J.W. pointed at Livingstone. “That’s what your popinjay friend thinks too.”
“Ladies and gen-tle-men!” Livingstone drew out every syllable, like a carnival barker. “I propose this is no ordinary storm! I propose something is up there!”
Hitch frowned. What was Livingstone up to?
“I propose,” Livingstone drawled, “to personally deduce the solution to this mystery. The aeronauts who have come into your midst will search the skies and penetrate the heart of this labyrinthine enigma!”
Publicity indeed. Hitch had to clap along with the others, out of respect for Livingstone’s theatrics if nothing else. No way Livingstone was actually buying into the idea that something was up there. But it was too good a story not to take advantage of.
J.W. grunted. “Hmp. And I just bet he’s behind it all.”
The buzz of conversation rose even higher.
Along the sidewalk, the crowd parted, and Griff strode up to the truck. He gestured for Livingstone to get down. His voice drifted out to where Hitch stood. “This is all nonsense, and there’s no reason to go upsetting people any further.”
Griff faced the crowd. He was hatless, and his dark blond hair had fallen across his forehead. He looked young and earnest and tired, but his voice was weighted with confidence. “It’s just a storm. Lord knows, we’ve had our share of freak storms before. So go on home, clean up the damage. It’ll all be right.”
The crowd responded. Most of them acted like they recognized him. They nodded to him and started to disperse.
Seemed his little brother had grown up just fine without him. Maybe all the better for Hitch’s being gone. The twist in Hitch’s chest was bittersweet.
“Indeed,” Livingstone said. “Heed these good words. And allay your fears. My pioneers of the sky will safeguard your children!”
Speaking of opportunities…
Griff scowled at Livingstone and practically hauled him down.
“Well now, he’s full of the blarney, ain’t he?” J.W. said.
Hitch grunted.
Livingstone could have no idea there was really something to be found up there. But after a public declaration like that, he had just about granted hero status to any pilot who did find something.
Hero pilots got easy jobs and better money—as all the war veterans could tell you.
Had to be a way to use that to his advantage. Maybe Hitch could find the dad-ratted thing. If he could figure out what it was, maybe get it to land… _That_’d be publicity like Livingstone wasn’t even dreaming of.
And if they could get Zlo arrested in the process, that would work out all the better.
As it so happened, Hitch was the only pilot who’d had his plane in the air this afternoon, and surely he was the only one who’d glimpsed _Schturming_—much less crash-landed on it.
That meant he had a head start on every other pilot. And he had Jael.
He turned to look for her. “What do you think?”
The spot by his elbow, where she’d been a second ago, was nothing but empty air.
He looked around, but she’d plumb vanished. She had a knack for that, seemed like.
Across the street, Griff stood speaking to people and guiding them to disperse. Every few seconds, he’d glance over slowly, as if he were just casually scanning the road. But he always scanned right past Hitch.
Might be he’d cooled down a bit after having his say last night. A man had a right to blowing off some temper after holding it for nine years. Hitch couldn’t blame him for that.
But still Hitch hesitated. He needed to march over there and say something. But everything he’d had to say he’d said last night. Didn’t seem it would make much of a difference saying it all over again by the light of day.
The last of the crowd filtered away, and Griff hesitated too. He leaned back on one leg, ready to take a step.
Now or never.
Hitch pocketed his hands and ambled over. “So… I hear you met Jael.”
Griff eyed him, up and down. He looked like a man trying to keep his sternness all closed in around himself. “The girl who about got hit by the lightning?”
Hitch nodded. “She’s the one I came to you about last night. And that guy Zlo I was telling you about? He was out there this afternoon. That’s why she was in that field—she was running from him.”
Griff frowned. “She didn’t say anything about that.”
“Her English isn’t so good.” Hitch weighed his words. Griff just might help with Zlo, since that was about Jael, not Hitch. All they needed to do was keep Zlo out of the picture long enough for Hitch to win the show—and maybe even long enough for Jael to help him make something interesting out of this opportunity with Schturming. But the specifics didn’t matter. Getting Griff to help him with anything might be enough to break down this wall between them.
Hitch looked Griff in the eye. “Zlo’s no joke. He was there last night where the body fell.”
Griff frowned. “You didn’t tell the sheriff that.”
“I don’t tell the sheriff a lot of things.” He had to rein back anger on that one. “But you will keep an eye out for Zlo? If he comes back?”
“That’s my job, isn’t it?”
And Griff always did his job, was that it? While Hitch went gallivanting irresponsibly around the country?
Seemed like they’d covered that ground last night. He was losing the argument again—and they weren’t even arguing.
He took a breath and tried once more. He nodded down the street. “I can see why you like deputying. You got a way with folks.”
“I like people. I’ve always liked people.”
“I know it. I don’t suppose you remember how when you were nine or so we heard that the schoolteacher old Mrs. Bates, from on the other side of the river, was down with the gout again? You decided to make her chicken soup, even though you didn’t know how.”
Took Griff a second. Then he nodded. “Boiled the whole chicken in a couple gallons of water. Didn’t even know enough to drain the blood or take the innards out first. Smelled rank.”
“I should know. I helped you lug it over there. Cured her gout though, I heard.”
The crease in Griff’s forehead eased a bit. The corner of a grin touched his mouth. “I reckon she was too scared to admit she ever suffered it again.”
Hitch laughed, and for just a second Griff laughed with him.
The sound of it warmed Hitch right to the pit of his stomach. He quieted and smiled at Griff. “It is good to be home, little brother.”
As quick as that, Griff’s face closed up. He looked away, and a muscle in his cheek churned. Then he looked back, his eyes thoughtful. “It ain’t that simple, Hitch. I told you that last night.”
“And I reckon I heard you.”
“I’m not the only one who’s upset. Nan’s fit to be tied.” Griff chewed his lower lip. He seemed… conflicted almost. “There’s things you need to know about. About Celia’s dying.”
“Then tell me.”
Griff shook his head. “I don’t know if I can. Not yet.” He stepped backwards, up onto the paved sidewalk. “You decide to stick around long enough, and maybe you’ll prove you deserve to hear it.”
Hands still in his pockets, Hitch watched him go. Sticking around wasn’t exactly in the cards, especially with Campbell huffing down his neck once more. Thing was, Griff probably had no notion of any of that.
Didn’t seem like requesting help with Campbell was exactly the right thing to be asking Griff right now. Even if it was, getting Griff mixed up on the bad side of Campbell wasn’t something Hitch wanted to leave behind him when he had to go.