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up? You're going to leave them in the dust. How long it takes depends on how much work you can do."
    "Yes, ma'am," he said, grinning a little.
    She thought that already he looked younger, more like a boy, than he had before. He was, in all ways, far more mature than the other boys his age in her classes, but he looked as if a burden had been lifted from him. If flying meant that much to him, how had it felt to set himself a course that would deny him what he wanted most?
    "Can you be at my house at six? Or would you rather I come here?" She thought of that drive, in the dark and snow, and wondered if she'd make it if he wanted her to come here.
    "I'll come to your house, since you aren't used to driving in snow. Where do you live?"
    "Go down the back road and take a left. It's the first house on the left." She thought a minute. "I believe it's the first house, period."
    "It is. There isn't another house for five miles. That's the old Witcher house."
    "So I've been told. It was kind of the school board to arrange living quarters for me."
    Joe looked dubious. "More like it was the only way they had of getting another teacher in the middle of the year."
    "Well, I appreciated it anyway," she said firmly. She looked out the window. "Shouldn't your father be back by now?"
    "Depends on what he found. If it was something he could fix right then, he'd do it. Look, here he comes now."
    The black pickup roared to a stop in front of the house, and Wolf got out. Coming up on the porch, he stomped his feet to rid his boots of the snow caked on them and opened the door. His cool black gaze flickered over his son, then to Mary. His eyes widened fractionally as he examined every slim curve exhibited by Joe's old jeans, but he didn't comment.
    "Get your things together," he instructed. "I have a spare hose that will fit your car. We'll put it on, then take you home."
    "I can drive," she replied. "But thank you for your trouble. How much is the hose? I'll pay you for that."
    "Consider it neighbourly assistance to a greenhorn. And we'll still take you home. I'd rather you practiced driving in the snow somewhere other than on this mountain."
    His dark face was expressionless, as usual, but she sensed that he'd made up his mind and wouldn't budge. She got her dress from Joe's room and the rest of her things from the kitchen. When she returned to the living room, Wolf held a thick coat for her to wear. She slipped into it; since it reached almost to her knees and the sleeves totally obscured her hands, she knew it had to be his.
    Joe had on his coat and hat again. "Ready."
    Wolf looked at his son. "Have you two had your talk?"
    The boy nodded. "Yes." He met his father's eyes squarely. "She's going to tutor me. I'm going to try to get into the Air Force Academy."
    "It's your decision. Just make sure you know what you're getting into."
    "I have to try."
    Wolf nodded once, and that was the end of the discussion. With her sandwiched between them, they left the warmth of the house, and once again Mary was struck by the bitter, merciless cold. She scrambled gratefully into the truck, which had been left running, and the blast of hot air from the heater vents felt like heaven.
    Wolf got behind the wheel, and Joe got in beside her, trapping her between their two much bigger bodies. She sat with her hands primly folded and her booted feet placed neatly side-by-side as they drove down to an enormous barn with long stables extending off each side of it like arms. Wolf got out and entered the barn, then returned thirty seconds later with a length of thick black hose.
    When they reached her car, both Mackenzies got out and poked their heads under the raised hood, but Wolf told her, in that tone of voice she already recognized as meaning business, to stay in the truck. He was certainly autocratic, but she liked his relationship with Joe. There was a strong sense of respect between them.
    She wondered if the townspeople were truly so hostile simply because the