K. Weiland - Storming

He shut the door. “I need to stick around and at least see what happens. Then we’ll clear out.” He turned to Jael. “This could end up being a war, of sorts. You know that, right? A lot of your people could end up getting hurt.”

“If Zlo is glavni , they are already hurt.”

He pocketed his hands. This was dead serious, but he didn’t want her to think it was a threat: “I need to know what side you’re on in all this. Nobody’s going to blame you if it ain’t us.”

She was watching him, with that deep, searching look. “It is not just your home Zlo puts in danger. If only way to save Schturming is to bring it down”—she lifted a shoulder—“then I will stay with you and help you to first save your home. I think you will save mine too, if you can.” The steadiness in her voice held a daunting load of implicit trust.

Sooner or later, it seemed he always ended up letting down the people he cared about. But maybe not this time. Maybe this time, he’d not only stick it out, but actually do something useful in the process.

Take down the flying pirate and his crew. Save the valley. Make peace with Griff and Nan.

Sure. No problem.

He straightened away from the passenger door. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

HITCH DROVE BACK to the airfield, towing the Jenny behind J.W.’s car. At the end of the runway, somebody had erected a big open tent against the spitting drizzle. Looked like half the town was crammed under it, all of them shouting and shaking their fists. In front of them, Campbell and Livingstone stood on top of something, head and shoulders above the crowd.

“Don’t know about you,” Earl drawled, “but them being in charge sure makes me feel a whole lot better.”

Hitch parked the car and helped Earl and Jael out. They all made their way over to the back of the jostling crowd.

Everybody was hollering at once.

“I can’t even pay part of eighty thousand dollars!”

“If they can send rain, they can send hail! My entire crop will be ruined!”

“They can’t hold a whole town for ransom!”

“They’ve killed people already! This is war, I tell you! They’re invaders!”

Campbell looked more like a granite crag than ever. He raised both hands. “Listen to me.”

The hubbub continued.

His blue eyes lit up. “Listen to me!”

Most sensible people would shut up when Bill Campbell talked like that. Most folks here were sensible. Their cries quieted to a murmur. They shifted their feet, restless and scared, but also expectant.

“That’s right,” somebody dared to say. “You been up there, Sheriff. What’s the score?”

Campbell kept his hands raised for a full second more. “You all just hold onto yourselves, and I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen around here. Nobody’s getting hurt. Nobody’s losing their farm either, you hear me?” He scanned the crowd, stopping to look a few men in the eye.

“But what about the ransom?” a woman shrilled.

“We’re going to pay the ransom.” He waited for the inevitable rustle of whispers, then nodded his big head. “Everybody pays just a little. I reckon we can pay it off without anybody hurting too bad. We’ll figure out what each household pays.” The muscle in Campbell’s cheek jumped, and his eyes flashed. “And if you can afford a little more, well, then maybe you can do that for your neighbors, huh?”

Must gall him to have to say that. Nothing got under his skin worse than somebody trying to strong-arm him. But he wasn’t an idiot.

People shifted. They had to know Campbell was right. At the moment, the only choices were pay or fight. Most folks here couldn’t even begin to fight a flying weather machine.

A man up front raised a finger to get Campbell’s attention. “And what about the rest of it? This thing he wants us to find for him?”

Hitch stiffened.

Beside him, Jael inhaled sharply.

He forced himself not to look over at her.

Campbell straightened, his wide shoulders spreading even wider as he drew them back. “This thing our friend Zlo wants, it’s some kind of pendant.”

“How are we going to find it?” the same man asked.

“Somebody took this pendant from Zlo. We find that person, we find the pendant. I expect we’re looking for someone new to the valley, somebody who don’t quite fit in.”

Of course, Jael fit in about as good as a coon in a henhouse. The hairs on Hitch’s arms stood up. Not too many people had met her, much less heard her talk, but there’d been enough. And probably at least one of them was rat enough to turn her over.

Near the front of the tent, Rick looked over his shoulder. His gaze landed on Jael, and he scowled, obviously thinking.

Speaking of rats.

Hitch caught Jael’s elbow. “Earl shouldn’t be standing around here with that arm. Why don’t you see if maybe the doc made it out here yet to treat casualties?”

She nodded, her face pinched and white. She turned to guide Earl out.

Earl stood fast. “The arm’ll wait. I’m here, so I’ll stay and hear the rest of it.”

The thickhead. Hitch glared at him.

Earl glared back, then finally got it. “Ah, right.” He faked a wince. “Ow! Yeah, I need a doctor. Pain’s kicking like a horse.”

Hitch patted Earl’s shoulder. “Hang in there, old buddy. You’ll make it.”

They turned to go, Jael with one hand on Earl’s back and the other supporting his good elbow. She looked at Hitch and inclined her head in a thank-you.

Folks in the tent were back to yelling.

Toward the front of the crowd, J.W. brandished his battered hat. Even in the shadows, the sunburn atop his bald head flashed. “Now, listen here! I don’t hold with turning over no innocent person.”

“Stealing a pendant ain’t exactly innocent,” Campbell said.

“Stole it from a man who’s trying to kidnap an entire town! I don’t know about the rest of you all, but I ain’t taking the word of no man like that.”

Hitch opened his mouth to back him up. Out of the pay or fight options, fight was looking a little better all the time. But then he saw Rick again and snapped his mouth shut. The less attention he drew to himself right now, the better. The last thing folks here needed to be remembering was his new wing walker and her strange way of talking.

Across from J.W., on the other side of the tent, Matthew caught Hitch’s eye. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, maybe realizing Hitch’s conundrum. The Berringer boys, at any rate, wouldn’t have a hard time figuring out where Jael had come from.

Matthew faced Campbell. “How do we know this man Zlo will honor his agreement even if we pay his ransom?” His calm voice carried all the way through the tent.

“We don’t !” J.W. hollered. “And the rest of you, including you”—he poked a finger toward Matthew—“and you”—a second poke, at Campbell—“can pay this ransom if you’re fool enough to. But I ain’t giving one red cent into that crook’s sweaty palm. Put a shotgun in my hand and I’ll shoot the goldurn thing out of the sky before I’ll pay for the privilege of living on my own farm!”

The whole place erupted—half the people shaking their hats and roaring in agreement, the other half shouting in dismay. J.W. kept right on yelling, even though nobody could hear him anymore. His face went even redder than his sunburn, and he jabbed his finger in his neighbor’s face like he was about to start swinging punches.

Livingstone stepped forward, both arms extended. Except for the spattered mud up past his boots onto the knees of his jodhpurs, his white suit was still immaculate.

“Good people!” he shouted. “This is not a time to panic! This is a time for iron nerves, steely resolve, and steadfast action. Believe me when I tell you, you are not alone in this battle.”