Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure (29 page)

“Just try. And make sure Jael stays put until then.”

Twenty-One

TURNED OUT JAEL had her own ideas about staying put. By the time Hitch got back from talking with Campbell and loading the goods into the Jenny, Earl reported she’d skedaddled. She was still gone an hour past suppertime.

Hands on his hips, Hitch stared across the crowded field, watching the road. In another couple hours, he’d have to take off with Campbell’s present for the governor of Wyoming. Even if Jael was still mad at him, he could hardly leave her wandering around by herself. According to her, Zlo could come back at any time—which would be definitely bad for her and possibly good for Hitch—and either way she didn’t need to be out there meeting him on her own.

“I’m going to look for her.”

Earl kept on eating the rest of the loaf left over from lunch. “She can take care of herself, and you know it. What’s stuck in your craw right now is the fact she smacked you one instead of falling at your feet.”

“I’m going anyway.”

“How, I’d like to know? You can’t hike anywhere far and be back in time to fly out of here with that crate of Campbell’s.”

“I’ll borrow Rick’s motorcar.”

“Sure you will.”

Hitch slapped his leg to Taos, out of habit, then remembered he’d sent the dog home with Walter.

Across the field, Lilla jumped up from her campfire at the sight of him. “Hello, stranger! I was about to bring you boys a few of the buttermilk biscuits we got from that cafe in town.”

“I expect Earl would appreciate that. But I’m heading out. You seen Jael?”

“No. Is she missing?”

“Not exactly. But I need to find her.” He looked around. “Where’s Rick?”

She pointed. “He’s over at Livingstone’s camp. Card game.”

“Think he’d let me borrow his motorcar?”

“Of course he would!”

Hitch kept his doubts to himself. “Thanks. I’ll have it back before he even knows it’s gone.”

She beamed and lofted a tin plate with four fluffy white-and-gold biscuits. “And I’ll run this over and make sure Earl doesn’t eat your share while you’re gone.”

“You’re a gem, Lilla.” He walked backwards toward the car. “Anytime you get tired of Rick pushing you around, you come on back to the crew. Everybody’s getting paid this week. I promise.”

She laughed. “Ta-ta.” She probably didn’t even realize Rick
was
pushing her around.

He scowled. Reckon she had a right to marry who she wanted. But before Rick flew off with her forever, Hitch had a mind to corner him and finally put it to him straight. Lilla had been under his charge, for a while anyway, and she was way yonder too nice a girl to get stuck with that rat.

Hitch cranked up the black Model T and climbed in. It was ten years old: the pitted windscreen was held upright with cables attached beneath the headlights, and the steering column jutted out above the pedals on a long, exposed cylinder. The backseat, elevated six inches above the front, was half-shrouded under the folded-back top.

Along the edge of the horizon, clouds were starting to edge the sky, but the chance of rain didn’t seem too likely—unless
Schturming
decided to return. He left the auto’s top where it was and jolted across the field before Rick could spot him and squash Lilla’s generosity.

Took him almost two hours, a full dozen stops, and most of Rick’s gasoline before he finally crossed the bridge over Winter Creek, headed toward the Berringers’. When he heard a woman laugh, he braked on the middle of the bridge and ducked to see beneath the railing.

Downstream, half hidden by drooping cottonwood branches, Matthew and Jael stood on the near creek bank across from J.W. on the far. Jael laughed again, high-pitched and happy, and a fishing line squiggled through the air. The hook plopped through the water, bulls-eyeing the center of its own round wavelet. The cork hit the surface behind it, bobbed once, then floated.

Hitch shut off the motor.

“Now, gently, just gently,” Matthew said. “Keep your bait right there in that current.”

“That’s a nice way to catch nothing,” J.W. said. His own line zipped in from the other side of the creek. “Haven’t you been fishing here all your life? You ought to know better. Small creek with all this brush cover, you got to cast underhand, get her bait underneath the low branches.”

“And snarl the line?” Matthew said.

Jael left her line where it was.

Figured. There Hitch was driving all over the county, worrying his head off about her. And here she was, relaxed as you please, fishing with these two old buzzards. He got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as he could.

That stopped their talking, although the trees kept them from seeing him.

He stalked down the bridge, swung over the slanted railing at the end, and skidded through the dry leaves to reach the creek bank.

He pushed aside a low branch. “You had me worried half to death. I been looking all over for you.”

She watched her cork intently.

He missed a step, splashed one booted foot into the water, then climbed back up the muddy bank.

“You
trying
to scare all the fish away?” J.W. asked.

“Sorry.” He made his way down the bank to peer around Matthew at Jael.

She still didn’t look at him. Yup, still mad. Or maybe, with any luck, just embarrassed.

Come to that, he was starting to feel a little embarrassed himself.

“You could have at least told me where you were going,” he said.

“Are you serious?” J.W. raised his fine bamboo pole and reeled in the line. “You’ve got her back up. Even an old man’s eyes can see that.”

Matthew glanced sideways from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “In my experience, ladies always appreciate an apology.”

J.W. snorted and recast his line. “And he’s had heaps of experience.”

Hitch shifted his weight. He cleared his throat.

Matthew gave him an encouraging nod.

“All right.” He walked around Matthew, slogging in the water again, so he could stand in front of Jael. “I’m sorry.”

She gave him a long look, then raised her chin and went back to staring at the creek. Her mouth was pressed tight, but a muscle in her cheek twitched in what
might
have been amusement.

Okay, so she wanted her pound of flesh. Fine.

He took a breath. “I’m really sorry. For making you mad... and for the rest of it.”

“What rest of it?” J.W. asked.

He kept looking at her. “For the... kiss. Which you obviously didn’t want.”

Matthew tsked. “What’s this?”

“She kicked me first and slapped me after, so don’t feel too sorry for her.”

“Seems like maybe she ought to slap you again,” J.W. said.

Jael stole a tiny glance at Hitch. Her jaw was still tight, but a twinkle had surfaced in her eyes.

He took another step up the bank toward her. “Will you come back? We—Earl and me—we need your help.”

The twinkle spread, and the barest hint of a smile peeked out. She thrust her pole into his hand and turned to Matthew. “Thank you for fishing. Maybe I will be catching something next time.”

Matthew smiled. “Never you mind, young’n. Come back any time.”

“That’s right,” J.W. said. “And anytime you want us to thrash this or any other young buck, you say the word.”

Hitch kept his mouth shut on that one. If Matthew and J.W. ever decided to work together, they probably
could
thrash him.

She turned back to Hitch. “Yes. I will come.”

That was it? Just like that? Maybe Earl was right and she
had
been mad just for the show of it.

She waved to J.W. and started up the bank toward the bridge.

Hitch stared after her for a second, then looked from J.W. to Matthew and handed over the rod. “See you.”

“Mind yourself, son,” Matthew said.

“I know, I know.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “But it surprised me as much as it did her.”

Matthew harrumphed. “Might be it surprised you
more
’n it did her.”

Hitch followed Jael back to the bridge and helped her into the car. After cranking the engine, he climbed in and backed up until the automobile was off the bridge and he could swing it around toward the airfield.

Sunset streaked the sky pink and purple, and the twilight crept in from the edges of the horizon, trailing violet darkness. Jael sat straight in her seat, only raising her hand every now and then to brush back her windswept hair. The silence stretched.

He glanced at her four or five times. What he should do was apologize again and spell it all out. The kiss hadn’t meant a thing; it was a joke as much as anything, a fool trick he should have known better than to play on a girl like her. But the words stuck.

She looked at him sideways. “I have been having thoughts.” She spoke softly, her voice barely audible above the engine and the tires on the road. “About
yakor
.” She tapped her chest.

“The pendant? I saw you gave it to Earl. He didn’t have any idea how to make it work after all.”

“I am not having full knowledge for how it works either. But you are not wrong. It
is
connected to
Schturming
, in a way.” She shifted to face him fully. “We should try it. It is... key, too. It can get us into
Schturming
, through any door.”

The tires thumped over the ruts.

He shook his head. “When I said that, the last thing I was thinking about was putting you in the way of another lightning strike.” Speaking of which, she’d hardly limped all day. “How’re the joints?”

“Better. I have hardly any bad feelings.”

“That’s something anyway, with the show tomorrow.”

As bad as she’d been hobbling yesterday, it seemed miraculously fast for her to have healed up that quick. If he hadn’t been a blockhead and she hadn’t been so touchy, they might have been able to get in some practice time this afternoon.

He took the turn into the airfield and stopped the car in the gateway. He turned to her, one arm draped over the wheel. “I have a job I have to do this evening. I gotta fly some stuff over the state line to Cheyenne. It’s only about an hour’s flight each way, so I can finish it up tonight easy. And I was thinking, if you want to come along with the pendant, maybe we can see if Zlo decides to show up.”

“I will do it.”

“You sure?”

She raised a shoulder. “There is no storm now.”

Twenty-Two

THERE MAY NOT have been a storm when they left Scottsbluff, but by the time they finished unloading the crate at the Cheyenne airport, where it would supposedly wait to be picked up by the governor’s people, the wind had started to blow pinpricks of rain.

Hitch pulled Jael’s elbow. “This ain’t good. We need to get out of here before the turbulence gets too bad.”

Halfway back to the plane, something else gusted over. Maybe only fifty feet off the ground, it thundered above their heads like a train with a wide-open throttle. The waning moon, still fat and looking like a smashed headlight, blinked into darkness for five full seconds. A huge shadow blanketed the ground.

Hitch stopped short and craned his head. “What the sam hill was that?”

She clutched at his sleeve. “
Eto bil Schturming
! It worked! The
yakor
has been working.”

“How can you tell?” Dumb question.

She took off running toward the plane. “Come! We can catch it!”

His heart sped up and he broke into a jog. “We need to push the plane around!” There was plenty of field in every direction, and he needed to take off with his nose to the wind if he didn’t want the Jenny bucking into a ground loop.