And he did have to go.
Would Griff think a week long enough for reconciliation? Because if he didn’t, this whole thing might end worse than it’d begun.
Fourteen
WHEN HITCH PUT the plane on the ground back at the airfield, the right wheel busted clean off. The Jenny skidded around in a wobbling ground loop and nearly pitched herself onto her propeller. He fought her back to a standstill, then jumped out to stare at the damage.
He might have started yelling about how he couldn’t believe this had happened again. Except, at this point, he totally could.
Earl ran over. “You keep her safe during that storm, then come home and botch your landing?”
Hitch growled. “It happens, doesn’t it?” He knelt beside the broken gear. This was the side that had plowed into Schturming when he hit whatever was up there. Three landings later, the axle was near sheared in half. At least it had gotten him back to Earl.
For all the good it would do now. It was fixable, but that wasn’t going to be the main issue this time.
“How much is it going to cost?” he asked.
Earl squatted beside the wheel and shook his head. “More than you got.”
Wouldn’t have to be much to be more than what he had at this point. Earl had spent all but change on the last round of repairs.
Earl pushed his cap back and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I tell you what, Hitch, I’m beginning to see why you left home. This ain’t a lucky place for you, is it?”
Hitch shrugged and leaned back against the fuselage. His head throbbed. The only good parts of this day were the worse things that could’ve happened and hadn’t.
Rick roared up in his motorcar and came jogging over. He took one look at the broken axle and its missing wheel. “You can’t be serious!” He was walking straight enough, but his breath had a definite aroma of gin.
Hitch didn’t bother to answer. Jennies were always busting themselves to pieces. Most of the ones still in the air were held together with parachute cords, chewing gum, and lots of earnest prayers. It was just bum luck his Jenny had decided to turn into a fainting damsel this week of all weeks.
Rick propped his hands on his hips. “Well. Where’s the money coming from this time?”
“We could hawk your car maybe,” Earl said.
“I’m not the one who keeps demolishing my airplane.” Rick pursed his lips at Hitch. “I can hardly perform our routine by myself. If you don’t get her back into the air, I suppose that means I won’t be getting paid again, doesn’t it? Or eating, for that matter?”
“You think I don’t know that? What do you want me to do?” Hitch’s mind raced. No money meant no repairs, period. No repairs meant no contest. That’d be the end of the line. The end of quite a few lines, actually. He huffed. “I can’t conjure your money out of thin air.”
Rick sniffed. “And don’t I know it well. If you could, we’d not only all have been paid, you’d also have had the wherewithal to hire a decent-sized crew. If we had a wing walker, we’d have twice as good a chance of winning this weekend’s competition.”
“Wing walker.” Hitch looked around. “Where’s Jael?”
Earl shook his head. “Haven’t seen her.”
His mind jumped to Zlo right off. But, no, Zlo was skyside right now. He couldn’t have gotten to Jael even if he wanted to.
“She was in town with me not long ago,” Hitch said. “I lost her, so I thought maybe she’d bummed a ride back here.”
“Maybe she went home.”
“That I doubt.” He chewed his lip. “I hope not. I have this feeling she would make a heck of an aerialist.”
Rick scoffed. “Yesterday was the first she’d even been in a plane.”
“Heights don’t faze her. She’s got good balance.”
A grin played at the corner of Earl’s mouth. “And she’d be pretty to look at up there, I reckon.”
Hitch glared. “That ain’t it.”
“’Course not. But don’t forget you’re not going to get her up there at all if you can’t get this plane off the ground.”
Rick stared at Hitch. “You can’t possibly be thinking of bringing her on board.”
“Maybe. If she wants the job.”
“Well, I say no, Hitch. She’s no barnstormer. She’s a wild vagabond!”
“There’s a difference? Anyway, you said you wanted a wing walker.”
Rick flared his nostrils. “You intend to pay her the same as the rest of us if we win?”
“Why not?”
“Then I deserve a raise. I’m a veteran member of this troupe. A pilot and a parachutist. That’s worth more than a fledgling wing walker any day, as both of us well know. ”
Hitch’s head pounded harder. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“What does that mean?”
“Means for what I’m paying you already I get an okay pilot, a halfway decent parachutist, and a whole lot of complaining.” The words were out before he could stop them.
Earl, still crouched near the wheel, shook his head.
Rick’s face stilled. “Your trouble is that you have consistently and deliberately underestimated and devalued me! You seem to believe you own Lilla, and don’t think I’m not aware of your attempts to lure her away from me. And you insulted me to my face, I’ll remind you.”
Here it came then. This old beef about Rick’s claim to have been the first to do the handkerchief pickup stunt.
“Called me a liar, I believe,” Rick insisted.
“You were lying.”
“Is that so, is it?” Rick started nodding, as if he’d expected no less. “Is that so? And that is truly all you have to say to me?”
What Hitch truly wanted to say wouldn’t go over any better. So he just gritted his teeth. “Guess so.”
“Fine.” Rick turned to go and stalked off.
“Looks like you went and hurt his feelings,” Earl said.
“He’ll get over it.” Or not. But it didn’t matter. Rick was always upset about something. He could still jump out of a plane whether his ego was feeling up to full size or not. That was all that mattered.
Earl grunted.
Hitch shot another look around. “What about Taos? Did that kid ever bring him back?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Earl pushed to his feet. “Look, I hate to tell you this, but your good pal Rick is the least of your troubles right now. Qualifying rounds are tomorrow. I suppose we could all go get ourselves some honest jobs, but I don’t think they’d pay out fast enough to do us much good. So unless you’ve got another couple of old pistols to sell…” He spread his palms.
“Yeah, yeah.” Hitch gritted his teeth. The pressure made his headache worse, but even that was better than the only option left staring him in the face. That option had more than its share of reasons why it was a stupid idea. But it also had one very good incentive: $100.
With a sigh, he stood up from leaning against the plane. “If I tell you to stop worrying, will you?”
“Probably not,” Earl said. “What are you going to do?”
“Something I’m likely to regret for a long time. But it’ll give us enough money to get back in the air.”
With any luck, it would also get him out of town with a partnership in Livingstone’s circus and no fear of Bill Campbell ever hunting him down. This thing was already too far along for him not to do whatever had to be done to make that happen.
*