“Yes, the horses can’t wander onto it, and the grassy, level surface is nearly as smooth as a tarmac.” Ethel looked at the cluster of buildings at the far end of the runway. “It appears that Curt has the 172 ready. He’s such a sweetheart.”

The driveway split, and Ethel bore to the right, away from the picturesque house with its wide wraparound porch. She stopped about twenty feet from the plane.

A lanky man was bent over one of the three wheels, running his fingers across the tread of the tire. He looked up and smiled. As he stood, he clutched his back with one hand, evidently feeling some pain. Then he wiped his palms on his jeans. Before Jesse could unbuckle his seat belt, Ethel was out the door and halfway to greet him.

The man must have been six-three or six-four and towered over her. His outstretched arms embraced Ethel and, despite the bad back, he lifted her off her feet. Jesse thought maybe a romance was on display and so took his time getting out of the car to join them. But there was no kissing, just a playful punch delivered by Ethel to the man’s back. He winced and dropped her.

Jesse quickly sized him up. The tanned, weathered face declared hours of outdoor activity. The lines etched upon it measured time in decades. The jeans, wide belt, and boots suggested a man who was as at home on a horse as in an airplane.

Ethel stepped aside. “Curt, I’d like you to meet Jesse Cooper, my double-first-cousin-twice-removed. Jesse, this is Curt Foster.”

Foster ran his right hand through his disheveled white hair in a mocking attempt to make himself more presentable. Then he offered it to Jesse. “Double-first-cousin-twice-removed. Impressive. I was only a colonel.”

Jesse laughed and shook the man’s hand. “I’m sure it’s not as impressive as flying fighter jets.”

“Are you kidding? I’d sooner be flying through antiaircraft flak again than be in this little bird with Ethel at the controls. I salute your bravery, young man.”

“Don’t believe him, Jesse,” Ethel said. “I can fly rings around this old man.”

“On a broom, maybe.”

They both laughed and the teasing ceased.

“You’re fueled and ready to go,” Foster said. “You’re going to Pete’s?”

“Yes.” Ethel turned to Jesse. “Pete Varner is a UFO member outside Richmond who has a strip like this.”

“Pete was also my wingman.” Foster looked up at the sky. “The day’s clear enough. You going VFR?”

“Yes, I’ll skirt the major airspaces and avoid a flight plan.”

Foster shook his head. “I don’t like that.” He shot a glance at the plane. “I mean she’s a good craft, but it’s the unexpected that gets you.”

“Curt, if she goes down, no flight plan is going to stop it. I’ll call you when we land to set your mind at ease.”