Six
Four Days Later
The barn doors slid on their track without a catch or protest—just a steady, even glide that assured Beck he’d made them right. He gave the edge a final push with his palm, watched it settle into place, then stepped back to take Jackie’s new hangar in.
Didn’t look like the same barn, for sure.
Fresh white boards caught the afternoon sun and threw it back clean and bright, every line sharp where the old place had been worn soft by years and weather. It wasn’t fancy—no wasted trim, no extra flourishes—but it was square, solid, and strong with purpose.
The newly graded airstrip lay finished and firm, too, with the dirt packed tight where the grass had been shaved away and worked smooth.
Off to one side, an orange windsock waved lightly in the breeze, making the whole stretch look less like worked pasture and more like a place meant for flying.
No loose stone, no soft give underfoot—just solid ground running from one end to the other. The kind a pilot would trust.
He took a minute to see the changes as she’d planned them—her plane coming in low over the pasture, lining up straight, wheels touching down.
The Piper Cub would roll out and turn toward the barn, easing through the widened doors with enough room to spare, until both plane and pilot were safe and home.
Home.
That one word came out of nowhere to sober him up quick.
Her home was on land tied to his name, if things stood the way his grandfather had written them.
Beck didn’t think about it much these past days, not with the time he’d spent here, building new doors, painting the barn with Lonnie’s help, and doing anything Jackie needed him to do.
And all that was separate from his own chores on the ranch.
But it was always there, in the back of his mind. Jackie buying and living on his land.
His parents were in disbelief after seeing the Memorandum of Understanding.
Wade Archer had been justified in making the decision on his own all those years ago.
He was just stubborn enough to keep it quiet and do it his way, with a simple note, trusting his son to see his wishes through for his grandson after his time on earth was over.
After their incredulity had faded and logic set in, both his mother and father advised him to lay low, and Beck had agreed. The right time would come, and he would know what to do.
And when it did, he’d handle the issue straight and fair—and do all he could to keep Jackie from being hurt.
A low, steady hum threaded through the air, scattering his thoughts. Even before turning toward the sound, he knew it was her plane, home from Thedford’s hangar space to her own.
He lifted his head, and there it was. A small and yellow Piper Cub against the sky, dropping lower with purpose.
She didn’t circle. Didn’t second-guess it.
She brought the Cub in straight over the pasture and lined up with the strip.
The wheels touched down, made a brief skip before taking hold, and then she was rolling—steady, controlled—across her new airstrip.
Beck marveled at how easy she made it look.
The Cub angled off near the end, turning toward the barn in an easy arc, and he found himself stepping forward without thinking, drawn in by the motion of it—by her.
The wide doors stood open, ready for her return, and she guided the plane through with room to spare, careful and sure, until the shadows took them in, welcoming them home.
The engine idled down. The prop slowed, then stopped, leaving behind only the steady tick of the engine cooling.
A man couldn’t look at skill like that and not respect it. Took more than grit to bring a machine down out of the sky and make it master the land the way she did. Pride for her rose up and swelled through his chest.
Jackie removed her goggles and stepped down from the wing. Her smile curved wide before her boots even hit the ground.
“Don’t think I’ve ever had a landing feel that good,” she said. “You got those doors just right.”
Beck grinned. “Guess I’m good for something, then.”
“Oh, Beck.” With a small shake of her head, her smile fading, she halted in front of him. “I couldn’t have finished this without you,” she said. “Not this fast, and not this well.” Her gaze held his, clear and certain. “I mean that.”
For a second, he didn’t answer. Just looked at her—wind-ruffled, eyes bright from the sky, standing there like she’d brought a piece of heaven down with her.
“You’re the one doing the flying,” he said finally, voice quieter. “That’s the hard part. All yours.”
Her smile came back, softer this time. “Maybe.” She tipped her head slightly. A moment stretched long between them. “You’ve done so much for me, Beck. More than enough. Your family will be happy to have you back on the ranch doing your chores again.”
He didn’t tell her they insisted on giving him time away to help the new pilot with her hangar after all she’d done and might do again in the future if anyone in the county needed her and her plane.
Not that they’d be able to keep him from it if they didn’t.
“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me,” he said, teasing.
Her eyes widened in quick disagreement. “No, no. I’m not at all.”
“Then, you could use a line strung out back.”
She blinked. “A line?”
“For laundry.” He gestured toward the yard behind the house. “You don’t have anywhere to hang sheets and stuff.”
Jackie stepped sideways to see where he indicated, close enough her shoulder brushed against his chest. “I guess I haven’t thought about it.”
“Wind’s good back there. Wouldn’t take much to set a couple of posts.”
She swiveled back toward him. Her features radiated humor and a little teasing of her own. “Well, what kind of woman would I be if I refused a man who wants to keep working for me?”
“The kind that doesn’t know a good hand when she sees one,” he said, deadpan.
“Good thing I’ve got a sharp eye, then.”
A chuckle rolled right out of him. With this new side of her, relaxed and amused, Beck felt a pull deep in his chest. For one reckless second, he wanted to reach for her, draw her close, and keep her there.
In the next, he did none of those things. Not when too much between them was still out of his control.
She cocked her head and regarded him. “Would you like some lunch first? I wouldn’t want you building my new clothesline on an empty stomach.”
It was the first time she’d asked, and just as he was about to accept, he remembered his father had stopped by earlier.
“Mom’s bringing food out for us,” he said. “Everyone’s coming.”
She froze. “Your family is coming here?” Her hand went straight to her hair to find the loose strands the wind had tugged free from their pins.
Her glance dropped to her clothes—her beige blouse creased from the cockpit, high-waisted pants showing dust, boots a little too masculine.
“Beck, I’ve just climbed out of an airplane.
” She gave a soft, mortified breath and smoothed a hand over the front of her shirt as if that might help the wrinkles disappear. “I can’t meet them looking like this.”
“They want to meet you and have for a while now.” He frowned. “They’re just bringing food, Jackie, not asking you to pose for a photograph.” His gaze moved over her. “Besides, you look fine. Better than fine.”
She cleared her throat, shifted from one foot to the other. He’d never seen her so flustered.
“Beckett J. Archer, you might have mentioned it sooner,” she said finally. “I could have been more prepared.”
“You were gone when Dad drove over.” He didn’t want her to be upset or worried. Besides, what would she have prepared for? She was one of the strongest, most confident women he’d ever known, and he wanted to absolve himself of all guilt. “I just now thought of it. Sorry.”
A resigned sigh escaped her. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to do a thing. They’re taking care of everything. Mom and Mary Sue will have so much food, we won’t be able to eat it all.”
Sure enough, his father’s late model International Harvester pickup hummed down the road from the main house.
Lonnie’s green Chevrolet was right behind, and both trucks pulled up in front of Jackie’s house in a slow roll of dust. Mom was first to open her door and climb out, holding a dish wrapped in a towel. Dad was right behind.
“You must be Jackie,” Mom said, crossing the yard toward them, wearing one of her newer shirtwaist dresses in a blue-flowered print with a spotless white half-apron tied at her waist.
“I am.” Jackie gave her a polite nod.
“Just as pretty as Beck said you were, too. I’m Ruthie Archer.” His mother’s smile was easy and warm, like it usually was, no matter who she happened to be talking to. “And this is my husband, Joe.”
Dad took Jackie’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to formally meet the new pilot in town. Can’t thank you enough for all you did helping us save Archer land after the fire.”
“I’m glad I could,” Jackie said quietly.
By then, his brother and his family spilled out of the Chevrolet for introductions.
Lonnie, who’d already been over several times to help Beck with painting the barn.
Mary Sue, sweet as pie, more like a sister to Beck than his sister-in-law, and due to have her baby in a matter of weeks.
Timmy, his two-year-old nephew who was all bounce, curly hair, and rosy cheeks, with enough vim and vigor than any of them could manage most days, and Beck had an attachment for him a mile wide.
“Hope we’re not descending on you too hard, Jackie,” Joe said, eyes twinkling.
“Mom and Mary Sue have packed enough for a branding crew,” Lonnie said. “Soon as we get the table set up, we can eat.”
“Afterward, I’d love to see what you’ve done to the house,” Ruthie said. “Roy Kincaid wasn’t much for appearances, but Beck says you’ve been working hard to fix it up and have it looking real nice.”