As she’d suspected, he hadn’t bothered to change, though he’d left the Stetson at the door. Considering the Hunters also dressed informally and the Kensingtons wore everyday attire, Jen stuck out like a sore thumb in Beattie’s holiday dress. Moreover, the cardigan didn’t match and hid little of the frilly lace.
“I’ll get more punch.” She scooted away, drawing only Wagner’s notice.
He winked again, and she nearly dropped the tray of bright red punch. According to the reflection in the mirrored glass of the china cabinet, her face was nearly as red as the punch. The little glass cups jiggled against each other, drawing a sharp glare from Mrs. Kensington.
“What do you think of our Jack, Mr. Wagner?” Kensington bellowed, his exuberant voice impossible not to hear. “Flying to the North Pole. Quite an endeavor.”
“Yes, it is,” Wagner said slowly, “but with the right backing, planning and personnel, it can be done.”
Jen set the tray next to the punch bowl before she dropped it.
“My thoughts exactly,” Kensington said. “Seems like an accomplished aviator like you would be chomping at the bit to come on board.”
Jen’s pulse raced. If Dan Wagner joined the expedition, he would stay in Pearlman. He could help her hone her navigation skills and supervise her flight training.
“I already have obligations,” Wagner said.
“Come now, this kind of opportunity happens once in a lifetime.” Mr. Kensington seldom took no for an answer. “It’ll never come around again.”
Jen lifted her gaze only to find Dan watching her.
“My family depends on me,” he said.
Family? Dan Wagner had a family? He couldn’t be married. The newspapers followed each new lady friend with avid attention, speculating if she would be the one to capture the elusive aviator.
“You’re not married,” she stated.
Wagner’s chin tucked back, and his gaze narrowed.
In fact the entire room grew embarrassingly quiet.
His gaze locked on her. “No, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have family. They depend on my income to keep the ranch running.”
“Oh. You have a ranch.” Her head spun. Family. Ranch. That sounded a great deal like the sort of family that involved children. “Are you widowed? Or divorced?”
Mrs. Kensington gasped. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. The mayor guffawed.
Dan Wagner didn’t bat an eye. “Neither. My parents, brothers and their families run the ranch. It’s beautiful land but tough to eke out a living.”
Darcy attempted to rescue Jen by steering the conversation in another direction. “Is that why you want the airmail contract? Jack told me you’re trying to get the contract for a route in Montana. I didn’t realize the Post Office was offering routes to individual pilots. Or did they hire you?”
“They’re still running the service, but they’re beginning to turn over some routes to qualified contractors. It’s the perfect opportunity to return home.” Though Dan answered Darcy, his gaze never left Jen. “Family is more important than records or fame. They come first, and they could use the extra income.”
“Why didn’t you say that, son?” Kensington said. “If money’s the problem, I can ease your mind. A top-notch aviator like you commands top dollar. Name your price.”
That drew Wagner’s attention away from Jen. “Are you offering to hire me?”
“Didn’t I just say that, son?” Kensington looked at Jack. “Back me up, Hunter. You could use someone like Wagner here on your side.”
“Sure could. In fact, we’re in need of a navigator.”
“What?” Jen squeaked. That’s the position she wanted, the one she’d worked so hard to get.
The men didn’t hear her.
“A navigator, eh?” Wagner smoothed a thumb across his lower lip. “If the pay’s right—”
“I’ll make it right,” Kensington interrupted.
“If the pay’s right,” Dan Wagner reiterated slowly, “I don’t know how I could turn it down.”
“That’s what I want to hear,” Kensington bellowed.
The two men shook on it, and, in the matter of a moment, the dream that Jen and her daddy had shared slipped quietly away.
Dan had figured Kensington for a blustering fool until he offered to pay him to join the polar expedition. Then he knew the man was. No one hired an expedition crew. Either a crewman paid his own way or gathered support from home in exchange for the privilege of risking his life in the pursuit of glory. Financial rewards came later, if at all.
Even with the generous wage, Dan would have hesitated to sign on if not for the look on Jen Fox’s face. She wanted to fly on that expedition. He’d heard that squeak of dismay she’d let out when Hunter asked him to join as navigator. She must think she deserved the position. From what he’d heard earlier, she must have passed some sort of written exam, even though she hadn’t yet started the flight training. Passing a written exam did not qualify her to fly on the polar expedition. She had no flight experience. None. No one—man or woman—belonged on a risky flight unless he or she had a lot of experience in the air. It took massive accumulated experience to deal with unexpected changes in weather, fickle air currents and fallible machinery.
Dan had carried the lifeless body of one overconfident novice off the airfield. He would not be party to another woman’s death. Since Kensington threw in more than enough to cover the cost of thirty lost head of cattle, Dan had to snap it up. This time of year he had few options to raise funds, and he’d already plunked down most of his reserves modifying his plane for cargo service. The rest would go to a reliable engine. The airmail contract could wait. If this expedition succeeded, he would make a fortune selling the story to newspapers and on the lecture circuit. If it failed, he could bid on another route.
The meal had been awkward. Clearly Mrs. Hunter had placed him next to Miss Fox so they could converse, but the gal sat stiff as a railroad spike and was just as silent. Any fool could tell she was angry. His attempts to placate her fell short. He put on his best manners and went out of his way to compliment her hair.
That drew a steely glare.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he threw out. “I understand you passed the written flight exam.”
She nodded curtly but wouldn’t look at him. Then she asked Mrs. Hunter to pass the potatoes.
Mrs. Hunter gave him a sympathetic look that said to give it time.
Dan Wagner was patient with family, finicky engines and weather delays. He drew the line at sulking women. Life was too short to waste effort trying to talk reason into someone who didn’t want to be reasonable. Soon enough he’d be elbow-deep in expedition preparations. Miss Fox could pout all she wanted. He would stick to what he knew best.
He asked Hunter how many he planned for the flight crew.
“Two.”
“Both pilots?”
Hunter grinned. “You and me. Do you think we need more?”
“I would have someone for backup.”
Miss Fox brightened.
He corrected himself. “An experienced aviator, of course. A lot can happen before and during the attempt that