Read Cassada for Free Online Page B

slightly on the expansion joints in the concrete. Tentatively, as if it might be ignored, one of the farmboys waved and Cassada, a god, arm resting on the cockpit railing, raised it and waved back. He was at last all he had dreamed of. The wave, he knew, had been recognition. Both boys were waving now, their arms jerking wildly. Dumfries had not seen them.
    Cassada’s parking spot was at the far end of the line. Dumfries waited at the edge of the ramp as he came trotting, his helmet still on to keep his ears warm. The snow was coming down harder. To the west it was white, earth and sky had vanished. It was a dry snow, small and hard, blowing along the ground like ashes, consuming the trees. The only place it was sticking was in the grass.
    Joking, feeling good, they hung up their equipment and went into the briefing room, working the cold out of their faces.
    â€œWow,” Cassada said, grinning.
    â€œGood thing you heard that call, ordering us back.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t think it could go bad that quick. The weather.”
    Wickenden had walked in behind them carrying some letters he’d just received in his hand. He stood there, flicking the envelopes with his thumb.
    â€œWe just barely beat it in here, Captain,” Cassada told him excitedly. “You could see the snow, big wall of it, right out to the west.”
    â€œI don’t know about beating it in,” Wickenden said, “but when you pulled out of here you blew stuff all over the place. You must have been using ninety percent.”
    â€œNo, sir,” Cassada said.
    â€œDon’t say, ‘No, sir.’ I was watching it. I saw a pair of chocks go flying twenty feet.”
    â€œNo, sir,” Cassada told him. “I don’t know how much I used, but it wasn’t over fifty or sixty. It wasn’t even that.”
    â€œThe hell it wasn’t.”
    â€œIt was fifty or sixty percent at most.”
    â€œWould you like to make that an official statement?”
    â€œOfficial statement?”
    â€œYes. You know what that is? You can get court-martialed for making a false official statement.”
    â€œI’ll make any kind of statement you want.”
    â€œJust watch what you’re doing,” Wickenden warned. He left the room.
    Cassada looked down at his shoes. He kicked a little at something that wasn’t there. Then, silent, his face expressionless, he began to take his flying gloves off, intent, pulling at the tip of each finger with his teeth to loosen the clinging leather.
    â€œWell . . .” Dumfries began.
    Cassada glanced at him.
    â€œYou’ll get used to it,” Dumfries said. “That’s just the way he is.”
    Cassada said nothing. Finally he let out a sigh.
    They stood near one of the radiators and talked about the flight, the earlier part of it. The snow was coming down more and more densely, curling as it neared the ground, sweeping along. Cassada was looking at it moodily, nodding every so often at something Dumfries said.
    â€œDon’t let it bother you,” Dumfries advised toward the end.
    â€œIt isn’t that,” Cassada said after a moment. He slapped his gloves against his leg, staring blankly at the spot. “It’s not just that. If he doesn’t want to believe me, then don’t ask me. It’s the same as being called a liar. I’m not a liar.”
    â€œThat’s just the way he talks. It’s different than in the other flights.”

Dunning sat down in Isbell’s office with a broad smile, laced his fingers across his stomach, and stretched out his legs. He had been looking at the flying time chart. “We got them this month, all right, Tommy,” he said.
    â€œYes, sir. I think we do.”
    â€œWait till Pine finds out.”
    It was the end of the month. They had outflown everyone, the yellowtails especially. “It would be nice to beat them for the year,” Dunning added.
    â€œIf we get