Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pancho felt as if she were standing on sand that was being washed away beneath her feet. The race couldn’t fall apart like this. It just couldn’t.
Everyone had turned to look at Amelia expectantly, and for her part, Amelia looked perfectly miserable.
Pancho couldn’t blame her for leaving the race.
Losing her longtime friend had been a terrible blow to Amelia, and Pancho had to admit that Amelia had to deal with a lot more attention, demands from the fans, and sly attacks from the press than the rest of them.
Only a few days on the periphery of what Amelia put up with all the time was exhausting for Pancho.
But Lord Almighty, she hated to see Amelia go.
The bald truth was that Amelia was by far the greatest draw to bring spectators out to the race.
Still, Amelia was a human being first. Especially if she was in no fit state to fly, she needed to look out for herself. That was more important than any race.
Amelia rose to her feet and walked over to stand beside Thea. Pancho held her breath as Amelia was silent for a long moment. Then she said with quiet dignity, “I will continue the derby.”
Pancho had to bend over and place her hands on her thighs to catch her breath for a moment. Praise the Lord.
“But what about your mechanic?” one of the men called out.
Pancho shook her head. The press was relentless in its quest for more headlines.
The reporter pressed, “He was flying the plane you were supposed to race in. How do you feel, knowing you’re the one who should’ve died?”
Amelia stared stricken at the man who’d dared ask her that question, and seemed at a total loss for words.
Pancho was sickened by the zeal in the reporter’s eyes and hustled forward to stand by Amelia’s elbow. She stared down the reporter scornfully, chiding him with, “What kind of question is that? Have a little compassion, man. She just found out she lost a good friend.”
Amelia sent her a grateful look and rallied her composure. Pancho had to hand it to her. Amelia was strong. She’d also clearly been toughened by the past year of dealing constantly with the press.
Amelia’s spine straightened, and she took a step forward, waiting until every eye, every still camera, and every movie camera was trained on her.
She said formally, “Furthering flight is something we”—she glanced at Pancho and over her shoulder at the clustered pilots beyond—“and I have devoted ourselves and our lives to. Our commitment and my deceased friend’s commitment to flight are what I plan to honor by continuing in the race. ”
The journalists broke into a shouting match, each trying to get his question heard above the others. Jostling ensued as they tried to get to the front of the pack, and cameramen lifted their equipment over their heads to keep their cameras trained on Lady Lindy.
Amelia took advantage of the chaos to leave. The reporters tried to cross the line formed by the Boy Scouts to follow her, only to have police step up behind the boys and hold the journalists back firmly.
The reporters turned back to Thea, who wasn’t experienced with the press and hadn’t seen the opening to make her escape. They yelled questions at her, but Thea wisely ignored them and merely said what she wanted to say.
“My plane has suffered sabotage,” Thea announced. “It requires maintenance and a thorough inspection before it flies again. I will follow my fellow aviators to Cleveland only after I am certain my plane is safe.”
The reporters’ eyes widened at the word sabotage. They paused to take notes, and Pancho reached out to touch Thea’s arm. The German glanced at her, and Pancho jerked her head toward the row of airplanes. Thea smiled in relief and made a beeline for her plane.
“Maybe you should do the same as Thea, Marvel,” Pancho suggested. “Stick around here until your brother brings the new engine and installs it. Maybe you should test-fly it a time or two and then fly on to Cleveland.”
“My problem isn’t sabotage,” Marvel stated confidently.
Pancho frowned. “Are you sure about that? I mean, you are the odds-on favorite to win the race. Any chance someone might have tinkered with your engine just enough to slow you down? See to it you don’t win?”
Marvel looked appalled. “That’s terrible! Who would do such a thing?”
Pancho shrugged. “Maybe someone who has bet a lot of money on the race? If someone was to bet on a long shot and then knock out any pilots racing ahead of her, that person would stand to make a fortune.”
Marvel retorted, “You’re being paranoid. Nobody would do such a thing.”
Pancho bit her tongue hard so as not to blurt out that mobsters had already used the race for their own ends and that there was no reason to believe they wouldn’t continue doing so.
Marvel said cheerfully, “I’ll have a mechanic tune up my engine, and that’ll take care of the knocking. Then all I have to do is remember to stick my nose into the wind, which all pilots who sit behind an airplane engine in an open cockpit have to do anyway.”
What Marvel said made sense, but it still didn’t sit right in Pancho’s gut.
Giving it a last-ditch effort to change Marvel’s mind, she tried, “Herbert Fahy is a top-notch test pilot. The best in the business. Send him up in your plane and see what he thinks. Better yet, let him help your brother put in the new engine and then have Herbert test-fly it and tweak it. He can get your plane running better than anyone else. You and Thea can fly together to Cleveland.”
“But this derby means everything to me, Pancho! Like you said, everyone knows I have the fastest plane in the race. If I win, that prize money will buy me a new plane with all the latest instruments, a powerful engine, and room for passengers. My brother and I have been dreaming for years of starting our own flying service in Alaska. Winning this race will let us do it now.”
“I’d be happy to give you and Joe the money—”
Marvel cut her off. “I’m not taking money from you or anyone else. And neither would Joe. Know how I learned to fly? Had to save up a hundred and fifty big ones for the lessons. I did it. Every last cent was one I earned. That’s how I am going to live this life. Standing proud.”
Pancho huffed. “But I’ve got more than I can ever spend. What’s money for if not helping other folks?”
Marvel responded, “Money isn’t everything.
You know that yourself. If I win, Walter Beech will hire me to represent his company.
Maybe I can become a test pilot, too. Either way, I’ll make enough money working for him to get our flying service started.
Joe can run it for a few years. And when I’ve had enough of flying for Beech, I’ll join Joe.
If I ever have kids, I want to raise them in Alaska the same way I was. ”
Pancho conceded, “That does sound like a fine plan.”
“It only happens if I stay in the race.” Marvel added, “Besides, if we fold, we’ll prove we’re nothing more than the ‘flying flappers’ or ‘petticoat pilots’ they’re accusing us of being.”
“I agree we shouldn’t quit. But winning isn’t more important than living. And this sabotage is real.”
Marvel stiffened. “I know it’s real, Pancho. But so is the determination of some people to keep us women slaving away at home for no pay or recognition and keep us out of good-paying jobs.”
Pancho sniffed. “I know that better than anyone.”
“That’s why I can’t delay here with Thea or quit with Claire.
The papers will say the three of us got too spooked to fly on.
Thea’s German, and the American public won’t care if she quits.
Claire can claim a serious airplane malfunction to explain her withdrawal since the public doesn’t know it takes two minutes to replace wing wires. ”
Pancho saw where she was going with this and scowled. Marvel was right, and there was no good argument to make against her logic.
Marvel finished with, “But if three of us drop out at the same time, it looks bad. Real bad. The rest of us—all of us—have to make a strong show of flying out of here, so all these people see our courage with their own eyes.”
“Darn it, Marvel, I know you’re right. But I’ve got a bad feeling I just can’t shake.”
Marvel threw an arm over her shoulder and walked her back toward the planes. “Little wonder with all this sabotage. As for me, the sabotage just makes me want to succeed all that much more!”
Pancho sighed, conceding defeat. “You’re putting on a brave face, but darned if I can’t say I’m not doing the same. Guess that makes us a pair that ought to just stop whipping the horse.”
Marvel smiled brightly. “Let’s find some shade to wait in until Amelia’s plane is fixed.”
They were only supposed to stay in Yuma until all the racers had arrived and the planes refueled. Then they were scheduled to fly on to Phoenix, where they would spend the night—complete with a boring banquet and rubbery chicken that would rob them of much-needed sleep.
Pancho saw Marvel reach surreptitiously to touch the little gold cross necklace she wore.
A chill chattered down Pancho’s spine, but she knew Marvel had made up her mind.
As much as she hated Marvel’s decision, she understood it.
She was every bit as determined to continue on with the race, the risks be damned!
Horace Aldridge answered his phone, hoping for good news. If all had gone to plan, several more of the women’s planes would have experienced mysterious failures that knocked them out of the race by now.
Pressure should be growing on the women to cancel the derby altogether.
That and their own fear should be overtaking them right about now.
Any minute, he expected a call telling him the women had thrown in the towel.
Then he would collect the biggest payday of his life and live in the lap of luxury for the rest of said life.
When Dr. Ayers’s voice came across the line, his excitement spiked. This was it. The race was canceled.