The Flying Cavalier

by Gilbert, Morris

  “And so the knight rescued the princess from the evil dragon.”

  “And did they get married and live happily ever after?”

  “Oh yes!” Jo said. “They loved each other very much, and they were very happy.”

  Gabby’s voice was sleepy, but she persisted. “And did they have any little boys and girls?”

  “They had one boy and one girl.”

  “What color was their hair?”

  “One had red hair,” Jo smiled, “and the other had blond hair. They were the most beautiful children in all the world.”

  “Did they ever fight?”

  “Sometimes they had disagreements, but they loved each other, and they always worked them out.”

  “Tell me another story.”

  “Which one?”

  “Tell me a story about when you were a little girl just my age.”

  Jo began another story, a simple tale of her childhood. As her voice went on, Lance thought, She’s a beautiful woman and has a heart filled with love.

  When the story was over, Gabby sighed and held closely to Jo. “I like your stories.”

  “I’m glad you do, Gabby. I like to tell them to you.”

  “You know,” Gabby said slowly, and with some hesitation, “when you’re around, it’s like having a real mother. It really is!”

  Lance was moved by the simple statement of his daughter. He saw Jo hold her close, and he also saw that her eyes were gleaming with tears. He must have moved because Jo suddenly looked up, and a startled expression crossed her face.

  “Oh, it’s you, Lance.”

  “Papa!” Gabby was off of Jo’s lap in a moment and came flying to Lance. He caught her outstretched arms, and lifting her up, he waltzed her around the room. “Well, you two have been having a good time, I see.”

  “We’ve been telling each other stories,” Gabby said, “but Jo knows more than I do.”

  “Well, she’s older than you are. By the time you’re an old lady like she is”—Lance winked at Jo—“you’ll have so many stories you won’t get through them all.”

  “You tell us a story, Papa.”

  “Oh, I’m not very good at that!” he protested.

  “Yes, you are. Come. You promised.”

  “Yes. Let’s hear one of your stories,” Jo smiled. “You’ve been listening to mine. Tell us a story about Lance Winslow and what a naughty boy he was.”

  “You don’t know who you’re talking to,” Lance said. He sat down on the sofa while Jo resumed her seat in the chair. He held Gabby on his lap and said, “There was once a young boy named Lance Winslow. He was the very best boy in all of England. He never did anything wrong, and his parents were very proud of him. He got many medals for being the best boy in town, and pretty soon they were so heavy he couldn’t wear them all.”

  Jo smiled as Lance went on with his outlandish story. Her eyes went to Gabby’s face, and she thought, She loves her father so much, and it’s a miracle to see how she’s blossoming with the attention he pays her now.

  Finally Lance ended the story and said, “So the king proclaimed Lance Winslow Day for the best little boy in all of England.”

  “Were you really that good, Papa?” Gabby’s eyes were large with astonishment, and her mouth was wide open as she waited for his answer.

  “Well, maybe I stretched the truth a little bit. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t that good at all. Next time I’ll tell you a story about what a naughty boy I was. Now, suppose you tell us a story. Both Jo and me.”

  The storytelling went on until suppertime. Pierre Laurent could not help but be happy as he saw how Lance had changed so completely. His eyes met those of his wife more than once, and when he was helping her later with the dishes, said, “Lance is a completely different man. He’s like the old Lance, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is,” Katherine said. She handed him a dish and added, “It’s not that he’s forgotten Noelle. He talks about her quite naturally now, but he’s accepted the fact that she’s gone. I never thought he would, but God has brought him through it.”

  After supper they sat around and played records and Lance played several games of draughts with Gabby, allowing her to win quite often. Her squeals of delight every time she jumped a man filled the room.

  Finally it was bedtime, and Gabby insisted that both Lance and Jo put her to bed. They supervised as she brushed her teeth, and Jo helped her put her nightgown on. When she was in bed, she begged for another story. Lance said firmly, “Tomorrow I’ll tell you the best story you ever heard as soon as I get home. As a matter of fact, tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ll be here all day. I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to church, and afterward we’ll go on a picnic, and then we’ll come home and fix supper. Just you and me and Jo.”

  “Oh, Papa, that would be fine! Would you say a prayer for me?”

  Lance bowed his head and suddenly felt Jo’s hand come into his. He squeezed it and said, “Father, I thank you for our family. I thank you for this daughter of mine who means so much to me. I pray that she will grow up to be a fine handmaiden of the Lord just as her mother was.” He hesitated and then added, “And just as Jo is.” He felt Jo’s hand close on his, and when he said amen, he turned to see that her eyes were glistening with tears. She turned away and left the room. After he had tucked Gabby in and shut the door, he went back downstairs to the parlor. When he walked in, he said, “Is something wrong, Jo?”

  Jo had obviously been moved, for she shook her head. “No. Just a silly woman.” She hesitated and said, “Would you like to keep me company?” Lance smiled, and she said, “Sit down, Lance.”

  “No. You must be tired and want to get home.”

  “No. I haven’t worked any today. I gave the day to myself. Bedford and Gabby and I went down to the river. She had the best time. I wish you could have been there.”

  “We’ll go back tomorrow,” he said.

  A stillness came over the room, and Jo felt that Lance was withholding something. He had been happy, but now something seemed to be troubling him.

  “Is something wrong, Lance?” she asked.

  The lamp on the end table threw its reflections on Jo’s features. Her face was seemingly touched by a sliver of the light, and her eyes seemed to reach out and touch him. She was warm and beautiful before him, fair and constant, and somehow he knew that she was waiting for him. He spoke her name quietly, and then saw a flicker of hope come into her eyes.

  Jo was aware of his nearness. She stood and waited for him to come to her. His arms went around her, and she put her own arms around his neck. When he lowered his head and put his lips on hers, she suddenly realized, I’ve been waiting for this so long.

  The kiss was not prolonged, and Lance was the first to draw back. He stood looking into her eyes and knew that she was stirred even as he was.

  “Do you feel what I feel, Jo?”

  Jo did not have to ask what he meant. Faint color stained her cheeks, but there was a possession in her expression, a look of joy and excitement. “I love you, Lance. I think I have for a long time.”

  Lance simply held her again. They stood there for a long time holding each other, and then he drew back and said, “You know what this is like, Jo?”

  “What? What’s it like?”

  “It’s like a melody I heard long ago but had forgotten. Now it’s all come back.”

  Jo said quietly, “I know you loved Noelle very much.”

  “Yes, I did, and I nearly destroyed myself when I lost her. I will always have a place in my heart for her. Does that bother you?”

  “Of course not, Lance. I honor you for it. If you loved one woman that much, I think you can love another.”

  “I do love another,” Lance said. He kissed her again, and the two sat down.

  Then they began to talk, making plans, and there was life and excitement in Lance Winslow such as Jo had never seen, and she was glad for it. She knew that the same happiness was bubbling up in her, and she held his hand tightly, feeling a lo
ve she had never known.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Deadly Mission

  Commander Samuel Steel stood bolt upright and refused the chair Lance Winslow offered him. He was the epitome of what an RFC officer should look like. As a matter of fact, his likeness had been used on recruiting posters with a few wrinkles taken out and the silver hair in his temples removed. He had piercing blue eyes that his pilots swore could penetrate one inch of tool steel, and his jaw was as strong as the Rock of Gibraltar. He had the reputation of being a man as tough as any of the armies that were lined up against each other, and now he said abruptly, “Who’s the best pilot on your station, Captain Winslow?”

  For a moment Lance hesitated. “Do you mean for steadiness or for daring?”

  “I would like to have both, but let’s say daring.”

  “I would have to say that Lieutenant Logan Smith would fit that description, sir.”

  A light touched the frosty eyes of Commander Steel. “The one they call Cowboy Smith. He’s compiled quite a record. How many kills does he have now?”

  “Twenty-nine, sir.”

  “Well, if he’s survived this long, perhaps he has the other element besides skill and daring that the man I’m looking for must have.”

  “And what’s that, Commander?”

  “Luck.” Commander Steel’s lips suddenly grew even tighter, and he lowered his head slightly, as if he were about to ram it through an oak door. “I’ve got to have a man who’s tough and lucky. I hate to put it this way, but the man I’m looking for has got to be able to lay his life on the line.”

  “My pilots do that every time they go up, Commander Steel,” Lance said testily. “I think you know that.”

  Instantly Steel apologized. “I didn’t mean to put it that way. Of course you’re right. The only thing is there’s a special mission that has to be accomplished. I’m sending out six pilots, all from different aerodromes. They won’t fly in formation. Each of them will fly alone.”

  “May I ask what the mission is?”

  “The Jerries are building up their forces somewhere west of Verdun,” Steel said. His eyes half closed, and he shook his head doubtfully. “You’d think they had fought themselves out. They must have lost half a million men at Verdun, but our informants tell us that they’re shifting around. We think they’re going to hit us again, this time even worse.”

  Alarm swept across Winslow’s face. “If it’s worse than Verdun, I’d hate to think about it.”

  “Exactly. So we’ve got to find out what they’re doing. But the problem is, from all reports, they’re screening their movements. Every fighter aircraft they can put up is flying full patrols. It wouldn’t do any good to send a mass attack to get them. Half of our fellows wouldn’t get back, and what we need now are not new Aces but information.” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully and said, “Cowboy Smith. An American, as I understand it.”

  “Yes. He was an actual cowboy. Very fine pilot.”

  “What’s his temperament?”

  For a moment Lance hesitated. “I’m afraid it’s deteriorated. He was a sunny, good-natured chap when he arrived. Came through the Foreign Legion, don’t you know. He’s gotten—well, hard. As if he doesn’t care.”

  “I know what you mean. Many of our pilots get that way. They don’t last long, usually, when that happens. In any case, if you recommend him, I’d like to talk with him.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll send for him.”

  Fifteen minutes later Commander Steel stood face to face with the pilot who had come through the door. He prided himself on being a man of quick and instant judgment, and he was favorably impressed with this one. He took in the lithe, smooth, muscled body, the darkly tanned skin, the crisp brown hair with a slight curl, and most of all the strange, indigo-colored eyes. Never saw eyes that color, he thought. Most unusual.

  “At ease, Lieutenant. We’ll make this rather informal, since it’s a strange request I have to make.”

  Logan allowed himself to lose his rigid pose. He had been lying on his bunk staring at the ceiling when an orderly had come with the message, “The captain wants to see you at once.”

  Now as he stood there, his eyes darted once to Lance Winslow. The captain, he saw, was tense. Must be bad if Winslow’s having difficulty with it, he thought.

  “Lieutenant, look at this.” Steel walked over to the map on the wall that showed the entire war zone, all the way from Switzerland, where the trenches began, up to Ghent, close to the North Sea. “You’ve been keeping up with what went on at Verdun, of course?”

  “Yes, sir. Bad business. A lot of good men lost.”

  “Exactly, but we’re afraid that we’re going to have something else come at us, but we don’t know where from.” Steel went on to explain the situation, stressing the importance of gaining information on troop movements.

  “At first I purposed to send every plane we had in a mass flight, but we would lose so many that way and, perhaps, find out nothing. The value of the Air Service, partially, at least, is to gather information. So what we’re going to do is send out a number of planes, six or more, from different aerodromes. We’ve already discovered that the Huns are guarding most of this area more carefully than usual. As a matter of fact, our fliers found out that it’s like sticking their heads into a beehive.”

  Staring thoughtfully at the map, Logan nodded. “That means they don’t want us to know what’s going on.”

  “Exactly right! But we’ve got to know what’s going on. Our men are scattered out over a four-hundred-mile area. If they’re going to be hit by the Jerries, we’ve got to move them quickly. If they break through, they could take Paris. I don’t know. Perhaps it could mean the war.”

  “And you’re asking me to be one of these pilots, I take it, Commander?”

  “I’d like to put it on a volunteer basis if possible. If not, of course, I shall have to name someone.”

  “No need for that,” Logan said quickly. “I’ll do the best I can, Commander Steel.”

  Pleasure washed across the commander’s face. He came over and put his hand out. “You come highly recommended from your commanding officer, Smith, and you’ve made quite a name for yourself. This time I will be personally very grateful for what you’re doing.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s why I came to France.”

  “I must warn you of one thing. This is no time to increase your score. We want your plane to be in absolute top condition, and if you are spotted, run for it. Hide in the clouds. Shake them off. Then go back and see what you can spot. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Certainly.”

  “Now, I will have my adjutant, Lieutenant Carruthers, instruct you on what exactly to look for. Some of it, of course, you will already know, but we need specific information. I want troop movements, trains, artillery being moved. Lieutenant Carruthers will fill you in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I’ll send my aide over right away.”

  “When would you like for me to leave?”

  Steel made a grimace. “I’m afraid right away. It’s an urgent matter. Is your plane in fit condition?”

  “Very fit, sir. No problem about that at all.”

  “Very well. You will take off several hours before dawn. Go over the enemy lines and at first fly high. You won’t be able to make out all that you need to see. That’ll mean going down, and that will mean being spotted. I have no advice to give you, Lieutenant Smith. You’re a pretty tough fellow, or you wouldn’t have compiled your record. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Both men saluted as Steel returned it and then left the room.

  “Well, Logan, it looks like a tough operation,” Lance said slowly. “I would take it myself, only . . . well, I feel you’re better fitted for it.”

  “No need for that, Captain.”

  “You understand he asked me for my best pilot before he told me the mission, and I gave him your name. If I had known, I might have—”

  “I’m pleased th
at you trusted me, Captain Winslow.”

  But Lance Winslow was troubled. “It’s going to be a touchy thing. Don’t take any unnecessary chances. Just get the information. Run and hide. It’s not a matter of cowardice. Those are orders. I know you’re impulsive, Logan, but this time the information is more important than anything else.”

  “Yes, I understand that, sir. I’d better go, if you don’t mind, and go over my ship with Brown.”

  “Better have him say an extra prayer for you, and I’ll be doing the same myself.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  ****

  “What’s wrong, Lance? You haven’t said a word all night.”

  Lance looked over at Danielle, who had come to sit down beside him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “Dani, I was just thinking.”

  “Is it trouble?” Danielle asked quietly. “I know it’s always trouble. There’s nothing easy about your job.”

  “Just something going on with the squadron that I have to deal with.” He tried to smile and said, “Well, you told me once that you never had a brother, and that you always wanted one. I’d like to think that you have one now. That’s what I’d like to be. I always did.”

  “I know,” Danielle nodded and then laughed slightly. “I can accept that now. So you have to take care of yourself, big brother.” She saw that he was still troubled and knew that there were some things he could not share with her.

  “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Oh, I’ll be leaving very early. Probably about two or three.”

  “So early? I’ll get up and fix your breakfast.”

  “No need for that,” he protested. “I don’t mind a bit.”

  She ignored his protests and left him. She set her clock that night, and by the time she woke up and dressed and went downstairs, she found Lance already stirring. “A big breakfast this time,” she said. “Just sit down and let me pamper you.”

  Lance nodded. “I’ll take all I can get. I hope you’ll instruct Jo on the care and feeding of a husband.”