By Air Mail Ch.06

The day after, she'd come back but she said nothing to him, only watching in silence from what she decided was a safe distance. Hunter didn't know it, but Ruthie was kicking herself even harder than him.

Ruthie was a little angry with Hunter, just a little hurt as well, but for the most part, she was annoyed at herself. Hunter was a brand new kind of man to her - a whole new animal, really. She'd been attracted to him for a whole lot of reasons at first, but in the meantime, she'd found that no matter how much time she spent with him, she still found herself taken with how likeable he was underneath everything.

He was like a big, quietly friendly dog who could be your companion and never judged you; he just made you feel good that he was near you. But that was as far as that comparison went. Hunter was doing work that if done badly or in a forgetful way because he'd been distracted, could easily kill somebody - Terry.

She'd been angry with herself, knowing that as she did. And mostly, she was just sad that she couldn't seem to get closer to him, not really knowing him enough to know just how to change that.

After Hunter had given up trying to get past the silent wall that she'd thrown up and gone back to what he'd been doing, Ruthie had just wandered farther back in the hangar until she came to a side door, thinking to go home when she'd heard a few things going on outside.

Underneath the distant roar of an aircraft running up it's engines in preparation to taxi to the end of the active runway, she heard Hunter's uncle giving somebody both barrels about something - something which hadn't been done correctly or something like that. She heard the last, loud bit of it and then she caught the scuff of a shoe against the pavement outside and not far from the door, so she stepped back to the side.

The door opened and one of the line boys hurried through, looking upset. He was dressed in coveralls like Hunter had been and as he went past, not noticing Ruthie, she saw that he was older than he looked. He was just ... he couldn't have been more than sixteen until you looked a little closer. But that was all the time that she had and he was gone, walking quickly and looking as though he wanted to run.

Ruthie couldn't help herself. She followed as quickly as she dared, hoping that she could make a little speed without her shoes making a sound. She didn't even know why she wanted to follow him, to get a better look at him, she supposed, and she told herself that there had to be something here - the way that he'd seemed to be struggling not to cry.

She'd found him eventually by the sounds of his anguished sniffling as he stood as hidden as he could get, standing in amongst a few stacks of aircraft tires. From the back, she could see that he was slim, very slim and she doubted that he was more than three inches taller than she was if she subtracted the thick soles of his workboots.

She stood for a few moments once again cursing herself for not knowing the right thing to do and so she didn't do anything other than stand there. In a little while, he seemed to have things under a little control until he stopped very suddenly and began to turn around. She knew that he knew that she was there then.

When he saw her he groaned softly and hung his head, as he stepped forward to try to get past the most beautiful young lady that he'd ever seen with a muffled "Excuse me," but she stopped him and he looked over.

"Are you alright?" she asked and the sound of her soft southern concern just made him feel worse.

"I hope I'm not sounding like I want to pry or anything, but what happened?" she asked, "And please forgive me, but my name's Ruthie. Is there anything I can do?"

He stared in utter surprise. A girl like this ... actually speaking to him ... it left him little ability to get past his feelings, but he tried.

"I made a mistake and put too much fuel in the boss's plane," he said, "but it was only a little bit, not more than twenty gallons too much by the time I knew it, and I was going to get the hand pump to take it back out, but he caught me before I could do it."

"But did you spill any or anything?" she asked, "I don't understand why it would be a problem if there was room for it."

He sniffled a little, wanting to hide his emotions from her, and failing to manage it completely, "That's not it. He's gotta carry a load to make a delivery. He knows that with what he'd gonna carry, he can't take on a whole lot of fuel, since avgas weighs about seven pounds a gallon and he doesn't need a lot for how far he's gotta go. That extra gas I put in is a hundred and forty pounds that he doesn't have the load capacity for, for that flight."

He sighed with a slight shudder, "He's still mad at me because I took too long to get the fuel truck over to begin with, but I had to wait for somebody else to get fuelled and Smitty always takes his time if he knows I need the truck. He hates me and he's trying to get me fired again."

He remembered his manners then, "My name's Higgins, Dustin Higgins. You can call me Dusty, I won't mind."

Something just shifted in Ruthie then. She didn't know why, other than perhaps the silent knowledge which came to her about him being a little like her in how others saw him as too slight or short to be taken seriously. He had a nice face and she liked the shade of his light brown hair and his even his eyes seemed to captivate her for a moment.

He certainly wasn't trying, but she was a little taken with his deep blue eyes and she'd never seen the shade in anyone before. At that instant, she also saw his eyelashes - longer and softer-looking than any woman's who wasn't using mascara. To her, he was beautiful, though she knew right off that he didn't want those features in a place where square-jawed masculinity was seen as desirable.

She reached for the rag in her back pocket and she carefully wiped a small grease smear from his cheek. "I've only been here a couple of days," she said, "but I know that guy. If I'm not close to Hunter and I'm not paying attention, he grabs my ass no matter what I say. Where is he now?"

I dunno," he shrugged, "Guess he's pumping out the extra that I put in, trying to make himself look good to the boss again.

And I know you're Ruthie. Ever since you came, Hunter's been trying to keep his mind on what he's doing. I can tell he likes you a lot."

There was something in that - in under the words - which came through to Ruthie, though it wasn't spoken and she brushed aside the words over the way that she felt right then. She didn't know if she'd wrecked anything with Hunter and at that moment, she didn't know how she felt about him if she was being absolutely honest with herself.

But she knew that Dusty thought the world of Hunter just as she ... normally did. It settled things for her in an instant.

"Take me there, if you wouldn't mind," she said.

Dusty began to walk, leading her, "What are you gonna do?" he asked.

"Nothing that's gonna get you in any deeper," she'd smiled, "You just need to trust me a little, Dusty."

Smitty was just positioning the empty forty-five gallon fuel drum that he'd rolled over to put the extra fuel in. He looked up and they saw the sneer forming on his lips.

"Hey, it's a couple of pussies - a real one and a wannabe. Howdy ladies."

Dusty stopped, wondering why Ruthie actually wanted to see the gorilla who went out of his way to make him as miserable as possible whenever he saw a chance.

Ruthie walked on, her features not even showing that she'd heard his remark. As she came, she looked around in quick glances and she saw that no one else was in sight.

Smitty saw her come and he stood up, throwing his chest out a little with a grin that spoke volumes, though not in the way that he might have had in mind.

Ruthie grabbed his hand and she pulled him so abruptly that he didn't have the time to wonder at how strong she was for such a little thing. She yanked his arm out further and rolled his wrist in a snapping motion.

At the same time, she placed her forearm onto the back of his elbow as she completed the lock.

"OW, AH!" he squawked in painful surprise just before Ruthie twisted more. Like about anyone, Smitty found himself moving the way that she directed him - since it felt to him like she was going to snap his elbow joint if he didn't and he really had no choice in it while Ruthie silently thanked her dead mother.

She encouraged him by applying more torque and grabbing him by the hair so that he bashed his own face against the rim of the fuel drum - hard.

As he stood up a little shakily, she did it again, even harder so that the drum rocked a little.

"Poor monkey," she said in her Alabama drawl.

He looked at her over his bloodied nose and she saw his temperature rising in inverse proportion to his falling IQ, so before he could do anything at all, she stepped in, "Lemme take a look at that."

She held her right fist tight as her arm shot up between them and she extended her elbow at the end of it so that his teeth felt like they were broken from the way that his jaw clanged shut. His eyes were closed against the pain, but when she saw them begin to open, she moved and he found her almost behind him, her fingers deep into his hair and closing tightly.

Ruthie drove her knee into the back of his and he had no time to recover as she drove his head down against the raised rim of the drum again. His head snapped back from the impact but she was already pulling him upward and he followed, since she was tearing his hair out.

Smitty stood shakily, his head pulled back so that he saw the glare of the Oklahoma sun and there was a silky-sounding click as Ruthie pulled her flick-blade - a thin, razor-sharp knife set in a grooved wooden handle with a short, thick iron pommel. A flick of the wrist and with a push of her thumb, it was locked and ready.

Smitty didn't move. He couldn't - not with that thin line of hardness against something that he treasured so much.

"Stand still or I'll make you into something less than you think you are. You're going to quit your job," she hissed at him, "Right here, right now. Let's go talk to Hunter's uncle."

He felt her let go of his hair, but she moved so fast that he couldn't -

There was a flash of pain as she grabbed two of his fingers and twisted to lead him along between two rows of badly stacked drums. With a motion of her fingers, the knife was folded and held closed in her fist.

As they walked along, he growled at her that she was some kind of crazy bitch and she agreed with him. "Just shut up and hold your busted nose or I swear I'll gut you like I want to."

Dusty followed along behind, not quite believing what he'd seen - and he'd watched it all happen.

Ruthie saw the one dangerously stacked drum on the third tier that she'd noticed earlier as Dusty led her to where Smitty had been. Timing it to to the step, she set her foot and tripped Smitty while pushing him with her shoulder at the same time.

The oaf was off-balance, falling forward as Ruthie danced two hurried steps back toward Dusty, who almost cringed.

With her feet the way she needed them, she took one quick hop to the right of Smitty, slammed both of her feet down to spring up and forward, jumping up as she turned in mid-air.

Time seemed to slow to Dusty as he saw that Ruthie was more than four feet in the air, her back toward Smitty and whipping her body around toward him. She put everything - every part of her body into building her inertia.

She was in the air, bent backwards just a little, her right hand drawn into a fist at the end of her extended arm and he saw the way that she was looking over her own left shoulder at her victim as she came, her legs twisting with her hips to add more power to the end of the motion when it all came.

He saw the way that her long pony tail arced through the air and he found himself wondering what it must be like to have hair so long that you can see it going by in front of you as he knew that Ruthie was seeing it now. The tendons in her arm stood out alongside her thin muscles, just as the tendons in her neck were doing the same thing. She was whipping her right arm around as she began to come down.

She landed then, her fist driving the pommel of her flick-blade into the back of Smitty's neck, just under his skull as she crashed into his back with her knees.

She ricocheted off him as he kept going to land crumpled against the two empty drums under the mis-stacked top one - which teetered for a second before it fell over and down.

Ruthie grabbed Dusty as she landed and pushed him back as a few more empty drums came down, booming and banging loudly.

"Holy ... "Dusty looked at Ruthie and then at where Smitty must be in the rolling pile of drums. "He's -"

"He's gone," Ruthie said tonelessly, "Go get your boss now. Just make like you saw him fall against the drums and they tipped. Get it right now and stick to that story no matter what."

Dusty looked at her and heard the sounds of people running inside the hangar. He turned and took off toward the door.

-------

They found Ruthie distraught and crying as she tried unsuccessfully to pull drums off Smitty. In doing it, she'd gotten a little of the blood from his nose and mouth onto her. As they began to muscles the drums away, no one noticed it as she stepped out of sight and quickly stuck her finger into her mouth so that she could put on a little sideshow by vomiting - since she was so upset and all.

After the cops had come and some people had taken the body of Smitty away, Dusty was told to take the forklift and set all of the drums so that there were none stacked and they were all on the ground.

Hunter looked at what had happened and reminded his uncle that he'd warned him of the way that they'd been stacked carelessly by Smitty himself. "And I told him at least half a dozen times to clean that up so that they were straight, but he was too busy kissing your ass and trying to look good."

"Are you ok, Dusty?" Hunter asked and Dusty nodded, looking very shook up and actually pleased that he knew it was how he looked at the moment.

Hunter looked to find Ruthie and saw her at the other end of the hangar. He took two steps toward her, but she saw him then and turned away.

"She's really upset," Dusty said quietly from beside Hunter, "So Am I. I almost threw up after she did."

Hunter told him to take the truck and drive Ruthie home.

But she refused, saying that she needed to wash her face and hands and then she'd probably feel better after a soda to settle her stomach.

When he heard it, Hunter gave Dusty a ten dollar bill and told him to drive them both someplace for lunch.

-----

A little later, Dusty sat in the truck with Ruthie in the parking lot of a hotdog stand and after eating, he reached into his pocket, fumbling with slightly shaky hands to get out a cigarette and try to get it lit.

"May I have one please?" Ruthie asked softly and he handed her one, though she was the one who had to light both of them.

"Are you ok now?" he asked her and she nodded, "I was ok before. I just needed a reason for how I got a little of his blood on me and I needed to make it look like I was sick at the sight, that's all."

"You knew that he was dead, didn't you?" he asked in little more than a whisper.

Ruthie nodded as she looked at the horizon, "Uh-huh, he was gone before the first drum fell."

"How do you know that?" he asked, "I don't mean to ... doubt you or anything. I'm just asking."

"We're only gonna speak of this one time, Dusty," she said, "I just knew, alright?"

"You did that - that crazy jump - on purpose?" he asked.

Ruthie nodded, "Had to. That's the kind of strike that it is. The joint that holds your skull to the top of the neck, it's called the Atlas joint and it's a hard one to break. If I only broke his neck, then he might still be able to talk.

That's why I had to put everything into it. I wasn't gonna march him up to your boss. I just wanted to get him so that I could lead him to that one ready to fall empty drum.

If they've got somebody to look for what killed him, they'll find the marks from the drum that broke his skull and they'll guess that it also snapped the joint underneath for the way that it fell."

She reached to put her arm around Dusty and when he looked at her, she said, "When you were crying inside earlier, I just knew that today wasn't the first time that he hurt you. I wiped the grease mark from your cheek and I saw that he must have hit you earlier. I found that it bothered me and with a little thought, I came to the idea that he liked to use you too - from the way that he spoke to us when he saw us coming.

He's the kind that likes to use other people who can't stand up to him, women and men. I'm right, aren't I?"

Dusty looked down, but he nodded.

"Never mind," she said, "It's over and he's gone. There's only two ways to stop pricks like that and the first one was out, since he wasn't smart enough to take the hint that I'd hurt him as soon as look at him. I can take care of myself most times, but you're not like that, Dusty and I suddenly wanted you to be free of him.

The question to my mind is, how much do you like Hunter? Has he ever given you the idea that he'd like to do more than smile when he says 'good morning' to you when he comes in here in the morning?"

Dusty looked over in a fair degree of shock, "Ruthie, how did you know ... I mean, ... no, not really. I just think that he might like me, but ..."

"But you really like him, don't you?" she asked, "Dusty, it doesn't matter which way we are or what's in our pants. I just know that you're the same as me. We'd both like a man and we'd both want Hunter.

He likes men too, you know, "she said in a whisper that he had to strain to hear, "I know that from talking to my brother Terry. I know what they like to do sometimes if they get the chance."

She turned then, looking around quickly to see if anyone was looking, "So what I'd like to know is, do you want him?

Close your beautiful eyes and think for a second. Tell me if you'd want him to hold you close, because I'm pretty sure that I can make it so that we can both have him - if you'll try to share with me, because if I can ever fix what's wrong between him and me, I think that's what I'd want."

Dusty looked at her - right into her eyes and he nodded.

"But how did you do all of that - what I saw you do?"

She shrugged, "Old family secret. You can't ever tell anybody, Dusty. Besides, who'd believe that a little girl like I am could ever do something like that?

And anyway. If you can keep that secret, then I'll do what I can so that we can all be happy."

"I don't think that I like girls," he admitted.

"Depends," she smiled at him, "Close your eyes and relax."

Dusty had no clue what she wanted with him, but he found out within the next few seconds that it wasn't so much what he'd thought it was, not the way that she kissed him.

The way that Ruthie leaned into him hungrily in a very slow way left no doubt about who was in charge. When she was done with her demonstration, Dusty was like a puddle in the seat.

"I never ..."

"It's not a big deal," she smiled softly, "I'm pretty sure that the way that we are - you and me - we can be great uh, ... I almost want to say girlfriends, but that's not right. Have you ever had a really close friend, one that you can do anything with?"

He shook his head, "I've always felt kind of alone. Most guys don't ... I always feel like I have to hide myself. It doesn't make for close friendships."

Ruthie nodded, "You won't have to hide anything with me. If we can be that kind of friends, then anything else - well you just let me try. Would you just love it if Hunter took you in his arms to kiss you and then after a minute, you felt his hand on your butt?"