Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure (22 page)

She ate a dainty bite. “Whyever you are angry with him, I can tell you he is not bad man.”

She had something sort of magic-like about her. It wasn’t just the sparkliness. It wasn’t even that she looked like a storybook lady. Maybe it was partly that she’d understood how to talk to him, from the very first time he saw her. She knew things. Things about people. If anybody could talk Mama Nan into letting him fly with Hitch, she might be the one.

But Mama Nan didn’t seem to believe her. She sighed, slow and weary, then finally bent her head to her own meatloaf and green beans.

That was all anybody said about Hitch for the rest of supper. Afterwards, Walter took Jael by the hand and tugged her along, up the narrow stairs to Aunt Aurelia’s bedroom where the girls had already spread out an extra hay tick on the floor and covered it with Mama Nan’s trunk-creased patchwork quilts. He pointed at it, and Jael nodded.

She looked more tired than ever, but she didn’t shoo him out. Instead, she crossed the room and raised the window. “Come.” She hoisted a hip onto the sill and scrunched her legs around so they were dangling out. Because the roof here slanted down from the dormer windows, it wouldn’t be a straight fall if she lost her balance. In any case, she didn’t seem too worried.

He tiptoed over and stood next to her.

“Come up,” she said.

Mama Nan would have a fit if she saw, but she’d be down washing dishes for a bit yet. He scrambled up and sat beside Jael, feet hanging out. He clutched the windowsill hard.

She laughed and let go with both hands. “Put up your hands. You want to be flying. This is flying.”

He shook his head.

“You will not fall. I will catch you.”

No, she wouldn’t. She’d miss him and fall right down after him, and it’d be his fault again, just like it had been with the twins way back when. But if a girl could be as brave as all that, then he sure could too. He pried his fingers loose and let go. He kept his hands hovering above the sill, in case he needed to grab it again.

She grinned. “See? Flying.” She spread her hands, palms up, and whistled through her teeth, like the wind blowing. Then she glanced at him. “I will tell you secret if you tell me one.”

It wasn’t like he had many secrets—except about Mr. J.W.’s penny and about Molly letting Jimmy Porter steal a kiss down by the creek that time last week. So he nodded.

“Your secret is first.” Her face went still and soft. “Why do you not like to be talking?”

That was hard to explain. Sometimes he thought he might like to say something again. But it had just been the way it was now for so long, it seemed too hard anymore. He shrugged.

“There must be reason.” She nudged him with her leg.

He smiled in spite of himself, but he shrugged again. How could he even explain it? The day he’d let the bad thing happen to the twins and when Mama Nan had been so angry with him... the words just hadn’t
been
there any longer. Ever since then, he’d always had this feeling of not quite fitting in. His family loved him well enough. But it was just... his world seemed to slant a little different from everybody else’s.

Like hers. Her world definitely slanted a whole lot more than his even.

He eased a hand up from the sill and touched the overalls bib on his chest. Then he pointed at her and back again.

“You mean you are like me?” She still smiled, but her eyes got faraway. “I am
nikto
. That is meaning having no place to belong.”

Nikto
. He rolled the word around inside his head. He felt that way sometimes too.

She looked up at the night sky, where the white dots of stars were starting to appear. “All right. Now I will be telling you my secret. I used to think, when I was at my home, that the world was very small place. I thought I had knowledge all about it. But now I am seeing different. The world is not what we are thinking it is—or what we are thinking we will be in it.” She reached over. Her finger was warm where it touched between his eyes. “Young Walter, I think your world is not what you are thinking it is either.”

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.