They had several log cabins already finished by then for
guests. The work crew had grown to 30 by the official opening -
well, "official" being Jess breaking a champagne bottle on the huge
pine bar - the guys going with the name "Denali Air Park" to keep
"Jessy" under wraps, figuring the suits in Cincinnati or D.C. might
otherwise get too wise.
        'Leen and John were still their front guys, besides the
Arkansas four, plus Amelia, Hank and AD. But Jessy and Kit felt
like real barnstormers. They tried out all their planes and got Flece
and Es started on flying, and both those two were taking to it just
as ferociously as Jess.
        Well, the word got out like lightning. All the old timers down
in the lower 48 felt the call in their bones to get up to Alaska to fly
those old birds again. Wiley and Orv made a lot of calls too. And
they would need more old feathers, they told Kit and Jess.
        The last of the restaurant equipment finally came in by truck
and they opened up the "Polar B'ar Grill" and hired the most local
band they could find for opening night. Them. And Jess just blew
everybody's socks all the way off. So that word spread even faster
and the place got mentioned on the Anchorage TV news, and even
the networks wanted to get more of a report on it. "Puff" news,
they call it, I think. Only it would be "poof" for our four. They
were planning to vanish if any news crews or worse came up.
        "Nice dam party, Buff'lo...you're not too bad a rockhead,
y' know it?" Wiley got a little sentimental on them the night after
while they were kicking down a few at the bar, their guests and
crews eating and drinking away all around inside the grill. And
as soon as he had gotten out that kind approbation, for him,
neighbor Jack strode in with the finished griz skin and mounted
head for Jess, so they hung them both up on the log wall behind
the bar.
        "Hey! What the hale..." Wile got rascally, "that's no dam
polar bear! 'R' you pudknockers color blind?"
        Then he got the story on the shoot, especially liking the part
about Jessy asking Jack if they couldn't save ole "Smokey" - after
Jack and she had put their rounds into him and he had collapsed.
(Sorry, I forgot to mention that).
        "Well..." Wiley continued, "you're going to have to paint him
white...cuz we can't have any misinterpertation here."
        "Hey, don't worry there, Armstrong..." Orville piped up,
"you'll turn this whole place white as soon as everyone sees you
back in your Stearman," and took another guzzle of his Frog as
everyone in the bar and grill got another laugh. "You shoulda been
along, Buff..." Orv went on, loud enough for all, "this stickwanger
hit every dang bump in the sky from there to here...hoo WEE!
MAN! What a trip!...but I'm tellin' ya, you gotta find some new
language for how my butt feels!" and winked over to Jessy and
the girls.
        "Hey now, I don't think we have to go into feelin' butts,
there, blowhole," Wi came right back and, naturally, got a love
poke from Elaine.
        It was pretty much like that, or even better, every night as
guests kept arriving during the days which, of course, were
advancing well into the nights, the darkness not lasting long at all
up there at that time of the year. They were barely keeping up
with new cabins and RV's for everyone. Our three were borrowed
up over their behinds, but things were going well. The planes were
flying around the clock and there was a new request for
accomodations every quarter hour; they were tracking down every
available RV in Alaska or Western Canada. They were still making
big money in the market, and Gold was still being blown and
picked out of Mount Essy and Jessy. They were waiting for the
tenth of June, there still being no word from any country to the
WPG, Sundance was reporting back to them every night.
        One of those days they flew the Caribou with Amelia and
Hank to Nome, Saint Lawrence Island, then further North up the
Chukchi Peninsula in Siberia, making the milk run, stopping in at
other coastal towns and some inland - those with some semblance
of airstrips - to try and gauge the business potential and extend
their post Cold War hand. And there was promise. Mostly for
cargo. Alaska Air had been there before them, to be sure, but our
guys had that new flavor and taste.
        They stopped in on the mission in Provideniya and Rachel,
Doc Rob and staff were busy helping a bunch of folks, besides
still setting up the place. So our four pitched in on what they could
do and Kit cut another check for Rache and Rob before dinner.
And that was what it was all about for the guys. Their darn money
was doing some dang good. Maybe their airline wouldn't make a
dime of profit. But it was about making those people feel better.
And it was making them healthier to boot. Our guys had given
some kids and their parents free rides down to the mission that
day - the kids needing care and medicine - and Hank and Amelia
were going to fly them home the day after. Sometimes it costs a
lot to do a little good. But it felt so rewarding to Kit and the girls.
        They stayed the night in Anchorage again, at Amelia's again.
Hank was there too. And 'Meal ya' had some extra guests over for
a little dinner party, among them an old couple of Russian heritage
who knew what Kit and the girls were doing with North Air. They
talked about the old timers they had known who had crossed the
Bering Strait on sleds or in boats to trade or settle, and about the
legend of the migration from the Land of the Bear to the Land of
the Turtle (explaining to Essy how the Western edge of Alaska
resembles a turtle and the Eastern end of Siberia a polar bear).
And they told Kit and the girls that what they were doing - and
sacrificing financially - would return 1oo-fold, like harvest to the
seed. Those old folks told our heroines and hero that they were
the loving thawing of the Cold War. Well, there may have been
some alcohol talking, but Cody and our sweethearts appreciated
those feelings and slept well on them. That is, when they got to
sleep.
        In the morning, after more sex, they went shopping for stuff
to be trucked up to Denali. Then they partook in a little
sightseeing - including the Bush Pilot Air Museum. Then they
flew the 310 the long way home, exploring the Yukon Basin some.
That took them the whole morning. And everytime they went
somewhere in Alaska it just felt a whole lot bigger to them, they
ruminated.
        "Kind of like our sex," Jess smiled. Hm.
        They caught lunch in the Polar B'ar with the others in from
flying, Wiley razzing away to everyone's delight, new guests
getting the character of the place as the trucks rolled in from
Anchorage with the beer, food and all. Our girls, though, were the
acute focus of all the men, from the old World War One - yes,
some were there - and the World War Two, Korea, Vietnam and
Gulf War flying vets to the younger members of the ranch crews.
Our angels just inspired away and Kit just sat back quietly and let
it be. Biz was up. What the hay. Their relics and classics were in
the air making them thousands an hour, all tolled. And the crews
were finishing out a new cabin every two days, the RV's were still
rolling in and even tents were going up those days.
        The B'ar pretty much emptied after lunch. Even Flece and
Es went flying with some young suitors. So our heroine and hero
checked in on Puter.
        The good news was that there wasn't any bad news from
the agents or any of that. The bad news was that they were taking
a loss in the market. Down around a million. Well, the market
goes up. And the market goes down. And Kit advised Jess that he
and Pute saw it for the buying opportunity that it would be. And,
as fortune would have it, they would be sitting on their share of the
last shipment of Gold out of Truchas.
        So they put Pute onto evaluating stocks for awhile, and then
Ed called from out of the blue. Kit finished that up with telling his
good friend in Fort Worth that he would call back within a few
days on which way to invest. But Ed was happy. About a half
million richer happy. He also apprised them that he had taken a
call about the Mooney's purchase, but had just told the caller
what they had agreed upon and there seemed no problem.
        Our guys took some, uh, "private time" in their RV, then
worked on a cabin with one of the crews until Flee and Essy
landed and then they called homes.
        Maria told them that they were planning a grande fiesta at
the hacienda at the end of the month and that they were all
expected. There had been no agents or problemos, Julian
reported, as the vatos there were already fiesta-ing the Gold
going out as they spoke. Then Maria wanted to talk some more
with Est.
        Well, Jess noticed that the DC-3 was idle out on the ramp,
and she decided that she wanted to get some time in it. So she,
Kit and Flee took their old Douglas, which, by pure luck, had
been one of Orville's actual "Gooneys" from WWII,  up the East
slope of Denali - McKinley - to the peaks and flew along the
Range, feeling like they were reliving a little of what Orville and
those others had accomplished when they had flown the "Hump"
in 3's, by God. They flew back before they came down with too
bad a case of hypoxia, and Jess made one beautiful 3-point
landing in their grass. She was really getting good.
        Later, reports came in on the day's Siberian run. North Air
had gotten a lot of kids and old folks to the mission, and revenue
was up. Then Pute showed them a couple of Grob sailplanes on
the market at a nice price from Tony at Douglas County Airport
in Nevada, where Kit had worked one summer. So they bought
those and started arranging having them trucked up. Then Cyber
Boy found a Curtiss Jenny project and Kit went wild. They
bought that, bought the truck and hired the mechanic to get it up
there from the L.A. area. The rock was rolling. They asked BR
to borrow them up to max on their new Gold money and sent
everything they could to the funds. It was a good day.
        That night they played for the customers in the B'ar and
just had one grand ole opry and time. It's on tapes for near 20
bucks now, we hear. Rumor was that a spate of 50 men or so
proposed to Jessy within all of an hour. Course, some were kind
of old and married. But there were a bunch of serious ones, now.
And then, most of those and some others were proposing as well
to Felecia, Estrella and Elaine. So the girls all announced together
over the mikes on stage that they weren't looking for husbands,
but thanked one and all just the same and said how much they
were flattered and, um, might consider the possibility of an
auction up the road. Just kidding, they were.
        "SO HOW 'BOUT A SUGAR DADDY?" Wiley yelled
out and cracked up the place.
        Well, everybody got pretty dang sauced that night. But
later in their RV, Pute got our four's attention with his alarm,
made louder since Washington, our guys right in the middle of
multicoitus. An NSA agent was on his way out of Anchorage, at
the behest of the one in D.C., to check on the airpark. Jess
packed up Pute, helped Kit with his clothes, flight jacket and fur
hat (he was stumbling drunk), told the girls to sit tight there inside
the RV, though they helped her get Kit out to the flightline and
into the Stearman. Jess climbed into the back seat and put on the
night vision goggles. And, most luckily, it was still dark and there
was an overcast.
        She started up the biplane, taxied them down to the end of
the runway, started the takeoff roll, took to the air and had to
make a quick turn to dodge Wiley, who had staggered out onto
the runway, wondering who had the balls to take his plane, and
the girls, who were chasing Wile down.
        Jessy was pretty darn intoxicated herself, but she flew them
on the deck North up the valley about 30 miles to Jack's hunting
camp that had a little gravel runway. That cold of the open
cockpit sobered them both up a little, her for the landing and he
to the point that at least he could stagger, with her help, then
Jack's, as their friend came out to help them to his cabin.
        So they had some explaining to do. They told Jack what
they needed to that next cloudy day. But he was totally there for
them. And he gave them lots of time for sleep, sobering,
computering and loving, too, while he went out for some hunting.
        The agent left the airpark at the end of that day, Pute
reported. So they flew back on the deck under more overcast
after dark and faced the music with Wiley, but just told him that
Jess had wanted to fly the Stearman.
        "That OK, Wiley?" she kissed and cajoled him. Well, he
finally melted. Though only in private.
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