Page 47 of An Uncertain Road

Sam started climbing up the embankment as Flora gathered her strength to stay with Jensen. Her mind refused to stop hearing Sam’s admission over and over. He’d said Jensen had sabotaged their team. What did that mean? Had Jensen intentionally damaged the Decauville the day they had to stop before the check-in point? Or could he have made them miss that turn after Bretton Woods?

Sam had planted the seed of doubt about Jensen in her mind at the beginning of the tour. But even though she’d contrived to keep an eye on him, she’d never believed he would hurt their team. Now Sam’s revelation had her questioning every moment of the tour, everything Jensen had said or done. He’d been so unhappy about racing to begin with. Had he hoped a few mishaps would convince her to drop out of the tour early?

Her stomach heaved even considering the possibility in light of their closeness now. But last week, before all the time they’d spent together, all the growth she believed they’d both experienced, would he have done it? Jensen had told her all about Mr. Franklin’s dislike of him and how the other man had been blamed for Gregory’s death. Had Mr. Franklin used the guilt Jensen carried to convince him to force the Harrison Goods team out of the tour? Perhaps told him they would be safer back in Philadelphia?

There were so many questions swirling in her mind alongside worry for Sam and even Mr. Franklin that Flora could only sink to the ground in confused exhaustion as soon as the Decauville was out of sight. The skittling of loose rocks signaled Jensen’s approach, and his hand tentatively slid over hers. She wanted to push him away, but also to turn and bury her face in his chest. “I don’t know what to think, Jensen. What to believe.”

“I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you I didn’t sabotage the car or our run.” He sounded as broken as he looked. But could she trust him? Or was he only upset over being found out?

She let him continue stroking the back of her hand but tried in vain not to enjoy it. “Why would Sam lie?”

“I think Archie is the one who lied. Sam probably doesn’t know I chose not to take Archie up on his offer. Archie likes to twist the truth to make people do what he wants. If he saw a way to get Sam to keep helping him cheat by saying I was part of it, too, he would have. Flora, please believe that I never did it. I kept Archie’s demands a secret because I thought I could protect all of us and still help you get what you wanted so badly. I’m sorry I failed.”

She wanted to believe him. But he’d already shown he was willing to do anything to secure their safety. The end of the Mount Washington race flashed in her mind, the moment when he’d wrenched the steering wheel from her hands and destroyed any chance she had to pass those last two cars and win. He hadn’t cared what she wanted then, much less trusted her to get it on her own. He did what he thought would protect her physically, no matter how much it ended up hurting her emotionally.

A moan rang out from the overturned car. They both jumped to their feet and rushed over, one on each side of the vehicle.

Flora dropped to her knees and pressed her cheek against the ground, straining to look underneath. “Mr. Franklin? We’re here, but we can’t move the car. Sam went for help.”

On the opposite side, Jensen forced his way as far under the car as he could get, reaching out toward the trapped man. “Do you hear us, Archie? Can you move at all?”

Another moan was the only answer, no movement that Flora could detect. Dropping back onto the ground next to the car, she forced her breathing into a regular pattern instead of the gasps her lungs wanted to take. The reality of what they faced was sinking in, pushing away worries about whatever Jensen may have done.

This was all so reminiscent of what she’d imagined when she learned about Henri’s accident. Had she been the cause of another lethal crash? For all her words to Jensen about healing, the pain of her part in Henri’s death ripped her heart open all over again. How many lives would have to be lost because of her actions?

For what felt like an eternity, Flora and Jensen took turns trying to get as close to Mr. Franklin as possible, talking to him all the time. But there was no improvement, only an occasional moan that told them at least he hadn’t died. Yet. Flora couldn’t imagine the extent of injuries that could be caused by a car as heavy as the White steamer pinning a man down for so long.

At the sound of an engine rumbling toward them, Flora raced to the top of the embankment while Jensen remained with Mr. Franklin. Her heart sank as not one but two teams approached, slowing near the group on the embankment. The first driver pulled his car to a stop on the bridge and pushed up his driving goggles to examine the scene. “Anything we can do?”

There were only four of them between the two cars, not enough to lift the Steamer until more arrived. “We have a doctor and local help coming. It might be beneficial to have your help when we move the car, but I don’t know how long it will be before they return. And you’ll risk losing your position in the tour.”

In both cars, the men exchanged glances. The first pair whispered together for a moment. Then they apologized even while restarting their vehicles. The two teams resumed their journey, taking care to move with caution until they were well away from the creek.

Flora tried not to let getting passed distract her from the more important situation in front of them. She’d made a choice for their team, the right choice. The consequences weren’t unexpected. She’d known when she decided to stay that they would lose any chance to finish in first place. But deep down, she’d hoped somehow they wouldn’t lose too many positions.

As time wore on, she stopped counting how many teams passed over the bridge, some stopping to see if they could help and some simply driving by slowly, but none agreeing to wait until there were enough hands to move the car.

When another engine rumbled toward them, Flora stood on the bridge until she could see that it was, indeed, the Decauville. Fred and another man sat in front, while Beth and Sam sat in the back. “They’ve come back, Jensen. It looks as if they have a doctor.”

Fred had hardly stopped the car when Sam jumped out of the back. “There’s a wagon of men coming behind us to help, but the car is faster. It’ll be a few minutes before they get here.”

The doctor nodded a solemn greeting in Flora’s direction as he picked his way down the hill with Fred and Sam. Along with Jensen, they all lined up along one side of the White steamer and started lifting, trying to tip it over on its side to free Mr. Franklin.

But it wasn’t enough. Sam dropped to the ground after their third failed attempt. “It’s too heavy. He couldn’t survive this unharmed, could he, Doc?”

The doctor assessed the situation from his spot next to Fred, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I don’t know. Assumptions won’t help. We need to get him out and see what his injuries are. Then we’ll deal with what may be.”

The wagon filled with six more local men finally clattered over the bridge, and the entire group joined together on the higher side of the car. Again, they all lifted and pushed as one, trying to tip the car over from its top to the side.

And this time, they succeeded. A cheer rang out as the car crashed farther down into the creek. Flora got as close as possible to the spot where the car had been, peering between the shoulders of the men now surrounding the site. The doctor leaned over Mr. Franklin, blocking Flora’s view while they all seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his evaluation.

When Sam pushed his way through the group and lost the contents of his stomach into the tall grass a few feet away, then collapsed on the ground, pale and shaking, Flora grimaced. It had probably been a good thing that she couldn’t see the wrecked car and its injured occupant. She sat beside Sam, both of them listening for any updates.

After far too long, the doctor finally stood and addressed the group. “Thanks to all of you working together, this man will live. But he’s in very bad condition. Mr. Lerner, can we use your wagon to transport him back to town? The car will be too small for him to remain stretched out.”

A sob burst from Sam as the other men started working together to move Mr. Franklin into the wagon.

Flora put her arm around Sam’s shaking shoulders. “It’s all right. At least he’ll live.”