K. Weiland - Storming

Earl shrugged. “She talks like a foreigner. Maybe she’s from over there. It’s only been two years. She might have seen all that up close.”

Or looked down on it from the sky. Hitch shook the idea away. Nope. No matter what she said, no fighter pilot in his right mind would have taken her up there.

“You’ve got no idea where she’s from?” Earl asked.

“She doesn’t seem to like talking about it. And what she does say doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why don’t you go have a word with her. You’re about the only person she knows here. Give her a tater, tell her things’ll be fine.”

“Ah-ha.” Hitch grinned. “You do believe it’ll all turn out.”

“Hmph. What I believe is that the good Lord winks at the occasional well-intentioned lie.”

Hitch left it at that and made his way over to the campfire. Taos raised his head and curled his tongue in a yawn. Speaking of crew who didn’t earn their keep.

Hitch flipped him a wedge of cornbread anyway.

Without turning her head, Jael shot him half a glance. She kept right on working on the spark plug.

He held up a potato. “Hungry?” Lilla had boiled them last night, so they were already soft under their papery skins.

She kept her chin tucked and shook her head.

He ducked his head, trying to catch her eye.

Around her neck, the chain from that crazy pendant glinted. He wasn’t about to ask about that right now.

In this light and this mood, she seemed a different person. The wild woman was gone, for the moment anyway. But maybe that had all been nerves. Getting lit on fire last night would be enough to shake up anybody.

And she did have guts aplenty. She’d been scared when she went after him at the Berringers’, and then the boys at the cafe, and then Livingstone—but she hadn’t cowered or whimpered. She’d flung herself right in their faces, and by the time she was done, darned if they all hadn’t been a little bit more wary of her than she was of them.

He crouched near her. “C’mon, I know you’re hungry. We never got a chance to eat those cheese sandwiches earlier.” He wiggled the potato. “Trade you?”

She raised her chin and looked at him square. Her eyes charted his face, like she was searching for something. And maybe she found it.

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Tonk you. For earlier. I have sorrow for giving hurt to your leg.”

“Ah well, shinbones of steel, don’t you know?”

“You were right in what you said. You are not—none of you are not—what I am all my life thinking Groundsmen are like.” She offered the spark plug.

He gave her his most charming smile and handed over the potato and a good-sized chunk of cornbread. “Afraid that’s all the dinner we’ve got to offer right now.”

“No, this is very much.”

“Then you must not be in the habit of eating too good.”

She shrugged without looking up from the cornbread. “Some do.”

“But not you?”

“On bottom is where I am living.”

“Earl says you’re pretty good with engines. How’d that come to be?”

“Engines”—she pronounced it ennjuns_—“are my work. Not like your engines.” She held her hands far apart. “_Bolshoe , and slower. But same still.”

Big, slow engines. From something like a Sopwith Rhino triplane bomber maybe?

“They let you work on engines?” No matter how good she was, a female mechanic wasn’t exactly most pilots’ first choice. “You’re in charge of them?”

“No, they are not allowing.” She smiled, a bit sadly. “It is secret. I am having no family, not since long ago. So I am _nikto_—having no place. All through my life, I help Nestor with engines.” She looked down at her potato. “But he is _merviy_—dead.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “He… was owning thing that is having importance. Someone had desire for it.”

Meaning the “sky people” had killed him? Skepticism washed over Hitch, but then an image flashed through his mind: the falling body Scottie had talked about.

“I’m… sorry.” He eased back to sit and propped one knee in front of him. “And how’d you end up here?”

“Was mistake.”

“Your mistake… or somebody else’s?”

“I took the…” She mimed putting on a harness, then made an exploding motion with her hands.

“The parachute.”

Another shrug. “I had to go away from there. Before time had all vanished. The ball gown was a—how do you say?—a mask , but for whole body?”

“A disguise?”

“That. Because Zlo—he has celebration for what he has done.” The lines around her mouth tightened. “He has thoughts that he has won.”

“Zlo? That’s the guy who lit you on fire?”

She tucked her chin in a nod.

“And what was it he did that was worth celebrating?”

“He changed everything.” She blew out a deep breath. “Um, your word for it, I have no knowledge for. But he is—” She made a pushing motion with both hands, then glanced at him to see if he understood.

“He pushed you? Lucky thing you had your ’chute already on.”

“And I—” She added a pulling gesture.

“Ah.” That explained why they’d been hanging onto one another before their canopies opened last night. “And you’re sure he survived the fall too? He’s the one you saw in town?”

She nodded.

None of this made a lick of sense. They were having a party up in the sky someplace, so she put on an old-fashioned dress to escape notice—and then ran away with a parachute, only to be tackled and sent hurtling through the night? If Earl had thought last night’s story was crazy, this one plumb ran away with the farmer’s daughter.

“Well, that’s not so good,” he said carefully. “Why’d he push you?”

Her face stilled, and she pulled back, retreating into her secrets once more.

For a few minutes, they ate without talking. Taos edged closer and propped his chin on Hitch’s leg. His eyes followed the food from Hitch’s hand to his mouth. Hitch fed him a few crumbs off his fingertips.

Jael broke the silence with a soft laugh. “I have not seen this—what you call this animal?”

“You’ve never seen a dog?”

“No.”

Where did someone spend her whole life without ever seeing a dog?

“I had small, very small animal.” She cupped her hands. “Much hair, long tail. His name was Meesh.”

“A mouse?” he guessed.

She shrugged again. She looked at the fire, then back at him. “I am also having sorrow for what I did to man with mouth hair. If I gave trouble to you, I am having sorrow.”

“Yeah, well.” He fed Taos the last potato skin. “If you gotta give trouble to somebody, might as well give it to me. I should know what to do with it if anybody does. What happened with Livingstone this afternoon was more my fault than yours.”

“And this custody he said? He will not do this to you?”

He stood up and dusted off his pants. “Oh, I doubt it. Unless he gets his dander up again.”

“But you have brother who will help?” She stared up at him. “The man with orange phosphate and cheese sandwich—he said you have good brother who is deputy? This is custody man, yes?”

“Oh, Griff. First I’d heard of that. To be honest, I don’t much like it.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Despite what folks think, I know for a fact the law around here isn’t exactly… Well, the sheriff ain’t a custodian, let’s just say that.”

“Would they do custody to Zlo?”

He looked down at her. “Griff would.” Unless Campbell had gotten to him, changed him.

Hitch looked west, to where his family’s farm lay a few miles off. Like enough, Griff was still living there, though he could be married with little ones, for all Hitch knew.