Page 5 of Cowboy

“You always said I could be anything I want to be. Well, I want to be a pilot.”

“No changing your mind,” she growled.

“No changing my mind,” smiled Autumn.

“Well, hell.”

CHAPTER THREE

Cowboy was thrilled to be heading home. He’d been stationed in Coronado for the last three years. He had one final short-term assignment in Oakland and was free to head home. Calling his parents, he told them he would be driving his truck and things home but taking his time. He needed to think about what he wanted to do, although the choice seemed obvious.

Driving south along I-5, he decided to cut over east through the Sequoia National Forest. He’d be in Vegas by nightfall, get a room and maybe play a few slots, get a big, thick, juicy steak, and then head out again in the morning.

Pulling into the big truck stop, he filled his tank and nearly choked at the cost of gas in this part of the country. Walking into the massive building, he could smell the fried foods and hot coffee. First, he needed to piss. When he was done, he came back out and gathered some food for the road. Mama Irene would not be happy with his choices of corn chips, beef jerky, energy drinks, and candy bars. But it was traveling food.

He needed to call his folks and at least give them an update on where he was, but he really wanted a few more miles under his belt first. There was an area with a hot food counter putting out burgers, burritos, and tacos. It smelled great, but he wondered how long that would last in his gut. Smiling to himself, he shook his head, walking past the patrons sitting and having their meal.

As he walked toward the check-out, he could hear a little old woman speaking to someone on the phone.

“I don’t give a damn if it ain’t your territory. My granddaughter is in trouble.”

“No,” muttered Cowboy, “stay out of it. It’s not your business.”

“Look, who do I need to talkto to[PC1]get someone off their asses and out there looking for my girl? Cause you sure as shit don’t seem to want to do your job.”

Cowboy grinned at the old woman. He liked her tough talk, and other than the cussing, she reminded him an awful lot of Mama Irene. Home. Man, he could smell the po’boys and beignets now. He just wanted to hug his folks, sleep for a week, eat until he was sick, and then get to work with his family.

“Assholes!” she yelled, slamming her cell phone to the table.

“Damn,” muttered Cowboy. “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

“Not unless you can climb mountains, swim in ice-cold streams, and fly planes,” she frowned. He almost wanted to say, ‘you’re in luck,’ but held back. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me. My granddaughter has her pilot’s license. Has for almost ten years now. She was flying over the Sierra Nevada, and they lost contact with her. Except them damn fools all say her plane isn’t there. Said she didn’t file an accurate flight plan, but I know damn good and well she did. If I have to, I’ll be hiking my ass up there to find her.”

“When did she leave?” he asked.

“Three days ago. She’s never gone three days without calling or texting me. We’re all we have. She wouldn’t leave me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m going to regret this but tell me everything.”

“Son, I need someone who can truly tackle this. You don’t look all that special.” Cowboy chuckled. The old woman was being pretty particular for someone desperately needing help. Although, in his current cargo shorts, torn-up running shoes, and sweatshirt, he probably didn’t look like much.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. In my family, we’re all special. I just happen to fall somewhere in the middle.”

“Well, no offense, but I don’t need the middle. I need the top of the food chain. There are mountain lions and bears out there.” She shook her head and wiped a tear. “This ain’t like her. She’s careful and flies that route all the time. She was picking up her regular client from the Los Angeles area and taking him to Vegas.”

“What’s the passenger’s name?” asked Cowboy. She eyed him, tilting her head.

“I’m Clarise Zeller,” she said, holding out a hand. “My granddaughter is Autumn Zeller.”

“Ma’am. I’m Benjamin LeBlanc, but everyone calls me Cowboy.”

“Her passenger was supposed to be Constantine Liconitis.”

“The Greek billionaire who owns all the casinos and other things?” frowned Cowboy.

“That’s him. He’s been usin’ Autumn for a few years now. Has a big ranch out near Santa Barbara but has several businesses in Vegas. She flies down, picks him up, drops him in Vegas for a few days, and does it all over again.”

“Ma’am, are you aware that Mr. Liconitis has some rather unsavory businesses?”

---