PERIL OVER THE AIRPORT

THE VICKI BARR AIR STEWARDESS SERIES

Silver Wings for Vicki

Vicki Finds the Answer

The Hidden Valley Mystery

The Secret of Magnolia Manor

The Clue of the Broken Blossom

Behind the White Veil

The Mystery at Hartwood House

Peril Over the Airport

The Mystery of the Vanishing Lady

The Search for the Missing Twin

The Ghost at the Waterfall

The Clue of the Gold Coin

The Silver Ring Mystery

The Clue of the Carved Ruby

The Mystery of Flight 908

The Brass Idol Mystery

THE VICKI BARR AIR STEWARDESS SERIES

________________________________________________________

PERIL OVER THE AIRPORT

BY HELEN WELLS

________________________________________________________

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

New York

BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1953

All Rights Reserved

To

MATTIE F. MCFADDEN

President, Women Fliers of America

with thanks and fine help

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS ________________________________________________________

CHAPTER PAGE

I A NEW LOVE FOR VICKI 1

II FIRST STEP 13

III THAT BOY BILL 28

IV UNFINISHED BUSINESS 44

V VICKI GOES VISITING 55

VI HARUM-SCARUM 71

VII ORCHIDS AND TROUBLE 91

VIII CODE LETTER 104

IX THE TATTOO 115

X WHO IS LAND AND SKY, INC.? 129

XI O SOLO ME-O 147

XII THE OTHER TATTOO MARK 162

XIII ONE MANS LIE 185

XIV THE MASKED FLYER 208

XV VICKI SETS A TRAP 223

XVI THE END OF J. R. SMITHSON 238

1

CHAPTER I

A New Love for Vicki

Something had been going on in the back of Vicki

Barrs mind for quite a long time now. At first Vicki had shut her wide azure-blue eyes and pretended it

wasnt true. When that didnt work, she tried her best to ignore it. But it bobbed up, uninvited. It was dangerous, expensive, exciting. Certainly it did not seem a suitable ambition for a small, ash-

blond girl.

Dean Fletcher recognized what was happening.

He and Vicki, under the amiable command of Senior

Pilot Tom Jordan, had worked together for several

months on one of Federals air liners; Dean as copilot and Vicki as flight stewardess. Deans serious gray eyes looked sympathetic as Vicki

groaned:

I never wanted anything so much in my life. But I dont think I can ever do it.

You can so do it. Ill bet you can, Dean insisted.

2

The other stewardess in the trim flight uniform,

facing Vicki and Dean across the table, was Jean

Cox, who had taken flying lessons at the ripe age of

eight. The tall young copilot, sitting beside Jean,

with the same farseeing fliers eyes as Deans, was Jim Bolton. The four of them were lunching this fine

May day, in the Kitty Hawk Room, before going on

duty.

You might even become internationally famous, Jean Cox remarked facetiously.

She might become internationally dead, Jim Bolton said.

Vicki was used to being regarded as a decorative

piece of bric-a-brac, but not at all resigned to it.

Jims bored expression only egged her on. Now please dont misunderstand. Vicki

earnestly leaned forward across the table. I wouldnt trade the fun of being an air hostess for being a princess or aaI want to go on meeting new people. I enjoy being on the go and seeing new

towns every day. I couldnt stay put in one place! Something going on every minute. Jean

adjusted the flight cap perched on her cropped hair.

Never bored. But Jim Bolton said. Dean drawled, Stop teasing. Have another glass

of milk. You know you cant be around planes all the time withoutsooner or laterwanting to take

3

one up by yourself. Isnt that it, Vic? She nodded gratefully. Ive fallen more and

more in love with flying. I suppose its a sort of testtest of myself, too.

Hah. Youre too small to fly a plane, Jim Bolton remarked. Besides, airlines pilot jobs arent open to women.

Jean Cox half rose in her chair. They will be some day! You wait and see, smarty!

Vicki gulped out, I only mean flying for fun And Vickis not too small! She could sit with a

cushion or telephone books in back of her, to push

her forward to the pedalsmy kid sister and I did in our familys Cub. It worked fine. Jean subsided.

Certainly she could do it, Dean said in his calm way. Provided she has what it takes. No one says its easy.

Jim Bolton grinned and admitted that he had

merely been teasing. He said thatin this age, when young people take to the air as naturally as their

parents took to those newfangled machines called

automobilesit made sense for a girl to fly. Plenty of them do. Several thousands of them do, classing

flying with water skiing or horseback riding. A girl

could fly charter passengers, or fly cargo, or be a

test pilot, or deliver new planes from factory to user,

or demonstrate for dealers, or ferry planes for the

Government, or fly for her own personal pleasure.

4

Its a good sport for girls, Dean said. That, Vicki thought, was loyaltycoming from a young man with four brothers and no sister. Takes no particular strength. Takes a light touch and deftness.

And meticulousness, I guess youd call it. I think Vic would be good at it, for this reason

Vicki looked at him hopefully. She could use

some help in screwing up courage.

You keep cool, and you think fast and accurately. In the air you have to do that.

In the laconic tone Dean pronounced his praise,

cool headwork did not sound like much of an

achievement. Oh, well, Vicki thought, I was half daydreaming, anyhow. I can always take up tatting.

Tatting, indeed! Vicki chided herself for being so

ridiculous. What she really wanted was adventure.

The truth was, as much as she loved her glamorous

job, she felt stewardess work to be a steppingstone

to something else. Exactly what Vicki wasnt sure. From their table at one of the broad windows,

they watched planes land and take off. Dean,

clenching a muscle in his lean cheek, seemed to be

thinking about something else. He turned to Vicki.

See here, Vic. If you ever actually get around to taking flight lessons, I wish youd do it in your home town.

In Fairview? A small field will seem pretty strange to me after being around big city fields like

5

this one. She waved at the immense airfield, miles of land and hangars and silver air liners clustered

like great birds. Why, Fairview, for all that its the best town in the USA, has only some dinky grass

airports. You forget how fast aviation is growing, Dean

replied. And youve got Bill Avery in Fairview. Dont know him, Vicki said. Should I? She

admitted that she had not been able to get home very

much recently and that when she was in Fairview

she spent most of her time with her parents and her

young sister Ginny at The Castle. Vicki was out of

touch with Fairview people, hence she had not met

any Bill Avery.

Bill Avery? said Jeans copilot with interest. I first met the one and only Avery in my training

squadron in Texas. And then wasnt he shipped out to fly in the Pacific theater? Say, he could fly

anything! So hes a flight instructor now? Thats right, Dean said. Owns his own airport.

Vic here couldnt do better than to learn to fly from him.

We-ell. Jim Bolton slowly smiled. Bills a special sort of character. Hed be a new experience for Vicki, with some surprises thrown in.

When did Bill Avery open the airport? Surprises on both sides, Dean answered the

other copilot. They were so absorbed that apparently

6

they had not heard Vickis question. Say, do you remember how he distinguished

himself The two young men were off on reminiscences,

talking at top speed. Neither Vicki nor Jean could

break in.

Vicki did not really want to interruptparticularly when the laughter and talk about Bill

Avery was over and Dean began to tell a curious

story.

When he was a pilot in the Air Force in the

European theater, Dean had met a young man with a

strange tattoo on his arm. Most servicemen abhorred

tattoos, regarding them as something for primitive

savages; tattoos were vanishing even among sailors

and other wanderers for whom the custom once was

traditional, Dean remarked. In any case the aerial

gunner DarnellDean was not sure he remembered the name correctlywas a wild, strange fellow. He did not get along well with his crews. One flight

crew after another requested to have Darnell

transferredout. Then he was assigned to the crew of an officer friend of Deans.

Thats how I met him several times. Wasnt so bad if you knew him a little better, Dean said. Did his job well and had a wild sort of sense of humor.

But no one ever really knew Darnell. He didnt know how to be friends. He was the most secretive

7

person Id ever known. Tense. Too quiet. Reminded me of a steel spring coiled tight. None of us could

fathom Darnell. But we all had the feeling that if he

ever loosened up thered be plenty to learn. Good or bad? Not sure. There wasoh, something powerful

and disturbing about him. Once I saw Darnell lose

his temper and it made you wonder what he was

capable of. Good or bad. But that was only once. What job did he have in civilian life? Jean

asked.

We never found out anything of Darnells personal history. Darnell? Purnell? Something like

that. The one revealing thing was that tattoo. And

that was revealing only provided that you knew how

to interpret it. None of us did. The tattoo, Vicki echoed. Can you describe

it? Deans forehead wrinkled as he tried to

remember. A plane, wreathed in our regimental serpent. A very unusual one. The boys generally

went in for a flag tattoo or a pretty girl tattoo. Id never seen anything like this one. It also had a

dagger, and one German word. I remember the word

was in Gothic lettering. What was the word? Jim Bolton asked. Deans eyes were fixed on his wrist watch. We

have to leave for the hangar in exactly three and a

8

half minutes, children. . . . Oh, the word! Seems to

me I never made out that hard-to-read lettering. Or if

someone told me, Ive forgotten. How can you be so exasperating! Jean Cox

exclaimed. Is that the whole story? What happened?

Dean said that Darnell had disappearedsuddenly, without a trace. One peaceful day he

simply walked out of camp and was never seen or

heard of again. The authorities searched for him as

they do for all A.W.O.L.s, but they never found him so far as Dean knew.

The story doesnt make much sense, the other copilot grumbled.

Well, something happened, thats for sure, Dean replied. But what it was I dont know.

Vicki felt as disappointed as Jean Cox. The tattoo

mark persisted in Vickis mind. She was curious, too, to know more about Bill Avery. Someone

special, apparently, right there in her own town . . .

The afternoon flight back to Chicago on a DC-3

went off almost too easily. The sky was like a

dazzling blue lake. Vicki was hostess to a group of

high school students returning with their teachers

from a tour of Detroit factories. She served steaming

coffee to two businessmen; traced the planes route, winds, and speeds on an air map for a man who was

an eager first rider; provided an invalid older

9

woman with an aspirin, magazines, and soothing

conversation. At a local stop an Egyptian in a

tasseled fez and ordinary suit emplaned. Vicki

discovered, once they took off again, that the

Egyptian gentleman spoke fluent English and was

bursting to tell someone how alike he found the

Mississippi and the Nile. Both good for growing cotton. But both have floods! And the Nile, too, is

awfully muddy. Being a diplomat, hostess, first aider,

transportation agent was all in her usual days work. Vicki felt she could do her job in her sleep.

They flew across Lake Michigan, dotted with

summer sailboats, and into Chicago at dusk. Getting

the passengers off with smiles and good-byes,

checking over the empty plane for any lost articles,

collecting her manifests for the passenger agentthrough it all, Vickis mind was not entirely on her job.

She brooded through a leisurely, early supper at

the airport with Dean. He came bluntly to the heart

of the matter.

You could learn to fly in your time off between runs. About three months would do it. Couldnt you work in the required thirty-six hours of flying over

the summer? You make it sound awfully easy. Its intensive but not so hard, and itll be the

10

most satisfying thing youve ever done. Ask Federal to base you in Chicago, so youll be near home. There are short runs out of Chicago to Minneapolis,

St. Louis, Detroit, and short runs will let you have

two or three days at a time in Fairview. You mean no New York run? Not see all the

girls in our New York apartment? Well, youd see them once in a while. If you

decide that you really want a private pilots license, I want you to take instructions from Bill Avery.

Hes a good flier and a good boyand, well, hes having a hard pull. Ill write Bill about you. Jim Bolton will too.

You certainly are pushing me into it! Oh, Vic, how much longer are you going to go

around in a daze? Think it over. Vicki did think it over all the next day in

Chicago. She had worked hard to earn a place in the

air, and she loved it. It was her world. But it would

require a lot of courage to take a plane up alone.

She and Jean Cox lunched together. Jean told

Vicki about a national organization that she

belonged to, called Women Fliers of America, with

chapters in various cities all over the United States.

Women aged sixteen and up who held licenses to

fly, or who wished to learn to fly, or who were

interested in other branches of aviation, had joined

together to be friends and to share their flying

11

expenses. They had ground schools, sent out

bulletins of aviation news, offered prizes and flight

scholarships to girls in high school especially, held

flying meets, and in general had a wonderful time.

Their husbands and brothers and beaux, called Back

Seat Pilots, gave them lots of help.

Thats for you, Vicki, Jean told her. If and when. Vicki was more interested than

she was quite ready to admit.

Vicki was free all that day, and fortunately Ruth

Benson, Chief Flight Stewardess, was in town for a

conference. That stunning, keen-eyed young woman

was pleased with Vickis plan. Its good publicity for our Federal Airlines

employees to be fliers themselves. Your plan It isnt really a planyet. It isnt definite,

Vicki stammered. Its just a new idea I have. Ruth Benson laughed. Dont tell me! Ive been

through this myself. I was twice as jittery as you

are. Vicki stared. Do you hold a private pilots

license, Miss Benson? Mmmm. I own half of a Cessna 120, too. My

fianc owns the other half. He says thats the only reason Im going to marry him. But, confidentially, it isnt.

By now Vicki was very pink in the face and still

staring. Ruth Benson reached over her desk to give

12

her a quick hug and said:

You cant fool Grandma! I know what that dreamy, drooling expression means. Ill put you on short runs out of ChicagoDean Fletcher figured it out very nicely for you. Now go telephone your

family that youll be right home. Yesm. Thank you, thank you! Vicki hurried to the nearest phone booth before

her courage oozed away. Taking a deep breath, she

asked for the long-distance operator, then muttered

to herself:

Ill do it or bust!

13

CHAPTER II

First Step

Vicki arrived home in the middle of the warm, quiet

afternoon. The only family member around was

Freckles, the spaniel, dozing on the sunny grass. He

opened an eye at Vicki and went back to his nap.

But when the taxi driver began noisily unloading her

large suitcase, hatbox, and gift boxes, her mother

came hurrying around the side of the house.

Why, darling! Youre early, and Mrs. Barr stopped and stared. Since youve brought all that luggage, you must be going to stay awhile. Good. As Vicki hugged her, her mother said, You never stay off your job if you can help it. You havent been fired, have you? Then whats up?

Youre too smart, Vicki chuckled. Somethings up. Her mother tilted her head

back, laughing.

Well, yes. You have to be on my side. Arent I always? Mrs. Barr held open the

screen door to the house, to permit the taxi driver to

14

carry in Vickis luggage. Vicki asked for her sister Ginny.

Poor Ginny. Mrs. Barr shook her pretty curly head. Ginnys at the high school, shaking and cramming before final examinations. Its a shame to keep the poor youngsters in school, now that its June. Look at my roses! Arent they lovely?

They walked across the lawn to the rosebushes,

growing in long double rows all the way down to the

road. The branches drooped to the grass under the

weight of the blossoms.

When Vicki paid and tipped the driver, he

requested one of the yellow roses instead of a tip. He

fastened it to his windshield and drove off, down

The Castles long horseshoe driveway. Vicki took a deep breath of the perfumed air and

listened to the neighborhood stillness. A train

whistle wailed far off on the prairie. Im home, she thought.

Her mother did not question Vicki about her

plans. Vicki appreciated that. Simpler to tell all the

family together. She unpacked in the blue room

which she shared with Ginny, figuring out how best

to break the news of her big decision to her family

without alarming or antagonizing them. She had no

doubt that her mother would loyally be her first

passenger. Her dad, however, had some old-

fashioned ideas and a bad habit of obstructing her

15

plans.

Tactics. Ill have to win Dad over. But how? Professor Barr, who taught economics at State

University thirty miles away, had objected when

Vicki left college. He had objected when she wanted

to become a flight stewardess. The time Vicki was

assigned to Mexico, Professor Barr objected so

strongly that she nearly didnt get to Mexico. It took a dozen people to rescue her. Becoming a private

pilot was her least old-fashioned move yet. If he werent my dad, Id say hes a plain

nuisance. I mean, a plane nuisance. Hah, a pun. Perhaps shed announce the big news this evening

after dinner. Certainly shed never risk it when her father was hungry and probably a little irritable.

Ginny came home an hour later. She gave a yelp

of joy at seeing the unwonted amount of luggage in

their room and seized Vicki in her sunburned arms.

You arent leaving tomorrow as usual! Well have time to go fishing and fix my hair and drive out

to the Jacksons farm for a fried chicken dinner Sure. Of course we will. Everything. Calm

down, baby. Vicki smiled affectionately at her younger sister.

Ginny had the same crystalline blond coloring as

Vicki, the same clear features. To look less

utilitarian and exactly like her graceful sister, she

needed only to grow a few inches taller and a few

16

pounds lighter.

Lemonade, their mother called. Here on the terrace. Lemonade and cookies.

Ginny eyed Vicki. How come? Yes, thanks, Mother. Be right down, Vicki

called back. Uhhow come what, Ginny? Will you please stop hedging? Ive spent a hard

afternoon chasing a little amoeba under my

microscope. We-ell. Vickis soft blue eyes danced. Ginnys

probing eyes sparkled right back at her with

complete understanding. Impossible not to share a

secret with Ginny; they were a team. Coax me, Vicki said.

Were keeping Mother waiting, Ginny said righteously.

Very well, dont coax me. Vicki linked arms with Ginny and they started down the stairs. Keep quiet about it, though? Im going toahlearn to fly. As the words came out she felt her face tingle.

Then I am, too! Ginny announced. Wha-a-at? Vicki hadnt expected this reaction.

Two bombshells? The Barr household might blow

up. You have to be at least sixteen, honey. Of course, if you really mean it

Yes, I do. I know, about being too young. But I could do ground school studies, Ginny said eagerly. And, Vic, Ill help you in every way I can. Youll

17

need it. Friend. Vicki squeezed her sisters solid little

hand. But I didnt know you, too, wanted Dying to do it. Its my dream. We may be able to help each other, Vicki said. As soon as they were settled on the terrace Vicki

broke the news to her mother. She was startled at

first and offered a few misgivings. But Betty Barrs heart was not in her objections. Id like to learn to fly, myself. I admit, Vicki, that I expected you to

graduate to thissooner or later. After exacting a promise from Vicki to take no foolish chances, her

mother beamed.

Vicki was extremely pleased. Still, she did not

feel sure enough of her ground to inquire about Bill

Avery. Not yet.

Now I only have to tackle Dad, Vicki said. Only? Ginny gasped. Imagine! Fly your own planeVicki, if you

dont get your license, Ill never forgive you, her mother said.

Mrs. Barr, with Ginnys assistance, brought Vicki up to date on news of their friends, the rock garden,

and Freckles alliance with the Walkers cat next door. From the flagstone terrace, which faced away

from the road, Vicki could look down on the broad

back lawn with its birdbath and fruit trees, down the

wooded hill and across the lake. This summer she

18

would have time to go swimming off their pier and

to use the outboard motor-boat. Her mother had won

the boat in a contest; her dad had built the pier and a

boat shed behind The Castle.

Vicki enjoyed living here, on the crest of the hill.

When the Barrs, who had only moderate means, had

inherited the property it had been in a run-down

condition. With much repair, gardening, and

enthusiasm, the four Barrs had developed The Castle

to its present loveliness. The house really did

resemble a miniature castle with beams and a tower,

a sloping red-tiled roof, and casement windows.

When Lewis Barr drove up shortly before

suppertime, Vicki wondered how she or anyone

could ever feel impatient with him. He was a tall,

handsome man with fair hair and a smile a yard

wide for Vicki.

Welcome home! Do you know how much we missed you, Victoria? Lets have a look at you. Her father held her off at arms length, smiling proudly at her. You look fine, fine. He himself looked a little tiredand hungry.

Vickis going to be home lots, all summer! Ginny shouted. Short runs.

Their father caught up Ginny in his free arm.

Now thats what I like to hear! What would you like to do this summer? Im at your orders. Well make this a summer to remember.

19

Vicki nodded but made no comment.

Her father had a gift for festivity. Out of four

glasses of tomato juice, in the long, sunken living

room, he conjured up a cocktail party, with music,

dancing, flowers for all three ladies, and a great deal

of laughter. They lingered over dinner, outdoors on

the terrace, then moved into the garden for coffee.

Freckles chased after fireflies. Lewis Barr relaxed.

His work at the university would occupy only part of

his time until the summer session opened in July.

The talk veered from the university to Fairview, and

Vicki nudged it around to the topic of flying.

Ive been hearing, she attempted, good things about a boy around here called Bill Avery.

Oh, Bill Avery! said her family warmly. Everybody likes Bill Avery.

Hes crazy, Ginny blurted out, then instantly shrank in guilt. I didnt mean that. Hes a fine flier and flight instruc

More coffee, please! Vicki scowled at Ginny as she crossed to her mother with her cup. Bad timing.

She had to build up to the revelation so that

Professor Barr would give his approval. In the

fading blue light he had noticed nothing.

Betty Barr said mildly, Bills young and a little thoughtless. A little harum-scarum. But Bill Avery

is respected here for pioneering the first air-cargo

line in Fairview. Dont you agree, Lewis?

20

Lewis Barr supposed he agreed. He told Vicki, in

response to her questions, that Bill Avery had been a

pilot in the Air Force, was regarded by some as a flying fool, had undertaken his airfield on little money and much hard work.

Bills best customer was his friend, Dwight Mueller, who lived with his wife on one of the many

farms around the river. Dwight and Barbara Mueller

grew hothouse orchids; Chicago florists bought all

they could produce; Bill flew the perishable orchids

to Chicago twice a week. This cargo was the

backbone of Bills business, the one sure thing he could count on. Many people for miles aroundfarmers who had perishable crops to ship, doctors

with emergency patients, people in a hurryrelied on Bill Averys small field. Still, he was having a hard pull financially.

Dean Fletcher recommended Bill also, Vicki said carefully, in the capacity of flight instructor.

Her father turned his head. What do you mean recommended?

Just that, Dad. Vicki swallowed. Big airline pilots think highly of Bill.

I trust youre not planning to risk your neck cracking up solo in a plane. Naturally your pilot

friends, who live and breathe flying and live in a

narrow world, are ignorant of anything else. They

21

Dad! Vicki started to explode. are going to try to talk the population into

fooling around with aircraft. But Im not worried about you, Vicki. He settled back in his chair. I know I can rely on your common sense.

Vicki counted to three and took a long breath.

Im glad you have confidence in me, Dad. Ive done enough flying as a stewardess to have a healthy

knowledge of what you can and cant do in flyinghow to avoid risks

To avoid risks, stay out of the air. Her father sounded pleased with himself.

Just as you say, Dad, Vicki said demurely. She heard her mother choke in the shadows. Ill think of something else. Perhaps my own fast little jeep

Her father groaned. Cant you just stay quietly at home?

And take up tatting? No, thanks. They dropped the subject, temporarily, while

Betty Barr told Vicki a spectacular piece of news.

This concerned another airfield now under

construction outside Fairview, but so much bigger

than Bill Averys that there could scarcely be any question of competition.

The new airport could put Fairview on the map, Professor Barr remarked. It could make us a transportation center and business center. That,

22

children, means a growing city. Mr. Barr proceeded to give Vicki all the details

on Corey Field: Andrew Corey had recently come

from Chicago to Fairview, with his wife, to promote

a large new airport. He had brought excellent

personal and business references, and a few skilled

airport personnel of his own. Mr. Corey had

interested the leading businessmen, including Judge

English, Guy Englishs father, and many others, to invest in Corey Field. Corey was only one of the

owners, but he was the hard-hitting, sparkplug

promoter; he was the one who had dreamed up the

project. Mr. Barr believed Andrew Corey was

president, as was natural enough. The fields big selling point was that Andrew Corey came to

Fairview announcing an agreement with one of the

biggest airlines in the United States to reroute their

transcontinental planes to stop over at Fairview

rather than at crowded Chicago airports.

Whoops! said Vicki. This Corey must be quite a boy.

Apparently he was. He had a record of past

business successes and, Mr. Barr said, immense

enthusiasm for this new venture. He and his wife

Janet were attractive, intelligent, affluent peoplethey had bought a show place of a house here in

town and entertained extensively. Everyone flocked

to them. Invitations to their parties at the country

23

clubwhere they had a three-month guest cardwere sought after. Lavish as Romans, Lewis Barr said.

I think Andrew Corey is a little too much the big shot, Mrs. Barr said. Just a little too rich and grand for our small town. Oh, I admit thats just my personal feeling. I realize hes bringing new business opportunities to Fairview.

Poor Bill, Vicki murmured, but reconsidered. But isnt there need for a small, nonscheduled airfield as well as one serving a national airline?

Certainly there is. You dont have to say poor Bill Avery. He has an entirely separate sort of business from the big fields. No relation between one and the other. In fact, her father said, Andrew Corey intends to discourage small local flight

business at his big field. It isnt finished yet; its just beginning to operate.

Where is it? Id like to see it. Its north of town, Ginny said eagerly. Like

us, only more so. Thats so the planes will keep far enough from the houses.

And wheres Bills field? The same. North. For the same reason. Dad,

Ginny asked, I guess the big field and Bills field adjoin, then, dont they? I dont mean that their flight strips adjoin, of coursetheres a CAA regulation saying two flight strips cant be closer

24

together than six miles. But does Bill own all the

land right up to Coreys land, Dad? Yes, and how do you happen to know so much

about airports and flying, young lady? Isnt one of you enough?

Then Ill be able to see both fields on the same trip, Vicki said hastily. Where is this fabulous Corey on view?

Ginny said that if Vicki went to Guy Englishs party on Saturday at the country club she probably

would meet Mr. Corey. But how can Guy invite you if he thinks youre in Hawaii or

At that moment Mrs. Barr declared the

mosquitoes were eating her alive and suggested that

they adjourn to the house. There Vicki decided to

break the news, but Mr. Barr retired behind a

newspaper. She would have to bring the matter to a

head. As soon as tactical, too, because Dean had

written The telephone rang and Ginny rose to answer it.

Vicki! Telephone for you. Ginny glanced in their fathers direction. Its Bill Avery.

Oh, yes, Vicki said nonchalantly as she strolled weak-kneed to the telephone. Probably wants to know when Ill start my flight lessons.

Victoria! her father protested. Now, Lewis, their mother said. Victoria! You could at least talk this over!

25

Hello, Mr. Avery, Vicki gulped into the phone. . . . Yes. Yes, its Vicki Barr. Will you speak a little louder, please?

Behind her a hush fell. Vicki was aware of her

father, her mother, and Ginny listening intently to

every word of her conversation. The masculine

voice at the other end of the wire sounded gay and

friendly. Vicki could not hear all he said because of

her fathers muttering. But she heard perfectly when Bill Avery said:

I sure am looking forward to meeting you, Vicki. I mean Miss Barr. Oh, shucksVicki. Dean wrote some mighty nice things about you.

Dont believe all of it, Vicki replied, laughing. Ginny hissed, Believe what? Bill Averys voice carried loudly out of the

receiver. When do you want to come over for your first flying lesson?

Victoria! Her fathers outraged face suddenly appeared two inches from the telephone.

Tomorrow, Vicki said firmly to Bill Avery. Ill take my first lesson tomorrow morning. At ten?

Ten on the nose. Thanks, Miss BarrVicki. Youll love handling your own ship. See you. Bill Avery sounded so pleased and expectant that Vicki

smiled as she hung up. Bill sounded awfully nice. . .

. She turned around to face her sputtering father.

26

Victoria, you havent even talked this over with me. I wont let you do anything this dangerous.

Its less risky than driving a car. Fewer accidents.

Nonsense! Up there in the air with no support! The air is solid if you hit it hard enough.

Everybody knew that, her father included.

Victoria, I dont approve! Mother approves. I approve. Im grown up now,

Dad. Please, please, give me your approval. My

heart is set on learning to fly, and I do want you to

be for it, too. Her father looked dumfounded. Then his face

softened. He dug his hands in his pockets, thinking.

Well, perhaps I am a little fixed in my ideasat any rate, on the subject of flying. I dont want to be intransigent. You reallyhe peered at Vickiwant to fly?

I really, seriously, earnestly do. Her fathers sculptured forehead puckered as he

tried to understand. Per ardua ad astra. Through work to the stars . . . accomplishment, self-mastery.

Is that it? That, and a great deal more. Flying is an

inspiring thing. Its poetry and responsibility and adventure all mixed together. Honestly, Dad, its the one thing I most want to do, Vicki appealed to him.

He listened, nodding, considering.

27

Why, wings always have been a symbol of hope and aspiration. Oh, Dad, I want this so much!

He grinned unexpectedly. Of course I knew when you introduced this subject that you and your

mother who never sides with me about aviationhad me licked from the start. Her father bent and kissed the top of her silvery-gold head. But I would like to know one thing.

What is it, Dad? Vicki asked seriously. How do you always manage to win your own

way? I suspect Dad helps you win, Vickis mother

wisely answered for her.

Ginny, the practical one, did not permit Vicki to

taste her triumph for long. She reminded Vicki that

she had an appointment with Bill Avery and a plane,

and had better get enough sleep before the Big Day.

As if anyone could sleep! Vicki exclaimed, starting upstairs. She couldnt remember when she had been so happy.

28

CHAPTER III

That Boy Bill

It was a beautiful sunny morning, perfect for flying.

Small planes of all types were tied down around the

edges of the big crude grassy field. But the only

thing flying at Avery Airport was the windsock

turning in the breeze, on a pole atop the hangar, like

a long fools cap. Vicki saw no mechanic around Bill Averys hangar, either. No lineman appeared routinely to serve her, and when she had passed the

office shack, it seemed to be deserted. Things were

very quiet on this small field on weekdays,

apparently. Probably a madhouse on week ends

when people who worked all week were at leisure.

Inquisitively Vicki looked around. The field

wasnt impressive, except for its large area. Two runways of flattened grass with boundary markers, a

makeshift hangar, the office shackthat was about all. Well, it must be enough and it must be safe, or

else the Civil Aeronautics Authority would never

have approved it.

29

Whore you? Vicki jumped. A small barefoot boy about five

years old was standing as close as possible beside

her, just under her elbow. He stared at Vicki out of

round solemn eyes, then thought for a while, leaving

his mouth open.

Im Freddie. Hello, Freddie. Im Vicki. Where is everybody? Im here, the child stated. My mamas at

home. Shes makin spaghetti things with points on em. Have you got chewing gum?

Vicki took a piece from her shirt pocket and

found another piece in the pocket of her plaid slacks.

Freddies smile nearly split his face when she gave him the chewing gum. He shoved both pieces in his

mouth at once.

Wheres Mr. Avery? Vicki asked. Freddie was unable to speak with all that chewing

gum in his small mouth. He shrugged, combed his

hair with his fingers, and ran off.

A roar and a cloud of dust in the side road filled

the air. A small open yellow car streaked along, tore

up to the taxi strip at sixty miles an hour, then

braked to a screaming stop just short of the airstrip.

The driver swung his legs over the low car door and

jumped out, wiped his hands on his stained work

trousers, and grinned cheerfully at Vicki.

Hi! You Vicki? Youre right on time. Oh,

30

shucks, lets be honest, I mean Im late. Did Freddie give you my message?

Freddie met me, all right, Vicki replied, adding to herself, A fine way to run an airport, leaving business messages with a five-year-old child.

Excuse me for bein late. Bill Avery strolled toward the grass strip paralleling the runway, jerking

his head for her to follow. This poor old airport There isnt anybody to run it but me, unless my friend Dwight Mueller gives me a hand, and Dwight

cant always come in from his farm just so I can drive downtown. You know, I was goin to be all dressed up in a starched shirt to meet you, and wear

my best tie You look fine, Vicki fibbed. He was the

messiest, sloppiestand handsomestboy she had ever seen. Bill had probably shaved and showered

this morning but seemed to have been enjoying

himself with plenty of grease and dirt since then.

Well, Im glad youre not one of those fussy females. So prissy and perfectits not worth while livin with them around. I hope youre not in a hurry this mornin? Id like to get you acquainted with your home field before we start the lesson. Cmon over here and see the pretty little ship youre goin to take up.

Me? Take up this Cub? When? This mornin. In a few minutes. Oh, sure, Im

31

goin with you, but youll handle the controls. Bill Avery patted the yellow wing of the small plane.

Isnt she neat? Has a turned-up nose. The light one-motor craft looked to Vicki not

much bigger than a grasshopper. If this husky boy

leaned against it, he would probably tip it over.

While Vicki looked at the small short propeller, Bill

Avery looked at Vicki, particularly at her feet, and

rubbed his tousled brown head.

Is something the matter with my feet? Or my shoes? Vicki frowned down at her low-heeled play shoes. They happened to be yellow cotton, sling

back and open toes, with a flat bow atop.

He stammered for words. Nothing came out. So

Bill Avery could be bashful, for all his rough-and-

tumble air. Then a long dimple creased his cheek as

he laughed at himself, still tongue-tied.

Shoes no good? Vicki helped him out. Your shoes are no good for flyin and theyre

goin to get all dirty. I suppose you dont approve of the bows, Vicki

said. His earlier remark about fussy females had

nettled her.

The fancy bows are okay, he said halfheartedly. But those open toes and heels stickin outtheyll catch in the rudder pedals or brakelook in the plane. See?

She peered in at the instruments. I see, Vicki

32

said. Im going to take up this plane? Bill Avery smiled down at her. I guess youre a

little upsetscared. Thats natural. Healthy instinctkeeps you alert. Dont you worry, though, Ill look out for you.

Even if I fail at my lessons? Vickis eyes danced.

If you fail, Ill flunk you, Bill said sternly. He explained that he was responsible to the CAA

which had granted him, after special training and

long flying experience, his flight instructors license. CAA tested applicants for any and all types of

license and that would include Vicki Barr, in a few

weeks, when she applied for her private pilots license.

You know somethin, Vicki? I have your application blank right now in my office. As soon as

youve taken enough flyin lessons to get ready to solo, you can fill out your application and mail it in.

Then the CAA in Washington, D.C., will have its

eye on you, pigeon! Now you forget about worryin. Youre goin to fly as neat and pretty and easy as a little bird. Bill whistled and flapped his arms to show her what he meant. Birdman, see?

Vicki began to feel less tense. Learning to fly,

with Bill Avery as her instructor, was going to be

fun.

They faced each other in the sunshine, beside the

33

little yellow plane.

Notice my grass runways? Better than asphalt or turf to learn on, Bill said a bit defensively. If your landing isnt perfect, you dont land with such a bounce in the grass.

Ill bounce anyhow, Vicki predicted. Its a nice field. It wasnt, but his eyes begged for praise.

Its not bad. It could be real nice. Needs a bit of fixin upa few touches here and there.

Couldnt Bill Avery see how crude his hangar and office shack were, how ragged the grass, and

how rundown the entrance from the road? Or was he

so carefree he didnt mind? Vicki had a kinder thought and said:

There must be an awful lot for one person to do.

Thats why a lot of things have to be left undone. Whats the difference? I get along fine. Bill cheerfully rubbed his classic nose. Not so fancy a place but comfortable enough to suit me.

Vicki noticed this time that tools and mail lay

helter-skelter on the office doorstep. What must the

inside of the office look like? Well, no doubt Bill

did the essential things. He told her that he had

gradually acquired four planes: this and another

Piper Cub for trainers; a battered, cherished PB-19,

an open cockpit trainer of the type he learned to fly

in his early AAF days; and an old twin-motor DC-3

34

with eight seats, four of them removable, for cargo

or passengers. The latter two were purchased as

surplus from the Government. Bill explained that

when he came out of military servicenot knowing much of any trade or business except how to flymost of the good jobs were already taken. He loved

to fly; he obtained the planes which were in good

enough condition and, with his mechanical skills,

put them in fine order.

They sing. I can make faster deliveries with them than other air transport lines can.

At the moment the big ship was having its three-

thousand-hour checkup and overhaul, as required by

CAA, over at Mr. Coreys big field next door. They have a huge, completely equipped hangar

over there with A&E mechanics, Bill said rather wistfully.

In answer to Vickis question as to why he had selected Fairview as a likely site for a small private

airfield, Bill Avery replied that he had driven around

two or three states searching for a suitable tract of

land. He saw possibilities in this area when he came

to visit his AAF buddy, Dwight Mueller. Because

his foresight was laughed at, Bill had been able to

purchase this huge tract of land (a safe nine miles

outside town) for a modest sum plus a mortgage. His

friend Dwight had backed him up on the mortgage,

helping him to get a loan from Fairview Building

35

and Loan. Im land poor. I le had very little money to work with. His only outside help was

occasional assistance from Dwight. The young man

was building his small business out of just his own

efforts.

When I first came here, no one wanted this land even for a gift. Bills hand absently stroked the planes wing. It wasnt desirable for farming. No one wants to live out here, and its too far from town for a factory. Abandoned pasture, thats all. Bill waved at the planes parked around. Everyone hooted when I said airport. Except a few, like Judge English.

My friend Guy Englishs father? Oh, you know them. Arent they grand people?

Judge English was really the one who got me my

mortgage on this land, and he even made me a small

loan out of his own pocket. Guess he believes in this

field. I want to hurry up and make money so I can

pay him back. The Judge says theres no hurry but I feel obligated. He and Guy used to drive out here on

Sundays to see how I was gettin along, all by my lonesome. Bill chuckled. In the beginning I slept out here in a tent and after rainstorms people drove

out to see if Id been washed away. But I like bein outdoors. The only thing I minded was eatin out of cans for weeks and weeks.

Youre pretty spunky, Vicki murmured. She

36

did not dare say more. Bill Averys ears and face flamed red with embarrassment.

This place sure was a wilderness. You shouldve seen me and a rented tractor trompin out the north-south runway and the northwest-southeast runway

while a couple of cows watched. Tractor shook my

kidneys loose, I swear, Bill said cheerfully. I was still shakin when I built the hangar.

Vicki gave a low whistle. Bill wasnt joking when he said he built this business out of nothing but his

broad back and two hands and flying know-how.

You built that big hangar yourself? With Dwights help. We chopped down the trees

on this land, sent em to a sawmill, got em back as boards, and in a month up she went. I rigged up a

swingin rope from a rafter so I could put on the roof. When you havent any money, you have to figure out all kinds of ways to get things done.

Vicki looked with more respect at the hangar. Just

a big barnlike structure, with one side open to the

weather, and a dirt floor. A covey of small planes

were parked in there. The hangar was a monument

to Bills determination. She certainly would like to help anyone as independent as Bill Avery. Vicki felt

a little ashamed of herself for being critical because

this place was down at the heels. Why, it wasnt finished yet . . .

Bill sensed the genuineness of Vickis interest.

37

You encourage me a lot, he remarked. I didnt say anything. In fact, she didnt venture

to, after that blush of his.

You dont have to say anything. I dont know how you do it, but you sure do encourage me. I can

use it, too. He was eager as a friendly pup to tell her more

about the airport. Vicki had only to ask, Exactly how do you and Bill was off. He flew nonscheduled commercial flights for passengers

and, mostly, for cargo. Its the same work scheduled flights do, except that they can carry the

mail and I cant. Nonskeds do hops at odd hours; they dont need priorities on landings and take-offs like the big sked lines. He sold gasoline and servicing to transient fliers who landed at his field.

I charge em only a very small tie-down fee, to attract em here. Wish I had a restaurant for em, even a sandwich and milk counter. (Vicki tucked that remark away for Ginnys possible use.) He charged a nominal monthly tie-down fee to the

owners of the private planes parked on his field, and

made his profit selling gas and oil and doing minor

service jobs to the crafts in repair. He hired A&E

mechanics to come over and check his repairs, and

sign the CAA slip. Bill was teaching several people

to flyMrs. Fairchild who was the Barrs neighbor, the taxi driver, and a girl who had gone through high

38

school with Vicki. See that man just drivin in? I taught him. He owns his own Cessna. Now and then Bill rented out his planes. In fine weather

people sometimes came out for ten-minute Sunday

flights or a half-hour tour over Fairview. You know theres a bus line on Lincoln Highway handy to my field. Occasionally he flew farmers over their land so that they could check erosion and see how crops

were coming along. When he was hard up for

money, Bill did some stunt flying.

Always did like barnstormin! Look, Vicki, I dont do all this stuff at one time. I just mean I do a little of everything. It varies with the season of the

year. I have to spend a certain amount of time bein the airport manager, keepin records, and so forth. I have a sales agency to sell planes but I havent sold one so far. Have to try every angle to earn a dollar.

Shucks, sometimes its so slow out here I go crazy. If it wasnt for Dwight and his orchid cargoes, maybe Id let it all go

Bill Avery broke off. His dark-blue eyes searched

Vickis face. Why am I tellin you all this? Because Im in flying myself. Hah! You will be after I teach you to fly. Im in aviation right now, Vicki insisted.

Didnt Dean Fletcher write you Im a stewardess? Aw, thats not real aviation. Thats just the plus

trimmings. Servin dinner, holdin the passengers

39

hand Vicki was so hurt that for a moment she could not

speak. Her work with people, and her secondary job

of representing aviation to the public, amounted to a

great deal more than this boy gave credit for. Vicki

remembered her father last evening scornfully

describing fliers as narrow. He had been right.

About all Bill understood was torques and ailerons

and manifold pressure. Vicki said so and wished she

hadnt started to like him so well. Bill whistled. Whered you learn all those

technical words? He grinned mischievously at her. Holdin the passengers hand when the plane goes over a bump. Dressed up pretty all the time, keeps

her plushy plane cabin in apple-pie order. Seems to me this field could stand a little apple-

pie order, Vicki snapped. Its good business to be orderly and efficient.

Bill groaned. You sound like my sister. I guess I must be a hopeless mess.

Quickly Vicki said she hadnt meant that, and that they both were being pretty silly. They exchanged

uneasy smiles and Vicki suggested that Bill start the

lesson.

All right. Tell me, he said, what makes an airplane fly?

Vicki offered an explanation. Bill Avery listened

in a sort of polite astonishment, blinking his eyes.

40

Very interesting, he said. Is that your own original theory? You have the general idea. I dont mean to hurt your feelings.

Well, youre the teacher, you tell me. What makes an airplane fly? Vicki chuckled. We sound like a comedy team. Tell me, Mr. Whittlepip, why

does an airplane stay up in the air? Bill struck a pose. Because the pilot isnt ready

to come down. Haw-haw-haw. Tell me, Miss

Yellow Top, why is a planes tail like a laundry? Vicki executed a tap step in the grass. I dont

know, Cap: n, sir. Why is a planes tail like a laundry?

Because it sends out the wash. Haw-haw-haw. Say, were good! They laughed and felt better. Felt as if they had been acquainted for a long time.

Television needs us, Bill said. Come to order. Class is in session. Now you see this wing and its

ailerons? Wiggle the aileron with your hand. Now

see that airfoil? It determines the air flow, and your

direction. Now come back here to the tail He started to discuss flight theory but took pity on

Vicki. Ive stuffed you with enough talk. Ill just take you up for a ride. Youll learn from the feel of it.

They climbed in and fastened the safety belts, Bill

in the seat ahead of Vickis. The owner of the private Cessna came over and spun the propeller for

41

them as Bill started the engine. Over the noisy put-

put of the engine Bill shouted for Vicki to rest her

feet lightly on the duplicate pedals, then he slammed

the door shut. Vicki scarcely noticed that the planes wheels had left the ground until she felt the motor

pulling hard, like your heart beating when you run

uphill. They rose steeply and fast. The altimeter

needle showed they were up to seven hundred, eight

hundred, now a thousand feet. Bill leveled off and

shouted to Vicki, over the engine noise, to look

down.

We seem not to be moving! Thats because we have nothin to measure our

movement against. Look at the air-speed indicator! Ahead of her Bill moved constantly in his seat as

he made small delicate readjustments. Again and

again he touched the stick between his straddled

knees; put his hand briefly on the throttle; his feet

moved lightly on the pedals; now and then his left

hand reached up to the ceiling to turn a little crankthe trim tab.

All this time Bill shouted explanations over his

shoulder but Vicki shouted him down Its just marvelous! I never dreamed of anything

so wonderful! Big ships, Deans small but old plane, couldnt touch thisthis airy cradle.

Bill Avery beamed at her over his shoulder, still

gently touching the stick, trimming the tab with a

42

finger tip or a tap of a toe on the rudder pedals.

Want to fly it, Vicki? The students duplicate stick was between her

knees. By stretching, Vicki kept her toes on the

duplicate rudder pedals. Bill nodded his head. Go left!

Vicki pressed, simultaneously, on the left pedal

and left on the stick as Bill shouted instructions. The

plane dipped to the left and they went flying on the

new curve, with the earth slipping out of sight and

the sky seeming endless. Vicki, craning, looked

down at the earth, its houses at a tipsy drunken

angle, and she felt slightly seasick. By looking away

at once, she felt fine again. Looking down had

showed her how high up, how alone, their plane

was.

Bill was laughing at her excited face. Straighten up! I knew youd love it! Turn right!

Easier said than done, Vicki discovered. She

touched the right pedal, gently moved the stick to

the right, very lightlybut not delicately enough. The plane, instantly responsive and light as a

floating feather, swung gently to the right and they

were not quite level. The horizon line showed their

angle. Correct it! Bill shouted over his shoulder. Vicki tried to and thought she did. No! Look at both wings! He made her see they were still tipsyflying at about a fifteen-degree angle. Bill

43

righted the ship and they went floating into the sun,

Vicki shouting:

Its marvelous! And its not hard, is it? Even from the back of Bills head, Vicki knew he

approved of her. When they came down she was

breathless with delight.

Ill give you a real lesson next time, Bill said, helping her out of the plane. We wont count this onejust an introduction. Vicki, I just have to see Dwight and theres his car. Come along.

Think Ill make a flier? Vicki asked, trotting after him.

You bet you will! Anyone who loves it that much But Bills expression had changed. He broke into a run toward a quiet-looking young man

who was just getting out of a dilapidated car. He

turned around to beckon Vicki and she saw how

worried he looked.

Something was wrong

44

CHAPTER IV

Unfinished Business

Dwight Mueller shook hands with Vicki when they

were introduced. He was calm and deliberate, even

his sandy coloring was neutral. She looked around

for the orchids Dwight grew and Bill shipped by air.

His old touring car was stacked with cardboard

boxes and plants wrapped in burlap, all in neat

order.

The news isnt good, Mueller was saying to Bill. Dr. Hale says it will be weeks before Barbara can walk again, much less help me in the

greenhouses. He explained politely to Vicki, My wife has been ill and on top of that she has broken

her leg. Trouble comes in bunches, doesnt it? Im so sorry, Vicki said. An orchid farm

sounds like a dream place, not a place for troubles. Its beautiful and I hope Bill will bring you out

sometime when my wife feels better. He turned back to Bill, a disturbed expression on his face, and

Vicki felt in the way. So you see, I have everything

45

to do myselfin the cool house, in the Cattleya house, watering, repotting, tending the furnaces,

packingand taking care of Barbara besides. I tell you, Bill, its impossible.

Bill kicked at the hangars dirt floor. Yes, I see. I dont know how Ill get along without your help, Dwight.

You know how sorry I am about this. Obviously this was a private business

conversation. Vicki had no right to listen.

Will you excuse me? she spoke up. I think Ill go over to the office and pick up a logbook.

Good idea, Bill said promptly. Doors open. Help yourself. Well see you in a few minutes.

They talked earnestly as she moved off. Vicki

waded through the tall, blowing grass and circled

around planes to reach the office shack.

Vicki opened the door and stood aghast on the

threshold, then sneezed from the dust. What a wreck

the office and lounge was! As if a cyclone had

blasted papers, chairs, maps, parachute, in all

directionsa cyclone named Bill Avery. The worst of it, Vicki considered, was that this square many-

windowed room could be comfortable, even

inviting. On the near side of a counter which divided

the room in half stood wicker chairs, a magazine

table, a round-bellied coal stove for winter months, a

telephone booth, and a bulletin board with notices

46

and CAA regulations. Behind the counter two

ramshackle desks were littered with papers, and files

stood open in crazy disorder.

Vicki gingerly stepped over a discarded paint can.

Soap and water and a broomthats the first thing this business needs.

Vicki sneezed again as she walked over to look at

the bulletin board. Hanging on a nail was a mans wrist watch with a sign saying, If you can prove this is yours, see Bill Avery. Vicki fingered a miniature white silk parachute lettered in black ink:

Just dropped in: Dorothy JonesPilot George JonesCopilot Betty Jones. Landed at Home Field on May 27th, License # B-A-B-Y. She was studying a photograph of fliers at a breakfast flight

when Bill Avery banged in, letting in a wide band of

sunlight. He was scowling.

Hi! Sorry to make you wait. Why dont you sit down? He glumly went to the end of the counter and picked up a new logbook for her, then filled in

their names, airfield, and the date. Ill keep this right here for you and enter your flyin time each lesson.

Vicki wanted to examine her logbook, but Bill

put it back on the shelf. He threw himself down in a

wicker chair and covered his face with his hand.

Why, Bill! Whats the matter with you? Aweverythings the matter. He lit a cigarette,

47

drew one puff, and ground it out on the floor. You heard, didnt you?

Not very much. Your friend is nice. Dwight is grand. But hes not goin to have time

to help me out any more. How can he? With all the

poor guy has to do now! From now on its me, singlehanded, to operate this field every minute of

the night and day. Will you be able to run the field by yourself?

Vicki asked.

Certainly Ill be able to do it! Bill glared at her. Id like to hear anyone tell me I cant. Bill stood up, stretched, then grinned at Vicki. Ive been through ten times worse than this and landed on my

feet, didnt I? I will again. All right, all right! Dont tear me to pieces. Sorry, Vicki. Sure, this is a blow. But if I feel

bad, its only on account of not havin Dwight around here for a long time to come. We were real

close friends in the Air Force and ever since.

Dwights a wonderful guy. Oh, Ill still fly Dwights orchid crop to Chicago for himpraise be, because its the one regular cargo I can count on. But Ill miss him around here.

Its a shame, Vicki murmured. I guess youll have to get someone else to help you.

Mmmm. One person cant fly cargo and manage the field, too, not in the summer. In the winter its

48

possible because were grounded most of the time. But summers were busy and somebody has to be here when Im flyin. You know, I did hire a mechanic last summer. Wish he hadnt moved away in the meantime. Bill strode restlessly around the office, touching things. He looked sheepishly at

Vicki. Mechanic couldnt help in here. Awful neglected, isnt it?

It needs attention, Vicki said tactfully. She saw unopened business letters.

In the corner a pile of comic sheets stirred and

Freddie crawled out from under them. Hi, he said, yawning. I read em all twice, Bill, like you said. Now can I wear your crash helmet?

Did you stay off the flight strips? Bill asked the child sternly. Did you stay out of the road?

Yep. I just played in the hangar an I saw you take off an then I corned in here. Now can I wear your crash helmet? Hlo, Vicki.

Vicki duly returned his greeting. Bill Avery

hoisted the little boy up on his shoulder, and from a

chair handed him a bright red metal helmet. It

completely covered Freddies small head down to his grin. He begged to wear it home for lunch and

Bill agreed. What do you think of my nephew, Vicki? A real flier. Freddie helps me.

Freddie wriggled with pleasure on Bills shoulder. Vicki admired his headgear. Even with the

49

joking and affection, Bill still looked depressed.

Vicki hesitated.

Im sure Freddie is a fine helper. I was wondering if youd like another helper? Id be glad to give you a hand cleaning up in here.

Well, if that isnt nice of you! Bill brightened at once. Then he looked at her distrustfully. No. Id better not.

Why not? It would be fun to make things shipshape.

Thats what Im afraid of. Youd make everything so efficient and prissy I could never find

anything. Couldnt relax in my own office any more. Id be afraid to move a pencil two inches to the right. Besides, arent you wearin perfume? Perfume at an airport?

Vicki was torn between exasperation and

laughter. Of all the crazy, fixed ideas this pilot had!

Laughing, she promised to leave everything lovely and dirty, and just put the office papers in order. She swore she would not hang ruffled curtains nor

install dear little canaries.

Bill seemed torn, too, judging from the equivocal

way he studied her. We-ell, he said at last. Youre a sweetheart to offer, and one of the most regular people I ever met. But I dont know if I could stand havin a Miss Prissy around and havin everything so gosh-darn neat.

50

I dont even let my sister clean up here. My sistergosh! Freddie is due home for lunch! And Dwight couldnt stay even while I take the little fellow home. He let Freddie slide down his back.

Ill walk Freddie home, Vicki said. What about lunch for you?

There you go! Tryin to pamper me! Make me soft! All you girls are alike.

Vicki grabbed the little boys hand and said tartly, You can go hungry and sneeze your head off in this dust, for all I care! Come on, Freddie! We arent such Spartans as Bill, are we?

Whats a Spartan? said Freddie, trotting fast. Bill called after her, laughing. Hey! Come back

tomorrow morning, will you? Ill sweep out the office for you. He still looked forlorn.

Vicki was invited to stay for lunch. She did, after

telephoning home, because she liked Ruth Streeter

who had dark-blue eyes like Bills. Partly, too, she wanted to fathom what Freddie had meant by

spaghetti things with points on em. Nothing even vaguely resembling Freddies description showed up at table, though. It was a pleasant lunch, with

Freddie prattling of the flying hed done that morning, and Ruth Streeter commiserating with

Vicki about Bills slipshod habits. Hes the best brother in the world, but I confess I

51

gave up long ago trying to keep Bill or his clothes or

his room in any kind of order. Both Ruth and the small bungalow were trim and

attractive and somehow self-contained. Mrs. Streeter

and Freddie were staying in Fairview only

temporarilyjust long enough to move Bill out of the airfield where he had been living in Sloppy Joe

fashion, and move him into this modest bungalow.

Once his sister felt Bill to be safely reconverted to

civilization, she and her small son would move on to

California. Her and Bills parents lived there; Ruth had an interesting job awaiting her there. There

seemed to be no Mr. Streeter. Vicki, of course, did

not ask.

After lunch they tucked Freddie, freshly washed,

into bed for a nap. When Vicki remarked that it was

time she started for home, Ruth Streeter warmly

insisted that she stay and visit for a while.

I dont know many girls here to talk to. Bills sister smiled as they walked into the living room. I do get tired of fliers, even though Jerry, my

husband, was a flier. She said simply, He was lost while he was on active duty in the Air Force.

Vicki knew there was nothing anyone could say.

She looked at Ruth Streeter with her heart in her

eyes. No wonder the other girl wanted to talk. Bills sister lifted down a large album from a bookshelf

and sat down next to Vicki on the sofa.

52

Are you interested in photography? Of course. Vicki would have manufactured an

interest in any subject Ruth was hungry to talk

about.

Ill try not to bore you, Vicki. My husband didnt take a great many pictures, but he did take good, dramatic ones.

Smiling, Ruth showed her some large shiny

snapshots of Jerry Streeter. Vicki saw that Freddie

closely resembled his father. All the photos had been

snapped un-posed at a wartime airfield. There were

photographs of a ground crew at work on a plane, a

pair of pilots laughing together, three boys poking

around in a B-29s engine, fighter planes flying in V formation, men in fatigues waiting while mail was

handed around. A rush of memory brought back to

Vicki the wartime reminiscences of Dean and Jim

Bolton in the Kitty Hawk room. Vicki asked where

the pictures were taken. In Germany, mostly. Ruth Streeter named the year. Jerry Streeters face bobbed up on page after page, and Ruth smiled. Ruths smile was quieter, older, than Bills engagingly merry look.

No pictures of your brother? Vicki asked. Not in this album. Bill served in the Pacific. One photo arrested Vickis attention. It showed a

group of enlisted men, sleeves rolled up or shirts off,

tuning up a four-motor plane. One striking, sullen-

53

looking boy had a big splotch on his forearma stain or a burn. It was hardly noticeable because the

boys arm was upraised. Vicki looked more closely. This was a large, clear photo, but she asked Ruth

Streeter if she had a magnifying glass.

Yes, on the table. Here you are. What for, Vicki?

Can you make anything of the mark on this boys arm?

Bills sister and Vicki peered in turn at the apparent burn. Under the magnifying glass it

became clearly visible as a tattoo.

Its odd, Vicki muttered. But I cant make out the design.

You have sharper eyes than I have, Ruth Streeter said. I cant see anything unusual there.

Vicki did not tell Ruth that it was Deans story of the flier with the tattoo which made that photo

significant.

Do you know who this boy is, Ruth? His name? No. Anything at all about him? No, Im sorry. The dark-blue eyes, like Bills,

were troubled.

Perhaps it was just another photo of another flier

wearing a foolish memento.

They went on turning the pages of the treasured

photo album. The sullen boy did not reappear in any

54

of the other pictures. What was that name Dean had

mentioned? Darnell? Dean had said the boy

disappeared. Ruth Streeters voice blurred in Vickis ears as she tried to remembertried to capture some echo whispering insistently at the back of her mind.

55

CHAPTER V

Vicki Goes Visiting

Brakes screeched and a horn honked loudly outside

The Castle. Vicki, with comb and brush in her hand,

stepped out on the balcony to see who was making

such a racket at eight in the morning.

Good morning! Bill Avery grinned and waved up at her. Are you ready?

Yes, but Didnt we say at ten? This is something else. Well? Youre ready, so

come on. Hurry up! Vicki gave her hair a lick and a promise, raced

downstairs to the dining room, and snatched a roll

off the breakfast table. Her father and mother,

absorbed in the morning newspaper, glanced up in

time to see Vicki dash out. A moment later Bills yellow roadster took off like a rocket.

He drove with an easy, effortless power. Bill

Avery was remarkably clean this morning, Vicki

noticed. He wore a fresh white shirt. His face and

brown hair showed recent traces of soap and water.

56

Vicki hoped it was a compliment or at least a

concession to her. Bill said:

Were goin to Corey Field to see when my DC-3 can come home. His eyes flickered away from the road toward her and he noticed the roll. Well get some breakfast over there.

Want a bite? Vicki held the roll as Bill took an enormous bite. Why do you want me to come along, Bill?

For company. Thought youd like to see Mr. Coreys field.

Whos at your airfield now? No one. Isnt that dandy? But its early and its

Friday, which means business will be slow, Bill said as he accepted the rest of the roll. In fact, deserted. Not like what youre going to see in a couple of minutes.

They drove fast along the country roads. They

came to Bills big stretch of land, and passed it. Presently hangars loomed up. Vicki saw men on

bulldozers leveling a hill. Bill entered Corey Field,

his face expressionless.

Big place, huh? And it isnt even finished yet, Bill said, pulling into a paved parking area.

Vicki looked penetratingly at him. This important

field was right next door to Bills makeshift fieldwas that why he had wanted her along with him? To

bolster his morale? But he seemed breezy and

57

untroubled as he helped her out of the car. He

pointed out to her the half-finished administration

building with its good-sized terminal, space for

offices and shops eventually, and a control tower.

He talked about the six hangars going up, the paved

flight strips, the taxiways, the field lights in crates

waiting to be installedwith as much pleasure as if all this were his own.

But, Bill she quavered but could not continue.

Finally Bill noticed her overwhelmed look. He

threw back his head and laughed. Pigeon, youre worryin for no reason. Theres no competition, no competition at all, between Corey Field and my

shoestring operation. Why, a heap of money is in

this placeFairview dollars mostly. You dont think Corey Field would bother the way I do with local

farmers and private fliers who want ten gallons of

gas and short cargo hops? Dont you know that a national airline is goin to stop right here, instead of at Chicago?

Vicki gulped. Youve got a formidable rival field right next door to you.

Now look, Vicki. Railroads are fine, but trucks and buses are needed too, arent they? And theres a lot more of em. Its the same with a town or area needin airfields. The City Planning Commission told me that if Fairview didnt have a nonscheduled

58

field like mine, someoned have to start oneCorey Field or no. Pigeon, these two fields do entirely

different jobs. Handle separate kinds of air traffic.

They dont overlap. Theres plenty of business for me, if I can attract it. Now do you see?

I guess I do, now. Shucks, Mr. Corey himself feels the same way

about it. He told me hes glad theres a small operations field to round out and balance the picture. Hes told me over and over again that hell help me in any way, because I keep him from bein pestered with the local stuff. Mr. Corey already sent

me cargo jobs for local farmers. Thats better. Vicki let out a sigh of relief. Now

she was able to look around and frankly admire this

well-equipped airport.

Bill watched a four-motor DC-4 being fueled

with gasoline. How those babies slurp up the gas! About two thousand gallons at one time. But Im glad to sell ten gallons to a Cub.

He had to shout because a plane was circling for a

landing. The sleek private craft glided down

smoothly, swiftly, taxied, and stopped right in front

of the two young people. The executive four-place

Beechcraft, with its own private pilot, was a

beautya peacock among these other sparrows and bald eagles. Vicki watched a tall, portly, middle-

aged man step out, his hat in his hand, and look

59

around him with an air of satisfaction. A secretary

followed him.

He smiles as if he own this place, Vicki muttered.

He does. Thats Andrew Corey, Bill answered. He doesnt own it all, but he owns the controlling share of the stock and the votesin exchange for the magnificent job hes done here.

Fair enough. They watched Mr. Corey pat his pilot on the

shoulder.

Hes a dynamo, Bill said admiringly. Hes the one who promoted that national airline into

rerouting its ships to land here when the field is

ready. It took Corey to wake up this town. Andrew Corey walked like an emperor. A genial

Caesar, Vicki thought, who radiated such confidence

and enthusiasm that it was catching. Vicki had

talked with enough top-flight executives on her

stewardess trips to recognize in Andrew Corey the

eagle-eyed alertness, the grand manner, and

powerful personality which were often typical of

men of great practical achievement.

He saw Bill Avery standing there and hailed him.

Vicki went over with Bill but remained in the

background. Andrew Corey noticed her, and Bill

introduced her.

Oh, yes, Professor Barrs daughter. Rather

60

original economist, your father, he boomed. First met him some years ago at a trade conference I

arranged. Now tell me, Bill, how are things going

with you? Just fair, sir. Just fair? Well, keep a stiff upper lip. You

should have an active summer business, and Ill throw some extra contracts your way. Someone called: New York will call you in ten minutes, Mr. Corey! Coreys smile faded, his heavy face relaxed, and Vicki saw the fatigue, the weight of

responsibility, the creeping age which his

achievements had cost the man. But Corey smiled

again when he looked at young Bill Avery, as if

refreshed. See Paul Winter and tell him I said to turn over the Greensville pickup job to you, Bill.

Thank you, Mr. Corey. Then Bill mentioned to the older man that his friend, Dwight Mueller, was

going to be unable to help him for a long while.

Too bad but not fatal. Is it? Andrew Corey commented. Youll make out. It would be easier for you, however, now that youre alone, if you werent burdened with so much land.

Bills jaw set. Yes and no, sir. When are you going to listen to me when I give

you advice? What do you want with all that big

acreage? Bill looked sheepish but stubborn. I dont quite

61

know, but I figure that Ill need it, sooner or later. It doesnt cost me anything but taxes to hold on to that land.

Nothing but taxes and mortgage payments and a big headache! Andrew Corey shook his gray head. Now you listen to me, young fellow. Get rid of some of that land youre not using. Ill take some of it off your hands.

Its a mighty temptin offer, Mr. Corey. I thought it over

Mr. Corey interrupted. You bought that land for a song and Ill give you a very handsome price for it. You deserve that much for your enterprise. You

were here first and got the choice ground, but you

must know that an airport our size needs more room.

Id like to have a really big parking space out here, for instance. I dont know what you paid, Bill, but Ill give you all you paid and a very fair return on your money. Vicki liked the way Andrew Corey talked to Bill man to man. Couldnt you use several thousand dollars? Wouldnt you like to improve and extend your equipment, and buy yourself another

couple of planes? Vicki was staggered. Several thousand dollars!

What a wonderful offer to fall out of the blue!

Andrew Corey waved away three men hovering

close by with blueprints. In just a minute, gentleman. Im talking to my neighbor. Well, Bill?

62

Im not going to ask you again. Mr. Corey, I hardly know what to say, Bill got

out. Sure, I could use the cash, but, on the other hand, a small operations field doesnt need a lot more equipment than what I already have. You

know that, sir. Corey raised his eyebrows. I feel bad, sir. Id like to do anything you say. But Ithat field is part of me. I worked darn hard on it, I know

every yard of ground. I could about as soon sell my

left foot. Well, never mind, boy. Its not too important. If

you change your mind, let me know. Corey took a deep breath of the clear, sunny air. How do you like our control tower? Well have three tower operators to start. Were looking for flight instructors and pilots, too. Can you recommend

anyone? If you didnt have your own field, Id say move over here yourself. Youre a born flier. Wed like to have you.

The long dimple creased Bills cheek. He jammed his hands in his pocket. Thank you, sir, but I dont want a job and Im not going to sell any of my land. Im sorry, but

Dont be sorry, dont explain! The promoter chuckled, evidently pleased by Bill Averys spirit. If I were in your position, full of git-up-and-git, young and foolish and shortsighted, Id say No, sir, Mr. Corey, too. I was only trying to help you; I

63

have no particular need of that land as you can see

for yourself. All right, young fellow, I wish you

luck! Dont forget to see Paul Winter. He moved off smiling, and instantly was

surrounded by the three men with blueprints, several

contractors, lawyers, and his secretary. Andrew

Coreys massive gray head towered above all the others.

Vicki whirled around to stare at Bill. He had a

dumfounded grin on his sunburned face. He really likes you, doesnt he?

Bill shrugged. Hes a grand person, thats all. Mr. Coreys nice like that to everybody.

You cant help liking him and being impressed by him, Vicki said. Whyif you dont mind my asking did you turn down that marvelous offer?

Ohhhuh Thats my land. Ill find a use for it some day. Vicki inquired if he meant to hold out for a bigger price? No, thats not it. Mr. Coreys offered me a real generous price. Besides, he

probably wont need the land any more later than he needs it now. Not that he needs it especially at all.

Heck, he has plenty of land. Corey just wants to do

things on a grand scalehe wants the earth. Vicki, you think Im pigheaded not to take his offer, dont you?

Jeepers, Bill, I wouldnt know. I could straighten up your office but I wouldnt presume to offer

64

business advice. Lets settle for a quick cup of coffee. The restaurant was still wet with mortar and paint

but a sandwich counter was open. Vicki

remembered Ginny and vowed that Avery Airport

would have a food service, too. Bill absent-mindedly

agreed.

Ill bet, Vicki said, Mr. Corey would come over for a cup of coffee.

Sure he would. Bill slapped down some coins on the counter. What a guy! Come on, we have to hurry. No one at home field.

Bill hustled her around steel skeletons of

buildings to Hangar No. 3. He took a moment to

admire a private Cessna. It came from Chicago, he

said. He showed Vicki where to look for the license

number NC (for National Craft) followed by a

number.

They entered the immense hangar where

coveralled mechanics on stepladders were repairing

a transport plane. Bill saw his cargo plane and his

face righted. H ran toward the big two-motor craft.

Hi, Spin! Hows she behavin? Runs like a sewin machine, a flat voice

answered.

A slight, short young man boosted himself down

from the planes nose. He had jet-black hair and a cross expression. We gave your DC-3 a complete

65

three-thousand-hour check and overhaul, and CAAs MacDonald just okayed her.

The mechanic tensely inclined his black head.

Vicki saw a tall, thin man in a tweed suit inspecting

a small plane farther down the hangar.

This ship was in perfectly good condition when I brought her in. Bill stopped examining a propeller. Whats eatin you, Spin?

Watch that crank MacDonald. With his hands the CAA inspector tested the wing fabric of the

small ship, frowning. He took a knife from his

pocket and slit a small L-shaped cut in the fabric of

the wing. The cloth hung open.

This fabric has rotted, Vicki heard the CAA man state. Unsafe. This ship is grounded until the wings are recovered. MacDonalds voice was dispassionate and aloof. Dont just patch up the old fabric, either.

Next to Vicki, the mechanic muttered under his

breath. Bill laughed. Macs just doin his job. Youre the cranky one. Vicki, I want you to meet the best A&E mechanic I ever came acrossSpin Voight. Miss Barr is a flight stewardess.

Vicki extended her hand. The silent mechanic did

not take it, whether from embarrassment or

rudeness, she did not know. Or perhaps he

considered his hands too dirty; his long-sleeved

coveralls showed oil stains. To bridge the awkward

66

pause, Vicki asked what A&E meant. Bill said,

Aircraft and Engine. Requires taking CAA exams at intervals. The wiry mechanic gave her a look of contempt for her ignorance. Vicki coolly let it pass.

Everyone knew mechanics were a race unto

themselves, a combination of gypsy, genius, and

plain crazy.

Bill seemed to consider this one a genius. He

turned his back on Vicki and engaged in a respectful

discussion with Spin Voight. Vicki cheerfully

waited. This wiry, deadpan, young man looked

familiar. Where had she seen him before? . . . She

met so many people. At the moment he was

grumbling to Bill:

Number forty-seven of the things Id like to see before I die. Thats a stewardess who doesnt think shes a gift of nature because shes a female.

Bill was amused. I learned to fly from women flight instructors in the Air Force. We had girl A&E

mechanics keepin our warplanes in good order. Anyhow, Vicki is takin flight lessons. The mechanic regarded Vicki without interest. Snap out of it, sourpuss, Bill said.

Number twenty-three of the things Id like to see. A CAA inspector whos had as much experience as the mechanics he judges.

He judges fliers, too, but I dont get mad at the CAA.

67

So what? I hold a pilots license, too. Number fifty in things Id like to see before I

die, Bill mimicked. A mechanic who doesnt have severe arthritis.

Spin Voight actually forced out a smile. It

included Vicki, and she ventured:

Whered you get your A&E? The mechanic seemed surprised. He answered

grudgingly, In the Air Force. But Bill said girls were A&E mechanics in the

So what? They had men A&E mechanics, too,

didnt they? he countered resentfully. She must have touched a tender spot without

knowing it. My error, Spin. Oh, now I know where I remember you from! She suddenly recalled the photo album Ruth Streeter had shown her. Were you ever in Germany?

Excuse me, but you sure ask crazy questions. Vicki was astonished at his evasiveness. I just

thought I knew or remembered something about

yousomething special, she added with a smile. You know, people have birthmarks or moles or scars or

I havent any marks and I never been in Germany! he said with such stifled anger that Vicki felt hurt by the rebuffand curious. Why had her simple questions antagonized the mechanic? Did he

68

have something to conceal?

Maybe you know Dean Fletcher, a friend of minean ex-Air Force pilot? Vicki asked with a forced smile, trying to overcome her feeling of

dislike for the man.

Spins anger turned to ice. Never heard of him. Why so many questions? Women! Just what we

dont need around an airfield. And To ease the tension, Bill interrupted. What you

need, DwightI mean, Spinis a ten-minute break. I guess if I did nerve-racking precision work like

yours all day, every day, I might get temperamental,

too. We worked till midnight last night. Spin looked

at Vicki in half-apology. I dont want the overtime pay that bad. Aw, Coreys grand, but theres too many other bosses around Corey Field. I dont need someone tellin me every minute what to do, contradictin what the other boss ordered, tellin me how to do it. Im a first-class mechanic and I

Listen, DwightI mean, Spin That was the second time Bill made that mistake,

Vicki observed. Bill must miss Dwight so much that

he regarded this air-minded boy as a substitute. All

Bills guards were down with this cagey mechanic. Because the two young men wanted to talk in

privacy, Vicki went outdoors and perched on a box

in the sunshine. Her pretense of coolness with Spin

69

evaporated now. What lay behind his extraordinary

reactions to her perfectly ordinary questionsquestions that all veterans took for granted. Never in

Germany? She was convinced that the mechanic had

lied. When she looked again at the photograph in

Ruth Streeters album, perhaps shed have the answer to that question.