K. Weiland - Storming

Maybe he should get out after all. Pack up Earl, Jael, and Taos and fly right through that storm and out of the valley. The storm couldn’t be more than a couple miles wide at the very most. He could fly through that. Then they’d be out. The town wouldn’t be a speck worse off than it was right now—and then maybe this crushing weight would lift from his chest. Free again.

Or not.

If he left his family right now, he’d never be free. He thumped the fork onto the countertop so hard his plate rattled. An answering thump of pain echoed through his head.

Dan gave him a narrow look.

“Well?” Scottie prompted from behind.

He swiveled on his stool and glared at the skinny old man. “Well, what? You got an idea, spit it out. Because right now I’d do about anything to end this.”

Bill Campbell’s broad shoulders filled the open doorway. “Is that so?”

Save for Rosie scraping a spatula through her hash browns in back, the cafe went still.

Campbell pulled out the toothpick he was sucking and entered. He looked at Lou and Scottie. “You’ll pardon me, boys, for turning you out into the damp air, but I’d like a word with our prodigal pilot here.”

Ah, gravy. Hitch resisted hurling his fork—or, shoot, the whole plate of eggs—straight at Campbell’s head. Of all the things he did not need this morning, Campbell was way up there at the top of the list.

He glowered. “What do you want?”

While Lou and Scottie grabbed their hats and filtered out, muttering to each other, Campbell took a stool next to Hitch’s.

He looked at Dan. “You too, if you don’t mind, Holloway. Go on in the back there and give Rosie a hand with them dishes.” He dropped a nickel onto the counter and turned the pewter coffee pot so he could grip the handle. “I’ll help myself.”

Dan gave a reluctant nod, flipped his towel over his shoulder, and pushed through the swinging door into the back.

“Well, son.” Campbell righted one of the upside-down mugs from the back edge of the counter and filled it. “Hear we had some trouble last night.”

“Seems everybody’s heard.”

“Well, here’s the thing.” He took two long swallows. Then he set the mug on the counter and leaned back on his elbow. “You and me, Hitch, we haven’t always seen eye to eye. But I’m not about to let that jumped-up mercenary, or whatever he thinks he is, come in here and hold this town for ransom.”

Swell. Save the town from Zlo and give it back to Campbell. Out of the fire and back into the frying pan.

“Listen to me.” Campbell’s voice deepened. “When I went up there the other day, Zlo offered me a deal.”

The hairs on the back of Hitch’s neck rose.

“Said if I’d help him get this pendant thing he wants, he’d give me a quarter of the ransom.”

Hitch shoved back his plate and stood. “Why tell me? If you think I’m going to help you help him, you’re crazy.”

“I’m telling you because I want no part of it. I’ll tell you something else. I don’t want him just chased out of this valley. I want him brought down. I want him and every one of those mother’s sons up there in my jail. And I want you to help me.”

“Why me?”

Campbell’s mouth tweaked in that almost-smile. “Because you and me, we’re friendly, Hitch. And because I hear you’re about the only one left who’s got a plane that’ll fly.”

“And I suppose you’ve got a plan to go along with my plane?”

“We’ll figure that out. Right now, I’m here to get something straight between us. Whatever you do to bring down Zlo, when you’re done, I want that big ship of his in my custody.”

“You mean you want it for yourself.” He couldn’t entirely say which was worse: Livingstone using it to own the skies, or Campbell getting his hooks in it and using it to cement his ownership of this town.

Campbell shrugged a shoulder. “Who else around here has got a right to protect it and make sure it’s used properly?”

Hitch snorted. “You’re the last person I’d want to have it.”

“You quit with your beefing, get your head on straight, and do this for me—and it could be we might finally be able to call it even between the two of us.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

But his mind couldn’t help turning it over anyway. Chances were good Campbell would actually uphold the deal this time. He wanted Schturming brought down bad enough for that. Hitch ground his teeth.

Find Schturming , bring it down, and let Campbell take care of it once it was on the ground. Then he could get out, back to life as he knew it, back to the barnstorming circuit. If Campbell took over Schturming , Jael wasn’t going to have anything to go back to, so maybe he could talk her into joining the troupe for real. Maybe it was time to explore whatever it was that was happening between them.

Why not help Campbell and let Campbell help him? It’d sure solve everything.

Campbell was going to be in power here whether Hitch stayed or not. In fact, when it came down to it, Campbell’d probably take Schturming whether Hitch put his plane at his disposal or not.

But help Bill Campbell? His throat tightened. Whether Campbell ended up getting his claws into Schturming or not wasn’t the point—particularly since he almost certainly would. The point was that Hitch’s promise to Jael about getting her home would be a fat lot of worthless if he handed that home over to Campbell as soon as it touched ground.

He looked Campbell in the eye. “Can’t do it.” He turned to go.

Campbell let him get halfway across the room. “Why don’t you get yourself on back here.”

Two more strides and he’d be out the door.

“I told you the benefits if you do this right. Now I’m going to tell you the drawbacks if you don’t.”

In the doorway, Hitch stopped and looked back. He shouldn’t have, but he did. Because Campbell had always had it in his power to wield a lot of drawbacks.

Campbell sipped his coffee. “That little gal of yours? Don’t think I don’t know exactly who she is. She could end up going straight back to Mr. Zlo. Your mechanic pal might end up breaking his other arm.” He set the mug on the counter, and swiveled all the way around on his seat. “And you can bet my deputy’s going to have to find himself a new job.”

The anger, simmering in Hitch’s belly all morning, finally came to a boil. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Griff.”

“Not yet, it don’t.”

Hitch shoved a chair aside and stalked back across the room. “I should have beat in your stinking head a long time ago.”

“That ain’t going to win you this fight.” Campbell unfolded himself from the stool and stood. “You think you came home, Hitch. But you’re on my ground. Don’t go raising no ruckus you can’t finish.”

Hitch kept coming. “You’re wrong. You don’t own this town, no matter how much you like to think people need you.”

“I own you, son. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Campbell had to be closing in on seventy, but he still looked like he could take a beating without buckling—and give it right back with twice the force.

He eyed Hitch. “You always were a fool, Hitch, but don’t do something you’re going to regret. You’re on my side on this one, even if maybe you can’t see it. You take one swing at me, and whether it connects or not, I’ll break you right in two, along with everyone you care about.”

From the moment Hitch had opened his eyes this morning, his fists had been itching for a fight. In Zlo’s stead, Campbell’d have to do. Yeah, Hitch would probably end up in as bad a shape as Campbell would. Yeah, Campbell would maybe take him apart afterward. But where did this end if not here?