Ty let the prayer free from where it gathered in his chest, let it follow the chopper as Kacey fired it up.
If there was one thing he’d learned last spring, while trying not to die as the pieces of the chopper scattered in the snow around him, as Chet’s groans bruised the air, was that prayer kept people alive.
At least, it had kept him alive. Him and Chet. And frankly, that prayer had reignited something inside Ty he hadn’t realized he’d needed.
Faith. It was a story he couldn’t quite tell yet. Not with him still floundering, unable to find his feet. Like now—he should be in the pilot’s seat.
Ty stood back as the chopper’s blades churned the snow around them, powder spitting into the wind. He held up his hand and watched Kacey ease them into the air, lifting them out, away.
The blue bird headed into the sunlight, toward the Flathead mountain range of Glacier National Park.
Ty could nearly feel the vibrations through the gear stick, the drop of his stomach as the machine slid into the sky, his right hand controlling the lift.
Once upon a time, flying a chopper felt like an extension of himself.
He missed the view, the soaring over the pine-laden hills, the snow-frosted granite cliffs of the park.
Back when life made sense. He had a job, a reason for being here.
Didn’t stand on the sidelines.
At the very least, he could sit in the copilot’s seat. It wasn’t as if Kacey hadn’t invited him.
Someday, hopefully, he’d figure out what kept him from stepping into the simulator. Maybe even find the words to talk about the accident.
Why it happened.
How they’d lived.
Only Kacey had read the accident report, only she really knew the specifics of the crash. And no one knew the story of how he’d dragged himself to help.
He planned to keep it that way.
No use reliving what he couldn’t change.
“Ella wanted me to ask if I could go back to PEAK Rescue with you and monitor their progress on the radio.” Brette had come up to him and Jess just before the chopper lifted off. She wore a ski jacket, a pair of leggings, utilitarian Sorels, and a headband that held back her mane of pale blonde hair. Short and cute, she’d peppered him with questions about how Gage had tracked down Curry, asking for details on when and where the chopper pilot had dropped Ollie off.
“Sure. You can ride with me,” Ty said. “Gage left his Mustang here. Or you can ride with Jess.”
Jess turned to her, stuck out her hand. “Jess Tagg,” she said. “I’m an EMT for the PEAK team.”
“Brette Arnold. Journalist.”
Only Ty noticed the slight twitch at the sides of Jess’s smile. “Glad to meet you,” Jess said, just a hint too brightly.
“Why don’t you ride with me?” Ty said, and for a fraction of a second, he met Jess’s eyes.
But Brette hadn’t even blinked at Jess’s name, hadn’t given her a second look, hadn’t in the least suggested she might know her from somewhere.
Didn’t realize that she was standing in front of a juicy story—“Missing Heiress Finally Located.”
Not that Jess was in hiding, but she certainly wasn’t alerting the media to her change of address. Or name. Or overall identity.
So maybe she was in hiding. Ty hadn’t really thought about it in that way before. But people like Brette could blow Jess’s world to pieces with a headline. And Jess, despite her mistakes, didn’t deserve that.
He glanced at Jess, who was heading into the patrol shack, then back to Brette. She was still watching the chopper disappear over the mountains.
So maybe he was overreacting; maybe Jess’s paranoia was starting to affect his common sense. “If you leave your car here,” he said to Brette, who turned to him, shading her eyes against the sun, “Ella will have something to drive when she and Gage get back.” Sooner than later, he hoped.
He’d checked the radio reception and thrown extra batteries into Gage’s bag. He shouldn’t worry—if anyone knew how to get down the mountain safely, it was Gage. For all Ty’s years on the slopes, he’d never managed to acquire the brazen, powder-hound skills of Gage “Watts” Watson.
Frankly, watching Gage fly off a cliff or flip in the air took the breath out of Ty’s chest. Just thinking about sticking the landing made his leg ache.
He just wasn’t the hero that Gage was—his one skill had been flying. And with that off the radar, he was relegated to . . . well, currently, babysitting.
Although, as Brette looked up at him, her pretty eyes betraying worry, maybe he could be a friend. “Gage knows what he’s doing,” he said. “He knows these mountains, and how to survive. He’s probably part mountain goat. If anyone can bring Oliver and his friend—and Ella—back safely, it’s Gage Watson.”
She nodded. “I know—I read up on him. Two freeriding world championships and a couple dozen epic descents that have over a million views on YouTube. A real hero.”
“What makes him a hero is the fact that he spends every day keeping kids like Oliver safe, rescuing the hurt or lost.” He took out Gage’s key, clicked the Mustang open.
“Aren’t you on the team too?” Brette went around and climbed in.
“Mmmhmm.” Ty got in, adjusted the seat back, and in the rearview mirror spied Jess climbing into her Jeep.
“How many people are on the PEAK team?” Brette asked.
“There’s nine of us—three EMTs, including Gage. We have a couple brothers on the team—Pete is our rock-climbing and swift water rescue specialist. Sam, his brother, is a deputy sheriff and liaison to the sheriff’s department. Then there’s Kacey, our chopper pilot, and Miles, our incident commander, and Ben King—”
“The country singer?”
Ty looked over, nodded. “He actually moved here last summer. Was involved in the rescue of flood victims. His fiancé was in a house that collapsed.”
“You’re kidding. And he rescued her?”
“Him and our team. PEAK was started by Ian Shaw, who owns a ranch—”
“Ian Shaw, the billionaire?”
“You know who he is?”
“Of course. He’s on the board of a big charity in New York City I wrote a feature on a couple years ago. It’s a charity that helps children with autism and Asperger’s. His son that he lost in Katrina was autistic.”
Ty didn’t know that part. “He’s been single as long as I’ve known him. He did have a niece who went missing a few years ago in the park, but they found out she’s alive—”
“She went missing in the park? Wow, that sounds like quite the story.”
“Maybe. I wasn’t involved back then.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m the backup chopper pilot.” Not a lie. Just not current.
“You fly helicopters?”
The way she said it, a little breathlessness in her voice, stirred something inside him. A long-dormant feeling he couldn’t quite place.
“Yeah. I was the main pilot before Kacey got here. She used to be a search and rescue chopper pilot for the military, in Afghanistan.”
“A war hero.”
“Yes. She has a bronze star.”
Brette looked out the window. They were passing through main street Whitefish, past the quaint shops, the cafes. She glanced at her watch. “Think they’re on the mountain yet?”
“Soon, probably. We’ll get an update when we get back to the ranch.”
“I can’t believe this happened. But I’m not surprised. Oliver grew up entitled, was told he could do anything . . . and believed it. That’s what happens when your parents give you everything you want, when you need nothing in life. You go looking for adventure, hoping to fill up the empty places that only hard work and accomplishment can give you. Ever since I’ve known Ella, she’s been worried about Ollie. She didn’t grow up the same way he did.”
“Really, how’s that?”
“Ella and Oliver are immigrants from Serbia. They came o
ver in the early nineties with their parents. The Blairs sponsored them and took them in, gave them jobs. Ella was about eleven and Ollie four when both their parents died in a car crash. The Blairs adopted them, but Ella never forgot how her parents scraped together a life for them. Ollie, however, never really knew them. He can’t remember any parents but Mansfield and Marjorie Blair. They own half of Vermont’s maple syrup production, and Mrs. Blair was a state senator. To say that Ollie and Ella made a giant economic jump is an understatement. But I think that’s why Ella is so grounded. Now Ollie, he grew up getting anything he wanted, but also in the shadow of giants. With such high-performing adopted parents and Ella setting the pace, I guess he decided he had to do something epic. I’m hoping that this experience teaches him that he’s not invincible. That is, if they make it home in one piece.”
She fell silent then, and he heard a low muttered “please.”
But her words had clung to him. “He grew up getting anything he wanted. I’m hoping that this experience teaches him that he’s not invincible.”
Yes, tragedy and mistakes and being in over your head did that to a person.
“So, you’re saying you have a country singer who moonlights as a rescuer, a billionaire cowboy hiding out in Montana after the tragic loss of his family, a snowboarder rewriting his life as a rescuer, and a war hero dedicating her life to saving civilians?”
Ty hadn’t thought about his team in that way, but . . . “Yes.”
“This is definitely the right place for me to hang out.”
He glanced at her. Brette had taken her phone out, was typing. “Who are you texting?”
“A note to my agent, asking what she thinks about a story about a team of heroes.”
Oh. “What kind of journalist are you?”
She finished her note, tucked her phone away. “I write inspirational pieces for Time and Nat Geo online, as well as biographies and other bio-pieces about larger-than-life heroes. Actually, it’s harder than you think to find a true hero. Everyone has secrets, and if you look hard enough, we’re all just hiding behind how we hope people view us.”
How we hope people view us. Yeah, he’d had that persona firmly in place, trying to be a hero, keep up with the rest of the PEAK team.
“You need to meet Pete. He’s our local celebrity. Saved a couple kids from a grizzly last summer and brought home a group of teenagers who went over a cliff in their van.”
Her eyes widened. “Now you’re talking. Where do I meet this Pete?”
He didn’t know why, but the question, the little lilt of curiosity in her voice, had his stomach tightening. “He’ll probably be back at the ranch.”
She was silent for a moment, then turned to him. “And what about Jess? What does she do?”
“She’s an EMT.”
“How long has she been with the team?”
“A couple years, why?”
Brette had taken out her phone again. “I don’t know. There’s just something about her. She looks so familiar, like we’ve met before. It’s just outside my brain, and I’m trying to grab it.”
He swallowed, said nothing.
“But don’t worry. I never forget a face, or name, or details. I just have to place her, and I’ll remember her story. No one hides from me.”
One look at Heaven’s Peak, its white-capped spine cutting through the wispy clouds to soar magnificent and deadly above the mountain scape of the Livingstone Range, told Ella that maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.
Listened to Brette as she followed her into the mountain ski shop, arguing for sanity.
“You can’t go down that mountain—you’ll only end up in pieces, like Ollie.”
No, she wouldn’t. Because she’d skied with Gage before and knew he’d pick a safe route, one that she could ski.
And she’d been a backcountry skier for years—where did Brette think Ollie got his inspiration?
Now, watching the wind lift the top layer of snow from the cornice that capped the mountain, and then following the narrow ridge that wound down toward the bowl, a sheer drop intersected only by steep cliffs and channels of deep powder, Ella had to bite her lip to keep herself from glancing at Gage, letting him see that he might have been right.
It was dangerous. And yeah, she might be in way over her head.
But she also meant her words—if he got injured, just who would save him? He could perish up here just as easily as anyone else. Gage needed a partner, and she could do this. And he would keep her safe, to the best of his abilities.
She just had to stay in his track.
She took a long breath and tried to appreciate the view. They’d flown into the park, over a frozen Lake McDonald, then up the river toward Logan Pass. White-capped mountains littered the horizon, jagged peaks of glacial ice and razor-edge granite, tufted with deep, crystalline, heavenly powder. Unblemished, frozen, perfect.
Pine trees laden with snow jutted up through the white, a postcard beauty, but lethal if they didn’t measure their turns, cut too close, and ended upside down in a tree well.
This was why she was here—in case even legendary Gage Watson made a mistake. Besides, her brother needed her, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
She finally hazarded a glance at Gage. He had the map out, was studying the mountain. She leaned over, and without asking he traced their trail along the map, starting along the ridge. He pointed out a cliff face maybe two hundred feet down, then another, even lower. Then down the face, not quite perpendicular, but veering off to the east.
Then lower, to a cave in the cliff wall.
“We’ll camp here tonight!” he said into his mic.
She nodded.
Kacey rose along the front face of the peak, which was too steep for snow to cling to, a barren gray granite. An icing of snowy, thick frosting covered the ridgeline, a cornice of ice maybe twenty feet thick. And, as they got closer to the top, she could almost taste the fresh powder stinging her tongue and cheeks as she surfed over it.
Big mountain skiing felt a lot like flying, as if through weighty, powdery clouds, with the occasional drop into thin air, the breath of heaven in her lungs.
She never felt as though she could abandon herself, dive into the moment, like she did when she rode powder.
As if sensing her thoughts, Gage glanced over at her then, and for a second grinned. It stirred up so much memory she had to swallow, fast.
Then, as if he’d forgotten himself, the grin vanished and he returned to the view.
They reached the peak, and Kacey hovered over the ridgeline, a forty-foot expanse that dropped off two thousand feet on either side. Creamy, untouched powder deceived as it hid gullies and drop-offs, lethal spires of granite and ice floes that could break off in layers and chase them down the hill.
Rotor wash skimmed a surface layer of powder into the crisp air like fairy dust.
“I can’t actually set down on the mountain, but I can hover and you can jump out, okay?” Kacey’s voice came through her headphones.
“Got it,” Ella said.
“I’ll go first,” Gage said, but she shook her head. No way was he getting down there only for Kacey to fly away with her still in tow.
“I’ll go—you hand me the gear,” she said. Besides, the snow pack on her side of the chopper looked more stable.
His mouth tightened in a grim, acquiescing line.
She took off her headphones, put on her helmet, and opened the door. The wash of the rotors nearly sucked her out. Kacey hovered maybe five feet from the base of the hill, and it didn’t take much for Ella to step out onto a skid and jump off.
She landed in the powder, soft as pudding, and had to dig herself out. When she found her feet, Gage was leaning out of the chopper, handing her down her board, then the two packs.
She set them in the snow, then took his board.
In a moment, he landed in the snow next to her. Then he stood up and waved, and Kacey veered away. Gage checked in his radio, and Kacey confirmed.<
br />
Ella stood on top of the world. For as far as she could see, mountains pressed up against the vault of blue sky. To the west, gunmetal-gray clouds shadowed the peaks, evidence of the encroaching storm. And standing here on the cornice, the air turned whisper thin.
She examined their route—the thick spine, then the bowl below, the cliffs and bushy green pines, so far below they seemed like toys. Wind swirled around them, dusting up from the pristine snowpack. “I don’t see any tracks,” she said.
“Could be the wind sheer scraping it away. Or maybe they put down somewhere else,” Gage said. He had put on his pack and now held hers up for her to back into.
Apparently, he simply couldn’t help the gentleman part of him. She snapped on the waist belt, hitched down the shoulder straps.
He locked his boots into his board. “Good to go?”
She did the same, pulled her goggles down, and the world lost the sharp glare. “Let’s do this.”
“Just keep it easy, and stay behind me.” He bounced himself forward, added an adjustment in weight, and began to slide down the thick wide spine.
For a long moment, her heart simply slammed against her ribs, watching him. Seeing his grace on the snow, making it look effortless. As he slid, snow cascaded from the top in a shower, sending bullets and a wave of powder in his wake.
Follow my line.
She eased herself forward with a shift in her hips, bounced along to start movement, then found his trail, a beautiful thick crease in the snow. She spread her arms, found her balance, took a full breath.
She refused to glance down, but kept her gaze on the line, glancing at him, some thirty feet ahead. He seemed to be taking it slow, glancing back at her occasionally but setting a steady pace.
His course was easy, wide, no sharp turns, a beautiful rhythm as they rode down the spine into the wild blue yonder. Heat suffused her body as it warmed up to the dance, the swish of the snow like a whisper under her board.
He finally paused in a spray of white when they reached the first chute. She caught up to him, breathing harder than she wanted to admit.
She stared at the chute, trying not to let her breath catch.
The chute spanned maybe twenty feet but dropped down two hundred feet between two thick runnels of granite. It ended at an outcropping of granite, where it disappeared into white space.
A Matter of Trust Page 11
