way out of here.'
'There's plenty of ways outta town. More than seven or eight pilots living here, an' each with a nice little bush plane, too.'
'Pilots? You mean Brennan doesn't own a monopoly on air travel?'
'Ma'am, this here's Alaska. Cain't git around without a plane.'
'Then you have to take me to one of these pilots. I'd be willing to pay you. A lot. You could buy yourself anything. A-a new dog.'
The old man chuckled. 'Now, why would I want a new dog when I have Strike here? We get along real well and he's hardly no bother. Never barks and don't eat much, either.'
'I can see that. He's just about faded away to nothing.'
The meaning of her comment didn't seem to register with Burdy. Either the man was totally daft or… or he was totally daft. There was no other way about it. Joe Brennan had left her in the care of a crazy man and his invisible dog.
Burdy shoved his hat back and stared at her with sparkling blue eyes. 'Joe wouldn't like it much if I was to help you leave. And I 'spect he's let all the other pilots know that they won't be takin' you out, either. But I s'pose that ain't gonna stop you from tryin'.'
'Not a chance,' Perrie said. 'There's got to be one pilot in this town willing to fly for cash.'
Burdy sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'Would you like to take a trip into Muleshoe? I was about to get me some dinner down at St. Paddy's and I'd sure love the comp'ny of a pretty girl like yourself.'
'You have a church here?'
Burdy chuckled. 'St Paddy's ain't a church. It's the local tavern. It's run by Paddy Doyle. We took to calling it St. Paddy's since most of us spend our Sunday mornings there. He makes a mean Irish breakfast-fried eggs and potato cakes and soda farl and homemade sausage-but he don't allow talking during his church service.'
'He's a priest, then?' she asked. A man of the cloth would have to help her. He'd see that she was being held against her will and would prevail upon a local pilot to fly her out.
'Well, he does preside over the town's funerals, but he ain't a priest proper. He just makes us watch church on his big-screen satellite TV.'
Perrie's hopes faltered. No priest.
'We all put up with it since the breakfast is so good,' Burdy continued, 'and 'cause Paddy takes his religion serious. Mass starts at eight and breakfast is served right after.'
Perrie found her mouth watering at Burdy's description of breakfast. She hadn't had anything to eat since the previous night. She refused to count airline food as food. And the cup of coffee she'd guzzled at the airport hadn't done much to diminish her hunger. Dinnertime was fast approaching, and with it the need to cook, a skill she'd never quite mastered beyond microwave popcorn.
'Do they serve a good evening meal down at St. Paddy's?'
'Best in town,' Burdy replied. 'Except for the Saturday feeds down at the fire hall. I do the cookin' then. Spaghetti feed tomorrow night.'
'And do the town's pilots eat at Doyle's?'
'Most of 'em.'
'Then I think I'll take that ride into town, Burdy. I'm feeling a little hungry and I'm not really up to cooking tonight.'
Burdy nodded, his earflaps bouncing. 'All right, then. You'll find yourself a warm jacket and some boots in the closet over there. I won't be takin' you out in the cold unless you're properly dressed for it when there's weather rollin' in. And if old Sarah gets it in her head she don't want to go into town, we'll end up walkin'.'
'Is Sarah your wife?'
'Nah, she's the lodge's pickup truck. We get on pretty well most times, but she can be an ornery old thing. If she sees you comin' she might get a little jealous and decide she ain't gonna take us into Muleshoe.'
Perrie looked up from the floor as she pulled on a pair of oversize rubber boots and shrugged into a down parka. An invisible dog, a jealous truck and an old man more than a few sandwiches shy of a picnic.
Just what else would Muleshoe have to offer in the way of entertainment?
Doyle's Tap Tavern, or St. Paddy's as the locals called it, was already bustling with people when Burdy showed her inside. As she scanned the room, Perrie slowly realized that she was the only woman in the place. It didn't take long for the rest of Paddy's patrons to realize the same thing. Conversation slowly ground to a halt as every eye turned toward her.
Perrie forced a smile and reached for Burdy's arm. 'Why are they all looking at me like that?' she murmured.
Burdy straightened and puffed out his chest. 'I s'pose they're all wondering how an old coot like me managed to put such a fine-lookin' woman on my arm.' He cleared his throat. 'This here's Miz Perrie Kincaid. She'll be stayin' here in Muleshoe for a while. She's looking for a pilot to fly her outta here.'
Six of the bar's patrons stepped forward, but Burdy held up his gnarled hand and shook his head. 'The first guy to offer Miz Kincaid a ride will have to answer to me and Joe Brennan.'
The six stepped back, their expressions clouded with disappointment, but their interest barely quelled. Perrie shifted nervously and glanced at Burdy.
'And she ain't here lookin' for a husband, either, so you all can stop your gawkin' and get back to your fun.'
'I'm perfectly able to speak for myself,' she said as Burdy drew her along toward a table.
He gallantly pulled out the red vinyl chair for her, then helped her out of her parka. ''Course, you'll be expected to dance with them,' Burdy said, once he'd seated himself across from her and settled his imaginary dog at his feet.
Her gaze snapped up from the menu to his face. 'What?'
'Well now, that's only common courtesy up here. They can't dance with each other, and when there's a woman about, they don't waste much time. I expect you'll get twirled around the floor more times than you'll be able to count. If you're lucky, the brides will stop by and reduce your odds of gettin' dizzy.'
Burdy had no more said the words when the front door of Doyle's swung open and three women stepped inside. Perrie wouldn't have known there were women behind the parka hoods and scarves except that the conversation stopped again and every man in the place turned to look. 'That's them,' he said. 'They're a promisin' lot. Better than the first three.'
'There were three others?'
'Yep. The boys placed the ad down in Los Angeles. I guess they thought they might get lucky and nab themselves a movie star or one of them supermodels. Those three girls lasted about a week before Joe had to fly them out. They just weren't cut out for the cold. But these three-I got my money on at least two of 'em stayin'.'
Perrie watched them slip out of their coats and take their places at a table. They looked like normal, intelligent women to her. All three were attractive in their own different ways and, from what she could see, ranged in age from midtwenties to early thirties. 'What about their grooms?' she asked. 'Aren't they going to get mad if someone dances with their girls?'
'It don't work that way. The boys that paid in get the chance to go through the letters and choose the girls. But once they're up here, it's pretty much a free-for-all. The man who woos 'er wins 'er fair and square.'
'That doesn't seem fair to me. What about the men who didn't pay?'
'Well, there ain't many single men that didn't get in on it. There's me… and Paddy. He's still pinin' over the wife he lost a few years back. And there's Ralphie Simpson. He's been married and divorced five times so he don't want any part of a woman bent on marriage. And that's it, except for Joe Brennan and Hawk.'
'Every unmarried man in town except for you and the other four is looking for a bride?'
'That's about it.'
She glanced over the top of her menu at Burdy. 'So, what's the story with Brennan? How come he isn't in on the bride deal?'
Burdy scratched his chin as he pondered her question for a long moment. 'I don't rightly know. I 'spect he likes bein' a lone wolf. Though there ain't a shortage of ladies lookin' to put an end to that. They all say he's a real charmer, knows exactly how to treat 'em. They're always talking about his eyes, though I can't figure what's so
