Kaitlin's Silver Lining

by Gold, Ciara

  “Bryce has three girlfriends back home that make goo-goo eyes at him. They bring him all sorts of pies to eat, and once, Tilda baked him a cake that was this tall.” Charley displayed its height with her hands.

  “Charley,” Bryce warned.

  “With so many girls to choose from, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find yourself a wife.” Kaitlin dabbed the corner of her mouth with the napkin.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Heck. This courtin’ thing is torture. Sometimes I think I’d rather wrestle with a rattlesnake. With a rattler, you know ahead of time how lethal the venom is.”

  “How poetic.”

  “Just speakin’ it as I see it. Thing is, I like every one of those gals back home but not enough to spend the rest of my days with any one of ’em. I don’t know if Emma is the woman for me, but she’s a sight better’n my other choices. She’s a pretty little thing, soft spoken, a woman a man wouldn’t mind comin’ home to.”

  “I see.” Kaitlin saw all too well. Her bossy nature and sharp tongue would never attract a man like Bryce.

  “You ever been courted, Aunt Kate?”

  “No. No, I...I never found the time.” The lie didn’t come easy, but James Latham was nobody’s business but her own. A deep hurt settled between her shoulder blades. Surely she was way past feeling sorry for herself.

  Bryce gave her a skeptical look. “I find that hard to believe.”

  Kaitlin ignored the comment and decided to change the topic. At least, it would keep her mind off other matters. “So, Charley, tell me about school. What are your favorite subjects?”

  “I don’t go to school.”

  Kaitlin looked to Bryce for confirmation. “What do you mean, you don’t go to school?”

  Bryce studied the cup of coffee he cradled in his hands. “Bethany didn’t hold with education. It was one of the things she and I argued over quite frequently, but Charley was her daughter. What I said had little influence. I taught Charley the alphabet when Bethany wasn’t lookin’. Charley can read some, but she’s had very little arithmetic and nothin’ else.”

  “You’re planning to correct the situation now that Charley’s in your custody, I hope.”

  “I ain’t going to school.” Charley threw down her napkin.

  “Children should be seen and not heard,” Kaitlin quoted, sure the familiar saying was quite appropriate under the circumstances.

  “I’m not a child, and you can’t make me do something I don’t wanna,” Charley challenged.

  “Education is a woman’s only defense against overbearing men.” Kaitlin gave Charley a stern glare.

  “I ain’t so sure about the overbearing men part, but your Aunt Kaitlin has a point. Education is a good way to get by in life, but nothin’ needs to be decided right now.”

  Charley shrugged. “Schooling don’t matter much to me since I’m gonna to be just like my momma. Only, I’m not gonna settle for pennies working one cowboy at a time. I’m gonna be a madam. They get paid lots of money.”

  Kaitlin gasped, outraged. What kind of nonsense had her sister been preaching to this poor, innocent girl? Did Bryce condone these ideas?

  “Charley, your momma only painted the good side of her work. There’s a lot she didn’t tell you. Whorin’ for a living is not glamorous. It’s morally wrong, and the negative aspects far outweigh the positive.” Bryce refrained from meeting Kaitlin’s gaze.

  His patience was to be commended, but she hated the word he used to describe Bethany’s choice in occupation.

  “At least we’re in agreement on one thing, Mr. Stanton. I think you were right to bring Charley here.” If Bethany were still alive, Kaitlin would give that woman a piece of her mind. How dare she corrupt an innocent child! “She clearly has a very jaded view on how things should be.”

  Bryce gave her a dazzling smile. “Yes, ma’am, she does at that. She didn’t have a normal upbringin’ for a young girl. Your sister accumulated many things, includin’ men, but I don’t think she won any motherhood awards.”

  “My momma was the best momma ever,” Charley cried out. “Don’t be sayin’ bad things about her now she’s gone.”

  “Your momma was a very pretty woman, Charley, but there has to be more to a woman than a pretty package. It’s what’s on the inside of the package that makes a woman truly beautiful.”

  Kaitlin’s skin warmed. Would a man ever discover her inner beauty? Bryce’s insight surprised her. She hoped he meant those words and wasn’t just spouting nonsense. Some woman was going to be mighty lucky when this man proposed. She could almost envy Emma the opportunity to become Bryce’s wife. Almost. For all his pretty words and handsome smiles, he was just a man.

  She glanced over to see Charley watching her. “Think Aunt Katy is pretty, Uncle Bryce?”

  Charley knew just how to bunch up thread into a painful knot. The girl had no diplomacy when it came to speaking her mind. “Charley, it isn’t polite to put someone on the spot like that. Now your uncle has to tell a bald-faced lie to be polite, or speak the truth, which would be equally impolite. You’ve backed him into a corner.” Kaitlin pushed her chair away from the table and picked up her dirty plate. It was the perfect excuse to make an exit from this otherwise delicate conversation.

  Bryce followed her into the kitchen area where he set his dirty plate on top of hers. “You know, Kaitlin, I can speak for myself. And I don’t lie. I told my last lie when it almost got the wrong man sent away for murder, so you can believe anything I say will be the truth.”

  “Well, then, by all means. Let’s hear how you would answer Charley.”

  “You have some very endearin’ qualities that make you interestin’. I find myself intrigued by a mystery you seem to wear like a protective coat.”

  “I want to help Charley, but I don’t think having you here is going to work.”

  “I threaten your well-ordered life. That wasn’t my intention when I offered my services.”

  “You and I have different goals for ourselves. You want to find the perfect mate, marry, and set up house. I want to make my life richer, more meaningful, by fighting for my beliefs. We have very little in common, and yet, you insist on flirting with me. I’m not comfortable with this type of rapport with a man.”

  “Forgive my forward nature. I’ve always thrown flowers at women. It’s just the way I am.”

  “Thrown flowers?”

  “Compliments. I was taught to hold women in the highest regard. I have nothin’ but respect for you and Miss McGuire. Shoot, I’m thankful you’ve agreed to take Charley in for a spell.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for Charley.”

  “See? You were wrong. We do have something in common. We have Charley’s welfare to think about.”

  Kaitlin looked back into the dining area where Bethany’s daughter sat, a pensive frown upon her youthful face. With Charley, she would have a new mission, something to spark the fires of her goal-driven personality. “Yes. As difficult as I suspect it will be, I accept the challenge. We must divert Charley’s current career aspirations, refine her manners, and build her confidence.”

  “Together?”

  “As long as you understand, we work together for Charley and not for us. All this flirting will get you nowhere.”

  His eyes lit up as his mouth widened into a smile. “Charley will be our challenge, Miss Kanatzer, but I think you might just be mine.”

  Five

  Kaitlin tugged at the knotted thread near the hole on the bobbin plate. Today was just not a good day to sew. Her Eldrich Model B Chainstitch was only a year old, but lately it acted more like a thirty-year-old machine. The treadle design of this machine was much better than the hand crank design she used to own but not today. Today, she verbalized her frustration in a most unladylike fashion. With a final tug on the matted bit of fiber, the material snapped free. Muttering under her breath, she re-threaded the needle and checked the bobbin. Satisfied, Kaitlin attempted another seam.

 
With a deep breath and a steady rhythm, she worked the foot pedal. Gently, the feeder foot guided the fabric while the needle placed a dainty chain stitch along the hem. She forced herself to go at a constant but slow pace, afraid the mechanism might jam again and cost her precious time. It was her own fault for procrastinating, but it was his fault she wasn’t concentrating like she should. Bryce Stanton had upset her routine, making her nervous and unsure.

  She’d promised the local suffragists she would have the flag ready for tonight’s march. At this rate, she wasn’t sure she’d be keeping that promise. Too many things kept crowding her mind.

  Maggie entered the room a few moments later, a welcome distraction.

  “Aren’t you finished with that yet?”

  “No.” Kaitlin yanked at another knot. “This infernal Eldrich keeps jamming. Of course, it’s my own fault for not oiling it regularly, but who has time?”

  “How much more do you have to do?” Maggie peered over her shoulder.

  “Almost done. Take a seat and wait.”

  “Abigail doesn’t like to be kept waiting. She’s a firm believer in promptness.” Maggie leaned closer.

  “And I’m sure to get a lecture, but it can’t be helped.” Kaitlin continued to guide material into the feeder foot. “A protest march won’t carry the same weight without a symbol to lead the way, and I plan to finish this flag.”

  “Did anyone tell you you’re stubborn?”

  Bryce had made the same comment the first day he’d showed up on her front porch. He’d told her again when she insisted on helping him put in the glass for the window. She pushed the memory aside.

  “You have a habit of reminding me at least once a week.” Kaitlin snapped the thread with her teeth.

  “There. What do you think?” Kaitlin turned in her chair and held up the colorful pennant. It was a large, rectangular piece of blue fabric with a torch in the middle, surrounded by a halo of stars. She’d placed a star for each member of their group. The torch symbolized their burning desire to fight for women’s rights. Maggie complimented the simple design with appropriate words.

  Kaitlin smiled, satisfied with her accomplishment in such a short amount of time. “Let me put my shoes on, then we can go. Is Charley ready?”

  “She’ll be down shortly. She’s fixing her hair.”

  “Good. I don’t mind telling you, I had my reservations when that child first arrived.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I didn’t think I’d have anything in common with her or that I’d be able to talk with her. It’s difficult, but I’m actually enjoying the child.” Kaitlin set the flag aside to retrieve her button-up shoes from under the sewing table.

  “Kaitlin?” Maggie sat down in a wing chair. “Do you regret never getting married?”

  Kaitlin’s eyebrows lifted. “And become a slave for the rest of my life? No regrets here.” She had plenty of regrets, but none she wished to share, not even with her dearest friend.

  Maggie smiled gently. “Slaving isn’t so bad if you have the right master.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. That was a very poor choice of words, but I think you above anyone else would understand my aversion to slavery or anything remotely like slavery. Marriage is just a different form if you ask me.”

  “Not for some folks. Some folks consider marriage a partnership.” Her dark hands rested against the tan covering, offering a stark contrast in color.

  “Let me guess. You’re in love again.”

  “No. Just thinking. What about children?”

  Kaitlin placed her left foot on the floor and wiggled it about to settle her foot into the tight shoe before placing it on her knee to button. “I take it you’re not very happy about spinsterhood. You sound wistful, melancholy.”

  “I’m just not so sure I’ve chosen the right path for myself. Don’t get me wrong. I still think women should be able to vote, but I also think black people should have the same rights as white folk. Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting too many battles. I hate the idea of men wasting money in saloons when their families need food and clothing. Our mission is a noble one, but I can’t help wondering what it would feel like to have a man’s arms around me. Being a suffragist is lonely. And being a black suffragist is even lonelier.”

  “All right, Maggie, come clean. What man has your fancy this week?” Kaitlin peered at her best friend. They had been friends and roommates for so long Kaitlin no longer thought of Maggie as black. To her, she was just another woman with similar dreams and aspirations. The only difference between them that mattered was Maggie’s flirtatious manner. Maggie was always finding some man to ogle over. Every other week or so, Maggie would moon over a new face. Unfortunately, most men steered clear of vocal women such as herself or Maggie. That was fine by Kaitlin.

  If she ever found a man willing to consider marriage as a partnership where both parties had an equal say, she might be persuaded to change her mind. She doubted such a man existed. Very few of the men she knew tolerated her opinion on women’s rights, and not a one of them supported her efforts.

  Standing, Kaitlin shook out her skirts and indicated to Maggie it was time to go. This evening, they planned an organized march against the new saloon again. The day Bryce had shown up, they’d staged a blockade against the delivery of a shipment of liquor to the Tip Top. The police had arrived too late to save Kaitlin from being doused with molasses, but early enough to prevent someone from seriously getting hurt. The women had been summarily disbanded, and the liquor had been unloaded as if nothing had happened. So far, their marches had been relatively peaceful gatherings, but tonight, Kaitlin sensed more hostility. Today, they marched against a saloon full of thirsty patrons. She just hoped no one got hurt as they tried to make their point.

  Charley sat down on the settee with a pout. “I’m ready, but I don’t wanna go. I don’t see why I can’t just stay here.”

  “Don’t you want to be a part of history?”

  “Not the kind of history you’re makin’. My momma always said women should please men. That if’n we please our fellas we’d receive riches for our trouble.” She rubbed her nose on her sleeve. Since staying in Kaitlin’s home, the poor girl had developed a cold. “I don’t see how picketing in front of a saloon will please anybody.”

  After Charley’s discussion a few days ago, Kaitlin was not surprised by the girl’s admission. She had no illusions where her sister was concerned. Bethany had run away from home at the tender age of fourteen to become a painted lady. Their father had found Bethany some two years later in a saloon, catering to any cowpoke with enough money to buy her time. That she’d instilled some of her immorality in Charley was criminal.

  Kaitlin focused on Charley. “I don’t want to please anyone with this march, Charley. That’s the point. Liquor is just plain evil. Men will drink away honest wages better spent on their families. I’m looking to educate folks, not please them.”

  “Uncle Bryce drinks sometimes,” Charley responded with the guileless artifice of a child.

  “That’s his prerogative, but he won’t be drinking in this house, and if we make any headway tonight, he won’t be drinking in that new saloon.” Kaitlin jammed her hat upon her head and gathered the flag. “Come along, ladies. It’s time we made our stand.”

  Six

  Bryce tugged at the scratchy tan tweed, the jacket sleeves just shy of being too short against his long arms. Thank goodness, he’d had a professional seamstress stitch up a pair of darker brown pants for him, or they’d be on the short side also. Ready-mades didn’t fit his long legs and arms as they should. He had to settle for store-bought on the jacket since the seamstress hadn’t had time to make him one. He hoped Emma appreciated all the trouble he’d gone to on her account.

  He held his Stetson in front like a shield. If it had been spring or summer, he’d have brought her a bouquet of flowers. At least the snow had melted, leaving only scattered patches here and there. After running his
hand over his slicked-down hair one more time, he knocked on the door.

  A tall, portly woman answered. He assumed the woman to be Emma’s mother. She gave him the once-over, her sour expression making him wonder if he’d put on enough bay rum. She wrinkled her nose. He stammered out an introduction and the reason for his visit.

  “You wait out here. She’ll be along shortly.” The woman shut the door in his face. He paced the length of the porch, praying Emma would be pleased by his visit.

  As promised, the door opened, and Emma stepped out, her smiling face a ray of sunshine on this brisk, wintry day.

  Bryce rushed forward. “Miss Emma, you are a vision. I thought you were pretty the last time we met, but my memory didn’t do you justice.” Bryce twisted his hat in his hand.

  “Bryce? Bryce Stanton?”

  “The same. It’s been a spell. Two years as I recollect.”

  “My. This is a surprise. What brings you here?”

  Sweet, like cornbread soaked in milk. Her honeyed voice washed over him, caressing each of his senses with a promise he had yet to discover.

  He gave her his biggest smile. “I came to see you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I figured writing wasn’t good enough. I had to see you again in person.”

  “Oh. Oh my.” She sank onto the porch swing. “I guess you didn’t get my last letter then, did you?”

  “I got one about four months back. I responded, but I’ll admit, it wasn’t a quick response. I only mailed it a month ago.”

  “Yes, I know. I received it. And well...well, I wrote straight away.”

  He glanced at the swing, wanting to sit beside her. She sat in the center, leaving no room for him. He frowned. Something about her tone and the way she held herself aloof made him think this meeting wasn’t going to go as planned. “Then no. I didn’t get that letter. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I reckon you can tell me in person what you wrote in that letter.”

  She smiled, though it didn’t quite touch her eyes. He was making her uncomfortable, and that wasn’t his intention. “This feels rather awkward, Bryce.”