Slumped over his desk, Gideon “Booker” Troyer kept his aching head pillowed on his forearms, but managed to cast a one-eyed glare at Craig Murphy, his friend and partner at Troyer Air Charter. “I’m fine.” “And pigs can fly.” Craig advanced into Gideon’s office. “If they pay cash I’ll fly them anywhere they want to go.” Gideon sat up. His less-than-witty comeback was followed by a ragged, painful cough. A bone-deep shiver shook his body. Craig took a step back. “You’re spreading germs, man.” “So leave.” Was a half hour of peace and quiet too much to ask? The drone of the television in the waiting area supplied just the right amount of white noise to let him drift off. “You’re the one leaving—for home!” “I can’t go anywhere until this next load of freight gets here. Then I’m taking it to Caribou.” Gideon barely recognized his raspy voice. He sounded almost as bad as he felt. Almost. “If I was sick as a dog, you wouldn’t let me fly a kite, let alone your prize Cessna.”
