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weather.”
    She looked up at the sky. “I didn’t think it was possible, but it looks to me like you’re a worse weatherman that you are a pilot. The weather’s beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky, except for that gray smudgy area, in the distance, and it could be a hundred miles away, for all you know.”
    He ignored the sarcasm. “There’s a storm warning out for the entire area. That’s why I wanted to leave Fort Honolulu as quickly as we did.”
    “How big a storm?”
    “Big enough. The first of the winter. And there’s the problem of the transmitter, itself, of course.”
    Anne groaned. “Naturally. And why wouldn’t there be a problem with the fucking transmitter? Everything else has gone wrong. If you ask me, Sergeant, your lack of judgment is our biggest problem. First, you show up in an airplane that’s older than dirt, then take off in shitty weather, with some damned cockpit gizmo that’s already on the blink. Then, with thousands and thousands of miles of flat, open space, as far as the human eye can see in any direction, you can’t even find a decent place to land without crashing the fucking plane into a goddamned lake! ”
    “You have apparently not heard that old but very wise adage that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing,” Cameron said irritably. “And, as it happens, I’m only a part-time pilot. I was relieving Brubaker. Doing him an off-the-record favor for which we will both undoubtedly be demoted, or imprisoned. Maybe drawn and quartered. That’s if we get out of here alive, of course.” He pointed to her right foot. “You’re limping.”
    “I’m not limping,” she grumbled, limping onto dry ground. “Shit! I hope you’re better with your damned horses than you are with airplanes.”
    “We don’t use horses much, anymore. Sit down, somewhere, and let me look at that foot.”
    “My foot’s fine,” she growled, but sat down, anyway. “You’re in the mounted police and you can’t ride a horse?”
    “As a matter of fact, my equitation skills are well above average, perhaps because I’m a member of what is politely called the older generation. So, yes, when the roads aren’t passable, or when I’ve just imbedded my trusty aircraft in a foot or so of mud, I occasionally attend to my duties on horseback. On a loyal, noble beast by the name of Jock. Horses are very good company, you know. They rarely indulge in useless small talk, or insult their owners, and when the situation calls for it, they make excellent eating.”
    “So, why are you dressed that way? Like you see on postcards, and in the movies?”
    He chuckled. “It’s called, 'full review.' Red serge tunic and Stetson, brass buttons, Sam Browne belt, leather gauntlets, and high browns.” He tapped one of his tall, laced boots. “Uncomfortable, hard to get on and off, and hell to clean. I came directly from graduation at Depot, in Regina—what you’d call our police academy. A first cousin twice removed of the Prince of Wales was scheduled to be in attendance, which meant we were expected to dress up in our finest. Like toy soldiers, and yes—like in the movies.”
    Anne scowled. “Yeah, well, you look like that guy in the movie. Dudley DoRight?”
    “Thank you. Dudley DoRight is a hero of ours, as it happens. The cartoons were far better than the film, though.”
    “What cartoons?”
    He rolled his eyes. “Never mind. They were classics, but irreverence and wit is often wasted on the young.”
    Anne looked up at the sky again. “So, go ahead with what you were saying,” she said. “About the signal?”
    “In the event of a major storm,” he said calmly, “the signal we’re transmitting will be harder to pick up. Maybe impossible, if the transmitter was damaged, although that’s unlikely. And when the transmitter finally loses power, the only way to continue a search will be visually—from the air. There’s a huge amount of territory to be covered, and seeing a downed plane in