Royal Ransom (2 page)

“Go on.”

“I'm bringing some people out on a canoe trip and I need an extra guide.”

“What about Aylmer?” I asked. Aylmer was, of course, another one of our cousins and the person who usually accompanied Ray on these trips.

“He's not feeling so good this morning.”

“Does he have that bug that's been going around?” I asked.

Ray laughed. “Only bug that's bothering him is the one that was in the bottle of tequila that he drank last night. So can you come with me?”

“I don't know,” I answered.

“What's wrong with going on a little canoe trip?”

“You don't go on little canoe trips. How many days are you going for?” I asked.

“It's short,” he said.

“Short like two weeks?”

“No, no, it's only a five-day trip. We're not going too far, either. There's a couple of kids coming along.”

“Kids?”

“One about your age and the other a couple years younger.”

“And is that supposed to make it better for me?” I asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“It's just that there's not much that's more annoying than rich people's kids. They all seem to act like they're little princes and princesses.”

“These kids might be different. So, you in?”

“Five days isn't so bad, although that's still four more days than it's going to take me to cut wood with Kenny.”

“You mean for
you
to have Kenny watch you cut wood.”

“Either way, if I stay, then tomorrow I'm all through.”

“Come on, Jamie, I'm talking about paddling a canoe, not cutting wood.”

“Breaking your back chopping wood isn't that much different from breaking your back paddling.”

“There is one big difference.”

“And what's that?” I asked.

“Nobody's going to pay you for doing the wood.”

“And you're going to pay me?”

“Of course I'm going to pay you.”

My cousin was best known for two things: he was a great guide, and he was incredibly cheap. I gave him a questioning look.

“I'll give you a one-eighth share … after expenses.”

That could be okay. “How many people are you taking on this trip?”

“There's only four people, but—”

“Four people!” I protested. “So you're making practically nothing and offering me a one-eighth share of that?”

“If you'd let me finish my sentence I'd explain. There's only four people going on the trip but they're paying me for all twelve spots.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Some people like to have privacy, and they have the money to afford it,” Ray explained.

“Wouldn't you figure that going thousands of kilometres up north and then canoeing away into the bush would give you enough privacy?” I asked.

Ray shrugged. “I'm not arguing. Same money for less people means less work.”

“They must have more money than brains. Are they Canadian?”

Again Ray shrugged. “Maybe Canadian. Maybe American. Maybe even European or Japanese.”

“You don't seem to know much about them.”

“All I need to know is that they have money.”

“And that's it?”

“If you want to know more, maybe you should radio your father. He's flying them in this morning.”

“He is? He's not due back until tomorrow.”

“Like I said, these people have money. They paid extra to have him come back here and drop them off before he heads for Cross Lake.”

“When will my dad be here?” I asked.

“Less than an hour.”

“So, when are you setting out on the trip?” I asked.

“As soon as possible. The supplies are all packed and the canoes are ready to go.”

“That changes things,” I said.

“What changes things?”

“I'm not going.”

“What do you mean you're not going?” Ray demanded.

“I'm not going. At least, I'm not going unless we make a change.”

“What sort of change?”

I smiled. “A change in the split. I want more than a one-eighth share.”

“I'm not giving you any more! Forget it!”

“Fine. Enjoy your trip,” I said. I turned and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Ray practically shouted as he grabbed me by the arm and spun me around. “How much more are you talking about?”

“Not much more. How much do you pay Aylmer?”

“You're not Aylmer!”

“I know. I'm available and I don't have a hangover,” I said. “So I think I deserve a quarter share … before expenses. Deal?”

Ray didn't answer.

“Better make up your mind. I need to eat and pack … so what's it going to be?”

“Quarter share
after
expenses, and you cut all the wood we need for our campfires during the trip,” Ray said.

“Quarter share after expenses, I cut all the wood for the campfires, and you help me cut wood for Auntie Francie after we get back.”

“Maybe I could get somebody else to come instead of you,” Ray said.

“Maybe you could. Of course, the longer you stand here arguing with me the less time you have to find somebody else.”

“I should be mad at you.”

“No, you shouldn't. You'd do exactly the same thing if you were in my spot, now wouldn't you?”

Ray smiled. “You got yourself a deal.” He stuck out his hand and we shook on it.

Chapter Two

I
CAUGHT SIGHT OF THE PLANE
way off in the distance. It was my father. His plane was bright orange against the brilliant blue of the sky. The colour was a dead giveaway. Nobody else has a paint job like his. My mother did it. She always says that she wants it to be brighter than the sun so it will carry my father through the sky safely.

I also know another reason that she doesn't like to talk about. She wants it that way so it can be seen if the plane ever goes down and needs to be found by the search and rescue team. That's something I try not to think about, but my father always says there are only two types of bush pilots: those who have had an emergency landing and those who haven't had an emergency landing—yet. So far he fits in the second group … knock on wood.

The plane took a long slow pass over the far shore of the lake. The wind wasn't strong but it was coming in out of the north. My father had to circle around so the plane would face into it when he landed. The lake was pretty calm. The only time I hate flying is when he has to set it down in the big waves. The only thing worse than being in the plane with him during those landings is
not being in the plane and having to watch it from the shore.

I fly with my dad a lot. His busiest time is during the summer when I'm off school and I go with him on lots of trips. Mainly he brings in tourists—people coming to hunt or fish or go on canoe trips—like today. But he also delivers mail and parcels, and he brings in doctors and dentists and police officers who need to get around to different communities. None of the settlements up here are very big, and none are close to any of the others. And of course since there are no roads, the only way in or out is by plane or boat. And really, boats aren't much of an option, especially during the winter.

My father says there's always more business than he can handle. That's good—not just for him, but for me as well. I figure that one day it will be me up there flying my own plane. My plane will be red—just as bright and even easier to see from the sky if it sets down for an emergency landing.

My father made a tight turn and the plane dropped down as he settled in for the final approach across the lake. It seemed to be just skimming across the surface. The pontoons came closer and closer and closer to the water, and then I saw them splash down and plow through, spray and waves being tossed before them as the plane dramatically slowed down. The buzzing of the engine became louder as he taxied it across the water toward the dock. People who have never seen a float plane are always amazed at just how fast it can skim across the water.

I stood up and waved both hands over my head. He always says that seeing me or Mom at the end of the dock
waiting for him when he lands is his favourite sight in the world.

“He sure does fly that thing pretty good,” Ray said.

“He's the best … at least until I start to fly.”

“What do you mean
start
to fly,” Ray said.

“I mean like really fly … by myself.”

One of my earliest memories is of being up in that plane. And the first time he let me handle the stick—him right beside me, of course—I couldn't have been more than four years old. My father lets me fly a lot, as long as we're the only ones in the plane.

My father gunned the engines. It takes a lot of power to move the plane through the water. Between the water rudders and engines he was manoeuvring to bring it in right alongside the dock. All at once he cut the engines. The sudden silence always amazes me.

I moved to the end of the dock to greet the plane and catch the first line. The door popped open and my father jumped out onto the pontoon.

“How's it going?” he yelled as the plane continued to glide toward the dock.

“Well … good … how about for you?”

“Good trip. Is your mother home?”

“She's out in the bush. I don't think she knew you were coming this morning,” I said.

“Heck, I didn't even know I was coming till a few hours ago.”

He tossed me the line. It bounced out of my hands, and I dropped to my knees and pulled it out of the water. I dragged the plane forward, although my father had taxied it in so perfectly I thought it might have docked itself.

My father, one hand on the side of the plane, made his way down to the other end of the pontoon, grabbed another line and tossed it to Ray. We positioned the plane up against the dock and secured our lines.

My father stepped up onto the dock and gave me a hug. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting a little bit too old to be hugged—at least in front of other people.

“So, Ray,” my father said, “I guess they're yours from this point on.”

“Mine and Jamie's.”

My father gave a questioning look.

“Aylmer isn't feeling good so Jamie's coming with me,” Ray explained.

“I hope you negotiated a fair price,” my father said.

“Depends on if you mean fair for me or fair for him,” Ray said.

My father started to laugh. “Sounds like he did okay for himself.”

“Yes, he did,” Ray agreed. “And it's time he started earning his money. Why don't you unload the baggage while I meet the customers.”

One of the passengers—I guessed the father—had climbed out of the plane and was standing on the pontoon. He looked younger than I had expected. He couldn't have been more than thirty. He also looked fit and athletic. Somehow I figured that anybody with enough money to do all of this would be older, and maybe a little rounder or balding or something. I'd seen enough out-of-shape tourists coming up here for a little wilderness experience. They'd canoe out a day or so and get so exhausted that they'd get stranded out in the bush.
More than once they had to arrange to have my father go in and fly them out.

The man jumped onto the dock and a second man came out of the cabin. He looked like a copy of the first—fairly young and athletic looking, though he had fairer hair and was a bit slimmer. They looked like they could be brothers.

“There are kids, right?” I asked.

“Two of them. A boy and a girl,” my father said.

Ray went over and introduced himself to the two men. A girl popped out of the plane next. She had brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she was quite tall, a bit skinny and looked like her skin hadn't seen a lot of sun. She seemed to be my age. She also seemed a little “green,” like the trip hadn't been that enjoyable for her. Lots of people get airsick in small planes, even if they have no problems flying in big ones. Ray went to offer her a hand, but one of the men moved faster and helped her climb out of the plane. A boy—maybe ten or eleven—came out next. The man offered him a hand too but the boy brushed it away and climbed out by himself. He had light brown hair and a heavier build than the girl. He looked to me like a guy who spent more time watching sports on TV than playing them. Ray took the group down the dock and onto the shore, leaving my father and me at the plane.

“Strange-looking family,” I commented.

“Not a family,” my father said as he undid the latches for the storage compartment.

“What do you mean?”

“The girl and boy are sister and brother, but those two men aren't family.”

“I thought that one of them might be the father.”

My father shook his head. “Something different going on here.”

“How?”

My father hauled out the first pack and handed it to me. “For starters, the way this flight happened. I'm sleeping in my bed when I get woken up and offered a lot of money to change my plans.”

“How much money?” I asked.

“Enough that I didn't mind being woken up in the middle of the night and having my flight plans changed,” he chuckled.

“Ray said they had lots of money,” I said as I took another bag from him. “They booked his whole tour so they could have privacy.”

“They had that at the airport, too. I had to taxi down to the far end of the field, away from the terminal, and then this little jet lands and the four of them get out and come straight over to my plane.”

“They must have a whole lot of money to afford their own jet,” I said.

“Can't be sure it belongs to them. Girl flies pretty nervous. She might have made marks in the arms of the seat she was sitting in, she was gripping it so tight.”

“Did she get sick?”

“Nope. Glad she didn't. Hate the smell of puke in my plane. But she was so nervous up there that she almost made me nervous about flying.”