by Carol Cox
Copyright
ISBN 1-59310-938-5
Copyright © 2006 by Carol Cox. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
One
Phoenix, Arizona Territory—October 25, 1911
The portly man paced the length of the platform along the front of the Odd Fellow’s Hall. A red flush suffused his ample cheeks, and his jowls quivered as he spoke to the assembled crowd. “And I say Taft has no right to impose his will upon us, president or not.”
Loud applause greeted this pronouncement.
The speaker continued. “Ten months ago, the good people of this territory ratified the state constitution our delegates labored over so diligently. Two months ago, Congress passed a resolution for statehood. It is the God-given right of Arizonans to proceed to this next step in our destiny. We believe it, and the members of Congress believe it. If that rascal, Billy Taft—”
Loud boos burst forth from the audience, and he paused to let the interruption die down before he went on. “If that rascal, Billy Taft, hadn’t vetoed that precious document, we might even now see the flag of the great state of Arizona fluttering in the breeze below the Stars and Stripes on the staff that stands before this very building.”
Shouts of agreement mingled with huzzahs and loud cries of “Amen!”
In the back of the crowded room, Mitch Brewer scribbled in his notebook, anxious to capture every detail of this meeting for his readers back East. He scanned the assembly, writing brief descriptions of those present, everyone from laborers to well-dressed businessmen. Each strata of Arizona’s residents seemed to be represented. A voice calling for quiet drew his attention back to the platform.
A slender, mustachioed man stood beside the previous speaker. Mitch recognized him as Nathan Showalter, a prominent Phoenix businessman. Showalter smiled at the audience with a practiced air. “Mr. Chilton makes some interesting points, and I must say I agree with him on a number of them.” He paused, letting his words sink in.
“It’s true that Arizonans voted to ratify the state constitution back in February. It’s also true that Congress passed a resolution for statehood—a resolution subsequently vetoed by President Taft because of its provision for the recall of judges.” He held up his hand to quell the boos that emanated at the mention of the president’s name.
“I’m no happier than any of you at the idea of Arizona state-hood being delayed one moment longer than necessary. After all, we’ve already waited nearly fifty years to see that day arrive. But I differ with Mr. Chilton as to what should happen next.”
He stepped closer to the audience, positioning himself dead center at the edge of the stage, and waited. A hush fell over the crowd as the listeners waited for what would come next.
Mitch found himself as riveted as anyone there. The man was indeed a gifted speaker, he thought. He had to remind himself to look away from that piercing gaze long enough to continue his notes.
“Governor Sloan cautioned us about this very possibility after the ratification last February. He was sure the provision for the recall of judges would bring about the president’s disapproval, and time has proven him right. But let us not forget that the president also signed the Flood-Smith resolution in August, which promises Arizona its rightful place in these United States. . .providing that provision is removed from the constitution by a vote of the people.”
More boos followed. Chilton stepped forward as if to protest.
Showalter raised his hand, stopping Chilton in his tracks and quelling the crowd’s rumbling in the same smooth motion. His tone sharpened. “Which is more important? To remain stiff-necked about keeping the constitution as it is. . .or for Arizona to become the forty-seventh star on the flag of this great land?”
A five-piece band near the front struck up a rousing rendition of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” and the crowd went wild. Mitch could see Chilton’s mouth opening and closing, but the man never stood a chance from that point on.
Mitch found his own heart racing in time with the martial air. Showalter had it right: Arizona had waited long enough for her day in the sun. The time had come to see her achieve statehood, and he would do anything within his power to bring that day to fulfillment.
He glanced back to the platform, where well-wishers had mounted the stage and were pumping the hands of both speakers. Assuring himself that the meeting was about to break up, he slipped outside the hall and hurried back toward the small house he rented, eager to write up his latest article.
The boardwalk echoed under Mitch’s feet as he strode along, enjoying the balmy temperature finally setting in after months of searing heat. He breathed a sigh of gratitude that the meeting had been scheduled in the evening, giving him a chance to cover the story for the Baltimore Sun without causing a conflict with his job at the Phoenix Clarion.
A few weeks ago, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Arthur Wilson, owner and publisher of the Clarion, understood and approved Mitch’s desire to let the rest of the country see their quest for statehood from an insider’s point of view. But ill health and advancing age forced Wilson to sell the paper.
The buyer, Lucas Dabney, didn’t share Arthur Wilson’s practice of spending time getting to know his employees. Up to now, Mitch’s only contact with his new boss had been limited to perfunctory comments during their weekly staff meetings—hardly enough to make a good assessment of the man’s probable reaction to knowing one of his reporters was also moonlighting for other publications. Dabney’s no-nonsense demeanor and brusque way of speaking did little to boost Mitch’s hopes the publisher would feel as warmly toward the thought as his predecessor had.
Still, Mitch knew he needed to let his employer know what he was doing. It was only right. In Dabney’s place, he would want to be shown the same consideration. He promised himself he would bring it up the moment he spotted a good opportunity to do so. As much as he wanted to further the cause of Arizona’s statehood, he didn’t want to risk losing his job in the process.
❧
Lonesome Valley, Arizona Territory—October 27, 1911
“What do you mean you’re moving to Phoenix?” Dan O’Roarke planted his fists on his hips and stared at his daughter in dismay. “That’s nearly a hundred miles away. What would make you want to put that kind of distance between you and your family?”
Catherine O’Roarke looked past her father and outside the wide front windows to the rolling hills that encircled the T Bar Ranch. For a brief moment she wished she could be out there, riding her mare down the length of Lonesome Valley and enjoying the peace outdoors rather than facing the tension that crackled here in the living room.
She stood with her back to the flagstone fireplace and considered her family’s reaction to the announcement she had just made. Her mother’s stricken expression came as no surprise. Neither did her grandmother’s approving nod from the rocking chair in the corner. She’d known from the first that Grandma would agree.
Her father’s reaction, though. . . She hadn’t expected that kind of response from him. The disbelief in his tone made her bristle.
“Do you think I’m incompetent?�
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The abrupt question cut off whatever her father might have been about to say. His jaw sagged, and he gaped at her. “No. Not at all.”
“You think I’m incapable? Didn’t you teach me to take care of myself?”
“Of course, but—”
A quiet chuckle interrupted him. Catherine’s father swung around to face the diminutive figure in the rocking chair. “Do you see something funny in this, Mother?”
Fine lines webbed Elizabeth O’Roarke’s cheeks when she smiled at her son. “Not in the sense you mean, dear. It’s just that this whole scene brings back a flood of memories.”
“Do these memories have any bearing on the fact that my only daughter has apparently taken leave of her senses?”
The older woman stared down at her lap as if collecting her thoughts. The rockers creaked against the pine floor, making the only sound in the room. Finally she raised her head and addressed them all, a nostalgic smile lighting her face.
“Hearing what Catherine has to say takes me back to the day I called my family together and told them I intended to travel to Arizona Territory to seek my fortune.” Another chuckle gurgled from her lips. “My announcement created quite a sensation.”
Catherine settled back on the raised flagstone hearth and wrapped her arms around her knees. She had grown up hearing the story of her grandmother coming to the territory as a young woman set on making her own way, but never before had she heard a whisper of a family altercation. She saw her father place his hands deliberately in his front pockets and recognized the effort it cost him to speak calmly.
“That’s interesting, but it doesn’t really pertain to what we’re dealing with here.”
“Oh, but it does.” Catherine’s grandmother leaned her head against the back of the rocker. She stared across the room with a distant look in her eyes as if she could see the scene from that long-ago moment playing out before her.
“If you and Amy are shocked at the thought of Catherine going out on her own today, imagine how my parents felt nearly forty-five years ago.” A smile played across her lips. “I can understand their feelings better, now that I’ve lived long enough to see it from both points of view.
“I’d already arranged for a place to stay when I arrived here and intended to use the inheritance my grandmother left me to set myself up in business. I’d planned out the whole move in great detail. All that remained was to let my family know of my intentions and, hopefully, secure their blessing.”
Catherine leaned forward eagerly. “And what kind of response did you get?”
Her grandmother smirked. “About the same as you’re getting right now.”
Catherine hugged herself and tried to contain her glee. Hadn’t everyone always told her how much alike the two of them were? As long as she could remember, her mother had said that—usually with a note of resignation in her voice.
“We’re both determined women,” her grandmother continued.
“More like headstrong, if you ask me.” Catherine’s mother fixed her husband with the look Catherine had come to know as the “She gets it from your mother” expression.
“Call it what you like,” Grandma went on, “but it all boils down to the fact that we’re women of conviction. I knew I had to find my own way in life, and I believe Catherine feels the same way.”
Catherine nodded in agreement, even though no one seemed to be paying much attention to her at the moment.
Her father sputtered. “But they’re still having gunfights in the streets down in Phoenix.”
“And just last week in Prescott, Hank Winters fired his pistol at Newt Thompson, right in the middle of the plaza,” Grandma countered. “Human nature being what it is, you’re going to find violence of some sort anywhere you go. A woman wanting to strike out on her own may not be the norm—”
“I should say not,” her mother interjected.
“But it’s far more acceptable now than in my day. Whereas I left Philadelphia to go to what my family called an untamed wilderness, Catherine wants to leave country life to go to the city.” She grinned at her son and daughter-in-law. “And you two seem to feel that’s just as frightening a proposition. A rather interesting turn of events, don’t you think?”
From their grim expressions, Catherine could tell neither of her parents saw any humor in the comparison.
“But what will you do, Catherine?” Her mother’s voice quavered. “At least your grandmother had some place to stay when she got here.”
Catherine cleared her throat and stood, smoothing her blue worsted skirt with her palms. She glanced from her mother to her father. “As a matter of fact, I already have a job lined up.” Buoyed by her grandmother’s stalwart support, she strove to keep her sense of triumph from showing.
“I’ll be employed at Southwestern Land and Investments, doing clerical work.”
Her father’s eyes bulged. “You’re a ranch girl, born and bred. What do you know about that kind of job?”
“A ranch girl who spent her summers working in the office at Sam Hill’s hardware store. Remember how you always said the experience would help me later in life? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations.”
A knock at the door prevented her father from responding.
Her mother pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Who could that be, at a time like this?” She hurried to swing the door open, then stepped back with a glad cry. “It’s Alexander! Let’s see what he has to say.”
Catherine felt her mood lighten at the arrival of her lifelong friend. She suppressed a laugh upon seeing his bewildered look when her mother seized his arm and pulled him into the room.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. O’Roarke. I’m happy to see you, too.” Alex’s voice held its usual courteous note, but his gaze met Catherine’s over her mother’s head and demanded an explanation for the effusive welcome. Catherine only had time to send him a quick grin before her mother spoke.
“It seems Catherine has some notion about haring off down to Phoenix.” She tugged him farther into the room. “You, of all people, know how stubborn she can be, but you’ve always been able to make her see reason. Talk some sense into her, will you, Alexander?”
The grin slid from Catherine’s lips. She and Alex had grown up together, playmates and adversaries by turns. He had been both her best friend and her nemesis, and at times she felt closer to him than to her own brother. He wouldn’t be any happier than her family about her perceived desertion. She braced herself, waiting for him to second their opinion.
Alexander’s deep blue eyes fixed Catherine with a steady gaze. After a silence that seemed to last an eternity, he moistened his lips. “I can’t say I’m surprised. I guess I’ve always known Catherine would want more out of life than she could ever find here. She has bigger aspirations than our rural life could ever meet.”
He crossed the room to stand beside her. “I don’t know what happened to make it all come together just at this time.” He reached out to clasp her fingers and gave her a warm smile. “But I’m behind you a hundred percent.”
“But—but. . .” Her mother’s lips twisted. “I always thought the two of you—” She clapped her hand to her mouth.
Her obvious embarrassment sparked a wave of pity. Catherine spoke quickly to fill the awkward silence. “No, Mother. We’ve always been good friends, but that’s all we’ll ever be. If I ever decide to marry, I’ll look for a husband who stirs my heart and knows how to treat a woman.” She slanted a playful glance at Alexander. “Not someone who may take a sudden notion to dump ants down the neck of my dress.”
“Catherine Elizabeth!” Her mother wore a look of horror.
Alex laughed and held up his hands. “That was a long time ago.”
Catherine chuckled along with him. “Yes, but I’ve never forgotten it, and apparently you haven’t either.” She smiled, her earlier tension melting away. “Honestly, Alex, would you want to begin a marriage with a wife who harbors so many memories or start fresh with someone who
won’t discover your worst qualities until after the wedding?”
“Catherine!” Her mother plopped down into a chair and fanned herself with her hand.
Alex wrapped his arm around Catherine’s shoulders in brotherly fashion. “No offense taken, Mrs. O’Roarke. Catherine has a point. But then, she usually does.” He fixed Catherine with a look of pride that made a lump form in her throat.
It would be hard to leave a wonderful family and a friend who knew her nearly as well as she knew herself. But her future didn’t lie here. Her dreams led her to the bustle of life in the territory’s growing capital city, not the slow pace of the ranch she’d always known as home.
Their levity seemed lost on Catherine’s mother. She turned to her husband with a pleading expression. “What shall we do, Dan?”
Catherine’s father scraped his hand across his cheek. “Beats me.” He stood a moment in thought, then turned to the white-haired woman in the rocker. “Mother, you said you could see the situation from both sides now.”
Grandma rocked placidly and nodded. “As a young woman, I only understood that I felt compelled to go. A grand adventure lay before me, something that stirred my blood and made me feel alive.” Her voice softened. “I know how Catherine feels, but until I had children of my own, I couldn’t begin to realize the anguish my parents went through. They must have—”
“Aha!” Father’s cry of triumph cut through the room. “Then as the one person here who’s qualified to understand both points of view, please tell us what you think we should do.”
His mother favored him with a gentle smile. “You didn’t let me finish. They must have spent many a sleepless night worrying about what might happen to me. While I’m sorry for the pain I surely caused them. . .I know I made the right decision. God watched over me then. You can trust Him to watch over Catherine, as well.”
Only the creaking of the rockers could be heard in the silence that followed. Catherine held her breath.
Her father looked at his mother uncertainly. “Then what you’re saying is. . .”