Storming

Sixteen

RICK QUIT JUST before the competition’s first qualifying round.

In contrast to yesterday, the morning had dawned clear as a looking glass—blue so bright it was almost transparent, with only a few wisps of clouds along the round edges of the sky. The dew was a little colder and crisper than it had a right to be on a normal August day, but by ten o’clock, the sun was hot enough to melt a man’s toes inside his boots. Whatever had been up there yesterday was sure gone today.

It was a perfect morning for flying, and Livingstone hadn’t wasted any time in maintaining his contest’s schedule. The show didn’t officially start until Saturday, but the qualifying rounds were already under way—and Hitch’s crew would be up any minute now.

Hitch faced off across from Rick, each of them standing with their backs to their planes.

The heat rising inside his chest wasn’t just anger: a fair share of raw-edged panic surged in there as well. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Now? Just like that, you’re going to quit now?”

“Yes, now. And, no, not just like that.” Rick tossed his bedroll into his front cockpit, where Lilla was already sitting. He’d insisted on packing up right away even though he was only moving to the other end of camp, where he’d supposedly gotten a job with another crew.

Planes growled overhead. Near the road, a crowd had gathered to watch the pilots prove they had skill enough to compete in Livingstone’s extravaganza.

“Why?” Hitch demanded. “Because I wasn’t polite enough for you yesterday? Because I won’t admit you did something we both know you didn’t?”

Rick buttoned his top shirt button and straightened his collar. “You want reasons? All right. I’ll supply three.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “One, the gentleman on the far side of the camp promises pay that begins now. Two, your claims of no money to pay our salaries wear a trifle thin when you continually manage to find the wherewithal to fix your own machine. Three, quite frankly, I don’t think I can bear the sight of you for another day.”

“That’s mutual,” Earl muttered from where he crouched, putting the finishing touches on the Jenny’s wheel repairs.

Rick ignored him. “You were perfectly convincing yesterday when you indicated you didn’t think my skills were worthy of your esteemed circus.”

“I didn’t mean you weren’t a good flyer.” Just that you’re an obnoxious fathead.

“And then there’s four. You attempted to bring on another crew member without our consent.”

“Oh, darling,” Lilla said. “Earl and I consented.”

“And five, if you truly believe that madwoman is going to help you find some secret in the clouds, then you are also mad, and I have no wish to attempt perilous stunts with a lunatic at the controls.”

Hitch glared. “All fine and good reasons, and you can add to them that I won’t miss one second of your company either. But no honorable man would quit now, when we need you the most. You know full well what’s at stake here.”

“What’s at stake here is entirely yours, and none of mine.” Rick looked at Lilla and walked around to the propeller. “Start the engine.”

“And what am I supposed to do now?” Hitch asked. “Livingstone’s rules call for at least one pilot and one performer. What do you want me to do, put Earl up there on the wings?” For all that Earl was aces with engines, he was useless in the air.

“Not on my life,” Earl said.

“Walk your own wings,” Rick said. “That would be a good trick.” He gave the propeller a spin and stepped back as the engine caught with a click and a roar. The plane rolled forward, and he ran around to clamber into the rear cockpit.

Out of all the options right now, kicking dirt, throwing rocks, or even spitting sounded pretty good. But Hitch just stood there and ground his teeth. Stymied. He could count on one hand the times he’d been truly stymied.

Rick’s plane pulled away. On the far side, Jael stood watching, hands in her pockets.

Lilla waved at her jauntily.

Rick guffawed and shouted over the engine: “Come to help that fool hunt castles in the sky, have you?”

She turned her head, without expression, and watched him go.

Then she crossed over to stand in front of Hitch. “I have come for job.”

His heart tripped.

From across the field, the latest contestant’s plane landed and taxied to a stop.

Livingstone turned to shout at Hitch through a megaphone. “Next up, Captain Robert Hitchcock!”

Hitch’s heart kept revving, and the adrenaline swept away whatever panic was left. He took Jael by the shoulders. “I don’t know what changed your mind, but bless your hide, kiddo. Thing is, we gotta go up right now. Can you do that? All you gotta do is stand on the wing. That should be enough for today.”

She chewed her lip. All that confidence she’d been brimming with yesterday during the storm seemed to have filtered right out of her. “Can we not give it practice first?”

“Captain Robert Hitchcock!” Livingstone bellowed.

Hitch looked at Livingstone doubtfully. “Well, we can ask.” He let her go. “Stay here.”

He jogged across the field. Every eye in the place followed him. The townsfolk fanned themselves with hands and hats, looking bored with the wait. The pilots were either frowning—probably thinking Hitch’s plane was still busted—or laughing—probably thinking he wasn’t showman enough to get his act together.

Showman, indeed. He ironed the creases out of his forehead and tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

Livingstone set his megaphone at his feet. With one hand, he took a spotless handkerchief from his coat and mopped his forehead beneath the Stetson. With the other, he checked his chained pocket watch.

“Well?” he said. “You are holding up these proceedings, sir. You have a suitable reason for this, no doubt? Something good for my publicity?”

“Could be.” There had to be a way to spin this to keep Livingstone from calling the bet right here and now. “I had to make some last-minute changes in my crew. I’ve got a new wing walker, a woman.” Best not to say which woman.

Livingstone curled his lip. “I have no place in my show for amateurs, sir.”

“She’s good, trust me, I’ve seen her work. But she’s a smidge rusty. Can’t you nudge me down in the round, so she can have a quick practice run?”

“There will be no changing of the order.”

“Then give us ten minutes to warm up.”

Livingstone eyed him. “Why should I?”

“’Cause it’s good sportsmanship.” He looked Livingstone straight in the eye. “And good showmanship. Ham it up to these people. Tell ’em she’s taking her life in her hands for their entertainment. They’ll eat it up.” With any luck, it wouldn’t end up being true.

“Hmm.” Livingstone ran his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. His gaze flitted from Hitch to his Jenny and then to the spectators. “All right, but ten minutes only. And do it over here where the ladies and gentlemen can see you practicing.”

Hitch breathed out his relief. “Thanks.”

“And, Mr. Hitchcock.” Livingstone waited until Hitch turned back. “Make it look good.”

“No problem.” He started running and cast a glance skyward as he went. Please, no problems.

He reached Jael and Earl. “All right, here it is. He says we get ten minutes, but we have to do it over there where people can watch.” He looked at Jael. “All you gotta do is the same thing you did yesterday—except don’t jump off and don’t get hit by lightning.” He crooked a grin, just to let her know it was a joke.

Earl pushed his baseball cap back farther on his head. “I don’t know about this. All this rush and hurry—this ain’t a good time to be pushing anybody into something like this. Maybe you should put a ’chute on her before she goes out on the wing.”

“That’s just as dangerous, if not more.” If the parachute opened accidentally while she was on the wing, it could end up hauling her right through the wires and struts. If things got too ripped up, or she got tangled in the structure, they could both get themselves killed in a crash.

“She’ll be fine.” Hitch led her toward the plane. “Just stay on the lower wing for now, where you’ll have plenty of stuff to hang onto. Later, when we can take our time, we can work on climbing up top.”

“Five seconds!” Livingstone bellowed through the megaphone.

Hitch glanced at Earl. “Let’s push the plane over to the runway. Jael can climb up when we get there.”

They each took hold of a wing strut and started pushing. For all her bulk, the Jenny was surprisingly light: nothing but varnished linen over a spruce frame with an engine screwed to her front.

Jael walked on Earl’s side of the plane. Above the rear cockpit, her head bobbed exaggeratedly up and down, as if she’d stepped into a badger hole.

Hitch frowned. The last thing they needed was her twisting her ankle right now.

They wheeled the plane around to the end of the landing strip. The ground was already dusty and grooved from many takeoffs.

“Ladies and gen-tle-men!” Livingstone shouted. “We now have something rather special for your enjoyment. Our next qualifier, Captain Hitchcock, will attempt to best all performances with his raw courage and, for the first time in this or any professional competition, an untried assistant. I ask you to please applaud this brave young woman who risks life and limb to attempt the impossible!”

Hitch’s heart started doing hammerhead turns. He scrubbed his palms against his pants. “All right,” he said to Jael. “Come on around here.”

Earl circled to stand ready at the propeller. Jael followed him, still bobbing, this time with a definite limp.

Hitch’s stomach flipped. “Did you step in a hole?”

She shook her head. “It is not something to worry about. Getting that close to lightning has given me stiffness.”

“Oh, heck. The lightning.” It would be too much luck to ask for her survival and an immediate recovery all at once. He caught her arm. “You’re not doing this. You’re going to need balance and strength up there. It’s not worth falling off and getting killed, not after you made it out of yesterday alive.”

She scrunched her forehead. “Let me have practice. This I can do. If I did not think I could, I would be telling you.”

Livingstone was still selling it to the crowd: “In light of these special circumstances, we will be giving Captain Hitchcock and his lovely assistant a ten-minute warm-up period—which will provide you a first-hand look behind the veil of secrecy that shrouds a barnstormer’s carefully planned routine.”

Earl snorted. “Carefully planned, my bunioned foot.”

In this business, you either winged it—literally—and maybe died flying, or you stayed grounded.

Hitch looked at Jael. “I’m not getting you hurt.”

“I have knowledge of what I am doing. Give me my own decision.” Her eyes were clear. Except for the wrinkle in her forehead, she looked totally unafraid.

If she couldn’t do this, he’d lose the Jenny right here and now. But even that was nothing to somebody’s neck. He could start over if it came to that—eventually. He always seemed to land on his feet, one way or another.

But that look in her eyes. She believed she could do it.

Livingstone had fallen silent. It was now or not ever.

“We’ll just roll around on the ground for a bit to start with,” Hitch decided. “If you feel wobbly at all, or you’ve got any kind of notion you’re not going to be able to stay up there in the wind, you tell me, you got it?”

She dipped her chin in a terse nod.

He looked at Earl. “Get her some goggles and gloves.” He walked Jael right up to the wing, supporting her so her limp wasn’t so noticeable. “Stay on the wing’s ribs, all right? You’re going to feel a wash from the propeller. Don’t forget that once we’re up, I won’t be able to hear you and you won’t be able to hear me.”

“I have understanding. I am not afraid of height.”

“You’re not afraid of much, I guess.” He pulled on his own helmet and goggles. “Be careful.” He hauled himself into the rear cockpit and checked the fuel selector.

Jael accepted the goggles and gloves from Earl. Then she reached for a strut and started to step aboard. The back of the wing wasn’t even a foot off the ground, but she had trouble bending her knee that far. She set her teeth, hard and unflinching, and put a hand under her thigh to pull her leg up.

This was bad. Really, really bad.

On the sidelines, Rick’s high-pitched laugh carried. Standing beside him, Lilla jumped once and waved. Rick joggled her elbow to make her stop, his sneer never wavering in its aim toward Hitch.

Hitch looked back around.

Jael had made it onto the wing and was crouching on the ribs, balanced with one hand on the strut and the other on a guy wire. She nodded at him, all business, as if her joints hadn’t about rusted shut on her.

In front of the propeller, Earl gave Hitch a strained look.

They were all in trouble. No way Jael could go into the air, and no way Livingstone would give him another chance if she didn’t. But right now, the only thing Hitch could do was play along and taxi around the runway. She couldn’t get into much trouble that way, even if she tumbled.

He nodded to Earl. “Let’s do it.”

“All right. Fuel on?”

“Fuel on!”

“Switch off?”

He checked the magneto switches on the panel. “Switches off!”

Earl raised a leg and gave the propeller a mighty heave, then another and another. “Contact!”

Hitch flipped the magneto switch. “Contact!”

Earl swung the prop once again.

One of the cylinders coughed smoke. A second later the whole engine caught, chugging at first. He opened the throttle a bit, and the noise rose to a steady roar. He checked the stick and the rudder pedals, then gave the Jenny enough juice to start her taxiing.

The crowd watched them, intent and quiet. Only Lilla cupped her hands around her mouth and whooped, oblivious when Rick turned his scowl on her.

Jael crouched, her back braced against a strut, and clutched the wires. She was panting, and her eyes were big and unblinking. But she still wore that determined grit of her teeth. It was a mighty familiar look: she was in over her head and too proud to admit it.

How stupid had he been to get himself—and her—into this fix? He growled deep in his chest. Right now a little anger was better than a whole lot of scared.

As they bumped down the runway, she slowly eased herself up to a standing position. Chin raised, she turned to duck under the wires, so she’d be facing the same direction he was. This time, there was no mistaking her wince. She might even have whimpered; it was hard to tell over the engine noise.

“Take it slow! Just go slow!” he shouted. So long as they were on the ground, she should still be able to hear him. “There’s no rush here!”

She nodded.

At the end of the runway, he turned the plane around and started to taxi back. Now she was on the side of the field facing the crowd. Time to perform if ever there was a time.

She gave them a wave, then started to walk down the wing toward them. This time, her whole right leg gave out under her. She hit her knees, landing on a rib. The crowd’s gasp was audible even over the engine.

He ground his teeth and kept on grinding them all the way back to the other end of the runway.

Once there, he shut off the engine and climbed out. “C’mon. It’s all right.” He reached up to swing her down.

Her breath came hard, but two hot splashes of color burned against her cheeks. Her eyes snapped, almost angrily. “Give to me time.” Her feet reached the ground and she turned away.

“We may not have time.” But he headed over to meet Livingstone halfway. “Let me have a few more minutes, will you? She’s not ready.”

Livingstone stared askance, past Hitch’s shoulder. “So I see.”

Hitch turned around. Jael was rolling somersaults in the dust, apparently trying to loosen herself up. Earl caught his eye and shrugged.

He turned back to Livingstone. “She was that close to getting hit by lightning yesterday.”

Livingstone sniffed. “You have no witnesses to that.”

“You want to give me a fair chance to win this bet or not?”

“That is what I am trying to do. No, I am sorry, sir, but this is your one chance to go up and qualify, just like every other contestant. If you cannot do so, then that’s the bet right there.”

“The bet wasn’t about this. You really are a rat, you know that?”

“Yes, I am, sir. I find it is good publicity.” Livingstone inclined his head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a contest to oversee.”

Hands on his hips, Hitch hung his head back. Then he turned and trudged over to where Earl waited next to the plane. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Earl nodded. “Yeah.”

Jael trotted over, wincing a little, but looking more limber. “I will go up. I am ready.”

At the other end of the field, another pilot started up his engine.

Hitch shook his head. “We’re grounded looks like.”

She walked right up to him. She was on the tall side for a woman and she only had to tilt her head back a little to look him in the eye. “Let us go up. If we are high enough, maybe they will not have sight of what we do, and accept it for contest anyway.”

“Can’t hurt nothing now,” Earl said.

That was surely true. And anyway, if they had to go out with their tails between their legs, then at least they could do it thumbing their noses at Livingstone one last time.

“She can stay in the cockpit,” Earl said. “Just fly around a little.”

Hitch dropped his hands from his hips. “All right. Let’s do it.”

Earl helped Jael into the front cockpit and hand-propped the Jenny once more. As it rolled forward, the crowd’s attention split away from the other pilot and swerved back to them. Hitch picked up speed down the field and saluted Livingstone as he passed.

Livingstone scowled. He could holler at them through his megaphone if he wanted to, but then the whole place would know he’d lost control.

At the field’s end, Hitch lifted the Jenny off the ground and pitched her toward the sky. They leveled out some eight hundred feet off the ground.

That was when Jael stood up in the front cockpit and started climbing onto the top wing.