Ten #2
Even if he’d made it into the hangar that quick, no two-year-old would be able to climb onto the wings, open the cockpit door, and climb inside. But Beck checked anyway without any luck.
He stepped back and set his hands on his hips in frustration. “He’s not here.”
Jackie had already inspected the hangar’s interior, one hand pressed to her middle as if to hold in her worry. Her eyes met his, and the hope that had brought them running here disappeared fast.
“But how—” Her words broke off in her puzzlement.
“Mary Sue went into labor last night. Lonnie took her to the hospital. Timmy’s been asking for her all morning.”
“He’s missing her.” Jackie made a sound of understanding and commiseration. “He’s probably gone looking for her.”
“We’re thinking so. We’ve checked everywhere.” Beck’s jaw tightened. “We’re losing time.”
Footsteps broke across the yard near the airstrip. His father hustled toward the hangar, moving faster than a man his age should move.
“Beck!” he shouted.
Beck sprinted toward him, Jackie on his heels. “What is it, Dad?”
Joe took a moment to catch his breath. “Found footprints.” He pointed toward the far side of the yard. “Little ones. In the dirt by the lane.” His voice roughened. “They’re headed into the timber.”
Jackie gasped.
For one hard second, Beck’s world narrowed to the pounding of the blood in his temples. Timmy had gone somewhere none of them expected, farther than any of them had guessed. Beck’s scrutiny shot past his father toward the dark edge of trees in the distance, and every instinct coiled.
“Get back to the house and stay with Mom. I want somebody there if Timmy circles back. Give Eli a heads up in case Timmy went into the corrals.” But even as Beck barked the order, he knew Timmy hadn’t. Footprints didn’t lie. “I’ll take the truck and drive in from this side.”
Joe caught his arm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Beck’s voice shot back hard, quick, leaving no room for argument. “I want you in charge here at home. You might need to make some phone calls. Keep yelling for Timmy. Mom, too. If he hears either of you, he might come.”
His father looked ready to argue until Beck’s logic clearly won out. He nodded in a curt movement. “All right.”
“Beck.” Jackie grasped his forearm. None of their differences from last night shone through in her expression.
Only a deep-seated desire to help. “You can’t see through the trees and shadows from the ground.
At least, not fast enough.” Her eyes blazed up at him with green fire and unshakable determination.
“The Cub can get over the timber in minutes. Chances are good I’ll see him before you do. ”
Her offer raced through him, fast as lightning. She had skill, speed, the advantage no one else on the ground had. Fierce gratitude swept through him, swift and humbling, and only stiff control kept him from pulling her into his arms.
“What’s he wearing?” she demanded.
“A striped shirt. Red and white. Bib overalls.”
“Good.” She swung toward the hangar. “Help me with the propeller. We need to hurry.”
“By the grace of God, Jackie.” Joe’s voice cracked. “Thank you.”
She swung toward him. “Don’t thank me yet. Not until we bring that little boy back for you to hold.”
His expression revealed the emotion he could barely contain. “I’ll see you soon. When you’re on the ground again.”
But Jackie had already started running with Beck toward the Cub.
With its nose pointed toward the open doors and the strip beyond, the plane seemed poised and ready for its search and rescue operation.
She climbed into the cockpit and reached into a compartment behind the seat, pulling out a small red-and-yellow box.
“Animal crackers,” she said, flipping the container open with quick fingers. “I keep them for long days. They’ll be good for a little bribery and comfort for Timmy.”
She tipped a handful into Beck’s palm, but when she would’ve pulled back, his fingers closed over hers. He stole precious seconds to hold in the sight of her before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“There’s no one I trust more than you to find him,” he said huskily.
A sheen of moisture appeared beneath her lashes. “I won’t give up until I do.”
“I know.” He released her and dropped the animal crackers into his shirt pocket. “I’ll take the truck along the timber edge and cut in by the creek. If you see him, circle low. I’ll be watching for you.”
She settled into the seat, buckled herself in, and reached for her headset. “If you find him first, get him into the open and wave your hat. I’ll see you.”
With a quick nod of agreement, Beck closed the door and moved to the front of the plane while she worked the switches and controls, her face set, her expression controlled and professional.
“Contact,” she called, and he pulled hard on the prop.
The engine coughed once, then caught with a sharp, rising buzz that filled the hangar and seemed to shake the very rafters.
Beck hastened into the clear, and Jackie eased the Cub forward, the wheels bumping over the threshold into sunlight, and taxied toward the strip.
He stood for one taut second watching her line the plane into the breeze without her windsock, and the sight of her there—sure hands, steady as iron, all courage and skill—struck him clean through.
Lord, let her see what the rest of us can’t.
The Cub gathered speed over the packed dirt, tail lifting, then rose from the earth and climbed into the wide Nebraska sky.
Only then did Beck turn and run for his pickup.