The Flying Circus (16 page)

Gil said, “We’ll get this plane moved later. Do you have a car or truck we could borrow?” To Henry he said, “If she’s not in town, we’ll start looking on the road.”

“Road? Ain’t your lady travelin’ by train?”

“No. She’s riding a motorcycle,” Gil said. Obviously he’d never had to tiptoe around public opinion before. Gather didn’t seem the kind of man who welcomed the progress of womanhood.

Gather’s eyes got wide, then squinty. “Well now . . .” He looked to be making a decision. “Truck’s up to the barn. You’re welcome to use it to find your
lady
if you bring it back full of gasoline.” He said
lady
differently this time, as if he considered any woman traveling alone on a motorcycle and meeting up with two men to be far less than one. The implication irritated Henry beyond measure. He wanted to punch the man for his disrespect, but held his hands at his side; they needed that truck.

For the first time he understood Cora’s complaint about the unfairness of the public attitude toward independent woman, that they were either immoral or suspiciously masculine. How quickly she’d begun to change his perspective. He recalled his shock at Cora’s initial appearance and over her asking for Gil’s cigarette. That shock seemed prudish to him now, and he felt a little ashamed that Cora still needed to remind him that women were equals now, the old Victorian ways were being left back “in the dark ages where they belong.”

Change came slowly, no matter how justified. Some places were slower to come around than others and Henry hoped this wasn’t one of them; they needed to replenish their cash before they could move on.

When he laid eyes on Gather’s truck, he feared it didn’t have seven miles, the distance to town, left in it. Henry had to crank it so many
times, he broke a sweat and nearly his arm, too. When it started, it coughed and ran rough. As it sluggishly chugged out of the barnyard, Henry prayed it wouldn’t die on the side of the road before they found Cora.

The motorcycle always took longer to reach their destinations than the Jenny. Most roads weren’t good enough for Cora to travel anywhere near top speed, an unhappy discovery for her. Their plan always was, if she didn’t see Henry and Gil in a field on her way into town—as she wouldn’t today because they’d flown past Marion—the fallback was to meet Henry in the center of downtown. Originally, she was to stay put and Henry was to wander until he found her. But Cora wasn’t a woman to stay put when she could be talking up the exhibition. After that first time, Henry stayed put and let her find him. It simply expedited things.

Gil pointed the truck toward Marion. He might not have said he was worried—or anything else for that matter because he’d gone silent—but his jaw muscles flexed and his fingers kept opening and closing on the steering wheel of the old truck.

“I think we need to find another field to operate out of,” Henry said.

“We already shook on it. It’ll be fine.”

“But you heard him. He seems—”

“We can cut back to just rides and keep Cora out of it. We’ll just do one day.”

“I don’t like being stuck here.”

“Don’t believe everything that old coot said. We’ll judge for ourselves.”

The late-July sun beat down and the hot wind lashed Henry’s face. His tense stomach turned sour. He suddenly missed the cool rush of high-altitude air that he wouldn’t feel for at least a week. As self-centered as thinking about how much he’d miss flying was, it was better than thinking of Cora getting caught up in a shoot-out.

Henry didn’t know if Gil’s wild driving was because of panic or if he was just a terrible driver. They hit every rut and pothole in the road, and Henry steadied himself by holding on to the door. Gil’s hands, so smooth on the control stick and the throttle, were erratic on the steer
ing wheel; the side-to-side jerking of the truck was making Henry’s neck muscles cramp.

“Up there.” Henry pointed to a mining company coming up on the right. “Slow down so we can get a look.”

Gil slowed, but not by much. They both turned their heads, searching the grounds for signs of trouble. No guards armed with tommy guns. No angry union workers storming the area. No white KKK hoods.

“Think Gather was just saying all that stuff to scare us?” Henry asked.

“Why would he bother?”

“He seemed to have a kind of perverse sense of humor.”

Gil gave a grunt—whether in agreement or dissent Henry couldn’t tell.

As they entered town, Gil swung wide to go around a buggy being pulled by a broken-down old horse and almost hit a touring car head on. He swerved into the grass, barely missing an electric pole. Thank God there wasn’t a curb or the tires would have peeled right off the wheels.

“We’re not going to do Cora any good if we’re lying dead on the damn street!” It was a relief to yell at someone.

Gil finally slowed, mostly because he didn’t have a choice. They’d reached town proper with its mix of pedestrians, dogs, bicycles, and street traffic.

He looked over at Henry. “When I’m not around anymore, it’s going to be your job to look after Cora. She thinks she’s different from other women. But the rest of the world doesn’t see it that way. And she’s so damned sure she’s invincible, she’s bound to get into trouble.”

Henry frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Protecting women is the only good use men have. Everything else we fuck up.”

“Well, then you two stubborn asses should have let me trade places with her weeks ago and she wouldn’t be out there on her own right now!”

Gil’s right eye twitched but he didn’t argue.

“And you don’t need to tell
me
about Cora,” Henry said, his tone icicle sharp. “I was asking what you meant by ‘not being around.’ ”

“Cora wants this to be something more . . . bigger. And I’m pretty sure whatever she sets her mind to she’ll do. And you’ve got a future in you, too. But none of that is for me.”

“So we’re going to wake up one day and you’ll just take off without us? Is that your plan? Why in the hell have you kept us around at all? Jesus, you talk about protecting Cora. If you’re going to leave us, then you should have done it that first day. Why build up her hopes?”
And mine.
“Now she’s a long way from home. She threw everything away for this.”

“I should have. This plane won’t last.” Gil paused. “I won’t last.”

“I can make the plane last. And you’re what, twenty-six, twenty-seven? I wouldn’t call that an old man.”

“I’ll never be an old man.” Gil said it so quietly, it took a moment for Henry to pluck the words out of the wind. “I’ve cheated death more times than a man should be allowed. Time is coming. I feel it.”

“You want it, you mean.”

Gil shrugged. “Cora’ll find another plane, another flier.” The way Gil looked at Henry made his heart sink.

“Is that why you taught me to fly?”

Gil gave a half shrug.

“You’re wrong.”

“About Cora, maybe. About you, possibly. But not about me.”

They reached the courthouse square. The brick streets didn’t border it, boxing it in. They made T’s right into the center of the courthouse on all four sides, leaving wide-open bricked areas between the courthouse and the surrounding businesses. It made it easy for Henry to see most of the downtown with one lap around the square. Everything looked peaceful. No sign of Cora.

“Isn’t she supposed to wait on the square for you?” Gil asked, his hands nervous on the steering wheel.

“You don’t know Cora at all.” Henry felt a little smug saying it. “I park myself. She finds me.”

“There’re plenty of open spots. Would she have parked off on some side street?”

“Not a chance. Her plan is to attract as much attention as possible.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“That’s our job, promoting, drawing a crowd. The
problem
is letting her ride that motorcycle all over creation by herself. If it breaks down, she’s stuck.” Henry didn’t give voice to his true fear, that it wasn’t a breakdown that had kept her from reaching Marion.

Gil stopped at a corner. Henry called out the window to a bent-backed man in a bowler hat walking slowly by. “Excuse me, sir!”

The man stopped and looked their way.

“Have you seen a woman and a dog on a motorcycle anywhere around town?”

“Why, I sure did.”

Henry’s heart lightened.

“There was a monkey on her shoulder, too. Think an elephant was followin’ ’em—a pink un.” With a shake of his head, the man swatted a hand in their direction and walked away muttering, “Dang youngsters.” He disappeared into the door of Duncan-Baker Hardware Company.

Gil headed west out of town on one of the first hard roads Henry had ever seen outside of a downtown area. It was narrow enough that the truck had to drive down the middle to keep all four tires on the concrete, but so smooth Gil could push the truck as fast as it could go. Henry thought of Cora tearing into town at sixty miles an hour on this road—as she surely would. He was pretty sure it was something people would remember.

“She doesn’t ever get off the main road, does she?” Gil asked.

You’d know if you ever talked to her.
Henry quickly swallowed those words down. Cora and Gil were talking more now, and Henry had discovered that he preferred them fighting. He’d never been a jealous person, but then he hadn’t felt close to anyone since Peter died . . . until Cora.

“No. That’s one plan she sticks to. If she breaks down, she doesn’t want to waste promotion time having us looking for her.”

They motored on, Henry growing more nervous every minute.

“You think she’s finally turned tail and run?” Gil’s voice sounded sad. “Barnstorming is pretty rough for a woman.”

“You’re kidding, right? If anything, she’s more determined than ever.”

“Maybe the novelty’s worn off.”

A bark of laughter came out of Henry. “How could it? She comes up with a new scheme every other day.”

An open-topped car raced toward them, not yielding an inch of the width of the road. Gil had to pull completely off the pavement. Henry hung out the window, waving his arms to get the man to stop. Maybe he’d seen Cora. But the car sped on past, the driver either not seeing or not caring.

They were heading into the setting sun, the white glare on the windshield blinding them to most everything. Henry kept his head out the window, his hand on his hat, the bill shading his eyes.

Halfway to Carbondale, Henry finally spotted her walking toward them on the road. “There she is!” he shouted, but Gil was already slowing and pulling off the road. He cut the motor, jumped out of the truck, leaving the driver’s door open. The truck kept rolling down the slight grade at the side of the road. “Shit.” Henry had to slide over and cram it in gear and set the brake. By the time his feet hit the ground, Cora was already in Gil’s arms, hers tightly around his neck.

Henry’s stomach turned to lead.

Mercury shot toward him, launching himself toward Henry’s midsection. He caught the dog like a football. That little, hot tongue started licking Henry’s chin. At least someone was glad to see him.

Gil held Cora by the shoulders and looked her over. “You’re all right?”

That was Henry’s first good look at her . . . and she didn’t look all right at all. Her clothes were muddy, the knee of her pants torn. It looked like a rasp had been taken to her left cheek. His mouth went cottony and his hands clenched. “Who did this?”

She grinned at Henry and he saw her lip was swollen, too. “Easy, Kid. I did it. Well, it was mostly me.”

Gil’s hands lingered on her shoulders. Henry wanted to smack them off. What was worse was the way Gil was looking at her. Henry had only seen that I-touched-God look in Gil’s eyes while he was flying.

“Had a flat I had to get fixed,” Cora said. “Then got into a race with a breezer a couple of miles back that didn’t turn out so well. I tried to pass him off the pavement and ended up in a ditch.”

“ ‘Breezer’?” Henry asked.

“You know, a convertible. Golly, you can really fly on this cement road! I can’t wait until more are paved . . . I’ll probably
beat
you two from town to town.”

“No, you won’t,” Gil said. “You’ll be flying with me. From here on out, Henry rides the motorcycle. It’s not safe for a woman alone.”

“Good God, it’s usually Henry bossing me around.” She shoved Gil in the chest and stepped back away from him.

“You’ve proven you don’t need special treatment, so let it go. Henry and I agree it’s not safe for you alone.”

“Oh, you do, do you? If I wanted someone, or two someones”—she pointed to Gil, then Henry—“to tell me what to do, I’d have stayed with Mother and gotten married to a man with money. At least then I wouldn’t be sleeping on the ground.”

“Come on, Cora!” Gil said. “Be sensible.”

Henry stood back and waited for the explosion.

“You really just said that to me?” she shouted. “I’m a daredevil, Gil. A
daredevil
!”

Gil looked to Henry for his usual intervention, but Henry just shrugged and stepped a little farther away. For the first time he actually liked the idea of her being mad at Gil.

“Then save it for the show, when people are paying good money to see it. What in the hell? Racing? Last time it didn’t turn out too well either. When are you going to stop?”

“Hey, if I hadn’t raced you, we would never have met! And poor Henry would be stuck in some factory in Chicago.”

Gil. That’s whom she’d regret not meeting.
Poor Henry
ground his teeth together and told himself it was for the best.

“It’s almost dark,” Gil said.

Dark? The sun rested on the tops of the trees. Hours until full dark.

Gil went on, “What if instead of me and Henry finding you, it’d been some ruffian?”

Cora burst out laughing. “Ruffian?”

“Stop laughing!” Henry’s sharp tone sobered her up. He thought of Mr. Gather’s stories. “Gil’s right.”

“I own the plane. You want to stay in the barnstorming business, you fly with me. Henry rides the motorcycle. Now where is it?”

“I
said
a couple miles back.” She crossed her arms.