Had he hit a sore spot?He gestured at the plane.
“How much?”He had enough on him to pay a reasonable price for it and have enough left to keep it fueled, he hoped.Rita must have some walking around money, too.
The woman bit her lip, clearly not wanting to ask too much or too little.Con glanced around.It wasn’t just the plane at risk of neglect.She could probably use the money, if only to get away from here.
It was better for her to sell the plane fast, before it had time to deteriorate.He did some mental math, based on what he knew of costs back then.He might have researched the Pitts more than he needed but it was coming in handy now.
“I expect it took him a couple of thousand to build it.”He looked at her.“Would you consider taking that?”
He’d noted the flare of hope and surprise—and that flash of annoyance again.Bet she hadn’t known how much it had cost him to build it.
“I wish I could offer you more,” he added.He did.
After a long hesitation, she nodded.“There’s fuel in those barrels.Take what you need.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
He caught a curious look on Rita’s face but it quickly disappeared back behind her polite mask.
Con walked around the plane again, waiting until he was out of their sight to extract the necessary bills from the money belt hidden under his shirt.
He walked back to join them, holding out the cash.
“I probably need something to prove I didn’t steal it,” he suggested with a grin.
“I’ll sign something,” she agreed.
“Why don’t you go with her, Rita, and take care of that while I get her ready to go.”
Rita nodded, turning with what might have been reluctance, to follow the woman into the house.
Con turned back to the Pitts, his Pitts for now.He touched it with a friendly hand, his lips twitching at the name on the fuselage.
Stinks.
Stinker had been the name given the first Pitts Special.A lot of the later ones built had been named with variations on that.
It fit.He was stuck in the past, couldn’t contact the future, and had no idea what to do next.That stunk.But it would help his mood to get airborne.
He investigated inside the barn, knowing there had to be charts and such.They needed a direction and more important than that, landing fields with fuel.
Like the plane, this space was orderly, indicating a man who had loved flying as much as Con.
He checked through everything, taking what he thought they’d need.He stowed what he could fit into the plane, unable to resist giving it a pat of approval.
“So you’re a pilot,” Rita spoke behind him.Her tone was more of confirming something she’d wondered.
He turned and she held out the paper giving him ownership of the plane.
“Didn’t seem important,” he said.He took the paper, folded it, and stuck into his shirt pocket.“Didn’t have a plane.”
She stepped up and touched the side, as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real.Now that they were alone, she wasn’t hiding how she felt about it.
It was a far cry from what she’d be used to, alien or not.
“It’s…interesting.”
He had a feeling that wasn’t what she wanted to call it.
