7 Wild East
Page 10
The acclaim was unanimous, the cheer being even louder than for free whisky.
“So, Big John, you have the special gift box?” I asked when things had quieted to the point that there was a chance of being heard.
“Aye.” He pulled out an old Scooby-Doo lunch pail and put it on the table. Inside was the last of our cash. There were still some jewels that we could hawk if we got desperate, but this was the last of the untraceable paper money.
We heard the sound of a plane overhead. It was louder than the Wings’ plane and sounded strange. Wrong.
“Okay then. Let’s go meet that airplane and give the Wings his present!”
* * *
Danny was feeling depressed. It was the first time in years that he hadn’t been in the pilot’s seat and it made him feel pretty useless. He also had to bite his tongue and not tell Keith Overton how to land the plane. Keith was an okay pilot. It was just the Wings was a better one. He could probably even land this oversized crate in town. Probably. If no one was on the street.
Of course it was great news about the pipeline being stopped, but when he thought about his plane he just wanted to bawl like a girl. How was he ever going to get the money to get the thing fixed?
His spiral of pity arrested as he looked out the window and saw what looked like the entire town lined up along the runway not far from Potter’s Ridge.
Keith managed to get the plane landed and Little Davey pulled up the fuel truck they used to fuel planes when they landed on the airfield—which wasn’t very often.
The Wings climbed out of the passenger seat and looked at the mass of smiling faces.
Big John stepped forward and offered him a metal lunchbox.
“I hope you’re not too tired to turn around and head back again,” Big John said.
“What?” he asked blankly.
“Look in the box,” the mayor urged. So Danny did. Briefly. He slammed the lid before the wind could carry the loose bills away.
“There’s enough there to fix your plane.”
Then the Wings did cry.
It took a while to fuel the plane and to get Thomas, Pete, and Mark loaded up. By then, the Wings was also ready to go.
“You’re sure you won’t stay?” Chuck said to the recruit as he loaded the last suitcase. “Next week is bound to be less exciting.”
“I want to follow up about this newt,” Thomas said. “And, truthfully, I am not sure that I am cut out for duty in the outback. I may need to rethink my goals.”
“Well, if you change your mind I hope you’ll come back,” Chuck said and then offered a salute.
Butterscotch gave Thomas a hug and the Flowers pressed bags of cookies on all the travelers. Mark got a hug as well and a warning to be kind to his ankle.
Ricky, Sisu, and Max were also there to say their goodbyes to Thomas.
“I hope you come back soon so we can find some more endangered species.” Ricky had decided that he was going to be the first biologist Mountie in outer space.
“Well, I may just do that come summer,” Thomas said, kneeling down and letting his slacks get a tiny bit dirty. “After all, I still need to learn how to catch fish with my bare hands.”
“You don’t have to wait for summer,” I heard myself say. “You might want to come for Thanksgiving.”
Thomas smiled, his eyes—for once—not somber.
“I will think about it,” he promised.
* * *
We were happy to wave the plane goodbye and get back to town. That night there would be some drinking and eating and telling stories by the fire of the survey and of how we had raised a cabin—a fire which was needed. The chill in the air was pronounced and I thought we might get rain by morning.
I looked at the vistas of dried grass and the humps of gray rock that pushed through it. Intrusions, Pete had called them. Whatever the word, the airstrip looked lonely once everyone was gone.
Our hamlet and those around it are not “destinations.” The land is hostile, saying as clearly as it can that it doesn’t want human visitors. There had never been a reason to come here—and now, with the pipeline diverted, there never would be. Or so we hoped.
“Ready to call it a day?” Chuck asked, slipping an arm around me. I leaned into his warmth. Max whined softly, also asking if I was ready to go.
“Ready and then some. Let’s go get drunk.”
Author Note:
As sometimes happens with works of fiction, liberties are taken with facts. This time it was with the laws of physics and geology. I just mention it so that you won’t feel the need to write and tell me about all the kinds of rocks they don’t have in Canada and which airplanes can and cannot do barrel rolls.
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of over 60 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:
Moving Violation
The Pumpkin Thief
Death in a Turkey Town
Murder on Parade
Cupid’s Revenge
Viva Lost Vegas
Death of a Dumb Bunny
Red, White and a Dog Named Blue
Haunted
The Great Pumpkin Caper
Beast of a Feast
Snow Angel
Lucky Thirteen
The Sham
Murder by the Book
The Chloe Boston Mysteries Volume 1 (Books 2 – 4)
The Chloe Boston Mysteries Volume 2 (Books 5 – 7
The Chloe Boston Mysteries Volume 3 (Books 8 – 10)
The Chloe Boston Mysteries Volume 4 (Books 11 – 13)
The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series
Due North
Big Bones
Gone South
Home Fires
Points West
The Wedding
Wild East
The Butterscotch Jones Mysteries Volume 1 (Books 2 – 4)
The Wendover House Mystery Series
The Secret Staircase
Twelfth Night
On Deadly Tides
Miss Henry Mystery Series
Portrait of a Gossip
Landscape in Scarlet (Coming soon)
Requiem at Christmas (Coming soon)
Wildside Series
Outsiders
Courier
Still Life
The Book of Dreams Series:
The First Book of Dreams: Metropolis
The Second Book of Dreams: Meridian
The Third Book of Dreams: Destiny
Medicine Trilogy
Bad Medicine
Medicine Man
Knave of Hearts
Club Valhalla
Devil of Bodmin Moor
Devil of the Highlands
Devil in a Red Coat
Halloween
The Curiosity Shoppe (Sequel to A Curious Affair)
Timeless (Sequel to Club Valhalla)
Nevermore: The Last Divine Book
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Author Note:
About the Author