Chapter 5

The following hour made Cheyenne feel like she'd been caught in a whirlwind. Mr. Cliner gathered the documents and photos he'd shown her and put them in a pocket within the lid of the briefcase. She found it curious that he left the scrambler on.

Once everything was back in order and the case lid shut, he peeked out the blind on the office window then opened the door. Waving his hand in a way that beckoned someone forward, a woman with Hispanic ancestry came into the office, letting Mr. Cliner shut the door behind her. A third person in the cramped space made Cheyenne's skin crawl and she had to fight down the desire to leave. The woman introduced herself as Margo Gonzalez and stated that she was the notary Mr. Cliner had requested. She had a sweet face and was dressed in blue slacks and matching business jacket, a white blouse and a white, blue and gold stripped scarf secured with a pin that looked like some form of angel, finishing the ensemble. She was there to validate and notarize Cheyenne's signature on the estate documents Mr. Cliner had drawn up.

It took them forty-five minutes to go through all of the assembled paperwork before the woman was dismissed. As soon as Ms. Gonzalez left the office, closing the door behind her, Cheyenne breathed a little easier.

Mr. Cliner opened the briefcase again and placed one set of the signed copies inside. "Those are for your records. I had you sign two copies of everything so you could have one set of originals in case anything happens to these," he said waving the second set. "I will get all of these filed tomorrow with the county courthouse or appropriate government entity and will let you know when it's complete. Once everything has been completed, I'll bring by a bound copy of the officiated documents. Everything was set up years ago for me to be the power of attorney on the estate, allowing me to make decisions about this business and pay the bills. It allows me to transfer the business, equipment, cabin and surrounding land as well as the financial accounts into the names of anyone able to claim the estate when the time came. It may take me a few days to work through it all since I'm sure there will be hoops I'll have to jump through repeatedly to get it all accomplished. You should have access to any funds you need within 48 hours."

He grew quiet for a moment, stilling his movements of placing his copy of the documents into a separate folder. Looking up at her, he met her gaze. "Just be warned, once things have been filed and transferred, your inheritance will become public record. You could end up on someone's radar if anyone is still out there looking for knowledge about the whereabouts of what we previously discussed. Be careful who you talk to about what you've learned today. Honestly, I'd prefer you not say a thing to anyone. I know it might seem paranoid but you've also learned the fate of those that were before you on the inheritance list. I don't want to add a date of death next to your name anytime soon."

She nodded dazedly to him, swallowing nervously. "What about this place?" she asked. "Can I stay here until all the documents are finalized?"

He nodded, smiling tiredly. "Just ask Rachelle for a set of keys to the building before you leave and everything should be legally in your name within 48 hours. If anyone brings up any issues before then, just show them the set of documents you signed. Any other questions can be directed to me. If you want, I can contact Mr. Walker, the gentleman that was managing this business and inform him that his services will no longer be required?" he asked, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a business card, holding it out towards her.

She took it gingerly, "If you wouldn't mind. I would like to see what I can make of this place in a week or so. I'm sure I can find someone else who can manage the business for me until I can get out of the Air Force."

He nodded then reached into the briefcase to turn off the scrambler before shutting the lid. "This briefcase is now yours. It once belonged to Dominic and I think you should have it. I changed the lock code to that of the month and day of your birthday. You should change it to something else as soon as possible, using the instructions inside."

Looking down at his business card, she tried to think of any other questions she might have. She had a lot to think about tonight. Finally she looked up at him then held out her hand. "Thank you," she said quietly, "For everything you've done."

He shook her hand gravely. "It was my honor. I'm glad to meet you again, all grown up now," he said with a sad smile. "I truly wish you could have known your father. He was a good man. So was Dominic."

She nodded and motioned for him to precede her out of the office. He gathered up his file folder full of documents and left, making his way out of the hanger. The roll away door was still open to allow the cooler evening breeze to blow in. It was already dusk outside, still early enough in the year that it was almost dark by the time people left work for the day. The hanger had grown quiet and with a quick glance Cheyenne saw the crew was gone. Half of the overhead sodium lights were off causing the two choppers that sat in the repair bays to cast shadows.

As she stood in the office doorway, she took a moment to get a good look around the entire building as her mind worked over the information she'd been given in the last several hours. She spotted the woman that Mr. Cliner had called Rachelle. She was still sitting at her desk working on a rather large stack of paperwork. She approached cautiously, "Rachelle?" she asked.

The woman looked up at her and attempted to smile but Cheyenne could read the nervousness in her features. Most likely, Rachelle knew what the meeting with Mr. Cliner was about and unless something happened, Cheyenne would be the new owner of the business. She could only imagine what Rachelle must be thinking, perhaps worried about keeping her job.

"What can I do for you?" Rachelle asked.

Trying to seem as relaxed as possible, Cheyenne attempted a smile in return, holding out her hand to the woman. "I don't believe we were properly introduced. I'm Cheyenne MacPhearson. I've been told that I'm the new owner of the Stars and Stripes Air Service. Mr. Cliner said I could get a set of keys to this building from you?"

Rachelle looked at the hand and then shook it, her grip firm but her hands were cold. "I'm Rachelle Winters."

With a little more relaxed smile, Cheyenne asked, "What is your job here?"

Rachelle grimaced. "My title is 'Controller' but I do pretty much everything. I do all the parts ordering, services billing, answer phones, schedule appointments and jobs as well as arrange equipment for said jobs, not to mention try to balance the books and keep things afloat."

Cheyenne's eyes grew a bit wide. "Wow. That's quite a load." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Are you normally here this late?"

The woman stood up and moved towards a cabinet on the wall, "No," she called back over her shoulder. "Due to spending all my time trying to find a part for the No.4 chopper over there, I've gotten a bit behind with invoicing and paperwork." The sound of keys clinked as she came back towards Cheyenne. "However, my daughter isn't happy with me since I'm going to miss most of her game tonight."

Looking around, Cheyenne frowned in thought. Rachelle handed her a set of old looking keys on a worn leather strap that served as a key chain. "The one ringed in blue is the side door key," Rachelle explained.

Nodding, she took the keys and looked at Rachelle. "Since I guess I'm the boss now, I suppose I have the right to tell you to leave the paperwork for tonight and go to your daughter's game. Show up tomorrow when you normally would and we'll see what we can do about getting those invoices done." Looking over her shoulder towards the pig sty of an office, she grimaced before looking back at Rachelle. "I get a feeling there's a lot that needs to change around here."

She saw Rachelle pale a little causing Cheyenne to grimace. "Don't worry," she tried to say in an encouraging voice. She was horrible at figuring out how to speak to regular people in a way that didn't sound like military orders. "You'll still have a job. Lord knows I have no idea where to even start with running a business. Been military for most of my life so I'm the farthest one from knowing which end is up. But if the rest of the business is in the same state as that office, we're in serious trouble."

Rachelle only nodded nervously even though Cheyenne had tried to make light of the situation. She made a small shooing motion towards the door. "Go see your daughter's game. I'll expect you here tomorrow morning bright and early."

Rachelle didn't wait to be told twice and grabbed her purse up from under the desk. She hurried towards the side door where a coat rack hung on the wall, grabbing her jacket. She half-turned and gave a short wave as she left through the main hanger door.

Once Rachelle was gone, it grew eerily still with only the sound of distant rush hour traffic and a single engine plane tacking off from the main runway. The building felt empty, almost as if it had been abandoned long ago. She stood there for several long minutes, staring out the hanger door, eyes unfocused as she tried to gather her frayed nerves and come up with a plan.

Finally, she couldn't take the stillness any longer and spoke aloud. "What the hell just happened and what the hell am I in for?"

As if the sound of her own voice shattered the overhanging sense of emptiness, she walked out of the hanger and headed back to retrieve her motorcycle. She didn't bother to start it, opting to push it around the side of the building and into the hanger. Once she had the bike situated into an out-of-the-way corner, she pushed the button that controlled the large hanger door and watched as it rolled shut. Moving about the place, she checked door locks and made sure that all entrances were secure. Her imagination and paranoia was beginning to run rampant and she needed to feel she had some security at her back.

Going over to Rachelle's desk, she sat down and reached for the phone. Exhaling slowly, she dialed a number she knew by heart, though she hadn't called it in almost a year. She just hoped it was still active. The phone rang several times before an answering machine picked up. The voice on the recording sounded older than she remembered but she listened as the message played. 'You know the drill. Leave your name, number and message…oh and the date you called. Might be times I don't get a chance to return calls for a while.' *Beep!*

She swallowed a little before speaking into the phone. "Hey. It's Red. Been a long time since we last got a chance to talk. Mostly my fault I guess. Was wondering if you'd be interested in helping me check out some property here in California that I've apparently inherited today. It's March 23rd. Time is 2030 Pacific Time. Number is the same as it's always been. I might be able pick you up and fly us there if you get this in time. I'm on leave for two weeks from yesterday. Or better yet, if you get this message before March 28th, come find me at the Stars and Stripes Air Service at Van Nyes airport." With that, she hung up.

She'd used the nickname she'd had since she was ten, which also happened to be part of her call-sign. Saying it like she had, reminded her of a day long ago, the memory never seeming to fade. She put her elbow on the desk and reached over to grab one of the pieces of paper on top of Rachelle's stack. She dropped her chin down into her open palm, exhaling sharply as she tried to focus on the time log in front of her.

Her mind began to drift, still seemingly stuck in the past on the day her adoptive mother had taken her, after much pleading and begging, to a Native American Dance Demonstration. She had wanted to see something about her heritage but when they arrived, she'd spent the better part of the morning trying to hide behind her mother.

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She'd been watching the dancing with extreme fascination but had been too shy to actually go up and talk to any of the brightly decorated adults. It wasn't until several other children her age ran up to her, looking to include her in their game of tag that she finally got enough courage to speak to someone. With a nod from her mother, she'd run off at full speed after the other kids. They had played hard all afternoon, dodging, ducking and running wild. When the kids had finally taken a break to get something to drink, a weathered, old man approached her.

His face was a mass of wrinkles, his black hair had long ago turned to gray but his smile was warm and friendly. He had asked her a few questions about her parents and what tribe she belonged to. When he'd learned she was adopted and that she didn't know anything other than her mother was Cheyenne, thus the reason for her first name, the old man laughed heartily. He nodded to himself as if he was reminded of something. Her adoptive mother had come over to see if she was all right in the company of the old man.

The man smiled at her mother and nodded, "You have a very talented and special daughter. Thank you for taking her under your wing. She will do great things in her life, I think," he said before looking back at Cheyenne, nodding once more as if to himself. "You are like the little red otter from the River People. Shy of all new things but soon willing to explore once curiosity has overcome all reason. But RedOtter is swift and cunning in its own element, just like you were when playing with the other children. However, RedOtter can also attract trouble easily if it's not careful to watch its tail," he said, looking seriously at Cheyenne.

Her mother wasn't sure what to say to him but he had turned and slowly shuffled off. They had headed home soon after but her mother took to calling her RedOtter or 'Red' for short to gently tease her from time to time. It stuck with her even as she enlisted in the Air Force, making the nickname as her call-sign.

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With a sigh, she shook away the memories of her past. She looked at the clock and realized that she'd zoned out for over half an hour. Looking down at the log sheet in her hand, she exhaled sharply before putting it back on Rachelle's pile. Standing up, she headed toward the office and stood in the doorway, her mind boggling at the mess of paper stacked up in every corner.

Making her way back towards the hanger, she began a private tour of the other areas of the hanger while looking for things she could use to help clean out the pig-sty. She managed to find several large, empty boxes and two trashcans that she drug back to line up outside the office door. Pulling off her jacket and hanging it on the back of Rachelle's chair, she began the arduous task of cleaning out the long neglected dump. She got the sense it was going to be a late night but she had to start somewhere.

She needed to find business records, papers, contracts, logs of activity, anything she could get her hands on to figure out how this place had been operated in the past. From the looks of things, half of the detritus hadn't been touched in twenty years. Before she did anything tomorrow, she had to know what the status of the business was before making decisions on staff and operations. If the office was in any way a reflection of how the rest of the business had been run, she couldn't fathom how it had kept afloat this long.

March 24th, 2008

0730 brought Rachelle to the front door of the hanger. She was always the first one here in the morning since she didn't live far away. She had fretted all night about the strange woman that had shown up the day before to sign papers that gave her ownership of the business. She wondered if she'd even have a job today, even though the woman had assured her she would. She'd never done wrong by the company but she didn't know this new owner and she might not like anyone that worked there.

She gave a mental sign of relief when her keys still worked to unlock the side entrance. As she opened the side door, she found the lights over her desk were still on and the office appeared to be well lit. The smell of coffee greeted her as she moved over to her desk to set her purse down. Once divested of her jacket, she made her way slowly towards the open office door. Outside the office were two large garbage cans full of junk and papers, one large box full of old books and another full of papers that might have sensitive information on them. There was a bucket of bits and pieces of junk sitting beside the other containers of trash. Moving to the doorway, she could only stand and stare, her mouth dropping open in surprise. It actually looked like…an office, not a pit or the recycle bin it had become.

She remembered the one time she'd tried to help clean it out but was abruptly told by Mr. Walker to leave it as it was. The shelves on the wall were now organized with manuals and trophies she'd never seen before, though some of them looked ancient. There were pictures on the walls that she'd never seen or knew existed. The desk, two chairs and the floor around the back of the office were actually visible and of all things, clean. The file cabinets were uncovered from the mounds of paper on top of it and the two drawers that were open, showing files to be in an organized manner.

It dawned on Rachelle that she hadn't seen the Major. She walked back towards her desk and looked around again. "Hello?" she said aloud, her voice echoing off the walls of the hanger. "Are you here Major MacPhearson?" she called out as she scanned the area. The sound of footsteps on the stairs leading to the storage loft made her look up. Cheyenne came down with a box of items in her arms, looking as though she'd spent the night in a dust bin. Most likely she had, knowing the state of the office and the loft.

The woman gave her an honest smile this time, not one shadowed with nervous tension. "Hi," she said as she set foot on the hanger floor. Setting the box down on an empty desk, she pulled a rag out of her back pocket to wipe off her face and hands. "Please call me Red if you like. It's easier to yell," she said.

Rachelle found herself staring at the woman, quickly shutting her mouth that she had let fall open again.

"What? Do I have grease smeared across my face?" she asked, as if trying to figure out why she was being stared at in such a manner.

Rachelle gave a little start. "No! No," she said again, as if trying to gather her thoughts. "It's just that I've never seen this place looking so…clean or empty," she said hesitantly, trying to wrap her mind around things.

"Then I won't even tell you what I found in the desk drawers," said Cheyenne with a grimace. Looking around, her eyes settled on the clock. "What time do the others usually get here?"

"Most days, a little after eight if traffic isn't too bad," answered Rachelle.

"Alright. If I read the schedule correctly, we don't have any appointments for the next two days until we can get the parts for that engine over there?" she asked, pointing towards the disassembled mess on a workbench.

Rachelle nodded. "We've had a hell of a time trying to get the part from our supplier," she said sounding a little frustrated, "I couldn't get Mr. Walker to try any other supplier but that one."

Red nodded with a bit of a smile. "Tell you what. As soon as the crew is here, I'll get them started on a few things and then you and I can sit and talk."

Rachelle's face suddenly paled, looking nervous at the prospect of speaking with her. Red raised an eyebrow at this. Did she think she was getting fired? Trying to break the tension with a slight chuckle, Red shook her head, "Don't worry Ms. Winter. If I've read through the files correctly, you've been with the company for some time and I personally would like to make your dedication to this place worthwhile. You've done quite well with what little you've been given and I hope by the end of our discussion this morning, things will be looking much better for you."

Rachelle wasn't quite sure what to make of that but she relaxed a little, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at her reaction as she gave a nod. Red nodded in return with a slight smile before moving towards the back of the hanger. "I'm going to go grab a shower. As soon as everyone is here, tell them to hold off on anything they're working on so I can talk to them."

Rachelle watched her go through the doorway that led to the bathroom. For as long as she had been with the company, she had only used the shower facilities that were part of the main bathroom in the back, twice. The men however used it all the time and stored extra sets of clothes, coveralls and shower kits on the shelves back there. She was pretty sure 'Red' wouldn't be thrilled with the state of the shower. It was a constant battle to get the men to clean it, since they were the ones using it.

She went about her morning duties, getting things ready for the day after pouring herself a cup of coffee. One by one, the crew arrived, milling about the coffee pot as they marveled at the state of the office, each seeming to take a turn at standing in the open doorway to gawk.

Red came back from her shower a few minutes after the last employee arrived. She was dressed in clean clothes though her hair was still a little damp, hanging in a braid down the middle of her back. As she approached Rachelle's desk, the men appeared to scurry off in hopes of finding something else to occupy their time, all the while casting glances towards her with uncertainty.

"They're all here," Rachelle said quietly. With a nod, Red poured herself a cup of coffee, walked out to the hanger floor to look over the three men that were trying to look as though their curiosity wasn't getting the better of them. She took a sip of the steaming cup as she collected her thoughts about things she'd discovered and tried to make up her mind on how to handle some of her concerns. It had been a massive crash course and she wasn't even sure she had a full grasp on half of what it took to run this place. She said a silent prayer in thanks that Mr. Cliner had taken care of informing the former manager that his services were no longer needed. She didn't think she had the guts to do something like that, just yet.

She took another sip of coffee before setting the cup down on top of a nearby cart. Clasping her hands behind her back in what she hoped looked like a relaxed pose, she addressed the men. "Gentlemen, I'm Cheyenne MacPhearson and the new owner of this business. Please address me Cheyenne or Red. Mr. Walker, the former manager, will no longer be running this business. For the next two days, we have nothing on the roster for jobs. It'll be something we'll have to work at fixing. Just because we don't have work currently on the board doesn't mean you'll be sitting idle. By the end of tomorrow, I want to see this entire hanger cleaned up, organized and that includes scrubbing down what you call a bathroom. That's disgusting. All of the aircraft that is a part of the business will be serviced, cleaned and detailed. During this time, I will be evaluating each of you on your knowledge in aviation mechanics and/or your flying skills." She looked at each person, seeing the nervous look in their eyes.

"I have no intention at this time of getting rid of anyone, but this is a new day and a new start. To get this business back off the ground and into the air, we need to put on a better face for the public. Anything going on under the table ends right now. If you don't feel you can work under these conditions, then I will ask for your resignation with no questions asked. Otherwise, I want you three to start by cleaning out the loft. Anything that is in the way of supplies can stay up there but at least organize and inventory them. Any junk, paperwork, boxes of odds and ends needs to be brought down here to the hanger floor. I'll go through it later. I want to see things dusted, mopped and swept out. Then you can work on cleaning up and organizing the tool chests and parts cabinets," she said, her voice sounding stern, giving no question that she meant business. "If you find we are missing tools or equipment is worn out, please make a note as to what is a priority to be replaced and what can be used for a little longer. If you find that we're running low on supplies or stock, make note of it and give it to Rachelle."

The men looked at each other before one spoke up. He was the youngest of the three and from what she could tell of the paperwork she'd read, the hothead of the group. "What experience do you have running a business like this? You were wearing a flight jacket yesterday but anyone can buy one of those online. Do you even know how to fly?" he asked with a slight smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

Red took slow steps towards him, her eyes snapped with cold calculation. "Kid, you have no idea who you're talking to, do you?" she asked, her voice low and even.

The kid shook his head but gave a little snort with his smirk. "Nope, I ain't never heard of you before."

She came up to him, stopping just within arms' reach, her hands still clasped behind her back, looking for all the world like a drill sergeant about to reprimand an unruly solider. The other two men, more seasoned and possibly a little wiser, both shifted backwards to be out of the way, wanting to see what happened next but not wanting to be involved.

Red flicked her eyes in their general direction but said nothing to them as she looked back at the kid. "I am MAJOR Cheyenne MacPhearson. I am a fighter pilot for Uncle Sam of these here United States. I've flown more missions, put in more hours behind the stick and flown more types of aircraft than you can think of. I have my licenses to fly anything from biplane, chopper to 737's. I was already flying choppers when you were still sucking on your momma's tit and wearing diapers. I have a purple heart, multiple other medals and accommodations for action and bravery above and beyond the call of duty," she said, glaring at the kid who looked suddenly like he wanted to crawl into a hole to hide.

There was a soft whistle from one of the other men who must have served in the military at one time or another. "Now, I am your boss and when I say jump, you better be asking how high or I'll be drop kicking your ass out onto the pavement to go work somewhere else. Do we have an understanding?" she asked, her voice still low and even.

The kid swallowed and nodded, his eyes a little wider. "Yes ma'am," he said as he backed up a step.

"Good. Now, gentlemen," she said, her voice casual and her stance relaxed again. "If you would be so kind, get to work while I have a meeting with Ms. Winters." She turned and headed back into the office, the three exchanging looks before heading off to look for cleaning supplies.

Rachelle headed towards the office, carrying a pad of paper and a pen. Red motioned for her to shut the door behind her and then indicated the seat she was to sit in. Red leaned back in the office chair and smirked as it remained silent. Her first order of business the night before was to oil it, eliminating the horrendous squeak it made. She folded her hands over her stomach, her elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "So…" she said as Rachelle got herself settled, "Think I'll have any more problems with the kid? Is his ego too big to deal with a woman talking down to him like that?"

Rachelle seemed a little surprised at the question but then thought for a moment, "Actually no. He reminds me of a pack dog, looking to challenge the top dog but when that challenge is met, he backs off and behaves with the rest of the pack," she said, getting a chuckle out of Red and a nod.

"I got that impression too." Red shifted a little in her chair. "Now onto business. Ms. Winters, I see by your file that you've worked here for seven years. It says you have your pilot's license for choppers and you've managed to get in your minimum flight hours to keep your license valid but you don't actually fly for the company unless it's absolutely necessary, correct?"

There was a little nod of her head but she said nothing in return.

Red continued, "From what I can tell from the memos, documents and other files I uncovered in this mess, your talents could be better used for something more than a 'catch-all'." Red watched her expression and noted Rachelle looked nervous again but it was overshadowed with a sense of excitement.

"How would you like to be the new manager of the business?" Red quickly held up a hand to forestall anything Rachelle was going to say. "I am still part of the Air Force and until I retire or for some reason, get discharged, I can't run this business from Nevada. I need someone with a good head on their shoulders who knows the business and has some good, new ideas." She leaned forward in her chair with a slight smile on her lips. "It comes with a pay raise, full benefits and if the business grows, so will your year-end bonus."

Rachelle appeared stunned and looked at Red as if she had just grown a second head, "Me…but I …you want me to be the manager? Are you sure I'm qualified? I mean, I'm just the controller," she stammered, trying to make sure she had heard Red right.

Red nodded, "You might have been 'just the controller' but you ordered parts, did most of the business paperwork around here and kept this business afloat. You worked with what you could and have been around long enough to see what 'not' to do and what works. It'll mean more hours though I'm not sure how your daughter will take that. I gather you're a single parent, but a pay raise might help a little with some of the everyday stresses?" she asked, hoping Rachelle would bite.

Rachelle still looked dazed, "I…I would be honored to manage the business for you. I've had so many ideas but Mr. Walker was never really interested in any of them," she said, beginning to ramble before stopping herself.

Red nodded and handed her a pad of paper with several pages of written notes. "Now, since that's done, here is a list of things we either need to order in supplies or things I would like to see done in the next two days to help the men get this place up to snuff so we can all start fresh. It might mean spending a little more than we should but if it will bring in business, we'll handle the extra cost."

Rachelle looked over the list carefully. Basic office and cleaning supplies, finding a new parts distributor, order new overalls and uniforms for the office crew from jackets to shirts. Order a new computer system to have three computers hooked to a central server. They needed new flyers and mailers to advertise that the business was under new management and ownership. Evaluation of the price for services, seeing what the competitors were charging and adjusting the pricing to meet the market demand. Last on the list was finding a company that shredded paperwork since the overflowing boxes on the hanger floor was going to grow even more before all of the clean-up was done. Rachelle went back over the list again, her excitement growing as she saw the great potential in what this business could be.

For the next two hours, they went over items on the list and Rachelle's ideas for things in the future. When she left the office, Rachelle felt like she was walking on air. The men were mostly done with the loft and a stack of boxes sat on the floor to be inspected or sorted through. Red knew it was going to be another long day, but it was a good start.

TBC -