Storming: A Dieselpunk Adventure (45 page)

He inched his legs up under him and crouched. His heart hammered. He looked over at Taos and patted his leg, but not loud enough to make a slapping sound.

Taos kept right on staring at the airship. He stood on all four feet, leaning forward, ready to run right at them.

Walter patted his leg again, a little harder.

Maybe Taos thought the slap was permission to go. He leapt the ridge of the gully, and he ran across the flatland, barking all the way.

Terror swallowed Walter up. He jumped to his feet.

Men started to turn and look at Taos. Some of them pointed; some of them hollered. Some of them got real still, and some of them started moving faster. Maybe they couldn’t decide if the dog was just a dog, or if somebody big was coming for them.

One man, in a funny round hat like the one Papa Byron wore in his and Mama Nan’s wedding photograph, stepped out from the shadow of the airship. It was Zlo, the lead pirate.

Zlo glanced at Taos, then raised his face, looking out across the prairie. He looked straight at Walter.

A chill hit Walter, and his skin shriveled up. He dove back behind the yucca. They were going to kill him now! They’d catch him and take him up in their ship and throw him off the very top.

“Boy!” The shout carried across to the trail.

He peeked through the long, sharp yucca leaves.

Zlo had caught Taos. He held the dog in both arms, trapped against his chest. Taos kept barking, both whining and snarling, but he was stuck fast.

“I know this dog! I know who has sent you. You must come out and talk to me. I will kill this dog!”

If they’d kill the dog, they’d kill him too. Walter didn’t even have to think about moving his feet. They just ran. They carried him up the other side of the gully and fifty feet across the prairie. When he looked over his shoulder, the corner of the Bluff hid
Schturming
.

Taos! His feet stopped on their own.

He was no hero. He was a dope. He’d brought Hitch’s dog out here without asking. And now he just ran away? His throat thickened, and tears pinched the corner of his eyes.

No crying! No running. What he should do was punch himself in his own face.

Pretend to be brave. Pretend, pretend, pretend.

He gritted his teeth. His feet didn’t do anything on their own this time. He had to make them turn his body around, step by step, and creep back through the grassland to the gully. He clambered up through the dust and peered over the ridge.

The cannon dangled from a harness of ropes, slowly inching upwards. Three men straddled it like it was a horse and dangled the hollow deer carcasses off the sides by their hind legs. The rest of the men crowded into the elevator cars. Zlo stood at the front of one, empty-handed.

What did that mean? Walter’s insides clenched up. Had Zlo let Taos go? Had he killed him already?

Walter scrabbled the binoculars up from where he’d dropped them under the yucca and raised them to his eyes. His hands shook, and he pressed the lens hard against his eye socket to hold it still.

Some of the men in Zlo’s car shifted. Two of them held Taos upside down by his legs. A third man wrapped a handkerchief around his muzzle.

They were taking Hitch’s dog. And it was all his fault.

Thirty-Five

THE TOP OF Hitch’s head felt about like a hard-boiled egg someone had smashed in with a spoon. That didn’t do much to make him hungry for the two sunny-side-ups staring at him from his plate. He hunched over the counter at Dan and Rosie’s Cafe on Main Street and cradled his mug of lukewarm coffee.

What he needed at the moment was a plan. Any plan. Even a stupid one would do—so long as it didn’t involve Jael finding that consarned pendant and turning herself over to Zlo. He growled.

Dan stood in front of him, rubbing silverware on an already damp towel. “Too runny?” he asked.

Hitch glanced up. “They’re fine. Just fine.” They weren’t really fine; they were just cheap. What he truly wanted this morning was a steak—rare and bloody. Something he could stab with a knife and then chomp with his teeth and rip into pieces.

Stabbing, chomping, and ripping. Those were about the only things that’d make him feel better right now. If he could stab, chomp, and rip that dirty no-account Rawliv Zlo, why, that’d be even peachier.

He tilted back the rest of his coffee, ignoring the pain in his head, then thunked the empty mug back onto the counter. Some little part of him wanted it to crack. Mug or countertop, didn’t much matter which.

Dan grabbed the mug. “Now, what was that for?”

A spark of penitence bounced through him. He reached to run a hand through his hair, then caught himself before he could make his headache worse. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Dan eyed him. “Where’re your friends?” He put the mug out of reach on the sill of the window that offered a peek into the back kitchen. Judging by the sizzle, his wife was frying hash browns.

“Out guarding the plane.” And each other, with any luck. “I had to come in for a couple jugs of gas.”

Behind Hitch, a chair squeaked. “We heard there was some trouble out there last night,” said old Lou Parker. He and Scottie Shepherd had been sitting at their table by the boarded-up broken window when Hitch came in.

“You heard right,” Hitch said.

“Well, what’re you going to do about it?” Scottie asked.

“What makes you think
I’m
going to be able to do anything about it?”

“You seem to always be right there in the thick of it, don’t you? Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

Why not? He’d sure like to about now. He picked up his fork. At the moment, plans seemed to be in short supply around here. So what did that leave? He stabbed the congealed yolk, and the soft yellow bled all over the whites.

After last night, what was there left to plan
with
? Zlo had left them with only one or two airworthy planes and maybe half a dozen salvageable ones. Hitch could take the Jenny out and fly around for days without coming anywhere near
Schturming
, even with Jael’s pains acting as a divining rod.

A fists-in-the-face fight he could deal with. That’s what he had stayed for. But slow and strategic wasn’t his strength. Right now, the only thing he was good for around here was a whole lot of nothing. The wanderlust in the soles of his feet was starting to itch like crazy.

Maybe he should get out after all. Pack up Earl, Jael, and Taos and fly right through that storm and out of the valley. The storm couldn’t be more than a couple miles wide at the very most. He could fly through that. Then they’d be out. The town wouldn’t be a speck worse off than it was right now—and then maybe this crushing weight would lift from his chest. Free again.

Or not.

If he left his family right now, he’d never be free. He thumped the fork onto the countertop so hard his plate rattled. An answering thump of pain echoed through his head.

Dan gave him a narrow look.

“Well?” Scottie prompted from behind.

He swiveled on his stool and glared at the skinny old man. “Well, what? You got an idea, spit it out. Because right now I’d do about anything to end this.”

Bill Campbell’s broad shoulders filled the open doorway. “Is that so?”

Save for Rosie scraping a spatula through her hash browns in back, the cafe went still.

Campbell pulled out the toothpick he was sucking and entered. He looked at Lou and Scottie. “You’ll pardon me, boys, for turning you out into the damp air, but I’d like a word with our prodigal pilot here.”

Ah, gravy. Hitch resisted hurling his fork—or, shoot, the whole plate of eggs—straight at Campbell’s head. Of all the things he did not need this morning, Campbell was way up there at the top of the list.

He glowered. “What do you want?”

While Lou and Scottie grabbed their hats and filtered out, muttering to each other, Campbell took a stool next to Hitch’s.

He looked at Dan. “You too, if you don’t mind, Holloway. Go on in the back there and give Rosie a hand with them dishes.” He dropped a nickel onto the counter and turned the pewter coffee pot so he could grip the handle. “I’ll help myself.”

Dan gave a reluctant nod, flipped his towel over his shoulder, and pushed through the swinging door into the back.

“Well, son.” Campbell righted one of the upside-down mugs from the back edge of the counter and filled it. “Hear we had some trouble last night.”

“Seems everybody’s heard.”

“Well, here’s the thing.” He took two long swallows. Then he set the mug on the counter and leaned back on his elbow. “You and me, Hitch, we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But I’m not about to let that jumped-up mercenary, or whatever he thinks he is, come in here and hold this town for ransom.”

Swell. Save the town from Zlo and give it back to Campbell. Out of the fire and back into the frying pan.

“Listen to me.” Campbell’s voice deepened. “When I went up there the other day, Zlo offered me a deal.”

The hairs on the back of Hitch’s neck rose.

“Said if I’d help him get this pendant thing he wants, he’d give me a quarter of the ransom.”

Hitch shoved back his plate and stood. “Why tell me? If you think I’m going to help you help him, you’re crazy.”

“I’m telling you because I want no part of it. I’ll tell you something else. I don’t want him just chased out of this valley. I want him brought down. I want him and every one of those mother’s sons up there in my jail. And I want you to help me.”

“Why me?”

Campbell’s mouth tweaked in that almost-smile. “Because you and me, we’re friendly, Hitch. And because I hear you’re about the only one left who’s got a plane that’ll fly.”

“And I suppose you’ve got a plan to go along with my plane?”

“We’ll figure that out. Right now, I’m here to get something straight between us. Whatever you do to bring down Zlo, when you’re done, I want that big ship of his in my custody.”

“You mean you want it for yourself.” He couldn’t entirely say which was worse: Livingstone using it to own the skies, or Campbell getting his hooks in it and using it to cement his ownership of this town.

Campbell shrugged a shoulder. “Who else around here has got a right to protect it and make sure it’s used properly?”

Hitch snorted. “You’re the last person I’d want to have it.”

“You quit with your beefing, get your head on straight, and do this for me—and it could be we might finally be able to call it even between the two of us.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

But his mind couldn’t help turning it over anyway. Chances were good Campbell would actually uphold the deal this time. He wanted
Schturming
brought down bad enough for that. Hitch ground his teeth.

Find
Schturming
, bring it down, and let Campbell take care of it once it was on the ground. Then he could get out, back to life as he knew it, back to the barnstorming circuit. If Campbell took over
Schturming
, Jael wasn’t going to have anything to go back to, so maybe he could talk her into joining the troupe for real. Maybe it was time to explore whatever it was that was happening between them.

Why not help Campbell and let Campbell help him? It’d sure solve everything.

Campbell was going to be in power here whether Hitch stayed or not. In fact, when it came down to it, Campbell’d probably take
Schturming
whether Hitch put his plane at his disposal or not.

But
help Bill Campbell?
His throat tightened. Whether Campbell ended up getting his claws into
Schturming
or not wasn’t the point—particularly since he almost certainly would. The
point
was that Hitch’s promise to Jael about getting her home would be a fat lot of worthless if he handed that home over to Campbell as soon as it touched ground.

He looked Campbell in the eye. “Can’t do it.” He turned to go.

Campbell let him get halfway across the room. “Why don’t you get yourself on back here.”

Two more strides and he’d be out the door.

“I told you the benefits if you do this right. Now I’m going to tell you the drawbacks if you don’t.”

In the doorway, Hitch stopped and looked back. He shouldn’t have, but he did. Because Campbell had always had it in his power to wield a lot of drawbacks.

Campbell sipped his coffee. “That little gal of yours? Don’t think I don’t know exactly who she is. She could end up going straight back to Mr. Zlo. Your mechanic pal might end up breaking his other arm.” He set the mug on the counter, and swiveled all the way around on his seat. “And you can bet my deputy’s going to have to find himself a new job.”

The anger, simmering in Hitch’s belly all morning, finally came to a boil. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Griff.”

“Not yet, it don’t.”

Hitch shoved a chair aside and stalked back across the room. “I should have beat in your stinking head a long time ago.”