The twin engine Cessna rolled first to the right, then violently back to the left. The nose dropped, pointing ominously toward the Arizona landscape below before the plane righted.
“Gosh! What happened, Uncle Sky?” gasped the young strawberry blond woman as she put her hands back on the yoke on her side of the instrument panel.
“I’m not sure myself, Copper,” answered the tall, handsome fortyish but athletic looking man in the cowboy hat who had brought the plane out of its roll. “An updraft from that canyon back there, I guess. When you tried to correct for it, you must have overdone it and started a roll the other way.”
The pretty, shapely girl gulped and hung onto the yoke. When her fear had passed, she turned to her uncle with a frown.
“I’ll never be half the pilot you are, Uncle Sky,” she pouted. “No matter how many times you warn me about overcontrolling the plane, I can’t seem to get the hang of it.”
Sky Ryder smiled indulgently.
“Of course you’ll get the hang of it, Copper,” he said. “When you’ve flown as much and taught as many people to fly as I have, you’ll be able to do all kinds of tricks. I just hope you never have Japanese fighter pilots shooting at you for extra motivation like I did. But if you’re patient, you’ll become a fine pilot.”
Copper pondered this for a moment, then brightened.
“You’re right, Sky. I guess that if I’d been a barnstormer, a Navy ace, a flight instructor, and even flown jets like you have, a little roll like that would have been easy for me.”
Sky beamed at her.
“That’s the spirit! Now suppose I start a couple of rolls, and you see if you can get the Hummingbird out of them.”
“You mean it?” she asked excitedly.
“Your training starts immediately.”
For the next ten or fifteen minutes, Sky had Copper bring the plane out of simulated distress rolls. She improved on every one.
“See?” said Sky, as Copper leveled the plane almost perfectly on the last one. “All it takes is a little practice.”
Before Copper could reply, they were interrupted by a radio call.
“Calling Hummingbird. Calling Hummingbird. Are you up there, Sky? Over.” It was the voice of their friend Sheriff Winchell.
Sky took the radio microphone from its hook.
“This is Hummingbird. What can I do for you, Winch? Over.”
“I need your help, Sky,” Winchell answered. “We’ve got an escaped prisoner in the area. Come on in and I’ll give you the details while you gas up at the county’s expense. Over.”
“Ill have to stop at the ranch to get my badge and gun, then I’ll be right there, Winch. Hummingbird out.”
Sky skillfully banked the plane and headed for his ranch, the Flying Coronet. The town of Kermit was twenty-five miles west of the ranch, and the town’s little airport a few miles further.
“Golly, Sky!” cried Copper. “A real adventure! This is going to be one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done!”
Sky turned to his niece.
“Hold it right there, young lady,” he said sharply. “First of all, things like this are rarely exciting. It’s usually just a matter of dull routine searching. The fugitive usually gives up as soon as he’s spotted.”
Copper’s eager expression faded. Sky added firmly:
“And secondly, you’re not going. It’s far too dangerous.”
The look on Copper’s face turned to something approaching agony.
“But, Uncle Sky,” she protested. “You just said that it was all routine. What could be dangerous about that?”
Sky nodded.
“I know what I said, and it’s usually true. But in those few cases where the fellow doesn’t give up right away there’s the possibility of real trouble.”
Copper opened her mouth to reply, but Sky took one hand off the controls and held it up, stopping any further protest.
“There’s no arguing about this, Copper,” he said flatly. “Even though you’re twenty-one and you don’t really need a guardian anymore, I still feel I have to take good care of you. And that includes keeping you out of the way of escaped convicts.”
Copper knew from his tone that it was useless to argue. She gave a little indignant snort, noisily resettled herself in her seat, and folded her arms across her abundant breasts, frowning darkly and looking straight ahead.
Sky watched her out of the corner of his eye.
“Besides,” he remarked casually, “with all of our men out with the cattle and mending fences today, I’ll need you to guard the ranch house and monitor the radio.”
Copper turned to him. The frown was gone.
“You will?”
Sky nodded. Copper reflected on this for a moment, then brightened a bit.
“Okay, Uncle Sky. I’ll help out. What do I do?”
During the last few minutes before landing, Sky gave the increasingly enthusiastic Copper a list of simple but necessary tasks. He finished with a warning.
“The most important thing to do is to keep the doors locked and a sharp eye for anything suspicious. If you see him or even suspect he’s near the ranch, call the sheriff, and get your horse and head for the north pasture. Merrill, Bailey, and Norman will be there, and they’ll have a couple of rifles. Don’t try to be a heroine.
“Oh, I promise I won’t,” Copper swore earnestly.
Sky landed the Hummingbird at the airstrip behind the house. As they climbed down from the wing, they could see a station wagon parked by the front gate. A woman was leaning against the car. She waved as they approached.
“Who’s that?” asked Sky, using one hand to shade his eyes from the mid-morning sun.
Copper frowned.
“It’s our neighbor, Summer Smith,” she muttered.
Sky broke into a wide smile and waved in return.
“Well, what a nice surprise!”
Copper regarded her uncle as though he were a hopeless child.
“Surprise, my foot! That woman’s had her eye on you for months. She’s always dropping by to see you.”
Sky looked at her with some surprise, but kept smiling.
“Now you can’t really say that a man would find her company unpleasant, can you?”
“Oh, she’s attractive enough, if you like that type.”
Copper’s tone and expression clearly indicated that she did not.
“And you have to like older women,” she continued.
Sky chuckled.
“Summer’s just a bit past thirty. She’s certainly younger than I am.”
“But her husband was more than twenty years older than she is. Didn’t you ever wonder if she was behind his death?”
Sky chuckled again and shook his head.
“Hank died in a car crash in California. And even if he did own several ranches, they weren’t doing very well while he was running them. I think Summer showed a lot of spirit to sell the others and stay here to make this one pay.”
Copper continued to sulk.
“There are a lot of women around here who are after you, Sky. They know you’re a great catch, and they all want to get their hooks in you. Especially Summer.”
Sky put an arm around Copper’s shoulder. Flattered by her obvious protective jealousy, he remained good-humored.
“I’ll only let myself be hooked if we both think it’s a good idea. Let’s see what she wants.”
Summer Smith was dark-haired, about five foot seven (a good three or four inches taller than Copper), pretty, and extremely shapely. In her close-fitting jeans, red checkered shirt (that fit very snugly across the bust), and cowboy hat, she was especially attractive.
“It must be a nice morning for flying,” she said with a smile.
“It sure is,” replied Sky. “But it’s also nice to see you, Summer.”
He waited a moment, then gently prodded Copper with his elbow.
“ ‘Morning, Mrs. Smith,” she mumbled grudgingly.
Summer seemed almost as amused as Sky by Copper’s attitude.
“Good morning, Copper. You certainly look pretty this morning.”
Copper did not reply. Summer turned to Sky.
“We’ve been having some trouble with one of the pumps on the waterlines to the cattle, and I need your advice, Sky.”
She described the problem, then listened intently as Sky told her what was wrong and what was needed to fix it. Copper kept her head down most of the time, drawing in the dirt with the toe of her boot and occasionally glancing suspiciously at Summer. When Sky was done, Summer thanked him.
“I’ll go into Kermit and pick up the parts,” she said. “Do you need anything while I’m in town?”
“No thanks, Summer,” answered Sky. “And don’t pick up any hitch hikers today. The sheriff says there’s an escaped prisoner on the loose near here.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful and I’ve got a gun in the car. By the way: are you taking anyone to the Elks Dance on Saturday night?"”
Sky smiled.
“Why no. Should I ask you?”
Summer smiled back.
“Too late. I already asked you.”
“Glad to. See you then.”
“And maybe before.”
Sky watched appreciatively as Summer got into her car. Only as she was pulling away did Copper look up from her dirt scraping and glare at the departing station wagon.
“Oh, Sky!” she whined. “Why’d you warn her?”
Sky gave her a good-naturedly reproachful look.
“Now you really wouldn’t want Summer to run into him, would you?”
“Oh, I guess not,” she admitted. “I just don’t like the way she plays up to you.”
They went into the house. Sky picked up his deputy badge and gunbelt and pistol. He gave Copper an avuncular squeeze and a final warning.
“Remember: be careful and stay alert.”
“I promise.”
She followed him back to the plane and waved as he took off.
Summer Smith had gone only a few miles from the Flying Coronet when she spotted a shape of some kind lying between the road and a steep rocky formation nearby.
“It looks like some rock hound had a fall,” she said to herself as she approached. “But I’d better be careful.”
She opened the glove compartment and took out her .25 caliber automatic pistol. As she pulled off the road, she was relieved to see that the motionless form was a woman. Stopping a few yards away, she got out of the car and tucked the pistol into her belt.
Summer knelt beside the woman and gently rolled her over. The auburn haired woman groaned softly. She was tall and well built, slender but shapely, and had an attractive face despite one cheek being smudged with dirt. Her clothing consisted of a pair of gray coveralls and pull-on sneakers. After another groan, she blinked a couple times, then opened her hazel eyes.
“What happened?” she asked dazedly.
Summer smiled with relief.
“You must’ve fallen from that rock. Just lie still. You’ll be all right.”
“Who’re you?” the woman asked. She pointed at the pistol in Summer’s belt. “And what’s that for?”
“There may be an escaped prisoner out here somewhere. I had to be careful. But you’re obviously not him.”
The woman’s eyes widened. Her left hand gripped both of Summer’s sleeves.
“No, but I saw him! That’s why I fell. I was trying to get away from him!”
She pointed toward a larger rock outcropping.
“He was over there when I saw him!”
As Summer looked in the direction of the point, the woman’s hand, swift as a striking snake, darted toward her and pulled the pistol from her belt. Summer Smith was astonished to find herself looking into the muzzle of her own gun.
The dazed expression was gone from the woman’s face, replaced by one of cold triumph.
“About that prisoner, Honey: I may not be him, but I’m definitely her. Now that we’ve found each other, let’s get acquainted.”
She stood up, pulling the stunned rancher up after her. After a quick look around, she waved the pistol toward a sheltered spot in the rocks and gave Summer a little shove.
“Get over there out of sight,” she ordered. “Then start stripping.”