Match Made In Paradise by Barbara Dunlop (black female authors TXT) 📕

learn Raven had a cousin in LA. He knew she’d grown up on a mining property in Alaska with three brothers and a father. This was the first he was hearing about an extended family.

Still, there was nothing odd in a cousin coming to visit Paradise. Well, maybe a little odd, since the town wasn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. Nobody but fishing and mountain climbing enthusiasts would consider it a prime destination. They didn’t have a hotel, and the Bear and Bar was pretty much it for restaurants. Paradise residents usually traveled outside to visit friends and family rather than the other way around.

“Is she sporty?” he asked. “Outdoorsy?”

Brodie’s mouth twitched as he obviously fought a smile.

“It’s a getaway,” Raven said vaguely.

Silas didn’t know what was going on with Brodie, but whatever. It wasn’t his problem. He was just the pilot.

“A vacation in Paradise is definitely getting away,” he said easily and left them to it.

*   *   *

It was coming up on twenty-two-hundred hours. The storm clouds had cleared and the sun was still high as Silas and his copilot, Xavier, went short final in the islander bush plane returning to the Paradise airstrip. The West Slope Aviation radio operator gave them wind speed, direction and altimeter.

Xavier was at the controls right now, gaining experience landing the twin engine.

“Full flaps,” Silas advised through the headset. “Don’t let your airspeed get too slow.”

Silas’s attention went from the gauges to the ground, checking the minutia of Xavier’s landing. “Okay. Looks good down there. Touchdown abeam the windsock. That’s the sweet spot, smooth and level.”

After a storm, Silas knew to miss the patchy puddles at the west end of the strip. And the windsock was the guide to putting it right on the numbers, just short of the access road to the WSA hangar and office complex, the only infrastructure at the remote airstrip.

Silas saw the airspeed drop.

“Wind sheer,” he instantly called out as the plane canted sideways and dropped like a stone to hit the strip and bounce. Rocks clanked up beneath them, one making a loud, definitive twang.

“Max power.” Silas closed his hands on the yoke. “I have control.”

“You have control,” Xavier echoed, letting go.

Silas righted the aircraft, taking them to the center of the airstrip and smoothing it out.

“Sorry, man,” Xavier said through the headset.

“It happens,” Silas said, relieved to have stayed cockpit side up.

As chief pilot, he tried to give his copilots as many takeoffs and landings as he could, because the only way to become a good bush pilot was to practice. Truth was, as a new pilot, you wanted to be tested while there was a captain in the plane to bail you out.

“Was that a prop strike?” Xavier asked, sitting up tall, looking out both sides. Not that he was going to see anything on the spinning props.

“I hope not,” Silas said as he turned to taxi to the tie-down area and the West Slope Aviation hangar.

He knew it was a prop strike, but he didn’t want to say anything to Xavier just yet. Let him get past the difficult landing first.

“Three-Zero-Alpha closing flight plan,” Xavier announced to radio operator Shannon Menzies. “Taxiing for the hangar.”

“Three-Zero-Alpha, flight plan closed,” Shannon replied.

“Can you get Cobra to meet us?” Silas asked Shannon, referencing the company’s aircraft maintenance engineer, their AME.

“Confirming, Cobra to meet,” Shannon said back.

Xavier groaned.

“Let’s check it out, see what we’ve got,” Silas said to Xavier.

Silas eased the airplane to a stop in front of the hangar and killed the power. He released his harness and draped his headphones around his neck while Xavier worked through the shut-down checklist.

WSA owner Brodie came out of the hangar, ambling toward them with AME Cobra Stanford. Cobra was one of the few guys in town who dwarfed the athletic Brodie. Tall and brawny, he could muscle engine parts into place that normally took a jack or hoist.

“Seriously?” Xavier said in an incredulous voice. “The boss has to be here too?”

“Brodie’s going to find out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

“It was a prop strike, wasn’t it?”

“Sounded like,” Silas admitted.

“Am I going to get fired?”

“It was the rock’s fault, not yours.”

“I messed up the landing. Brodie was here. He saw it. It is my fault.”

Silas swung his door open. He reached behind the seat for his pack. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

Xavier muttered something as they both climbed out of the aircraft.

Silas felt for the guy. Nobody wanted to be responsible for damaging an airplane. Repairs could be ridiculously expensive.

“Oil pressure stay up?” Cobra asked.

“Pressure’s been fine,” Silas said. “We kicked up a rock on the landing, sounded like a prop strike.”

“Which side?”

“Right.”

Cobra moved to the propeller, and Xavier followed him.

“Wind sheer caught us,” Silas said to Brodie.

“Xavier took the landing?”

Silas nodded.

“I didn’t think that looked like you,” Brodie said, the gleam of a tease lurking in his dark eyes.

Silas frowned instead of smiling. He sure hoped his landings didn’t look like that.

“There’s a ding, all right,” Cobra called over to them. “I’ll have to measure. Could go either way.”

“Either way?” Xavier asked, clearly worried.

Cobra clapped him on the shoulder in a gesture of reassurance and headed inside to get a tool.

Xavier stuck with Cobra, following him in.

Silas couldn’t tell whether Xavier was curious about the repair process or afraid to stay out here with Brodie.

“Everything else go okay?” Brodie asked.

“Xavier’s coming along fine on the twin. It’s good that he’s getting lots of hours.”

Xavier was young and new to Alaska, but he had good hands and feet, the raw skills needed to make a good bush pilot.

“He’s got a future,” Brodie said.

Silas nodded to that. He and Brodie generally agreed on pilot assessments.

“Wildflower Lake sent back a bottle of the cabernet.” Silas swung his pack from his shoulder and pulled the zipper. “And Cornelia said to tell you thanks.”

Brodie chuckled. “You know it’s a bribe.”

“Hell, yeah, it’s a bribe.” Silas removed the bottle and handed it over. “And it’s a good one. You can double-check