Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure (20 page)

Rick scoffed. “Yesterday was the first she’d even been in a plane.”

“Heights don’t faze her. She’s got good balance.”

A grin played at the corner of Earl’s mouth. “And she’d be pretty to look at up there, I reckon.”

Hitch glared. “That ain’t it.”

“’Course not. But don’t forget you’re not going to get her up there at all if you can’t get this plane off the ground.”

Rick stared at Hitch. “You can’t possibly be thinking of bringing her on board.”

“Maybe. If she wants the job.”

“Well, I say no, Hitch. She’s no barnstormer. She’s a wild vagabond!”

“There’s a difference? Anyway, you said you wanted a wing walker.”

Rick flared his nostrils. “You intend to pay her the same as the rest of us if we win?”

“Why not?”

“Then I deserve a raise. I’m a veteran member of this troupe. A pilot and a parachutist. That’s worth more than a fledgling wing walker any day, as both of us well know. ”

Hitch’s head pounded harder. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means for what I’m paying you already I get an okay pilot, a halfway decent parachutist, and a whole lot of complaining.” The words were out before he could stop them.

Earl, still crouched near the wheel, shook his head.

Rick’s face stilled. “Your trouble is that you have consistently and
deliberately
underestimated and devalued me! You seem to believe you own Lilla, and don’t think I’m not aware of your attempts to lure her away from me. And you insulted me to my face, I’ll remind you.”

Here it came then. This old beef about Rick’s claim to have been the first to do the handkerchief pickup stunt.

“Called me a liar, I believe,” Rick insisted.

“You
were
lying.”

“Is that so, is it?” Rick started nodding, as if he’d expected no less. “Is that so? And that is truly all you have to say to me?”

What Hitch
truly
wanted to say wouldn’t go over any better. So he just gritted his teeth. “Guess so.”

“Fine.” Rick turned to go and stalked off.

“Looks like you went and hurt his feelings,” Earl said.

“He’ll get over it.” Or not. But it didn’t matter. Rick was always upset about something. He could still jump out of a plane whether his ego was feeling up to full size or not. That was all that mattered.

Earl grunted.

Hitch shot another look around. “What about Taos? Did that kid ever bring him back?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Earl pushed to his feet. “Look, I hate to tell you this, but your good pal Rick is the least of your troubles right now. Qualifying rounds are tomorrow. I suppose we could all go get ourselves some honest jobs, but I don’t think they’d pay out fast enough to do us much good. So unless you’ve got another couple of old pistols to sell...” He spread his palms.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hitch gritted his teeth. The pressure made his headache worse, but even that was better than the only option left staring him in the face. That option had more than its share of reasons why it was a stupid idea. But it also had one very good incentive: $100.

With a sigh, he stood up from leaning against the plane. “If I tell you to stop worrying, will you?”

“Probably not,” Earl said. “What are you going to do?”

“Something I’m likely to regret for a long time. But it’ll give us enough money to get back in the air.”

With any luck, it would also get him out of town with a partnership in Livingstone’s circus and no fear of Bill Campbell ever hunting him down. This thing was already too far along for him not to do whatever had to be done to make that happen.

***

“I’ll do the job,” Hitch said. The words sounded like the hiss of a noose pulling tight.

Campbell wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Will you now?”

When Hitch had finally reached Campbell’s house, half a mile outside of town, the time was along about supper. Campbell’d done all right for himself, living in this smart whitewashed place. Two stories topped with dormer windows, it was too large for one man alone, but likely that was exactly why he’d bought it. He was the big man around here, so he needed a big house, right?

Hitch stood in the spacious dining room, where Campbell sat at a long oak table eating salt pork and baked beans. Campbell’s seat looked out of a tall paned window onto a view of the river and, beyond it, the rugged crag of the Bluff. Around here, that was a prime view.

On the wall behind Campbell, framed newspapers highlighted his many triumphs in cleaning up the town and conquering crime. Photographs showed him grinning with all his teeth and shaking hands with state politicians and city businessmen.

With barely a glance at Hitch, Campbell kept on reading his paper until he’d swallowed.

Then he cleaned his back teeth with his tongue and looked Hitch up and down. “Here you are being sensible and on time, both. Maybe you
have
learned a thing or two in the passing years.”

Just inside the archway that separated the dining room from the front parlor, Hitch remained standing like some hapless Army private waiting for his captain to return his salute.

He hooked his thumbs in his suspenders and cocked a lazy hip, as if he was at his ease. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Condition.” Campbell sucked his teeth, then turned back to his plate. He crumbled off a piece of cornbread and sopped it in the bean sauce. As he chewed, he sat back in his chair and regarded Hitch once more. “What condition?”

“My plane was damaged in the storm. If you want it in the air, then you have to pay for the repairs.”

“And how much is that going to cost me?”

“Fifteen, twenty bucks.”

“All right.”

Hitch raised his eyebrows. “That’s it? Just like that?”

“Why not? Guess that storm was a lucky one for me.” Campbell’s mouth twitched in that almost-smile. “Kind of galls, don’t it? Thought you’d pull it all off by yourself. And now here you are needing my help as much as I want yours. Just like in the old days.”

Hitch’s shoulders tightened. “This isn’t going to be like the old days. After this job, we’re even.” After this job, he’d leave Scottsbluff and never again give Campbell the chance of camping on his tail. After this job, there’d be no reason to come back.

Not unless some miracle happened and Griff decided to forgive him.

“Sure, sure,” Campbell said. “I suppose you’ve heard what your Col. Livingstone has to say about this storm? Griff tells me he’s issued a challenge to any of you flyboys who can figure out what’s going on up there.”

Hitch eyed him. “You don’t buy into that, do you?”

“That’s hard to say, son. But you know me, I always load all six cartridges.”

Hitch made himself shrug. “The storm was just a freak. They happen all the time around here, as I recall.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But if you get a condition on our deal, then so do I. I want you to do like Livingstone says and keep an eye out. Should you happen to find anything, you tell me before you tell Livingstone—or anybody else. You understand?”

Hitch frowned. “Even if something
is
up there, why would you care?”

“Something’s going on here. I don’t think either of us is dense enough to believe otherwise. Stores robbed in town today? All these bodies?” He shook his head. “What if our folks from around here, instead of these strangers, start falling out of the sky?”

For an instant, the image of Griff spread-eagled in last night’s cornfield blasted through Hitch’s brain. His heart missed a beat.

“Whatever it is,” Campbell said, “it’s a threat to this town and the people. And make no mistake. It’s my town, and they’re my people.” He looked Hitch in the eye. “I don’t take it lightly when something threatens what’s mine.”

Hitch stared back. “Neither do I.”

Campbell eyed him—trying to read his thoughts maybe. “I don’t trust this Livingstone jaybird any farther than I can throw him. For all I know, this is all something he cooked up to get folks interested in his doings. And you’re going to keep tabs on that for me, aren’t you?”

For all that this
did
sound like something Livingstone might have cooked up on one of his more creative days, he definitely wasn’t at the heart of it. But let Campbell think that.

Saying yes to him on this was the only way to move forward in any kind of positive direction. Even if Hitch did figure anything out, Campbell would never know the difference if Hitch decided later that keeping his mouth shut was the better course of valor.

“All right,” he said.

Campbell held his gaze, then nodded. “Good enough.” He picked up his fork and hunched over his plate. “I’ll let you know when it’s time for the job. My housekeeper’ll give you the money for the repairs.”

“Fine.” Hitch turned to go. He’d done what he’d had to do. But if he didn’t do what he
still
had to do, he was going to end up in deeper trouble than ever.

***

Hitch trudged through the gnarled grove of apple trees that surrounded the Carpenters’ farm. Nan’d skin him alive for coming here. But so long as her kid had his dog, he didn’t have much choice.

He was in way over his head with this deal with Campbell. To pull this thing off, he needed to fix his plane, smuggle Campbell’s booze, win the airshow, and find the flying mystery in the sky—all in less than a week.

A dog barked.

He looked up. “Taos!”

The dog didn’t come bounding out of the trees. But a human head—the very same one that usually wore that red kerchief—poked around one of the trunks. The low profusion of branches sagged with green apples just starting to blush to red. Jael blinked out from the middle of them.

She straightened up from leaning against a sturdy branch. Almost self-consciously, she pushed her hair behind her ears. “You are here? Your friend Nan Carpenter tells me I am to stay with her now.”

He stopped short. “What? Why?”

“I do not have knowledge. I tell her I do not work for you, and she tells me that was good.”

“Ah.” So long as Jael wasn’t connected with Hitch, then she wasn’t quite the no-account Nan had taken her for. He frowned. “I thought you liked it out at camp.”

“I thought you did not want me at camp. You asked Nan Carpenter if I can stay with her.”

“That was then. Didn’t I say you could stay with Earl and Rick and Lilla and me for as long as you wanted?” It was stupid, but her leaving without a word felt like a dismissal. And after all the stuff they’d been through yesterday and today, he deserved at least a goodbye. “Where’d you run off to anyway? You could have told me—I mean, all of us—you were leaving.”

She frowned. “I am in hurry. I must find pilot to take me home.”

“I never said I
wouldn’t
take you.”

“Yes, you did.” She jutted her jaw. “More times than once.”

He bit back a retort. He was cranky and frustrated and more than ready for this day to end. And he
had
been dancing all around her requests for help getting back home. But how was he supposed to have known she wasn’t crazy after all?

He made himself relax, and he put on his best grin. “Look, how’d you like to come back? There’s a job for you if you want it. Wing walking in the show. You’re a natural for it.”

“Wings?” Her face lit up, and she stepped forward. “You are saying go up in plane? You will take me home?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you go home, if you’re sure that’s what you want.” The evidence seemed to indicate she’d be a whole lot better off down here, where Zlo couldn’t electrocute her. “But maybe not right away. I mean, I could use your help. You heard Livingstone this afternoon. If we could find
Schturming
and make sure it doesn’t damage the town again”—or even just explain what it was—“then that could be a big deal, for both of us.”

That was going to be the pill for her to swallow. He kept his posture casual. In her excitement over going home, maybe she’d skip right on by that part.

She knit her brows. “You will not take me home now?”

Or maybe not.

She leaned back. “What is this you are doing? You are being”—she waved her hand, searching for the word—“not real with me.”

His grin slipped. “What?”

“You smile same at me as when you tried to keep Livingstone from giving you to custody man.” She crossed her arms. “Why do you change your mind about taking me to home all of this sudden?”

“It’s not exactly about changing my mind. I didn’t know you before. Now I know you.”

“You are wanting my help now for something. That is why you do this.”

“Well—”

“You think because I do not say your language well that I am stupid.” Red spots appeared on her cheeks and neck. “I am not. I see your face, I hear your words. I am not needing days to have knowledge of who you are. I have seen you this few days already, and I have knowledge of you.”