"Sorry to hear that," replied Zeke. "Maybe she'll get better and we can still meet in Midland as planned. I'll put them in my prayers."
They reached the Boeing as Max Grephardt killed the power to the number four engine. Zeke grabbed the release handle along the bottom of the fuselage and dropped the access door. He stuck his head inside and yelled: "Anybody home?"
"Ja," came a loud voice from inside. "Wait there, I will be right out."
"Typical German efficiency,” mused Zeke to Micah. "He must have already finished the post checks. Guess he’s trying to show me up."
Movement could be heard inside the interior of the large craft before a short aluminum ladder eased its way out. Then a pair of highly-shined black western boots, followed by heavily starched Wranglers emerged from the open hatch.
With a natural ease Max Grephardt stepped off the last rung and onto the ground, stooping to move from under the forward fuselage. Like so many other Germans of his generation, he had an infatuation with the American West and everything to do with it. That explained the boots, jeans and the black western long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. On his closely-cropped head of silver hair perched a blue baseball cap displaying the CAF ‘Ghost Squadron’ logo.
"Hello Micah, it is very good to see you," said Max as the two men shook hands.
"Max, you look fit. How do you like flying the B-17?"
"Well, I guess I like it fine. However, I never believed I would be flying one," he grinned, an ironic twinkle in his ice blue eyes. "Do you mind being my passenger to the Midland Air Show?"
"No, sir, I certainly don't," replied the highway patrolman.
"Good!" Max replied in his typical enthusiasm. “Ezekiel and I plan to fly each other’s aircraft when we come in. It should be a real surprise to anyone who knows us once they realize just who is in what.”
Micah chuckled lightly, thinking of his own reaction only a few minutes before. “You certainly surprised me, twice” he admitted. Max and Tio Zeke glanced at each other in knowing fashion and laughed.
The German stepped back a bit, taking in a full view of Micah in his DPS uniform. "You look very professional, Micah, a credit to your agency and to your state."
"Well, Tio Zeke said you wanted to take a photo. Thought I’d look my best for the occasion." Some of Max's friends back home were anxious to see that peace officers in Texas, even in the year of 1990, still actually wore cowboy hats and boots. It was yet another example of their curious fascination with the American West, and especially with the enduring customs and traditions of the Lone Star state.
"Ja, I want to show everyone back in Germany what a real Texas Ranger looks like."
Tio Zeke snorted and Micah hastened to try to explain to Max that he was not a Texas Ranger, but rather a Texas Highway Patrolman. Yes, highway patrolmen were offered the chance to promote to ranger if they chose to, and both services were closely related elements of the same agency. But they were distinctly different in manners of dress, methods of operation and assigned responsibilities.
It was not the first time that Micah had attempted to explain this to Max, but for some unknown reason he just refused to grasp the concept. Sometimes Micah wondered if the whole affair was yet another one of those inside jokes that Max and Tio Zeke shared only with each other, like their idea of switching aircraft at the air show. They always seemed to be involved in hatching some sort of private plot or another.
The three men turned to the tasks that needed done, checking the aircraft over and making certain that both would be secure for the night and ready to go next morning. After Max had taken his photographs, Micah had removed both the offending tie and wool shirt, along with the uncomfortable body armor and placed them inside the Ramcharger. Before donning some gray overalls given to him by a License & Weight troop, he also secured his heavy Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum and Sam Browne belt in the Dodge's console.
As they worked together Max asked about Jack, as well as Abby and their two sons. In response, Micah said the boys were on deployment overseas and with the current world situation, would likely be so for some time. Abby had driven to Midland earlier that morning and would meet them in the designated CAF section of the airport tomorrow. She had never flown in The Uvalde Raider, yet had always wanted to. This was supposed to be the year, but with Jack and Sally having to rush to Amarillo she thought it best to take a vehicle to Midland, just in case.
Tio Zeke listened as Micah outlined the change in plans before commenting. "Better tell her not wait too much longer, Micah. Max and I aren’t getting any younger."
Max nodded his head silently in agreement. It was the first time Micah had ever heard his uncle speak this way, and the remark made him pause and consider. He had always looked upon his uncle and Max as being as timeless and durable as the two aircraft now parked serenely around them.
To him, neither seemed to have changed much over the years. Perhaps an extra touch of gray in the thinning hair, deeper creases in their faces and a bit more leisurely in their gait and physical movements. But they were still the same men, still larger than life in everything they did. They were just a day or two older.
"Oh, come on Tio,” protested Micah good naturedly. “You and Max are as good
