by Donna Steele
“I didn’t realize you were ‘entertaining’ visitors.”
“Yes, my new friends and I worked hard yesterday and into the night, so I decided to show my appreciation. Would you like to join us?”
If Mrs. Masters’ eyes could have gotten bigger without the orbs falling out, they would have at those words.
“I’m serious, Miz Masters. We’re all working women here and there’s no reason for us not to be friends. Of course, I don’t know many women who aren’t working women, do you?”
Mrs. Masters blinked, as the other women began to smile. Viola drew back a chair for her. “Come on, Miz Masters. We won’t bite and I’m sure you have plenty to add to the conversation.”
Dee had never seen Mrs. Masters at a loss before.
“I’ll get the food,” she finally mumbled.
“Fine, and bring a plate for yourself.”
To Dee’s surprise, she did and after a slight hesitation, slid into the chair Viola held for her.
“Thank you, Miz Masters.” Dee met her eyes.
“Thank me?”
“Yes. You have made Dusty’s and my life so much easier since we’ve been here and I’m sure you know I’m not used to having someone look after me except myself. With a grand house like this, I would have been lost. You knew exactly what to do and how to make everything happen.”
The color in Mrs. Masters’ cheeks couldn’t be from a blush, could it?
“This is what I do.”
“Exactly. Like nursing is what Elizabeth does and Viola and Izzy care for women during childbirth and Connie teaches the next generation. This town couldn’t do without us. I’m sure Mayor Pickerson would think that seditious, but it’s also true.”
“Now you’re sounding like an activist.”
“I don’t mean to. Well, maybe I do. I don’t think I should have to hide my brains for fear of upsetting a man. Dusty doesn’t expect me to.”
“Mister Stevens is different from most men.”
“From most men here, maybe. Things are better where we came from.”
“I’d like to hear more about that sometime.” Viola leaned forward and Connie nodded.
“I think that would be an excellent idea,” Dee agreed. “Look around this table. We’ve got some incredible and diverse talent here. I would love to see us get together and share ideas. The conversations wouldn’t have to be medical. We all have our fingers in lots of pies. Would you be interested?”
Mrs. Masters was the last to agree but she finally nodded, and from the look on her face found her own reaction surprising.
But then, she asked the first question. “Could you tell us about those women’s shelters Mister Stevens mentioned?”
Chapter 27
Dusty wasn’t sure he’d be welcome even though the sign announced a town meeting, open to the public. For now, anyway, he lived in town. The meeting was being held in the school, so at least Dusty had familiarity on his side. He took a seat beside Caleb, who’d motioned him over.
“What’s the topic?”
“They’re talking about putting electrical lines around town to service the houses.”
“For real? I didn’t realize those projects were going on now. I mean, here.”
“Yep. They’ve had electric lines in New York since eighty-one. With us so close to Washington, we’re in line for the next expansion. Been a lot of improvements over the last decade, too.”
“I’m sure there have been.” Dusty settled on the bench.
“They have lines where you come from?”
“Yes, and I have some ideas about it.”
“Go ahead and speak up. We don’t have anyone here familiar with the process.”
Dusty nodded. Worth a try. When the time came for questions, he raised his hand. “Have you thought about burying the lines in a conduit?”
Momentary silence filled the room, then the man from the power company glared at Dusty. “Such an addition would add a cost to the project.”
“Yes. I agree that’s true. But how much might be saved in the long run, if ice didn’t snap the lines, or a runaway wagon hit one of the poles, or even a tree limb didn’t fall across the line?” Dusty shrugged. “Being underground would save all of those problems, keep someone from getting shocked, and result in a much more pleasing landscape.”
Another moment of silence took over, then the mayor turned to the power company representative. “Could ice bring down an electrical line?”
“Well, yes, I suppose it could happen. Such an occurrence would be rare.”
“Are we going to have to cut all of the limbs from our beautiful trees overhanging the area where the lines run, just to make sure they don’t fall on them?” Dusty prodded.
“Cut my trees?”
“That elm tree has been in my yard since my grandfather planted it!”
Several similar conversations sprang up immediately.
Mayor Pickerson sent a fulminating look toward Dusty, then returned his attention to the representative. “Would you have to cut tree limbs?”
“You need to be practical, Mayor. Having something potentially dangerous hanging over a power line would be unwise.”
“Then the answer is yes.” Dusty’s voice carried throughout the room.
Now both the representative and the mayor sent Dusty angry glares, but the genie was again out of the bottle.
“I admit there would be an upfront cost to bury the lines,” Dusty said. “However, that part would only have to be done once, if done correctly. Additional lines could be added to the conduit as new technologies are created. A concrete conduit could also help the local economy, since there’s a cement plant to the east of town.”
He sent an encompassing glance around the room. “The proprietor would have to hire at least some temporary help, and those people would get an education in how the concrete is made. When other towns hear about how innovative the practice is, or after several blackouts due to weather, they’re going to want to do the same thing.”
All the attendees had turned to watch him now. Then the comments rose—
“He’s the substitute teacher.”
“He mixed the boy and girls up in class.”
“His wife is a doctor, so he thinks different.”
Dusty wanted to laugh at that last one.
“Burying the line would require tearing up lawns, bringing in heavy equipment—”
“Which is going to happen anyway when you install the poles,” Dusty interrupted.
A man Dusty didn’t know spoke up. “I don’t want my trees carved up or taken down. Nobody mentioned any of this to me. How much more would this burying thing take?” He gave Dusty a tight nod.
“This will delay the project.”
“I’ve lived without electricity my whole life. I can wait a while longer.”
“You sure do know how to rile up a crowd, don’t you?” Caleb leaned over and whispered to Dusty, grinning.
Silently, Dusty winked at him.
“The town council will check into this and get back to you,” Mayor Pickerson announced over the hubbub. “Is there any other business?”
Dusty couldn’t tell if there was more business or not, because the gavel came down, ending the meeting.
“Mister Stevens, I’d like a word with you.” Pickerson’s voice boomed.
“Called to the woodshed, huh?” Caleb chuckled. “Want me to stay?”
“I’d enjoy the company, but you don’t need to on my account. I know what I’m talking about.”
“I’ll hang around anyway. Nice to see old Barty have to back up every once in a while.”
Pickerson glared at Caleb when he accompanied Dusty to the front of the room. Other citizens also remained, hanging in
the background but obviously listening. “Do you need anything, Caleb?”
“Since I’m gonna be a double customer, home and work, I’d like to hear Dusty’s ideas.”
“Yes, I see.” Before the mayor could say more, the representative from the power company turned on Dusty.
“You caused a lot of trouble here tonight.”
“I usually do,” Dusty admitted, not bothering to sound belligerent. “I trained as a scientist, so yes, I do think about things differently than a lot of people. I don’t want to see a future where the entire sky is filled with electrical lines. Did you know there were emissions from those lines that could cause illness? I didn’t want to say anything in front of a bunch of people, but burying those lines might keep different kinds of sicknesses down as well.”
“I never—”
“Of course you haven’t. More study is needed, but why take the chance? You do know about the falling limbs and ice and you didn’t bother to mention that. It’s cheaper for you and your company to take the easy route. However, it’s not the safest or cleanest and that’s what I’m thinking about. When one of those lines does fall, the broken end whips around, throwing sparks. People can be electrocuted. I think you’ve seen it happen.” Dusty stared hard at the man, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. The word ‘slimy’ came to mind.
“The lines don’t go dead if they fall?” Caleb asked, his voice incredulous.
“No, they don’t.” Dusty answered since the representative obviously didn’t want to.
“You, sir, have not been honest with me!” Pickerson had blown up like a rooster, his face puce with anger.
“Mayor Pickerson, hold on.” Dusty stepped in. “He’s doing his job, which is to sell us the idea. Bringing power to town is a good plan, and we will benefit from having easy access. We might need to do more due diligence before we let him or his company take advantage of us.” Dusty turned to the man. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Bell, Jonah Bell.”
“Mister Bell, is profit more important than people to you?”
The man’s eyes narrowed and Dusty knew he had his answer. Instead of waiting, Dusty turned to Pickerson. “There are other power companies starting up all over the country. I could help you find one more interested in safety.”
“Now wait just a minute!” Bell appeared angrier than Pickerson had.
The mayor glanced Dusty’s way in time to see him wink. Momentarily startled, at least the man caught on quick. “I believe that might be a good idea, Mister Stevens.”
“A scrap of competition could bring the price down too,” Caleb mused.
Dusty eyed Bell. If the man had a stroke—no, apoplexy was the word used in this era for the agitation and ire on his face—would Dusty be held accountable?
“I think some more discussion might be in order. I’m happy to lend my experience in this area,” Dusty offered. “I’m sure we can arrive at a good solution for everyone. Who runs the concrete yard?”
“That’d be the Coppridge brothers. They’re young, just starting out. I’ve heard they do good work,” Caleb replied.
“I believe we can put them on the map with this project. You’re going to have people from all the adjoining counties coming in.” Dusty glanced over at Caleb, who nodded.
“Tell me, Mister Bell, how do you generate your electricity?”
“Uh, coal. We burn coal to produce the power.”
Dusty fingered his lip thoughtfully. “Burning coal throws a lot of pollution into the air. Have you investigated wind or water for the generation? It would be cleaner, cheaper and a lot easier to obtain than digging coal out of mines.” If he could get them started on solar . . . “I’d be happy to talk to your engineers.”
“I think that would be a wonderful idea.” Pickerson rubbed his hands together. “I think you should definitely be talking to his people.”
Bell turned and stalked out of the building.
“Dusty, can you honestly generate electricity from wind?” Caleb looked skeptical.
“Yes. You’re already using the practice. I’ve seen several farms around here with windmills.”
“That’s to get water from the wells.”
“It’s the same principal on a larger scale. I studied this some when I attended school. Water-generated power works too. You don’t even need a big power company to generate what you need. The gasoline companies don’t need to be giants and make huge profits on the backs of the little people.”
Dusty paused, knowing this was not the place for his soapbox, and he’d need to be careful. “I worked with Mister Cutter on making his own fuel for his tractor. The new fuel is working fine, and he doesn’t have to go a distance to purchase excessive quantities and haul gasoline home, which can be dangerous.”
“It’s true, Mayor.” Caleb glanced at Pickerson. “Cutter was in the store last week. Said he’d already saved over five dollars by not having to travel and pay for gasoline to haul back. His tractor is running fine with the fuel Dusty here helped him brew. Since that trip’s unnecessary, there’s a couple of other farmers who are checking into the equipment.”
“I hadn’t heard. You helped him make gasoline? Don’t you need an oil well for that?”
“You can create the fuel that way. What I did was help him brew a biofuel made with corn. He’s putting in some sugar cane for next year, which is even more efficient.” Dusty settled himself against his desk. For a second it felt like another day at school with his students. “He can make the fuel himself now and since he’s using his own supplies, the cost is low to him. If the other farmers do get some gas-powered equipment, I can convert them too. I’d be happy to help.”
“You were talking to the school children about ‘green’ energy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“My boys are quite taken with your ideas,” Pickerson mused. “I admit I’m a mite skeptical about what you’re teaching the girls.”
Dusty waited in silence for him to continue. The pause seemed to unsettle the mayor.
“Do you truly think they need so much information cluttering their little brains?”
“Well, to be honest, their brains are the same size as ours and some of the girls are more than interested. Do you think there’s a problem with them learning, the same as the boys?”
“We don’t want them to get the wrong idea about things. There’s woman’s work and then there’s men’s work.”
“I agree with you, Mayor. I certainly wouldn’t be able to bake a decent biscuit or take out an appendix with my current education.”
The shorter man blinked at him, then drew himself up. “I hope you’re not planning on encouraging any of our young women to go into a field of study for which they would be unprepared.”
“I would not. That’s why I’m trying to prepare them,” Dusty said mildly. “I guess I should be headed home. I haven’t had time to work on my lesson plan for tomorrow.”
“I think it might be a good idea for someone to review your lesson plans, Stevens.” Pickerson shot him a pointed stare.
Dusty stopped himself from saying anything more. No need to make things worse. “I’d be happy to go over them with you or if there’s someone else . . .”
“I’ll be in touch,” The mayor replied stiffly and turned to leave.
Caleb waited until they were out of the building. “You might be facing the school board now.”
“Who’s on it?”
“Well, the Reverend Grant for one. Not sure how he’ll feel about you teaching the girls either. Haven’t seen you or Doc Stevens at services on Sunday. Could be a problem now.”
“Services? I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought about attending church.”
“You a papist?”
“No.”
“Christian?”
&n
bsp; “I attended the Methodist church when I was a kid. After my mother died, we weren’t much of anything.”
Caleb nodded. “Not attending will be noticed eventually, if not already. Just a caution.”
Chapter 28
Dee’s mood rose when the front door opened. Dusty was home.
And that caught her off guard for an instant. Home? This wasn’t home. Yet when Dusty was here, the house felt that way. She lived with the man as husband and wife. Everyone here believed they were married. She felt married.
Things had been slow going at the beginning of their relationship, learning about each other outside of sex. She could feel the heat in her face even thinking about how they’d met, still mildly appalled at the way she and Dusty had literally hooked up on a first date, with no information about one another.
Dee liked the town. Elizabeth, Connie, Sybil, and Viola were good friends now, better than any she’d made after moving to Georgetown. But so much was unsettled. She and Dusty needed to talk about their future in this time. They needed a plan.
Dee finished straightening the office and went to see how the town meeting had gone.
~ ~ ~
“The meeting was everything you’ve seen on TV.” Dusty accepted the glass of wine from her and settled on the sofa. Their evening talks still took place in what they referred to as ‘Mrs. Tillman’s room.’ Mrs. Masters hadn’t yet thrown them out of the room and Dee was meticulous about leaving no clutter behind.
Though the red velvet sofa wasn’t by any stretch his comfortable leather couch, they had grown accustomed to the room. It held many of their secrets and shared thoughts now, as a home should.
Dusty smiled briefly when Dee cuddled in beside him. This whole weird adventure felt so right, sharing it with her.