Copper Sunrise

by Carol Cox

  Grandma nodded. “Let her go.”

  Two

  The crisp fall breeze grazed Catherine’s cheeks. She shivered slightly and pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. Wrapping one arm around the trunk of a cottonwood tree, she rested her head against its rough bark.

  The branches dipped in the wind, shaking loose some of the last few clinging leaves and sending them swirling. Days might still be sunny, but autumn was definitely making its arrival felt.

  What would autumn and winter be like in Phoenix? Her family had visited Tucson twice while she was growing up, both times during the fall. Remembering those childhood trips brought back thoughts of happy days spent riding across the desert and picnicking in Sabino Canyon, but few memories of passing through the capital city.

  Another gust of wind set more leaves free. Catherine watched them skitter across the tops of the bunch grass, wanting to fix the familiar view in her mind forever. As eager as she felt to begin her new life, this land would always be a part of her.

  Their neighbor, Jacob Garrett, had grown up in the desert. When she’d asked him what to expect, he laughed. “You can count on two things from the weather there: hot and hotter.”

  What would it be like to go through an entire year without the changes in seasons she expected as a matter of course here in the northland?

  I don’t have to leave. I could stay right here and go on being the same person I’ve always been. The thought turned her stomach sour. She could never do the things she wanted—no, needed—to do if she stayed here.

  Catherine squared her shoulders. This was the right move for her. It had to be.

  Could it be that I’m just bullheaded, like Mama says? Maybe I’m making a huge mistake.

  “No!” The word sprang aloud from her lips.

  “Talking to yourself?”

  Catherine spun around to see her brother, Ben, standing only a few feet behind her. “Where did you come from? I thought you’d gone to look at that bull in Holbrook.”

  Ben tipped his hat back on his head in a familiar gesture. “I just got back. It sounds like I missed quite a wingding while I was away. You really managed to set the family on its ear.”

  Catherine tilted her head to look up into his suntanned face. “You’ve talked to Dad and Mama already?”

  “No, I ran into Alex in town when I got off the train. He filled me in on the whole thing.” He picked up a dry stick from the ground and started breaking it into pieces. “So why are you really taking off, Sis? I never realized you hated living here.”

  “I don’t hate it. . .not exactly. I just can’t stand to be cooped up here anymore.”

  “Cooped up?” Ben cast a puzzled glance at the wide-open vista around them.

  Catherine had to laugh at his expression. “It does sound foolish, doesn’t it? But that’s how I feel. It’s like I’m a bird in a cage, and I have to break free.”

  “I still don’t get it.” Ben tossed the remnant of the stick away. “You mean you’re bored?”

  “That isn’t it, either. Who could be bored looking at this every day?” Catherine swept her arms wide to indicate the vast panorama. “There’s always something new to see—leaves changing colors in the fall, snow dusting the ground in the winter, the new calves every spring. . .” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard. Leaving it all behind wouldn’t be as easy as she’d thought.

  “You’re tired of the people around here, then?”

  Catherine ran through a mental list of the people in her life: her parents and grandparents; Ben; Alex; their friends, Jacob and Hallie Garrett; people from their church.

  “No.” Her voice caught in her throat. “No, they’re the salt of the earth—steady, stable, unchanging. . . . That’s it, Ben. Nothing ever changes.”

  “But you just said—”

  She shook her head impatiently, eager to explain the thought that had just taken shape in her mind. “I know what I said, and it’s true; there’s always something happening. But it’s always the same things over and over. It’s so predictable. I know exactly what to expect.

  “Out there. . .” She braced her hands against the cottonwood trunk and gazed toward the Bradshaw Mountains to the south. “Out there, things are happening. Big things, and I want to be a part of them. I have to, Ben. I have more to offer to the world—to myself—than just staying here and stagnating.”

  Ben chuckled. “So what are you planning to do that’s going to set the world on its ear?”

  “Maybe nothing right away, but at least I’ll be down there where things are going on. You never know what opportunities might come from this job. I see it as just a beginning.”

  “Tell me about this grand new job of yours. How did you find out about it, anyway?”

  Excitement bubbled up inside her at the chance to explain to someone who was truly interested. “I was talking to the Stapleys awhile back. You know, that new family who moved here a couple of years ago. It turns out they lived in Phoenix before they moved up here, and Mr. Stapley knows tons of influential people down there.”

  Ben nodded. “Go on.”

  “When I happened to mention that I’d be interested in working down there someday—”

  “You just ‘happened’ to mention that, eh?”

  “Okay, I may have steered the conversation that way a bit, but I was only looking for information. I never dreamed it would lead to anything like this.”

  “I still don’t see how that was enough to land you a job.”

  Catherine smiled, still amazed at the way it had all come together. “Mr. Stapley gave me the name of a man he knows. I sent him a letter, telling him about my qualifications, and he wrote back right away saying I sounded like just the kind of person he was looking for to work in his office.” She straightened proudly. “I’m going to be working for Southwestern Land and Investments.” The name rolled off her tongue. “ Doesn’t that have an impressive ring?”

  The corners of Ben’s mouth twitched, as if he were trying to hold back a grin. “Exactly what does this impressive company do?”

  “It’s a land development firm. And the owner, Nathan Showalter, is a very forward-thinking man, or so Mr. Stapley says.”

  Ben’s face darkened. “He’d better not be forward thinking when it comes to my sister.”

  Catherine scowled and gave him a little shove. “You sound just like Dad. It isn’t like you’re sending some helpless little lamb into a lion’s den, you know. I can take care of myself. I’ve done that plenty of times right here around Prescott. It’s a respectable job with a perfectly respectable company.”

  Ben hooked his fingers in his belt loops. “So what does this job involve?”

  For the first time, Catherine faltered. “I’m a little shaky on the details. I know I’m to have my own desk and work on some big projects. But that really isn’t the point. The important thing is that great things are ready to break open for this territory. We’re about to become a state, Ben, just think of it! And I’ll have a front row seat for everything that’s going on. No more just watching things happen; I’ll be part of making things happen.”

  “Right there from your little desk?” Ben tugged on her hair, just the way he’d done when she was a little girl.

  Catherine wrinkled her nose. “All right, maybe my job won’t have a direct bearing on getting us to statehood, but I’ll be there in the capital where it’s all happening. Why, there’s even talk of women getting the vote in Arizona. Imagine!”

  “That idea was voted down during the constitutional convention, little sister. Or have you forgotten?”

  Catherine lifted her chin. “Not at all, dear brother, but in case you’ve forgotten, the constitution provides for bringing initiatives before the people, and plans are in motion to do exactly that—bring the matter of women’s suffrage up for a public vote. Maybe I can be a part of that. Wouldn’t Grandma be proud?” She clapped her hands. “It’s wonderful, the way God is bringing all this about.”

 
Ben regarded her thoughtfully. “You’re sure this is God’s doing?”

  She pushed her earlier misgivings aside. “Of course! Just look at the way all these things have come together.” She ticked off each point on her fingers as she spoke. “The Stapley family just happens to move up here. I just happen to meet them. Then we just happen to be talking about working in Phoenix, and Mr. Stapley’s acquaintance just happens to need someone to work in his office at that exact time.”

  She beamed a triumphant smile. “Those are far too many things to be called coincidence, Ben. Can’t you see God’s hand at work in this?”

  Ben paused a moment before answering. “I’m not saying it isn’t, but I think the Lord gets the blame a lot of times for things we orchestrate ourselves.”

  “Not this time. I feel it. This is meant to be; don’t you understand?”

  Ben shook his head slowly. “No, Sis, I can’t say I do.” He slung his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight. “But I’ll back you anyway.”

  ❧

  “You wanted to see me?” At a gesture from his boss, Mitch stepped inside the cluttered office and shut the door against the clatter of the linotype.

  Lucas Dabney continued scribbling on the pad in front of him and waved Mitch to a chair on the visitor’s side of his desk.

  Mitch settled into the ladder-back chair, mildly irritated at being summoned while ideas for his current story were coming in full flood. He shifted on the hard seat and jiggled his right foot.

  Dabney scratched down a few more lines, then set his pen and pad to one side. Resting his arms on his desk, he laced his fingers together and stared at Mitch without speaking.

  Mitch quit fidgeting and started worrying. Dabney had something on his mind—but what?

  “Seems like the whole country is talking about Arizona these days,” Dabney said at last.

  It took Mitch a moment to find his voice. “You’re right. It’s the talk of the nation.” He found it hard to believe his boss had called him in for nothing more than light conversation. On the other hand, maybe he’d decided to spend some time getting to know his employees better.

  Mitch relaxed a fraction, but his conscience prodded him. Now would be a good time to tell Dabney about his outside activities. He owed him that as a good employee—even more as a man of integrity. He’d put it off too long already.

  Dabney leaned back in his oak chair and propped his feet on the corner of his desk. “In fact,” he went on, “you can hardly pick up any of the eastern papers without seeing something about Arizona’s and New Mexico’s quest for statehood.”

  The moment had come. Mitch cleared his throat. “Yes, and speaking of that—”

  “I’ve started saving some of the better articles I come across.” Dabney lowered his feet to the floor and slid open the top left desk drawer. “These ought to make an interesting collection someday, don’t you think?”

  Mitch’s mouth went dry at the sight of a thick stack of clippings. What were the chances this conversation wasn’t heading in the direction he feared it was? “They’ll make quite a scrapbook. And while we’re on the topic, I need to—”

  Dabney’s face took on a bland expression Mitch immediately found suspect. He stirred through the clippings with his forefinger. “Good stories, these. There’s some real talent out there. This writer, for instance—his name seems to keep popping up.” He withdrew one neatly trimmed article from the stack and sailed it across the desk.

  Uh-oh. Mitch trapped the clipping beneath his palm. He lifted his hand and stared at the paper, seeing the very words he prayed he wouldn’t: Race for Statehood Tightening Up ran the headline. Below it was the byline—Mitchell Brewer.

  Mitch stared at the incriminating proof for a long moment, then raised his head and looked straight at Dabney. “I owe you an apology. Mr. Wilson knew I was doing these pieces for other papers, and he was fine with that. But I should have let you know right up front, and I didn’t. I assure you all of them were written on my own time after my regular hours here.” He fought the impulse to assure his boss he was a man of honor. His actions hadn’t exactly demonstrated that. He braced his hands on his knees and waited for Dabney’s response.

  His employer held his gaze with a long stare, then a glint of humor quickened in his eyes. “All right, I’ve had my fun. I guess it’s time I let you off the hook. Wilson told me you were a go-getter. Just so you know, I happen to agree with him. . . and I’m very happy for you.”

  Mitch sagged in the ladder-back chair. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

  “You’re doing the Clarion proud. Keep up the good work.”

  Mitch stared. This went beyond anything he’d hoped for. “You mean it?”

  Dabney’s typically brusque demeanor returned. “Of course I meant it! It doesn’t do the Clarion a bit of harm for people to know we have a writer of this caliber. I’m just glad you didn’t decide to go to work for the Arizona Republican instead.”

  Dabney stood and walked around to the front of the desk. “More than that, it’s good for Arizona. And remember, Brewer, we’re on the brink of something big here, something far bigger than ourselves. I wouldn’t feel right about hoarding your talent for myself when statehood is so close to becoming a reality.”

  Relief made Mitch light-headed. “I feel the same way. About this being something big, I mean. Covering this story is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  Dabney nodded, and his expression grew even more sober. “What are your plans over the long run? With your talent, I can’t expect you to want to continue working for the Clarion for the rest of your career.”

  The last of Mitch’s tension drained away. He hitched his chair forward, eager to share his dreams with someone who would understand. “None of this was planned. I sent a brief article on the constitutional ratification and Taft’s veto to a Philadelphia paper, and they asked for more. Then I sold a piece to the Boston Herald and one to the New York Post, and the whole thing kind of snowballed after that.”

  Mitch stood and paced the width of the office. “I want to keep up the momentum, but I’m not quite sure how to do it. I’d welcome any suggestions you might have.”

  Dabney leaned against the corner of his desk. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the opposite wall, his fingers drumming lightly on the desktop. “What about profiles? Something to let the rest of the country get acquainted with the leaders in politics and business. Show them the movers and shakers around here.”

  Dabney crossed the office and gripped Mitch by his shoulder. “That’s it, my boy. You have the opportunity to dispel the notion once and for all that Arizona is full of outlaws and ruffians. Our delegates to Washington have been trying to do that for years, but with your talent, you may be just the one to accomplish it.”

  Mitch felt his heart beat faster with mounting excitement. “Maybe God put me in this place at this time for just this purpose.” He stared into space, trying to sort through the whirl of ideas that suddenly presented themselves.

  Dabney’s voice called him back to the moment. “Well, what are you doing, just standing there? Get out of my office and get started!”

  Three

  Catherine detached herself from the crowd moving along Jefferson Street and stopped in front of the building bearing the name Southwestern Land and Investments. With a growing sense of delight, she studied the name in gilt lettering on the front windows of the neat, red brick building and caught her breath at the wonder of it all.

  She, Catherine Elizabeth O’Roarke, stood ready to take her place in the world.

  Catching sight of herself in the plate glass, she took a moment to examine her reflection. Her white blouse and matching navy skirt and jacket made her look businesslike yet feminine. Catherine nodded approval. She would fit right in with the city scene.

  And her mother thought she would be content to stay up north and marry Alexander Bradley! Catherine shook her head at the absurdity of the idea. Once he got past slipping those ants and
the occasional frog down the back of her dress, Alex had been a good friend to her. He was one of the kindest, most dependable people she knew, and he would make a fine husband. . .for someone else.

  But ranch life suited Alex. He would be forever happy tending his cattle and raising a passel of sons to follow in his footsteps. She, on the other hand, would die, simply die, if she had only that to look forward to for the rest of her days.

  A motor car tooted its horn, sending a clutch of pedestrians scurrying out of its way. Everywhere she looked, people hurried to and fro as if each one was bent on an important task. The very air crackled with a sense of urgency. And it suited her to a T. Bolstered by that knowledge, she walked up the steps to meet her destiny.

  Inside the small foyer, Catherine took a moment to let her eyes become accustomed to the dimmer light. . .and to quell the surge of anxiety that took her unawares. Trying to effect an appearance of poise, she walked across the hardwood floor to the reception desk opposite. The rather plain young woman seated there looked up. “May I help you?”

  “Good morning. I’m Catherine O’Roarke. Mr. Showalter is expecting me. I’m to begin working here today.” She surreptitiously slipped her handkerchief from her sleeve and kneaded it in her hand.

  The receptionist flashed a friendly smile. “Miss Trautman will be your supervisor. I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

  She disappeared through an archway in the back wall and came back a moment later, accompanied by an older woman wearing spectacles on a chain around her neck. “Miss Trautman, this is Miss O’Roarke.”

  Catherine studied the supervisor. She held her head and shoulders drawn back in a way that reminded Catherine of a pouter pigeon. Catherine bit her lower lip to stifle the desire to laugh. Her gaze dropped to the other woman’s impeccably tailored outfit, and her heart sank. Her own clothes looked positively frumpy in comparison.

  Miss Trautman swept her from head to toe with a look that made her feel like an unwanted intruder. Mr. Showalter gave me this job, she reminded herself. I didn’t come here as a beggar. She drew courage from the thought. Lifting her chin, she stared straight back and waited for the other woman to speak first.