"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.

"It's the best I've ever tasted," she said with a grin.

"Tomatillo--better than tomatoes."

"Ahhh," she acknowledged. She never would have thought of that. "How are you fixed for fresh fruits and vegetables?"

"Most of what we grow around here is silage for the ranches. And we've got lots of orchards--apples and nuts. Berries of all kinds everywhere, but only in season. But everyone has a big vegetable garden. When the locals who don't have health insurance pay the clinic for services in fresh produce, a lot of that comes over to the bar, where we feed whoever serves the town for free--the doctor, the nurse midwife--that'd be Jack's wife--the local police. If Jack or I help out some neighbor, we get whatever's in season or a cut of meat--beef, lamb, chicken, eggs. In the fall we fill the freezer with so much salmon from the river it keeps us at least half a year, but it's best fresh. It all comes full circle."

"But you get it in season?" she asked.

"Always," he said. "Next I have some stuffed trout for you, but we have to wait a few minutes. Try the corn bread with your chili. It's nothing special--I use package mixes when it's the most practical."

But the corn bread was delicious.

Next came the stuffed trout. He managed to beat the chef at the Boundary Waters lodge. He explained that the asparagus was "up" so he served that with the trout; he apologized that the fish had been frozen and wasn't as good as fresh, but it was still so good. He took away their bowls and wineglasses, serving them a chilled Chardonnay that was outstanding.

Next came the lamb, so tender you could eat it with a spoon, and while he didn't ordinarily serve garlic mashed with his lamb, that was one of his most popular dishes so he pulled some out of the refrigerator. Indeed, best garlic mashed Kelly had ever tasted; she detected flavors of butter, cream instead of whole milk, cream cheese, fresh garlic and parsley.

The girls were moaning, holding their stomachs, raving. Paige joined them just in time for the cobbler and some coffee. "We're known for our coffee," Preacher said. "Best in three counties."

It was.

While Jillian, Penny and Jackie were visiting with Paige, Kelly was focused on Preacher. "I don't know how I can ever thank you for this amazing demo. Can I pay for dinner? Pay for the wine at least?"

He shook his head. "It's fun to have an expert like my stuff."

"I'm going to do something special for you," she said. "I don't know quite when or how, but I'm going to come back up here. And if you'll let me use your kitchen, I'll share my nana's vegetable soup and rhubarb pie."

He leaned his big hands on the worktable and said, "Really? How much meat in your vegetable soup?"

"All straight out of the garden, but it's thick and delicious."

"That would be great. I can't get it right without a side of beef. And I've been trying to figure out rhubarb pie for a long time."

"There are old Russian tricks. I'll show you if you promise not to publish a cookbook."

"You have nothing to worry about," he said.

When the four women were driving back to the Riordan cabins that night, Kelly said, "This place. It's a diamond in the rough."

Aiden, Sean and Luke Riordan stood outside their brother's hospital room in the Fort Hood hospital, talking with his surgeon. Patrick, their fifth brother, would have been there, as well, but he was a Navy pilot stationed on an aircraft carrier.

Colin was almost twenty-four hours postsurgical, in a deep, drug-induced sleep to control the pain. His humerus was broken in two places, his elbow all messed up, his pelvis cracked, femur fractured and he had three broken ribs. He now had a titanium rod in his femur and screws in his elbow. Ironically, the elbow was probably the worst for pain, and would be the hardest to heal healthily.

"He's suffered some burns--second-degree burns on his cheek, neck, shoulder and back, but the fractures concern me more right now. He was thrown hard onto his left side. All the bone injuries are on that side, burns on the right."

Luke just stared at his feet and shook his head. Sean asked, "Any good news in here anywhere?"

The orthopedic surgeon, who had a lazy Texas drawl, said, "He's right-handed." It sounded like He's raght handed. And then he grinned slightly. "Nah, I'm sort of kidding. Good news--no internal injuries that we're aware of. He had a clean CT scan. No skull cracks, no paralysis. Barring complications, he'll recover. Could be a slow, painful, difficult recovery, but he has an excellent chance of making a full recovery with all his limbs intact. Now I might be just a cockeyed optimist, but I think your boy could get out of this without any disabilities. If I were a bettin' man, I'd say not so much as a limp." Again with the grin. "I'm damn good with a titanium rod, if I do say so myself."

"He was burned," Sean said solemnly.

"He was pulled out of a burning Black Hawk. The extent of his scarring will take a little time to figure out, but the area affected is under twenty percent of his skin and should heal up real nice. Your boy had a head-on with a Cessna--it's a f**king miracle we're standing here talking about him. Don't tell him that," the doctor drawled. "At least not anytime soon--he's gotta be in one piss-poor mood. He's gonna feel like he's been dragged behind a truck over a rock bed."

Aiden was the first one to stick out his hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor smiled and took his hand. "My pleasure, Doctor. You have my cell number. I'm not on call, but you call me if you need anything. I'm on call for this guy."

When the surgeon walked away, the three brothers just stood in their small circle for a few moments of silence. "You two, go get something to eat," Luke said. "I'll sit with him in case he wakes up. Take your time--he's drugged out of his mind. Then one of you can take a turn while I eat."

While Sean and Aiden turned away, Luke headed back into the critical care unit. There was a chair beside the bed.

Colin's leg was immobilized, but not in a cast; his arm was not only in a cast, but also a brace that held his elbow away from his body. There were gauze bandages stained with yellow salve and some blood covering the right side of his head down to his shoulder.

And he was out cold.

Luke reached out and touched the hand that was uninjured. Colin had been awake a couple of times since surgery, and one of those times he'd become agitated, angry, maybe hallucinating. He'd started yanking at the IV and catheter, trying to pull them out; it took two nurses, Luke and Aiden to control him long enough for the dope to work its way through the IV. Luke hated that he had to be heavily drugged like this, but he hated more the thought of the damage he could do if he yanked out that catheter, or if, God forbid, he managed to get out of the bed and did worse damage to his arm, leg and ribs.

When Luke touched Colin's right hand, his one exposed eye slowly opened.

"Hey," Luke said.

Although half of Colin's face was bandaged, his scowl was unmistakable. When it came out, his voice was raspy, probably from the intubation during surgery. "I'm not done flying," he said in a threatening tone.

"Fine," Luke said. "You're done for today. Let's take this one day at a time."

"I'm flying again," Colin said, sounding as if his tongue was very thick.