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  • By Air Mail Ch.05

By Air Mail Ch.05

1234

*********

Just who ARE the strangers in town?

Meanwhile, back in the Beechcraft, Emmy finds other things to love.

0_o

**********

Bea's Café, 6:35PM, Cascade. Idaho

They walked into the café and it was packed with many of the people that they all knew, so it turned into a bit of a party where nobody could get anything because Marjorie and Rebecca wouldn't let Craig go for a long while. Rosa and Amelia looked at each other and started serving just to keep everybody at least a little happy.

It took a little while, but Amelia and Rosa noticed a group of strangers sitting in a booth alone, talking to each other as they looked around. What caught their eye was that they seemed to be pretty friendly with each other somehow, and that they were a bit of a mix.

The one who Rosa noticed first was the man with the long black braids in the denim jacket, but she saw the others, the hauntingly beautiful blonde woman and the man, as well as black couple there - which to her mind was just a slightly more unusual sight than the man with the braids, since more than anything, Cascade was home to far more Caucasians than any other type, not that anyone cared particularly.

She didn't care especially; she thought they were all really attractive to her. It was just a little unusual to see three different kinds of people in the same group. She grabbed Amelia when she saw that she had a moment and they walked over to ask.

There was a bit of looking around between them and they came up with a request for a couple of pieces of pie and some more coffee and one tea between them.

"Just passin' through?" Amelia asked in a friendly tone.

They shook their heads, "No, this is where we were headed," one of the men said, "We wanted to get a look at the airfield and maybe talk to whoever runs the post office around here. We've got an idea to maybe set up here for business."

That remark got them Marjorie and Rebecca standing next to the booth and they explained what they had in mind - which both surprised and amazed the pair.

Marjorie explained that their husbands happened to run flight service in and out of town - and that they were sitting in the post office at the moment, though Marjorie said that they were waiting on their better sign from the postal service.

"With Rebecca's man running air mail on one of the main routes, and my husband doing about sixteen other jobs, it can get a little tough to get mail to some of the harder to reach places around here where it's a fair hike to come into town just to get your mail."

"What is a heli-... what you said?" Rebecca asked with a smile.

"My name's Terry Hatchett, Ma'am," the man with the blondish hair smiled, "and these are my associates, Hunter Youngblood, my wife, Molly, and this is Judith Hatchett and her husband, Isaiah."

"You're related?" Marjorie asked in surprise.

"In a way," Isaiah nodded, "Terry's family owned slaves long ago on a plantation. It's not unusual for some of the families to have taken the name of the plantation owner, though that was a long time ago."

He reached into his jacket pocket and handed over a small photograph, "And this is a helicopter."

The two woman looked at it for a moment, "It looks like a big dragonfly," Rebecca smiled.

Terry nodded, "That's a good approximation for what it is, Ma'am.

Like a dragonfly, a helicopter can fly and go nowhere at all, just hovering in place. It can also fly forward and backward if it has to - even sideways. More importantly for what we have in mind, they don't need much space to land and take off in, since - just like a dragonfly, they can land by stopping in midair and then just settling straight down, as long as the ground where they're landing is at least a little level.

At present, we have two helicopters, one like the one in that picture and another one for lighter duty. For the local mail outside of town, maybe your husbands might be interested in us flying the mail, so that they can concentrate on the other things fully. We exist as a business at the moment, but we're looking for a home. Once we're set up, we can offer other services as well, like flying crane service - up to about two hundred and fifty pounds presently. And we'll be expanding that if we find that there's enough demand."

"What do you mean?" Amelia said, immediately apologizing for interrupting.

"Not at all, Miss," Terry smiled, "that's a fair question."

"What Terry meant was that we can carry a load outside of the helicopter hung from slings," Hunter said with a smile and then found himself looking at Rosa, who'd stood there the whole time trying to listen while holding their order.

"Pardon me," she said in an almost normal voice, since she was trying hard, "Here's your order."

They all thanked her, though she missed it as she set everything out.

Amelia nudged her arm afterwards and she signed their thanks to Rosa.

Rosa smiled, "I'm sorry, I'm pretty much deaf. You're very welcome, of course."

She stared then as Hunter began to sign to her and it turned into a short conversation for a moment with Rosa looking very surprised and pleased.

"Hey, where did you pick that up?" Molly asked.

Hunter shrugged, "My aunt was born not being able to hear."

Marjorie wrote out the phone numbers for the two Potter businesses and she also wrote the number for the Café, "If you can't get anybody at these numbers Terry, then you just call me here. One way or the other, Rebecca and I will make it so that you can talk to at least one of them, since they can be hard to catch sometimes."

She smiled then, "I hope you might find a home here, just sayin', I can't think that I've met anyone with such good manners in a long time. Where are you from?"

I'm from Oklahoma," Hunter said, "and my friends are all from Alabama. I just do my best to try to keep up with their manners."

---------

As the group left a while later, Rebecca watched them go with Amelia, "It might work, what they said."

"Well I hope that it does," Amelia smiled, "I found them kind of charming - and really polite. But that's not the only reason."

Rebecca looked over, "What is, then?"

Amelia didn't make a big thing of it, she just pointed in a hidden way at Rosa, who stood watching as well, and it was a little clear which one of them she was looking at as they all got into a large panel truck, the five of them.

When Amelia tapped Rosa on the shoulder and held up her hands in a questioning gesture, Rosa looked a little abashed for a moment before she grinned, "Man, that Hunter's something, isn't he?"

They nodded with big smiles and got back to the celebration.

----------

In an airplane just crossing the Kansas/Colorado border at 180 knots - 12,000 feet above sea level.

Quinton looked over at Emmy and he told her that they were about to begin their descent within the next twenty minutes or so.

"That means that I'll take us down to a lower level where we can begin our approach to land. You ought to go and see how dry your clothes are and think about maybe getting changed."

She nodded and unfastened her seat harness to head back. But she was next to him only a little later. "Why do I gotta get changed, anyway?" she asked, holding her headset next to her ear to hear him better, "Where are we gonna be going once we get there?"

"We have to land and get the plane squared away once we park it," he said, "The way that the weather looks to me, it might be a windy night if this gets worse. I'd like to see if Harry's around, but one way or the other, we'll be in here.

We ought to be fine in here for the night, and I don't want to have to go find us hotel rooms. I don't have that kind of money to do that all the time, since we haven't started hauling any mail yet. I think we'll be ok in here.

You don't mind sleeping in here, do you, Emmy?"

She shook her head, "No, as long as we don't freeze in here with no heat on. I was only asking because my clothes are only half dry - the top half. I'd be fine in what I've got on, I think. I don't want to have to get changed if I don't gotta. What do I have to do right away once we land?"

"We have to tie the plane down," he smiled.

"There is a minimum speed that this thing can fly at. Below that, it stalls and falls down. On the other side of it, if the wind goes above that speed while it's parked, well ... then it can try to fly without us. That's why we'll park it facing away from the wind and we'll tie it to the ground. I'll need you to help me with that, that's all."

She nodded, "Then I'm staying like this."

She walked back and then came over again to pick up her headset once more and hold the mike to her throat, "Quinton, I've found a couple of thick sweaters in one of those trunks, would it be ok if I put one on under this?"

He looked over and nodded, "I think that's a great idea. Go ahead and put one on, either one, your choice. They might be -"

Emmy nodded, "A little big on me, I know. That'll be fine with me, Quinton. I just want to be warm if I've gotta run around outside with you to tie the plane down or what you said."

He nodded and she was gone, leaving the headset on her seat.

Quinton looked back for just a second as he watched Emmy walk back and he realized that she was too far away to really yell at her effectively over the sound of the engines. Besides, he knew that he ought to be setting up for their approach.

He looked at his landing checklist as he smiled to himself, "I was gonna tell you to take the heavy cotton one since it's got a soft flannel lining.

Oh well, "he smiled to himself, "I hope you get it right anyway. That other one is coarse wool. I guess that warm bosoms are good for girls, no matter what."

He smiled to himself, "I wouldn't wear the wool one myself, not without something under it."

He chuckled then, "Though I guess that warm bosoms are the best thing - even in an itchy wool sweater."

She was back a minute later, holding up the overalls with one hand while she was tugging the bottom of the wool sweater down. He looked again for a second and admired her skin, deciding that he liked pretty much anything of hers.

She looked up and over at him as she kept tugging, "What are you looking at? I already got it past my tits."

He had to laugh a little, "You'd better sit down. It might get a little bumpier soon."

Emmy managed to pull her overalls up over the sweater without requiring his intervention at all. It was the damndest thing to her as she realized that for some inexplicable reason, she was almost a little sorry about it.

She was just sitting down as they hit a bit of wind and the aircraft nudged upward a little so that Emmy landed in her seat a little harder than she'd intended. She reached for the seat harness and began to fasten everything a little hurriedly.

"Me?" Quinton smiled, "I was still looking at beautiful."

Emmy frowned as she tried to remember just what he might have seen then. As far as she could tell ...

"That was just my stomach," she said looking down for a second.

He nodded, "I know."

"Then what are you talking about?" she demanded.

"Emmy," he said, still smiling as he scanned his instruments and went back to guiding their approach to the field, "No matter what you might think, I am entitled to my opinion. If I say it enough times, I'm hoping that I might teach you something that hasn't got a thing to do with flying."

She was looking out of the side window again, fastening the little microphone onto her collar, "You just keep saying that I'm -"

"Right," he nodded, not looking over, "Sooner or later, I'm hoping that just a little of it might stick. In case you're not aware of it, you're not in Dodge City anymore. Forget about the way that they made you feel there. In case you never saw the movie about the great and powerful Oz, we're not in Kansas anymore."

The ride in got a little rougher and the actual landing approach was pretty bouncy for the gusts involved.

"I can't see anything out there that even looks like an airfield," Emmy said as she sat forward, trying to catch a glimpse, "Are you sure it's even out there?"

She looked over at Quinton who was smiling a little, "My charts say it's out there, I'm on the right heading and ..." he changed the pitch on the propellers and it sounded different to Emmy as she looked out of the window. What she saw out there was the very same engine which had always been there.

As she looked, she saw a portion of the rear of the wing swivel downward. She looked back over at Quinton who looked over and winked, "And this," he said as he reached out to tap one of the instruments, "This says that it's out there."

Emmy felt some pressure on her eardrums and shook her head.

"Here," Quinton smiled as he held something out to her, "have a piece of chewing gum. It'll help your ears, if that look on your face is what I think it is."

She reached and took the pack from him, working to get a piece unwrapped and into her mouth, "Woo bewieve vat fing?"

Quinton nodded, "Just watch me." He pointed, "See there? That line?"

Emmy stared, realizing that she just didn't really know what to look for, so she stared harder, wishing to make whatever it was appear.

She started as she heard and felt the gear going down underneath them. The things on the wing moved again as Quinton pulled back a little power. She could feel that they were flying slower now and she kept trying to make an airport appear as though by her silent command.

"How do you even know that you'll land the right way?" she asked, "What happens if you land crosswise?"

Quinton pointed to whatever the magic thing was that he held so much faith in, "This tells me the right way in."

He looked back out through the windshield for a moment, "And if we land crossways, then I guess that I'll just have to stand on the brakes even harder. You land on them the wrong way, you tend to find that they're real short like that."

He winked at her again, "But they're really, really wide that way, just saying."

She saw it then and wondered how a thing like that could have remained hidden from her sight for so long.

"It's all in the way that you look," Quinton explained, "It's really not that hard to see, it just looks different from a ways off - if you're trying to see what you would from the ground."

He got on the radio again and Emmy heard that he was number one to land.

"What in the hell does that mean, that you're number one?"

Quinton chuckled, "Oh Emmy, I'd just love to tell you right now that it means that they like me an awful lot. I'll explain it to you later if I remember."

The runway stretched out before them now, taking up a significant portion of their view through the windshield and it kept getting bigger and longer the closer that they got to it. Emmy looked all over around the interior of the plane again and Quinton noticed it. "Too late for parachutes, Emmy," he grinned.

Emmy watched his grin and it stayed on his face even as the gusty wind bobbled them around a little. Emmy wanted to curse him for the way that he just seemed so ... so damned confident like there was nothing ...

She felt it as one wheel kissed the runway, followed immediately by the one on the other side. The hum of the tires filled the flight deck, though the sound was droning lower and getting quieter. Emmy remembered the tail and noted that it was still up there, still flying even though the plane was on the ground. Then all of a sudden, she felt it lower gently until it was down as well.

Emmy found that she had a whole lot of questions for him, but Quinton appeared to be a little busy making adjustments and talking on the radio, and listening intently to get whatever instructions they had for him. When he turned right off the runway onto what looked more like a road to her, she noticed that she'd been holding onto the paper bag the whole time since she'd sat back down. Right then, it looked a little ludicrous in her hand, so she stuck it in between her seat and the wall once more.

She was a little surprised. This whole trip and she hadn't needed her 'barf bag', and all things considered, they managed it just fine. He taxied over to the general parking area, but it meant that he had to be at pretty much the far end of it from the terminal.

And that meant a long walk.

He shut the engines off and set a lot of switches again in what looked to Emmy to be the reverse for what he'd done back in Dodge City. After that, he got up and led her back. He opened the other trunk and handed her a bright yellow rain slicker.

Together, they went out and he taught her how to lash the aircraft down and he put other ties on the wing control surfaces so that they pointed downward a little so that, if anything, the wind from behind would push the aircraft down. Then Quinton walked away toward the terminal and Emmy got back inside and thought that it hadn't gone too badly, since she wasn't any wetter than she'd been when they got out.

She waited for a time, going to look out of the windows at the terminal some distance away. Then, growing bored and wanting to do something useful, she opened both of the trunks and began to rearrange things. She looked at the gun for a moment, guessing that he'd taken it off at last. It was there in it's holster and the belt was there as well.

Then she went back to waiting, listening as the wind gusted once in a while and caused the plane to groan a little in response. She even felt it move just a bit now and then when there was a particularly strong gust going by. She remembered that the plane was lashed down from rings for that in certain places and then she thought that though they were parked on concrete, they were all the way at the end of it and there was grass not five feet from where they were and under the wing on the side away from everything.

She looked into the knapsack and found a few paper napkins, so with a thought to everything here, she stepped out and walked around out there without the yellow raincoat. Taking a look around herself in the deepening gloom, she finally shrugged and peed, using the napkins to wipe with. After that, she almost ran around to the other side where the door was and she climbed in, almost wanting to laugh a little.

People could now fly around almost wherever they wanted or their paths took them, she thought, but you still had to piss in the grass sometimes. Since it was now early evening, the sky was darkening quickly and the inside of the aircraft looked rather gloomy to her, though the overhead clear dome helped a lot for now.

Finally, Emmy thought that she could see him off in front of the terminal. He seemed to stop for a moment and she wondered what he was doing. He had a package and it looked something like the sort of paper bag that you might get at a grocery store. He held it under one arm for a moment and she wondered what he was doing again.

There was a flare of light then and she watched as he lit a thin cigar. He puffed on it a moment and then he began to walk, the hem of his duster being blown up in the wind every so often as he walked holding on to his hat with one hand and the bag with the other.

Emmy sighed. She now knew that Quinton had been a cowboy, but oh, she'd never laid eyes on one like him.

He seemed like a really nice man to her. She had a little trouble reconciling the man that she knew with his talk of being a pilot who'd sometimes shot down other pilots and their crews. It seemed like another time to her, not that it had been all that long ago.

But there was still that gun, even though he didn't wear it now.

It was an uncertainty to her. It even bothered her to a degree. And Emmy wasn't the kind of girl who was particularly bothered by things like that.

She was waiting for him as he got near to the door, opening it with a little bow. "Welcome home."

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