Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The race became largely uneventful once the planes were guarded around the clock. After they were delayed by storms in Texas, the weather cleared for the next three days.
With Marvel’s plane out of the race, the planes were more evenly matched, but Louise Thaden gradually pulled ahead, gaining a little time every leg.
The last night of the race, they laid over in St. Louis.
There they endured a big parade, an endless banquet, and even an airing of the movie The Flying Fool, which Pancho had flown the stunts for the previous spring.
Its title provoked a fair amount of ribbing from the other women, but they did allow that she’d performed some spectacular acrobatics.
The women were exhausted, having run most of the past eight days on two to three hours of sleep per night while dealing with extreme heat, huge crowds, dangerous flying conditions, threats to their lives, and the loss of Marvel.
The moment the cars dropped them off, they headed up to bed.
But Pancho didn’t feel sleepy and wandered back down to the hotel lobby and ended up sitting on the hotel’s front steps, looking up at the night sky.
She pulled out a case from the pocket of her jodhpurs and withdrew a cigar.
She tapped it on the top of the case a few times and lifted it.
She paused short of her mouth and looked up at the stars twinkling overhead.
“This one’s for you, Marvel.” She offered the cigar up to the air.
“We didn’t let them get the best of us.”
She’d just stuck the cigar between her teeth when she heard the sputter of a match head being struck and flaring to life.
Agent Pullman sat down on the step beside her and offered it to her.
She leaned forward, taking a couple of puffs to get the cigar burning well.
“They said the evidence was inconclusive.” Pullman didn’t waste any time sugarcoating his news.
She waited for her temper to flare like that match. But tonight, it didn’t. Instead, she just felt drained. “I suppose what really matters is not what some accident board thinks but what I know.”
Pullman commented, “I’m disappointed, too.”
Pancho felt bitterness rise inside her yet again. It had been happening a lot the past few days. “I don’t suffer willful blindness very well. Knowing that bad people are getting away with this dirty dealing sticks in my craw.”
Pullman nodded. “I am familiar with the feeling.”
The moon rose in front of them, shifting from a golden half disk to a cool silver one shining softly through the darkness.
“There is only one thing I can say by way of comfort to you, Pancho.”
She quietly drew on her cigar, waiting for him to continue.
He swiveled to face her. “I’m a man of faith. There have been times when I have been privileged to see justice delivered to those who believed themselves untouchable by the laws of this land.”
“So you’re telling me there might come a day when Marvel’s killers get their due? That’s reaching, Pullman.”
He nodded. “That prospect is what will get me out of bed tomorrow morning and let me move on to a new case. I live in hope—in faith—that the guilty will be knocked to their knees. We didn’t get them this time, but they won’t change their ways.
I’ll be watching and waiting for them to slip up.
And when they do, I’ll take great pleasure in watching them fall from their lofty pedestals. ”
She smiled around the end of her cigar. “I like the sound of that. But it would take something like the stock market crashing for their fall to be big enough to suit me.”
“Have a little faith, Pancho. You never know what’ll happen. God is watching.”
Pullman rose to his feet, reached up, and touched the brim of his hat. He turned and headed for the parking lot, the gravel crunching beneath his steps until he was too far away for her to hear any more.
In front of her, a star shot across the night sky.
Is that you, Marvel? A shiver slipped down her spine.
She had the strongest sensation of being poked in the ribs.
The lump in her throat faded, easing until there wasn’t a hint of sadness left inside her.
It was replaced by a warm certainty that fate had everything well in hand.
All right, then, Marvel. I’ll just sit back and let you handle things.
Patience was a very new concept to her, and she wondered why she was suddenly content to wait for justice to be delivered.
It must be Marvel.
Only Marvel had the right to tell her to stop seeking justice for her death.
So be it.
RACE DAY 9, ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, with light winds and calm weather aloft. Perfect flying weather.
On this final day of the race, the officials’ plane would take off before the others.
Another official timer from the National Air Races currently taking place in Cleveland had flown in overnight to take over starting duties from Joe Nikrent, leaving him free to go ahead to Cleveland to arrive before the women so he could time the final leg of the race and declare the winner.
Not that there was any doubt who would win. Over the last several days, Louise Thaden had run up a three-hour overall lead on the other women in the heavy-engine division, and Phoebe Omlie was almost two hours ahead of the next closest pilot in the light-engine division.
The other pilots were delighted for both of them, and Pancho’s impression was that the other girls were just happy to finish the race alive and in one piece.
Had she made it to this last leg with them, that would definitely have been how she’d feel.
As it was, she was excited to get to Cleveland and watch the women come in for their final landings and make history.
She was just glad to be a footnote in their story.
She sure hoped history recorded that she’d had a part in convincing the world that women pilots were as capable as their male counterparts.
Not that she planned to stop flying anytime soon.
She planned to break more records and push plenty more boundaries before she hung up her helmet and goggles.
She stayed out of the pilots’ way as they preflighted their planes and checked their final fuel loads.
But as the time neared for her to head for the officials’ plane, she took a walk down the row of planes, stopping at each one to congratulate her friends on their courage and amazing accomplishment.
There were lots of hugs and some tears as she went from plane to plane.
She got to the end of the row, where Louise and Amelia stood in front of their planes, talking quietly.
Amelia looked up as she approached. “You did it, Pancho. You got us all to the finish line. And I’d venture to say you’ve proved your point to the whole world that women can do this just as well as men.”
“I sure hope so. I gave it my best shot. We all have.”
Louise said firmly, “I’m positive this race has changed the future for women pilots. And I have to say, Pancho, it wouldn’t have turned out that way if not for you.”
Her colleague’s kind words filled her with warmth. She said, “I came to say goodbye and congratulate you both on your success in this race. I know you’ve both accomplished what you set out to do, and I’m so proud of you girls I could bust.”
Louise and Amelia simultaneously reached out to throw their arms around her.
Pullman called to Pancho that it was time for the officials’ plane to load up, and she reluctantly stepped back from the group hug.
That was when Amelia said, “Fly with me today, Pancho. Finish the race in a racing plane, the way you were meant to.”
“My answer is still no. This is still a race, and I’ll still slow you down!”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Louise could get behind her plane and push it all the way to Cleveland, and none of us would catch up to her.”
Louise swatted Amelia affectionately on the shoulder. “The race isn’t over yet. I could still get lost and end up in Nebraska.”
Pancho grinned, teasing, “Ohio’s east of Missouri. You’re supposed to fly toward the sun in the morning to go east.”
“So that’s where I’ve been going wrong!” Louise exclaimed playfully. “Got it. Into the sun!”
“Seriously, Pancho,” Amelia said, “Louise has the win sewn up. Besides, you know I don’t care about winning. I really only flew in this race to prove I can fly long distances solo.”
“Well, you sure did that. Speaking of which, after the race is over, we should chat about me investing in your next Atlantic crossing.”
“That would be swell!” Amelia responded.
Louise piped up. “I’d like to talk with both of you after the race is over. I figure we’ll be tied up for the next couple of days with all the postrace hoopla. But when things quiet down, I was thinking that maybe it’s time for women pilots to organize themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Pancho asked.
“I was thinking of something along the lines of the union you formed for the stunt pilots in Hollywood,” Louise answered.
“A group of all the women pilots in the United States working for one another . . . and for all future women pilots who come after us. You know, to advocate for women in aviation, help us fight for equal jobs and equal pay, maybe help girls who want to get into flying with the expense.”
Pancho nodded slowly. “That’s a great idea, Louise. I’m in.”
“Me, too,” Amelia chimed in. She added, “Since you’re so smart, Louise, help me convince Pancho to fly with me to Cleveland today.”
Louise thought for a moment, then turned to Pancho with a grin and said playfully, “What’s the matter, Barnes? Afraid to fly in front of a bunch of the best male pilots in the world?”
Pancho burst out laughing. “You did not just say that to me!”
“I did, and I mean it,” Louise declared, planting her fists on her hips. “Get your butt in that Vega, and I’ll see you on the ground in Cleveland!”
Grinning broadly, Pancho turned to Amelia. “I guess it’s you and me bringing it home together today.”
“Woo-hoo!” Amelia whooped.
And so it was that Pancho finished the 1929 National Women’s Air Derby kneeling behind Amelia Earhart in the cockpit of her red Vega, grinning ear to ear, most definitely not afraid to fly in front of any male pilot in the world.