A Fine and Bitter Snow

13

Jim brought the Cessna from Tok and flew Kate home to Niniltna two days later. Bobby, Dinah, and Katya and Auntie Vi were there to greet her on the airstrip. Auntie Vi wanted her to come stay while she recuperated, but Kate refused. She was like Ruthe. She wanted to go home.

So Bobby tucked her into his truck and ferried her twenty-five miles down the road, and Dinah and Jim, who had followed in Billy’s Explorer, walked her down the path to the homestead, Mutt trotting anxious circles around them as they went. “Johnny’s at Ethan’s; he’s got Gal with him. He’s going to leave you alone for a couple of days,” Dinah said as if by rote. “Ethan says he’ll be over this evening.”

“No,” Kate said. “Dinah, could you stop in and ask him not to? I just want to see if I can get up the ladder and sleep in my own bed. Tell him I’ll be over tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Dinah exchanged a glance with Bobby. They both looked at Jim, who remained impassive.

They settled her in, fussing over the woodstove, over-filling the kettle, and bringing her comforter down from the loft. “I’m okay, guys,” she said when she could stand it no longer. “Go.”

“Okay,” Dinah repeated. “I’ll be back out tomorrow.” She saw the look on Kate’s face and said, “If I don’t come and report back to Auntie Vi, she’ll be here, and she’ll bring all the other aunties with her.”

It was only too true. “All right. See you tomorrow, then.”

Jim waited until Dinah was out the door. “By the way, Kate.”

“What now?” she said grouchily.

He grinned at her, the wide white grin that made her want to reach for her rifle. “I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said, settling the ball cap over his ears. His uniform jacket was neat and clean, the lighter blue uniform slacks with the gold stripe down the sides creased to a knife edge, his boots freshly polished. He looked every inch the trooper today, immaculate, authoritative, totally in charge.

“Know what?” Kate said, dragging her eyes to his face with difficulty.

The grin widened. She measured the distance between the couch and the gun rack over the door. “I’m moving my post,” he said.

“Moving your post? You mean you’re being transferred?” She tried to tell herself that she was feeling relief, not dismay.

“No, moving my post from Tok.”

“Moving it?” With sudden foreboding, she said, “Where?”

“To Niniltna.”

She gaped at him.

His dimples deepened. How had she never noticed those dimples before? “Yeah. I’ll be around all the time now.” He stepped to the door and tipped his hat.

“Be seeing you, Kate.” The grin flashed. “A lot of you.”