Welcome to the exciting Adventures of Chase Cooder - Bush Pilot! This offering is far different from my other stories. The kernels of a thin plot took hold, character development took shallow root and...Chase Cooder – Bush Pilot! was born. But before we depart, I want to give a heartfelt thanks to Stella Omega for her early support and encouragement, to AsylumSeeker for his invaluable editing advice, and to Teschan for his insightful fine tuning. Are you ready? Well, climb aboard, buckle up and enjoy the ride!
* * * * *
Three thousand feet above the majestic pines, the only sound was the rush of air along the fuselage of the 1967 DeHavilland Beaver. Two-thirds of the way to the Snapper Lake Lodge, deep in the Canadian wilderness, the Beaver's engine belched, coughed, sputtered - and stopped.
As he watched the propeller's slow rotation, Chase wondered if this could be another one of Ruane's little messages. His beautiful red haired mechanic and lover was prone to letting him know directly or indirectly when he had managed to piss her off.
But Chase dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. No, Ruane had pulled some crazy ass stunts before when she got a head of steam built up, but she would
never
shut down an engine in mid-flight. She was far too competent a professional for that. Chase began to mentally run through a procedural checklist.
Chase and Ruane were business partners and together owned Busy Beaver Bush Tours. They had lovingly restored their old DeHavilland workhorse and Chase knew every rivet and washer on his beloved Beaver and every little quirk; like how she wanted to climb when banking right, and to dive when carving left. He knew the old Beaver had it in her to deliver them safely. Ruane was among the best of mechanics and Chase trusted her skills implicitly. Ruane loved her Beaver as much as Chase did, maybe more, and kept her in pristine condition.
"What the hell's wrong with the engine?" demanded Parker Dill, the chubby and balding academic sitting in the seat behind Chase. Being a full professor and department chair, Dill was used to being in charge and getting his way. But, of course, that was back in civilization where his boorishness was tolerated out of fear of retribution.
"No worries, friends, all part of the Busy Beaver tour. Just look around. Beautiful, isn't it? The sky's so clear you can practically see Vancouver."
Chase cocked his head to the side. Maureen's stylishly short blond hair, her voluptuous figure and ample breasts involuntarily drew his eye. He thought he saw her legs part slightly. "I'll restart in a minute. In the meantime, enjoy the unspoiled view."
Chase turned his attention back to the engine. Just before shutdown the dials had looked good, the oil pressure was holding, and the engine sounded strong.
He felt an unusually strong updraft rock the Beaver. He feathered the flaps, nudged the yoke, entered a shallow dive and then pulled up, taking advantage of the strong wind to climb. Repeating this maneuver, he skillfully scalloped the Beaver several hundred feet higher. When the updraft passed, Chase pushed the yoke forward and the Beaver gracefully arced into another dive.
Before takeoff, Maureen watched Chase closely as he inspected the Beaver, and his confidence was comforting. She'd met the dashing pilot just prior to the flight, and as the Beaver descended she thought back to when she first saw him. She was immediately attracted to Chase as he strode out of the hanger to greet her and Parker.
She liked his rough hands when they shook, holding hers a beat too long. She recalled his ruggedly handsome face. He had an easy sexy smile, and a barely chipped tooth added to his appeal. Maureen guessed Chase was a few inches over six feet tall. With broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, Maureen wondered what he looked like with his shirt off. She imagined he would be hard and muscular, not at all soft.
As the Beaver dove toward the trees, Maureen had the odd urge to run her manicured fingers through his tousled brown hair. She imagined what kind of lover he would be. Maureen became wet and wondered if Chase could sense her arousal in the confined space of the cockpit.
She watched Chase check the instruments, toggle this switch and tap that dial, never appearing concerned that they were plunging ever downward, ever closer to the magnificent pine forest rushing at them with increasing speed.
Chase let the Beaver gather airspeed and pressed the ignition switch. With the wind aiding propeller rotation, the engine sputtered to life, coughed several times and - went silent. Chase took a deep breath while thinking,
Uh oh.
He angled the Beaver into a slightly steeper dive, adjusted the choke, pressed the ignition switch and the updated Pratt and Whitney PT-6 turbo engine roared to life and held.
That's my girl
, Chase thought. Under the engine's drone he heard Maureen's soft moan when he pulled the Beaver smartly up, barely a hundred feet from the wispy tops of the giant pines.
Maureen glanced at Parker, who held onto the seat and side handle with white knuckles. Moisture glinted off his shiny crown. She looked away with mild disgust. Back at altitude, the passengers watched the landscape passing below them, the Beaver's shadow dancing across the tops of the trees. Descending, Chase guided the Beaver around a mountain, between two ridges, and then straightened. Maureen gasped in awe at the view.
Steep pine-covered mountains capped with snow surrounded a wide, long, glassy lake: Lake Snapper. Maureen watched the lake rise to meet them as Chase skimmed low across the water. Maureen felt the water's drag slow the plane as it touched down. Chase taxied to the pier where a huge, barrel-chested man with weathered skin and a bushy black beard anchored the plane to the dock with ropes.
As the engine spooled down, Chase opened the door and shouted, "Box! What the hell are you doing here! You told me you were headed to Alaska!"
"Naw, I decided to stick around a bit longer, eh," Box replied and a reddish bloom spread under his thick beard. Chase smiled inwardly.
"Well, good. Help me get the gear out of the plane, then."
"Aye, aye Cap'n," Box said and snapped a salute.
Chase laughed and climbed out of the cockpit. The two old friends embraced and clapped each other's back before Chase opened the bay door and Box set about getting the gear off of the plane.
The pilot extended a hand to Maureen, waiting at the cockpit door. Taking Chase's hand, she poured sensuously out of the plane, onto the float, and then glided up to the dock.
Chase wasn't immune to her charms and didn't even try to be. He thoroughly enjoyed this little moment and stared appreciatively at her firm and healthy figure. As Maureen stepped on to the dock, Chase noticed she was looking at him with a small, amused smile.
"Thank you," Maureen said.
"No, thank
you
," Chase responded with a smile and a courtly nod.
Parker, oblivious to Maureen and Chase, was 15 pounds beyond graceful and clumsily lurched out of the plane. His leather-soled shoe slipped on the wet float and he squawked while scrambling to maintain his balance. His arms waved wildly, hoping to snare a strut, as his right foot plunged into the frigid water.
Chase gracefully reached down and caught Parker's sleeve, preventing him from toppling into the lake, and effortlessly helped him step up to the dock.
"My fault, Parker. I should have warned you about the slick floats," he said and thought,
But that's what you get for wearing leather-soled shoes, like I told you not to.
Chase and Box walked ahead of Parker and Maureen, carrying the luggage and gear while talking and laughing. Parker grumbled to Maureen about his ruined Manolo Blahnik, while her eyes admired Chase's cutting figure and taut derriere. Suppressing a laugh, she thought back to Chase's quick reactions, athletic agility, and graciousness as he helped the sputtering Parker off the plane.
The four walked up wide steps onto a covered porch surrounding the Adirondack style lodge, through oversized double doors, and into the main reception area.
Chase's gaze swept past the three men sitting in front of the fireplace. His practiced eye noted the tension despite their apparent nonchalance. Chase caught Box's glance, nodded slightly towards the men and raised an eyebrow. Box nodded and gave a small shrug.
"Hello, Willy."
"Chase," said the weathered and elderly man standing behind the registration desk, "How the hell are you? You're looking pretty fit for a man who hasn't spent much time in the wilderness."
"Not your corner, that's true. I haven't had a charter here for a few weeks. But hey, don't you go thinking I haven't been in and out of that Beaver several times a day, though," Chase said with a wink.
"Still giving the Beaver a workout, eh?"
Both men chuckled at this version of their ritual. Box rolled his eyes. Willy slid a key card across the counter and said with a wink, "Your usual lake view so you can keep an eye on your Beaver."
Maureen looked around the beautiful lobby, taking in the high ceiling and huge chandelier made of antlers, the comfortable brown leather club chairs and upholstered light pine chairs scattered about in cozy conversational arrangements, the colorful loom rugs, the crackling fire in the oversized stone fireplace, the rough hewn oak walls, rustic paintings, and the many large windows that overlooked stunning vistas.
Though accustomed to the admiring looks of men, the glances from the three sitting in front of the fireplace bothered her although she couldn't have said why. Maybe it was simply because their smiles didn't reach their eyes. She briefly locked stares with the pale-eyed, hawk-nosed man, the one with an air of authority, but he made her uneasy and she turned away.
Registration completed, the guests settled in their rooms. Chase tried to call Ruane, but couldn't get through. Around 6:00 p.m. Chase and his passengers, Box, Willy, and an attractive woman he didn't know met in a private dining room for dinner.
"Everyone, this is Anna," Box announced. She was tall, curvy and had shoulder length hair the color of honey.
"Hi, everyone," the woman said cheerfully and placed large bowls holding an assortment of food on the table. "Box, you don't have any vegetables on your plate," Anna noticed while watching him spoon food onto his dish.
