Page 22 of Calder Country

“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.

CHAPTER SEVEN

RUBY WAITED AT THE AIRSTRIP UNTIL MIDDAY, ANXIETY POOLING cold in the hollows of her heart. With no sign of her father, she finally agreed to be driven back to the boardinghouse in Miles City.

“Get a good meal and some rest,” Colucci said as he escorted her to the car and helped her into the back seat. “If your dad shows up, or if we learn anything, we’ll call you.”

He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze—something he would never have done if her father were there. Ruby suppressed a shudder as he released her.

“Please let me take a plane and look for him,” she pleaded, not for the first time. “He could be hurt or stranded somewhere.”

Colucci shook his head. “I’ve already told you no. With one pilot missing, we can’t risk you, too. All we can do is wait.”

“And if the worst has happened—if he doesn’t come back?”

“Then you’ll be more important to us than ever. We’ll need you. Don’t even think about quitting.” He closed the door and signaled the driver to leave.

Ruby sank back into the seat, closed her eyes, and tried to focus her thoughts. Art was a skilled pilot. But flying a strange route in the early dawn hours, with an illegal cargo for an unknown client, was full of risk.

Tragedies happened. She’d learned to accept that when her husband came home from the war. Losing her father would be unthinkable. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen—and whether it happened or not, Colucci had made it clear that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

The boardinghouse had no lunch service, but the kitchen was open. Ruby considered making herself a cheese sandwich but realized that she was too anxious to eat. There was only one telephone. A candlestick style with the receiver cord mounted on the top, it stood on a low table at the foot of the stairs. Her father had the number. So did Colucci. When the house was quiet, as it was now with most of the tenants at work, she should be able to hear the phone ring from anywhere.

Her small room was at the top of the stairs, with her father’s room next door. She pressed her ear to the wall, tapping on the plaster and listening for a response, as if by some miracle he might have made it back to town. But that was only wishful thinking. No one was there.

She was exhausted, but to lie down on the bed would be to risk falling asleep and missing a phone call. Stripping off her flight clothes, she splashed herself clean in the basin, brushed out her hair, and dressed in a simple white sailor blouse and gray twill skirt. She’d taken off her boots and was putting on her sturdy, high-topped shoes when, from downstairs, came the sound of the ringing telephone.

Stumbling over her untied shoelaces, Ruby dashed down the stairs and seized the earpiece from its cradle. Would it be good news or heartbreak? Either way, she had to know.

“Hello?” Struggling to catch her breath, she spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Miss Weaver?” She didn’t recognize the man’s voice.

“It’s Mrs. Weaver.” Her heart was pounding.

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