The Darling Dahlias and the Texas Star

“She could do the work?” Verna asked in surprise. “Wingwalking seems . . . specialized.”


“Mabel and Bess had worked together as trapeze artists in a Florida-based circus,” Raylene said. “And she was always out at the airfield when her sister was practicing. I don’t suppose that part of it was hard for her. But flying with Lily—”

“That must have been hard,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I wonder how she could do it.”

Raylene nodded. “Anyway, as Lily was telling me about the letters and telegrams, I got the feeling—” She broke off, glancing almost apologetically at Verna. “I got the very strong feeling that Mabel was behind it. I didn’t want to say anything to Lily—and anyway, she wouldn’t believe me. She was focused on Rex Hart.” She turned to Liz. “Is there anything you and Verna can do to help straighten this out?”

“I don’t know what we could do,” Liz said helplessly. “We don’t know everyone involved and we—”

But Verna’s mind was already racing through the possibilities. “Wait, Liz,” she said. “Let’s think about this for a minute. There might be a way.”

Raylene pushed back her chair. “If you can help, I’d be grateful,” she said. “I don’t blame Lily for being afraid. If I were in her shoes, I’d feel that way, too.” She stood up and smiled down at them. “Myra May is going to start yelling at me any minute now. I’d better get back to work.”

She had walked no more than a few paces when Myra May stuck her head out of the kitchen and called “Raylene! Hey, Raylene, we need you back here.”

Liz nudged Verna. “See?” she whispered. “Psychic.” Verna rolled her eyes and Liz laughed. “Okay, Verna,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

In a low voice, Verna told Liz what she had in mind.

Liz listened, frowning a little. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Do you really think she’ll go for it?”

“Have you got a better idea?” Verna countered.

“I’m fresh out,” Liz confessed. “I’m not sure yours will work, Verna, but we don’t have a lot of choices. I guess we ought to give it a try. Where do we start? And when?”

“We have to start with Mildred,” Verna said. “And the sooner, the better.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They took their cups to the counter and said good-bye to Myra May, who was filling catsup bottles. As they went out the door, Verna found herself humming, “Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate . . .”

As they went out on the square, they heard the clattering, metallic thunder of an airplane engine. They looked up and instinctively ducked, for the plane seemed to be coming straight at them along Robert E. Lee, not a hundred feet above the buildings and trees. As it came closer, Darling citizens spilled out of their houses, offices, and shops onto the street. Men stamped and whistled, women gasped, girls shrieked, boys shouted, dogs barked, pigeons and blackbirds squawked and fluttered, horns blared. Down the street, hitched to the rail in front of Hancock’s Grocery, Leroy Whittle’s old white mare Dolly reared up, whinnying and pawing the air with her forelegs more wildly than she ever had in her filly days. Mr. Whittle barreled out of the store and grabbed Dolly’s bridle to calm her down. He raised his fist at the sky and yelled, “Dad-blasted airplanes! You got the sense of a goose, flyin’ into town and scarin’ the horses! Whoa there, Dolly. Whoa, you old nag!”

The airplane was towing a large red and white advertising banner that screamed: Sky Rides TODAY. And perched on the top wing of the bi-plane, in a red bathing suit that bared her long legs and revealed other attention-getting attributes, was Angel Flame. As Verna and Lizzy watched, she began throwing handfuls of white cards into the air. They fluttered down like small white birds. One fell at Verna’s feet and she stooped to pick it up.

“Write your name on this card,” she read aloud, “and deposit it in the basket at Kilgore’s Motors for the drawing, 3:30 p.m. Sunday. Winner receives one free airplane ride after the show.”

“Clever advertising,” Liz remarked admiringly, still following the flight of the plane as it swooped overhead. “A good way to get people to pay to come to the show.”

Behind them, Mr. Musgrove had come out of the hardware store and was peering nearsightedly into the sky. “I’ll be dad-blamed,” he muttered, under his breath. “That woman up there, she’s near naked! She better watch out. She’ll get sunburnt.”

At that moment, the airplane made a sweeping turn and began another earsplitting pass over the street. On the ground, there was more stamping, whistling, gasping, shrieking, shouting, barking, squawking, honking, and whinnying.

And high in the air, on the wing of the airplane, Angel Flame did a handstand.





SEVENTEEN




Who Is Raylene Riggs?