Page 12 of Calder Country

“Are you going to tell Dad?” he asked.

“No, you are. As soon as you get home. Better he hear it from you than from me.”

“He’ll take a strip out of my hide—and he’s bound to keep me at home for the next month.”

“Yes, he will. But you pay for your thrills. It’s time you learned that.” Britta wondered whether Joseph had seen and recognized Mason. Maybe not, since the boy hadn’t mentioned it.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” The woman who’d flown with Mason caught Britta’s attention. “I remember that you paid for your ride. Do you still want to go? If not, you can have your money back.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry. If you take your flight, my father will be the one at the controls. He’s an excellent pilot.”

Britta hesitated. What had she been thinking when she’d paid for the ride?

Most of the people who’d come to see the show had gone, but some of them had stayed to watch the plane take off and land. Britta could imagine what they’d be saying.

Look at her! The old maid schoolmarm going up in an airplane. And her a model of behavior for our young girls! What next? Will she be bobbing her hair and shortening her skirts like one of those flappers?

If she had any sense, she would take her money and leave, Britta told herself. But somewhere deep in her compliant spirit there burned a flame of defiance. While her pretty sisters had broken rules and flung away their virtue, she had remained the good daughter, the sensible, dutiful daughter—the one who was never likely to marry or leave Blue Moon.

Climbing into that plane would constitute a small act of rebellion, one she desperately needed.

Did she dare?

“Go for it, Aunt Britta.” Joseph stood just behind her, urging her on. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance?”

She took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll do it,” she said.

The pretty woman in the oil-stained jumpsuit handed her the helmet and goggles. “Come on. I’ll help you into the plane,” she said, taking Britta’s arm. “Mind your skirt and petticoat.”

With help, and despite her narrow, ankle-length skirt, Britta made it onto the wing and into the front cockpit. She was tucking her hair—a long, pale blond braid that wrapped around her head like a crown—into the helmet when she happened to glance back at the small group of people who’d gathered to watch. Standing next to Joseph was the last man she would choose to see her make a fool of herself—Sheriff Jake Calhoun.

Five years ago, there’d been a flicker of attraction between them. He’d whirled her around the floor at a dance, leaving her as flushed and giddy as a teenager. But in the weeks that followed that magical evening, she’d lost both her father and her younger sister, followed a few months later by her mother. Grief and family duties had kept her from responding to Jake’s show of interest. As time passed, Jake had married pretty Cora Rushland and fathered a baby girl.

Today he was carrying his four-year-old daughter on his shoulder. Perched like a little doll, the golden-haired child kept a tight grip on the big hand that kept her securely balanced.

The sight tugged at Britta’s heart. Cora, a porcelain-skinned beauty, had always been fragile. After the little girl’s birth, Cora’s health had slowly declined. She’d passed away sixteen months ago, leaving Jake to raise their daughter with the help of Cora’s aging grandmother.

A number of attractive younger women had tried to capture the handsome sheriff’s attention. Britta, at twenty-nine, wasn’t one of them. She’d had her brief chance. The timing had been wrong. Love had passed her by.

Still, she had her pride. She’d avoided Jake, not wanting him to think that she was pursuing him. If he was interested, he could let her know. He hadn’t.

And now, by chance, here he was. Just when she was about to do something crazy.

Joseph gave her a wave of encouragement. Britta waved back as the plane made a right-angle turn and taxied back across the field. Britta’s heart crept into her throat. She was really doing this. What would people say? What were they thinking, especially Jake Calhoun?

But what did it matter? She was doing this for herself—to prove that she had the courage to push her limits. At least she’d have a story to tell her students when they came back to school in the fall.

Britta willed herself to take deep breaths as the plane picked up speed. She felt the impact as the wheels bounced over the bumpy ground. Then the way became smooth. She felt the lift as the air rushed beneath the wings. She was flying.

But the fear was there, like a cold, quivering lump in the pit of her stomach. As her gaze traveled the distance from the sky to the ground, far below, she couldn’t help imagining how it would feel if the plane were to stop in midair and plummet straight down out of the sky. What would her last thoughts be in the seconds before the craft shattered against the ground? Would she be hoping to see her family—her parents, her two brothers, and her sister, who’d passed on before? Would she regret the life she’d chosen? Would she regret not having given Jake more of a chance?

Maybe she was an even bigger coward than she’d led herself to believe.

If she made it back to the earth safely, Britta resolved, she would walk up to him and say hello. She would speak to his little girl and allow him to ask about the flight. What did she have to lose? Maybe they could at least be friends.

It came as a relief when the short flight ended. Britta released a sigh as the wheels touched down and the plane headed back across the field. She could see a few people who’d stayed to watch. Joseph was waiting to congratulate his aunt; and the pilot’s daughter stood by to help her out of the plane. But there was no sign of a very tall man with a child on his shoulder.

Jake had gone.

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