d enjoyed them all. But had he really loved any of them—even the innocent young mother of his son?
Maybe he’d been waiting for a different kind of woman—a woman like Ruby.
Driven by a reckless impulse, he leaned over her, intending to brush a chaste kiss onto her forehead. What he found instead was her mouth. His pulse soared. But he knew that he’d crossed into forbidden territory. With exquisite restraint, he held himself in check, allowing only the lightest contact. Her lips were salty and chapped from the wind. He fought the urge to savor them, then plunder her mouth with his tongue.
The hunger that burned in his body was familiar—but this time he knew better than to follow his instincts. When she stirred, he pulled away and stepped back. Theirs was a business relationship, and this wasn’t the time or place to change things.
After she’d settled back into sleep, he moved away from the bed and walked to the window. In the alley below, a delivery truck, loaded with crates of fresh vegetables, was making its way toward the dock. Workers were scurrying to clear the way. There was no sign of anyone who might be the doctor.
Turning away from the window, Mason bumped his leg against a cardboard box that had been left on the dresser bench. The box tumbled to the floor, knocking off the lid and spilling the shimmery contents onto the rug.
Mason dropped to his knees and began putting everything back in order. He picked up a flapper-style dress, sheer silk made heavy by glittering sequins and beaded fringe. As he laid it in the box and gathered up the matching high-heeled shoes, the awful truth began to dawn on him. These luxury items were in Ruby’s size. And something told him she hadn’t paid for them herself.
He collected the more intimate pieces—the beige silk slip that matched the dress, the underwear, the silk stockings, and garters. A slow anger was burning away his denial. Why wear glamorous underthings if nobody was going to see them . . . and take them off?
With everything inside the box, he slammed on the lid and put it back on the bench where he’d found it. Silent curses swirled in his mind. He’d wondered whether Ruby was Colucci’s girlfriend—or, to call a spade a spade, his mistress. Now he had the answer to his question.