The next day I flew back up to the work site to retrieve the Husky's passenger seat. I found the crew boss and asked him where it was and he pointed vaguely off somewhere and turned away, which kind of annoyed me.
"Well, go get it," I said.
He ignored me.
I assumed my naval officer command style -- if the Navy taught me anything it was how to compel compliance -- and repeated, "Go get it."
He turned back and looked at me, a sour look. I looked back. There was a moment. Then he turned and called out to someone to get the seat.
I said, "No, you go get the seat."
We exchanged hard gazes, he having a good foot in height over me and trying to stare me down. Just like so many others have tried to do in my life. It didn't work. It never does. Finally, he went and got the stupid seat. All the melodrama for nothing.
"Look," he said, "I'm sorry, Wanda, but things haven't been going well and I'm pretty much up to here with everything. You know we've been drilling dry holes and had a well collapse on one that was pumping and now this accident that's left me short-handed when I already was short-handed, meaning everyone's been working long hours in rotten weather, either too damned hot or too damned windy or there's a storm and we have to wait it out and the usual problems with equipment and now this breakage...."
He stopped talking and looked around. "You know, when I took this job the agreement was a bonus for every day before deadline I finished and a penalty for every day beyond deadline. I was sure I'd beat the deadline, had no doubt. And now we're not going to get close to meeting it. And this guy" -- he meant his injured crewman -- "is going to sue me. You can bet on that. I'm probably going to lose money on this deal. Throw away the whole summer for nothing. Worse than nothing."
"But you're bonded and insured," I said.
"Well, yeah, but you know how these things go."
I nodded, but I didn't know. "I think we're going to be sued, too," I said.
"Yeah?"
"For one thing, we should have just called 911 and let the authorities handle everything, including evacuating him to the hospital, I suppose by helicopter Life Flight or whatever they call that..."
"That could have taken a lot longer than how you guys handled it. You were Johnny on the spot."
"...and my mother should never have treated him, nor should we have flown him home, and when his father asked for his truck we should have just said come and get it and let him figure out how to handle that."
"That guy was a pain, Wanda. How could he get lost? All he had to do was follow the tracks we made coming up here to get back to the road."
"We should have stayed clear of everything."
"I lost half a day's work from a good man because of him."
We both stopped talking and looked out over the prairie and hills. A bunch of vultures were circling and landing. Something was dead over there. I thought of the lone elk I had seen. Maybe it had been sick or injured and been pulled down by a lion, grizzly or coyotes. Wild animals don't go to the hospital when they get sick. They get killed. In horrible ways.
"Damn," he said, looking at nothing.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Well, Wanda, I have to get back to it. Again, I'm sorry I was --"
"Oh, forget it. We're good."
He looked at me and I looked at him but this time it wasn't a hard stare, it was.... I gave him a hug and he hugged me back, lifting me off my feet and I laughed, "Whoa, fella!"
"You're a scamp, Wanda, you really had me going back there. You must be a real handful for Jeff."
"My dad always said I was a firecracker."
"Ah, you're dad. He was a great guy. None better that I ever met."
"Yeah."
"Okay, then. You have a nice flight back."
"Thanks, you have a good day, or as good as you can."
"Will try, Wanda, will try."
I swung into the plane, started up, closed the door. The crew boss was still standing there. I taxied away a few yards, pivoted around and took off. I circled the field. He was standing where I'd left him, looking up. I wagged my wings. He waved.
