The ten-year-old girl looked up and saw a crippled biplane fall out of the sky like a wounded hawk. Down, down, down it dropped until …. CRASH. She dropped her doll and ran as fast as she could toward the wrecked biplane.
It was the moment that would change her life and her little Tennessee town forever.
Capt. Eddie Borsworth had shot down 14 Germans in the Great War. He had come home from Europe a hero and barnstormed all across the United State cashing in on that fame. This morning he was delivering the mail to Knoxville. But his Jenny JN-4 biplane had a different idea. At the altitude of right under 5,000 ft. (just clipping the mountain tops of the Great Smokies), smoke began pouring from the plane’s Curtis OX-5 engine. He thought about bailing out for a moment but knew the rocky terrain below wouldn’t be very welcoming. He saw an open field to his left. And down he went. He gripped his St. Jude medal and said his final prayer. The last thing he remember was the crashing of tree limbs as he clipped them on his way down. And the world went black.
The little girl ran into the wreckage and saw the man unconscious in his cockpit. She pulled the straps lose and pulled at his parachute. He started to slide but she wasn’t strong enough. Another set of hand reached in from behind and helped her pull as strong as she could. Her grandfather helped the singed pilot to safely.
“Go get Doc Crowder. Tell him we got a man in pretty bad shape who needs his help immediately.”
The little girl felt her lungs burn as she ran toward the small mountain town.
“You’re a lucky man.”
Those were the first words the pilot heard as he groggily opened his eyes. “Where am I?”
“Not where you were headed, son. I’m afraid your Jenny is in worse shape than you are. Best I can tell you suffered a concussion, a broken left arm and some 1st-degree burns. Could have been worse. Good news is that you’re alive. Bad news is that you ain’t heading anywhere any time soon. I’m Doc Crowder. I’ll be helping you get well.”
The pilot groggily said, “How long have I been out?”
“Four days. We sent a telegraph to Knoxville to let them know you were alive. They’ll send a truck in a week or so.”
“Where am I?”
“Widow Francis’ house. Her father and daughter saved you the other day. The little girl’s a hero.”
The pilot saw a skinny, freckled little girl grinning from ear to ear. The old man patted her on the back. The pilot feebly said, “Thank you dear.”
“What’s your name, sir?” the little girl said.
“Eddie Borsworth. I’m from Buffalo, NY. My friends call me Ace. What’s your name?”
“Dorothy.”
“Well, hello Dorothy. Thank you for keeping form turning into bacon.”
A tall, slender brunette woman walked into the room. Ace’s eyes opened wide. “Dorothy, go get ready for dinner. Mr. Borsworth needs his rest.”
Dorothy’s mother, Lenore had lost her husband in Battle of Cantigny, the first American offensive of World War I. The day she received the telegram, a part of her died with him. And from that day in 1918 on, she became a cold, stern woman. But Dorothy brought her joy. She was the one part of her husband who was still alive.
A knock on the door brought the sheriff. Sheriff Thomas Riley was also a veteran of the Great War. And in his mind, was a perfect husband for Lenore. Lenore, however had different plans. She did not want to marry a thug and a bully.
“Hello Beautiful. How are you? Flowers? So this is the fallen eagle? Hope he flies better than he lands.”
Ace looked at the man and instantly realized there was a lot not to like about the sheriff. And if looks could kill, Ace would have had his 15th kill.
“Go home sheriff,” Lenore said,” We got this under control.” The sheriff wedged his fat arm into the door, keeping it from closing.
“Go home.” Ace said cooly.
“Now I don’t think you’re in much position to do much about it, flyboy.” The sheriff grinned.
“Go home.” Ace said again.
The sheriff looked at the doc and the grandfather and said, “Good night good people.”
A week passed and the truck did not come. A hard rain had washed the road out over the pass, so Ace stayed on the farm and helped Lenore with what chores he could. A week turned into a month and soon, his arm came out of the sling.
“Tell me about this boyfriend of yours,” Ace smiled as he drank his coffee.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a thug. He rules the town like a bully. He came back from the war and has held us hostage ever since. No one is brave enough to stand up to him. He shakes down the merchants for protection money. It’s horrible. He’s horrible.”
Ace smiled. He had known many people like the sheriff. And didn’t like them. “He sure seems sweet on you.”
Lenore glared at him and continued talking.
“Today’s the day we have to go into town to get supplies. Will you join us? Dad and Dorothy would love your company.”
“Sure.”
The wagon rolled into the little town and Grandpa parked it by the General Store. All of them got off and started to walk across the street. But before they could reach the store, Ace looked up to find they were surrounded by four men and the Sheriff. “Hi, Lenore. It’s time for our date.”
Grandpa jumped between his daughter and the sheriff. “Stay away from my daughter, you son of a bitch.” The sheriff responded by pistol-whipping the old man in the face, knocking him cold. “GRANDPA!” Dorothy screamed!
“It’s not nice to talk to the law like that, old man.” The sheriff growled.
One of the sheriff’s deputies grabbed the little girl’s arm. She screamed.
“Let her go.” Ace said quietly.
“WOOOOOOOOOO” the other men said in unison. “We’re so scared.
A blur of motion and the sound of flesh hitting flesh was Ace’s response. Three of the men lay on the ground, in pain. The fourth let go of the girl and lunged at Ace. Ace punched him in the chin with his good arm, knocking him out, too. Then a gunshot and pain knocked him back.
The sheriff had shot him in his broken arm.
“You should have died in that plane, flyboy. But you’ll die right here instead.” The sheriff cocked his pistol again and pointed it at Ace’s head.
Ace got up from the ground and stared down the fat man. He had stared down death before many times over the French skies. Today was no different.
Suddenly there was a bone-crunching whack and the Sheriff crumbled to his knees. He fell to the ground and onto his gun. It went off, killing him instantly.
Dorothy stood there holding a board.
“You saved me a second time. I think you’re my hero.” Ace said as he held his bleeding arm and clutched his St. Jude medal. He then handed it to Dorothy. “And here’s your medal.”
Lenore rushed over and grabbed her daughter. She looked down at the dead bully and then looked at Ace. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”
“Well, ma’am, it looks like I’ll be hanging around a little while longer,” Ace said, pointing to his blood soaked shirt. Doc Crowder ran out with his kit. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Lenore looked at the man who had saved her and her daughter. As her heart thawed, she said, “No. In fact, I think I’d kind of like it.”
Grandpa woke up and looked at all the bodies lying around him and said, “Did I miss something?” He rubbed his jaw and said, “Did I get hit by the train?”
They all stood in the middle of the freed town and laughed.
The truck never had to come for Eddie “Ace” Bornsworth. He married Lenore a year later and settled down on her small East Tennessee farm. Ten months after that Dorothy welcomed a little sister in the world named Jenny. They, like the town they had saved from the sheriff, lived happily ever after. All thanks to the hero who fell from the sky.
