"We should have gone to that town meeting," Shelby said. "As Mel tells it, some of the Virgin River folks have it in their heads that he should just divvy up the money Hope left the town and write everyone checks. And Jack, being Jack, got pissed and stormed out of the meeting."

Luke lifted the baby out of the car seat. "That's what I would've done," Luke said. He held the baby against his shoulder for a moment. "They should be thanking Jack for taking care of this whole thing. I mean, it's not like Hope asked him."

Shelby laughed. "She obviously knew better. Mel said it's just a little lover's spat between Jack and some of the town. It'll pass." She reached for the baby.

"I'd say screw 'em," Luke said. He handed over the baby. "Let 'em be mad."

"You have a very cranky side that's not all the way softened up yet," Shelby pointed out to him. "I have an idea. Before we think about dinner, let's sit on the porch with a glass of wine. The baby is zonked from all his fresh air today and I bet we get a good half hour of this awesome weather."

"Consider it done," Luke said, pulling the baby carrier off its base to carry, along with the heavy diaper bag, up to the porch. "I'll pour you a nice glass of wine." Then he grinned. "Kinda nice that you unloaded and now can have fun things like wine and lotsa sex, huh?"

She made a face at him. "Actually, I think this is kinda nice for you. And I'm not referring to the wine."

"Well, if you don't want a lot of sex, stop being so freaking sexy!" he said, walking into the house.

Shelby sat in one of the porch chairs, snuggling the baby close. She'd put him in his infant carrier in a second, but she never really tired of holding him close. Since she'd started back to nursing college and Luke was in charge of Brett, Shelby missed him during the days she was at school.

She heard Luke open the refrigerator and get out a chilled bottle. Then she heard her brother-in-law Aiden's voice on their answering machine.

Luke, I need you to call me when you get this message--there's been an accident. Colin. I'm on my cell and I'll give you what details I have when you call.

As Aiden's voice poured out of the answering machine, Shelby stood from the porch chair and wandered to the doorway. She found Luke standing at the work island in their kitchen, a bottle of wine in one hand and the opener in the other, frozen, a stricken look on his face. His eyes were wide and definitely afraid, a look he tried to erase the second his wife's eyes were on him. "I know what it is," he said. "Colin drives like a lunatic, always has. I've been telling him for years, he's gonna ride that bull just a little too long and zap, he'll get hurt."

"Luke," Shelby said, "just call."

"'Course I'll call," he said. "But I bet it's a fender bender and he broke a couple of bones. Aiden didn't say he was--" And there he stopped, because he couldn't say it or think it. "Want me to pour your wine first?"

Shelby shook her head. Her expression was serious. She knew her husband's predilection for trying to make things turn out a certain way by just lending his voice to them.

He picked up the cordless and dialed. All he said was, "Aiden."

"Aw, Luke, he augured in. They were in exercises at Fort Hood when some crazy civilian airplane crossed protected airspace, flew right into a crop of Black Hawks and Cobras. Ran right into the tail-boom of Colin's helicopter..."

"How the hell did a civilian aircraft--"

"I don't have any details, but the sergeant who called me said the plane was erratic and flying out of control. Maybe the pilot had a stroke or coronary."

"And Colin?"

"Critical. Broken bones, possible internal injuries, burns. All messed up. Unconscious."

"Aw, Jesus!"

"Sean is closest to him in Alabama and he's on active duty. He's already on his way to Fort Hood. The rest of us are going to sit tight till they stabilize him. He could stay at Fort Hood, end up back at Fort Benning or even be airlifted to Fort Sam in San Antonio, depending on the extent and type of his injuries. If they airlift him out of Fort Hood, chances are Sean can catch a ride on a military aircraft. So... Go ahead and throw a few things in a bag and when I know more, I'll call you."

"Aiden," Luke said. "When you say critical... Is he gonna make it?"

"No one knows yet, Luke. He's in real bad shape, headed for surgery."

"Did you get a hold of Mom and George?" Luke's mother and her boyfriend were traveling the country in their RV.

"I did. They're in Florida visiting one of George's stepgrandsons, so I was able to convince her to stay where they are for now. I had to promise to call her first when I have more news, but..."

"But call Sean, since I assume he has his cell and is headed that way. Then me so I can get going. Then call her and tell her she was first. Listen, maybe I should just head for Florida right now, drive Mom and George in that bus of theirs. I don't like two old people driving somewhere all upset."

"I doubt you could get there fast enough to chauffeur them. Sean should be at Fort Hood by early morning," Aiden said. "Let's get more information before we react."

"I just don't want Colin alone if--I want one of us to be there if--"

"Luke, he's in surgery and no one's going to be with him but the doctors. Don't worry about things it's too early to worry about."

"Was he unconscious or in a coma?" Luke asked. "Did he have head injuries?"

"He was conscious when they pulled him out of the wreckage, but they put him under because of the pain. He went into surgery right away for serious fractures--and no, I don't know which bones--and to assess him for internal bleeding. We're going to have to wait, Luke. The crash was only a few hours ago. Just hang on. I'll get back to you."

"Yeah," Luke said, running a hand over his head. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll get ready to travel."

When he hung up the phone and turned toward his wife, all he could do was shrug helplessly.

"It wasn't a car accident," Shelby said.

"Helicopter crash. He's in rotten shape, baby. I won't even know where to go to him until he's assessed and stabilized. Broken, bleeding and burned. Critical, Aiden said. In surgery. And not very many details."

"Do you have to go now?" she asked.

"I'm going to pack now, but there's no going anywhere till I know more. They could airlift him to a different post, depending on his injuries and what he needs. Baby, I do some things real well, but I don't wait real well."

She smiled with affection. "I know, Luke."

"Maybe I should just drive to Aiden in Chico, then we can go wherever we're going together. I'm probably going to have to head for Sacramento for a flight anyway and Chico is on the way. It's turning night. Sacramento doesn't have so many flights at night."

"There's always San Francisco," she said. "If you want to just get started, I understand. If Aiden calls while you're driving, you have that cell phone that works everywhere but here. Charge it in the car."

He stepped toward her. "Shelby, I want to," he said. "I want to get to him. The thing I'm most afraid of--" Again he couldn't finish.

"He's not going to die, Luke," she said. "I really think it helps if you believe that. If you envision that."

"I can't lose him," Luke said emotionally. "Colin has always been the one brother hardest to pull into the fold, the hardest to get close to. He was always the wildest one."

"Wilder than you?"

"Oh, God, yes!" He pulled her into his arms, baby and all. "If I throw some stuff in a bag and start driving south to Aiden, will you be okay?"

She nodded. "I'll call Uncle Walt to help Art around the cabins. Uncle Walt will babysit if I ask him to, but I can take the baby with me to class. And if I have to skip a class or two, not that big a deal. Brand-new mommies get slack." She touched his face. "Luke, please try to believe he'll be all right."

"I'm trying, Shell. I'm trying."

Twelve

Preacher had explained to Kelly that the Closed sign would be lit at the bar, but the door would be unlocked until they arrived. When they pulled up, Kelly driving this time, she took a moment to look at the building. It appeared to be a refurbished log cabin with a wide porch with several chairs. She could see the two-story house built onto the back. It was rustic, yet in perfect condition.

Caught studying the bar from the outside, she was the last one out of the van, but the other women stood aside on the porch and let Kelly pass. She pushed open the door and yelled, "Hello?"

A swinging door in the back of the bar glided open and Paige smiled at them. She held her little girl, wrapped in a big, fluffy towel. "Hi. Come on back. John's been waiting for you." She gave her little girl a squeeze. "We're getting baths. When the kids are settled, I'll join you in the kitchen."

The room was dimly lit by a light that ran along the top of a very long bar of beautiful, ornately carved dark wood. Kelly counted at least a dozen tables at the front of the store.

Penny gasped, and that's when Kelly noticed the animal trophies--a buck's head over the door, a bear skin, a large stuffed fish in back of the bar.

"Hunting country," she said. "Kind of like the Boundary Waters."

The women filed into the kitchen to find Preacher standing behind his worktable wearing a white apron. He said, "Welcome," with a smile. "Have a seat. We'll start you off with some wine. Jack always keeps some good stuff tucked away." His worktable was set with four plain white soup bowls sitting atop four plain white plates. The utensils were wrapped in white linen napkins. "This Raymond 2005 Small Lot Meritage will work with your venison." He poured a small amount for Kelly to taste.

She rolled it around in her mouth. "Very nice," she agreed.

"Good," he said. "I'm not that good with wine. I'm not called on to serve the drinks with the meals--Jack does that. And until the hunters and fishermen fill up the bar, it's not an issue. A lot of our sportsmen know their wine and liquor and have requests. Jack can handle that."

He pulled a basket of bread from the warmer and put it on the table, adding a flat dish of butter.

"Should we wait for Paige?" Kelly asked.

"Nah, she'll be around for dessert. Cobbler--the apple crop is in. Do you get your food fresh at the restaurant?" he asked Kelly.

"We do. When possible I order most of it myself. Sometimes the head chef takes on that chore, but I like doing it. I go to the wharves myself to look at the catch."

He grinned. "And here, we just go ahead and catch it. Or shoot it. Or get it straight from the ranchers." He donned a mitt and lifted the pan from the stove. With a ladle, he spooned some venison chili into their bowls. Then he stood back, arms crossed over his huge chest.

Kelly stirred her chili while the others just dug in. She noticed that in addition to the kidney beans there were black beans and a smattering of corn, some scallions. The tomatoes were diced; onion minced so finely it was barely visible. She pushed a piece of venison against the side of the bowl with her spoon and it fell apart. She heard the others humming their approval, then she took her taste. Her eyes dropped closed. When she opened them, she said, "It's not gamey."

"It can be and most of my folks like it a little gamey, but I soak it in buttermilk--calms it down a little."

"I've never heard that one before," she said.

"Chances are you don't deal with a lot of venison. When you live in the mountains, on the river, you eat off the land as much as possible. That's what makes this place work. Is it any good?" he asked.