Storming

Twenty-Seven

HITCH DROVE BACK to the airfield, towing the Jenny behind J.W.’s car. At the end of the runway, somebody had erected a big open tent against the spitting drizzle. Looked like half the town was crammed under it, all of them shouting and shaking their fists. In front of them, Campbell and Livingstone stood on top of something, head and shoulders above the crowd.

“Don’t know about you,” Earl drawled, “but them being in charge sure makes me feel a whole lot better.”

Hitch parked the car and helped Earl and Jael out. They all made their way over to the back of the jostling crowd.

Everybody was hollering at once.

“I can’t even pay part of eighty thousand dollars!”

“If they can send rain, they can send hail! My entire crop will be ruined!”

“They can’t hold a whole town for ransom!”

“They’ve killed people already! This is war, I tell you! They’re invaders!”

Campbell looked more like a granite crag than ever. He raised both hands. “Listen to me.”

The hubbub continued.

His blue eyes lit up. “Listen to me!”

Most sensible people would shut up when Bill Campbell talked like that. Most folks here were sensible. Their cries quieted to a murmur. They shifted their feet, restless and scared, but also expectant.

“That’s right,” somebody dared to say. “You been up there, Sheriff. What’s the score?”

Campbell kept his hands raised for a full second more. “You all just hold onto yourselves, and I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen around here. Nobody’s getting hurt. Nobody’s losing their farm either, you hear me?” He scanned the crowd, stopping to look a few men in the eye.

“But what about the ransom?” a woman shrilled.

“We’re going to pay the ransom.” He waited for the inevitable rustle of whispers, then nodded his big head. “Everybody pays just a little. I reckon we can pay it off without anybody hurting too bad. We’ll figure out what each household pays.” The muscle in Campbell’s cheek jumped, and his eyes flashed. “And if you can afford a little more, well, then maybe you can do that for your neighbors, huh?”

Must gall him to have to say that. Nothing got under his skin worse than somebody trying to strong-arm him. But he wasn’t an idiot.

People shifted. They had to know Campbell was right. At the moment, the only choices were pay or fight. Most folks here couldn’t even begin to fight a flying weather machine.

A man up front raised a finger to get Campbell’s attention. “And what about the rest of it? This thing he wants us to find for him?”

Hitch stiffened.

Beside him, Jael inhaled sharply.

He forced himself not to look over at her.

Campbell straightened, his wide shoulders spreading even wider as he drew them back. “This thing our friend Zlo wants, it’s some kind of pendant.”

“How are we going to find it?” the same man asked.

“Somebody took this pendant from Zlo. We find that person, we find the pendant. I expect we’re looking for someone new to the valley, somebody who don’t quite fit in.”

Of course, Jael fit in about as good as a coon in a henhouse. The hairs on Hitch’s arms stood up. Not too many people had met her, much less heard her talk, but there’d been enough. And probably at least one of them was rat enough to turn her over.

Near the front of the tent, Rick looked over his shoulder. His gaze landed on Jael, and he scowled, obviously thinking.

Speaking of rats.

Hitch caught Jael’s elbow. “Earl shouldn’t be standing around here with that arm. Why don’t you see if maybe the doc made it out here yet to treat casualties?”

She nodded, her face pinched and white. She turned to guide Earl out.

Earl stood fast. “The arm’ll wait. I’m here, so I’ll stay and hear the rest of it.”

The thickhead. Hitch glared at him.

Earl glared back, then finally got it. “Ah, right.” He faked a wince. “Ow! Yeah, I need a doctor. Pain’s kicking like a horse.”

Hitch patted Earl’s shoulder. “Hang in there, old buddy. You’ll make it.”

They turned to go, Jael with one hand on Earl’s back and the other supporting his good elbow. She looked at Hitch and inclined her head in a thank-you.

Folks in the tent were back to yelling.

Toward the front of the crowd, J.W. brandished his battered hat. Even in the shadows, the sunburn atop his bald head flashed. “Now, listen here! I don’t hold with turning over no innocent person.”

“Stealing a pendant ain’t exactly innocent,” Campbell said.

“Stole it from a man who’s trying to kidnap an entire town! I don’t know about the rest of you all, but I ain’t taking the word of no man like that.”

Hitch opened his mouth to back him up. Out of the pay or fight options, fight was looking a little better all the time. But then he saw Rick again and snapped his mouth shut. The less attention he drew to himself right now, the better. The last thing folks here needed to be remembering was his new wing walker and her strange way of talking.

Across from J.W., on the other side of the tent, Matthew caught Hitch’s eye. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, maybe realizing Hitch’s conundrum. The Berringer boys, at any rate, wouldn’t have a hard time figuring out where Jael had come from.

Matthew faced Campbell. “How do we know this man Zlo will honor his agreement even if we pay his ransom?” His calm voice carried all the way through the tent.

“We don’t!” J.W. hollered. “And the rest of you, including you”—he poked a finger toward Matthew—“and you”—a second poke, at Campbell—“can pay this ransom if you’re fool enough to. But I ain’t giving one red cent into that crook’s sweaty palm. Put a shotgun in my hand and I’ll shoot the goldurn thing out of the sky before I’ll pay for the privilege of living on my own farm!”

The whole place erupted—half the people shaking their hats and roaring in agreement, the other half shouting in dismay. J.W. kept right on yelling, even though nobody could hear him anymore. His face went even redder than his sunburn, and he jabbed his finger in his neighbor’s face like he was about to start swinging punches.

Livingstone stepped forward, both arms extended. Except for the spattered mud up past his boots onto the knees of his jodhpurs, his white suit was still immaculate.

“Good people!” he shouted. “This is not a time to panic! This is a time for iron nerves, steely resolve, and steadfast action. Believe me when I tell you, you are not alone in this battle.”

That got some of the folks—if not J.W.—to quiet down a bit.

“I regret that the simple joys of the airshow I intended for your pleasure should have been destroyed by so heinous a disaster. But I am glad that I and my stalwart pilots are here in your moment of need!”

That shut up even J.W.

“Now, listen.” Livingstone hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “In the face of this crisis, we must abandon the frivolous pursuits of showmanship.”

Hitch almost rolled his eyes. For Livingstone, the show always went on.

“Instead, we will combine our skills and the horsepower of our many flying machines. We will face down this threat from above. We will not be content to sit on our laurels and wait for the enemy to come to us. No, sir! We will hunt down this sky beast.”

The crowd started murmuring again, but this time they were calmer, maybe even a little hopeful.

“And to show the sincerity of my intent,” Livingstone said, “I will personally dedicate the entire purse from our competition as an incentive for the man who finds the beast.”

Everybody started cheering and clapping.

What was that old buzzard up to? Hitch frowned.

Before he could think on it too long, Aurelia pushed her way through the crowd, both hands held straight out. In front of whatever Campbell and Livingstone were standing on, she stopped and turned around. She hugged her violet scarf around her elbows. Her eyes were wide open and a little wild. The pale red-blonde of her hair fell out of the bun at her nape and wisped around her face. She started murmuring, too low to hear from the back of the tent.

Campbell and Livingstone exchanged a look, and Campbell leaned down, a hand on her shoulder to try to ease her away.

“No!” She slapped at his hand, then faced forward again. “I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming to get us all. I told you!” She looked around, maybe trying to find somebody she actually had told. “I told Walter…” Her voice trailed out again.

Hitch frowned. Somebody needed to go up there and fetch her before she started in on one of her fits. He looked around for Nan, came up empty, and started pushing forward himself.

“Come along, Miss Aurelia,” Campbell said. “You’re perfectly safe. You have my word.”

“Your word can’t change anything.” She looked over her other shoulder at Livingstone. “Neither can yours!”

“Aurelia!” Nan’s panicked voice cut through the tent. She sidled along the edge, headed toward the front, her mouth pinched. “Aurelia, that’s enough!”

Aurelia didn’t even glance at her sister. “It is coming to get you all, because you are all crazy.” She tilted her nose. “I know because that man Zlo said it to me, back before the first storm. He was down here on the ground then, and he told me. Not any of the rest of you, just me.”

“Aurelia!” Nan pushed through the last row of people and caught Aurelia’s elbow. Her face was harried, her eyebrows drawn down in a deep V. “Stop this nonsense, dear. You must come along.”

“I tried to warn you!” Aurelia’s voice rose into a screech. “I told you! I told Walter, I told Byron, I told the postman!” The screech deepened into a frantic sob. “But none of you listened to me.”

Nan hauled Aurelia away.

Dead silence held the crowd for two full seconds. Then pandemonium erupted.

A chill, like the fingertip of a ghost, touched the back of Hitch’s neck. Aurelia was more than one egg short of a dozen, everybody knew that. But she wasn’t a liar any more than Lilla was Madame Curie. What was it she had told him back at the hospital after Jael had been knocked out by the lightning? Now that there had been one storm, there would be two?

Maybe she had been trying to warn him. He’d said he believed her—and then brushed off the whole thing.

He filled his lungs and turned to go. He needed to get out of here, get his prop patched up, find a way to pay Earl’s doctor bill, and then keep Jael under wraps until they could figure out how to knock Zlo out of the sky for good.

He ducked back outside into the drizzle and made his way over to where his Jenny was still tied to J.W.’s back bumper.

“Son! Hold up a minute, won’t you?”

He looked up from the knot in the rope.

Livingstone walked over, mincing steps to avoid puddles. Behind him, people filtered out of the tent.

“You heard what was said in there, I guess?” Livingstone asked.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Well, then I know I can count on you to help me fulfill my promise to these people.”

Hitch straightened all the way up. “Look, showmanship’s all fine and good. I’m for it. But this ain’t the time.”

“Nonsense, dear boy. There’s never a better time. Number one, it gives these people something to ponder other than their own panic. Number two”—he tapped Hitch’s chest with the silver handle of his walking stick—“if we’re going to be humanitarians, I see no reason why we cannot profit from it.” He leaned in. “I hope you know without my saying so that I had nothing to do with this travesty. But I must admit it has presented what my business acumen tells me is the opportunity of a lifetime. I have no intention of wasting that. What we pilots must all do now is work together. Follow my lead, and this could end up being on every newspaper in the country. What do you think of that?”

Ah, of course. Livingstone didn’t just want the publicity for bringing Schturming down. Wouldn’t he be just more than ecstatic if he was to actually get his grubby hands on the thing? Hitch could see him now: making his grand entrance into every town between Seattle and Miami Beach, coasting in on that giant dirigible.

No doubt Livingstone would be equally delighted with the _dawsedometer_’s prospects. Lightning you could control? He could stage dogfights the like of which the war pilots had never even seen.

And of course he’d be as scrupulous as a white-gloved old lady at Sunday services. Wouldn’t even think of using the threat of all that chaos to keep his pilots—and Lord knew who else—in line.

Working for Livingstone would be challenging enough as it was. No way Hitch wanted to be within five hundred miles of the man if he somehow shimmied past Campbell and got his hands on that dirigible.

“If you want me to tell you I’m going to go up there and try to find that thing and bring it down, then the answer is I sure am. But you’re forgetting this is my home. What I do, I do for the people here, not for your show.”

“Of course, of course. All the more reason you should come around to my way of thinking. I will bring down this threat to your home, and I tell you in all frankness that I value your skills in helping me achieve that.” Livingstone lowered his voice. “You might yet achieve great things, Captain Hitchcock. You just need the guidance of an experienced hand.”

In other words, Livingstone wanted a long leash on Hitch, so anything Hitch might do would ultimately be a credit to the Extravagant Flying Circus.

Livingstone smiled and stepped back. “I’m sure you realize that with the unfortunate demise of the competition, our bet will have to be abandoned. But I must be honest with you: I would still be pleased to offer you a membership in my troupe. If you should be instrumental in helping me destroy the airbeast, then perhaps I might consider presenting you that partnership after all.” He shrugged. “My way gets you everything you desire. You get to free your town and journey on.”

Had the old buzzard wanted Hitch as a partner in his show all along?

Hitch took a careful breath. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Most excellent.” Livingstone pursed his lips and tweaked the ring on his little finger. “And what about your lovely young wing walker? Seems I remember a pendant she was rather intent on defending.”

Sudden heat burned away the chill on the back of Hitch’s neck. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Of course, of course. To be honest, I don’t share your sheriff’s interest in reconciling with these pirates. No glory to be had in that, is there?”

“Look.” Hitch squared his stance. “We’re on the same side in this. I respect your flying as much as any man’s and I appreciate your offer. But I’ll tell you this upfront—the only time I’ll fall in line behind you on this is the time when I believe with all my heart that what you’re doing is the right thing for the people here.”

Livingstone’s sharp gaze penetrated Hitch’s. “Well.” He touched a finger to his hat brim. “That may not be the best way to play this game—for anyone’s sake. But I shall look forward to seeing what you come up with in this grand chase of ours. Happy hunting, Captain Hitchcock.”

Hitch watched him go.

Livingstone wanted publicity, Hitch’s Jenny, and a fancy new dirigible to add to his show. Campbell wanted to destroy Schturming, show Zlo who was boss, and remind Scottsbluff why he was such an all-fired swell sheriff. Jael wanted to save what was left of her people and get home. And everybody else just wanted to survive. That was an awful lot of juggling. If he dropped even one of those balls, he wasn’t likely to walk away from this mess.

He hissed a long breath past his teeth.

So he’d juggle. If—when?—one of the balls fell, he’d have to hope it was the one that’d cause the least amount of hurt all the way around.

He stood in the wind, hands in his pockets, and watched the crowd.

Nan walked around the back of the tent, shepherding a weeping Aurelia. She saw Hitch and stopped short. Her eyes darted to either side of him, probably looking for a graceful retreat. Then she straightened her shoulders and trudged past him.

He took his hands from his pockets. “You all right?”

She nodded, even that gesture looking like it required half her remaining energy.

“Walter, the girls?” he asked

“They’re fine. We’re all fine.”

Aurelia drew in a sharp, warbling breath. She wasn’t having a fit, but her eyes stared at faraway things. She walked with her arms at her sides, shoulders slumped. Her violet scarf trailed in the thin beginnings of mud.

He leaned over to catch the scarf and tuck it around her cold arm. “It’ll be okay.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering over to Nan’s as he said it.

Nan shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For what I said about Walter earlier. He’s your kid. You got a right to raise him how you want. But I would never intentionally hurt him—or any of you.”

She hesitated. “You frighten me, you know that.”

“Me? Why?”

“You just do.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, not with tears, just with the tiredness of it all. “Walter… Walter has some problems, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. There have been things that have happened to him, some I blame myself for, some I don’t. I’ve tried all these years to help him, to give him a reason to talk again, to be a good mother to him.”

“You are a good mother.”

“I’m a good mother.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And you’re an irresponsible adventurer. And you’ve helped him. I’d be a liar not to admit he’s been different this week. I’ve never seen him like this, not since that day when I…” She inhaled sharply through her nose and straightened up. “Why you? Why does he respond to you?”

He shrugged. “Airplanes.”

“It’s not the airplanes. It’s you. You have the gift for making people love you, Hitch.” She didn’t say it like it was a compliment. “I told Celia she was a fool to marry you.”

Celia hadn’t been the only fool, but he kept his mouth shut on that one. He bore a man’s share when it came to blame there, and they all knew it.

Aurelia drew another shuddery breath. “I remember… Celia.”

“Yes, dear,” Nan’s voice softened, almost all the way to tenderness. “She was our sister.”

Aurelia’s gaze roamed, but never quite made it back to the present. “Like you are my sister.”

“Yes.” Nan rubbed briskly at Aurelia’s shivery arm. She looked back up. “Family means something to me, Hitch. I know it never meant much to you—”

“That’s not entirely true—”

“—but to me it’s everything. And I will protect it.”

“I reckon that’s as it should be.”

“But…” Her mouth worked, almost like she had something to say and couldn’t quite get it out. “You should know—”

He made it easy for her. “I’m here to see this through, and then I’ll be gone again. I promise.”

She closed her mouth, and the lines of her cheeks went hard—as if that added coals to her fire instead of making things better.

He tried again. “Looks like Livingstone’s going to give me a job—a good one. Supposing we all survive this mess, then I’ll be out of your hair for good.” He tried to lighten his tone, but it came out a little creaky. “I may be irresponsible, but at least I’m consistent, right?”

“Yes.” She drew herself up and tightened her arm around Aurelia. “That being the case, I think it only right I ask you again to do the right thing and help me see to it that Walter stays at home from now on.”

Something under his heart twinged. He wasn’t going to hurt that kid, even by leaving. People came and went in life all the time. That wasn’t a bad thing to learn at any age. And unlike the last time he’d left, Hitch had never made a secret of the fact that this time he would be going.

The wind gusted against his back. Of course, there were other things that had changed. This was a battleground now. True enough that little boys didn’t belong where there was nobody who could be looking out for them.

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I know you don’t understand, but believe me when I say this is the best thing for Walter. And that’s all I care about.”

He couldn’t argue that. “Me too.”

Something in her eyes shifted, but hard to tell what, since there were a lot of emotions swirling around in there. She tucked her chin. “Okay then.” She herded Aurelia forward a step, then looked back. “Good luck up there, Hitch.”

He touched his forehead in a small salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He could use the sentiment, because truth be told, he didn’t feel too lucky right at this moment.