Her Mistletoe Miracle. Roz Denny Fox

and give you something for pain before they move you.”

      Kari answered for the two of them with a weak, “Thanks, Mick.”

      He switched dials and made the request. Time was wasted as Mick had to explain to the dispatcher that this call wasn’t in conjunction with Angel Fleet. Moments later, he was in the approach pattern to the airpark, when the tower imparted more bad news.

      “It’s been snowing hard and steady. We have no clear runway. Advise you to divert to a major airport.”

      “I have injured onboard,” Mick informed the air controller. “Request permission to land. I don’t have enough fuel to go to International.”

      When a voice finally agreed to let him land, Mick had little doubt his request would’ve been refused if he’d been flying any aircraft other than the Huey. Of course, had he been flying either of his light planes, or Wylie’s, he couldn’t have set down on the mountain.

      It was just now eleven, which meant the rangers hiking up to rescue the stranded may have arrived. No telling how long it’d take them to trek out.

      He rolled his head to ease the tension building between his shoulder blades, and listened to the controller issue directions for landing. Mick could barely make out the tower lights. Wind slammed him one way and just as fast jerked him back the other direction. He had to cut more power to fight a spin.

      There wasn’t a peep from the back, though some offensive language certainly left his mouth. Old habits formed in the military died hard.

      It seemed to take a long time, but at last he corrected the spin. However, he was very near the ground. So near he was blinded by flashing lights from the emergency vehicle mere seconds before the Huey’s runners smacked the snowy tarmac.

      A sigh of relief rushed from his lungs. Mick had rarely had such a bad landing.

      He shut down the rotors and jumped from the cockpit, grimacing from the pain that clutched his bad hip. His limp was so pronounced, one of the emergency crew assumed he was one of the injured. “Old war wound,” Mick muttered, opening the door to give the medics access to the real patients.

      The women didn’t look good. Even in the diffused light flickering sporadically through whorls of blowing snow, Mick saw tracks from their tears marring their cheeks.

      The medics got the women out and onto gurneys. Mick felt relief knowing a qualified attendant was caring for Hana and Kari.

      Once the emergency vehicle had disappeared through the main gate, he hobbled to the office and left orders to refuel the Huey. “I won’t be flying out again tonight,” he told the clerk. He needed to know the extent of Hana’s injuries. And whether or not in his zeal to rescue her he’d caused more damage.