by Noelle, Jo
The words hung in the air. What a thing to ask. Millie wondered what she meant by them. She stopped and looked at Julianne, who took another step before she also stopped and turned back. “Think about him as my employer when the restaurant opens, or think about him as the person who sells my baked goods now?”
“Neither,” Julianne answered, leaning close. “Think about him as a possible husband.” Millie opened her mouth to protest, but Julianne continued. “The two of you have been working together for a couple of years. I think you get along well. You’d have someone to share your days with. You could have your own home—your own family, a little girl of your own with red hair.”
Millie smiled weakly. “That’s not for me. I’m thirty. My time came and went. I’m not sad about the path I’m on. I have my causes and helping with Callum’s ministry at the church. My life is very full. So, no. I’ve not thought about Edwin.”
That was only partially true, and Millie knew it. It was only true lately. She had very much hoped that one day her friendship with Edwin would blossom into love. Laws, that man was handsome with his strong shoulders, black hair, and piercing blue eyes. He wasn’t quick with a smile, but when he gave one, she could feel herself melt right down to her toes. He wasn’t a big talker, either, never boasting or flattering others, so when he said something, she knew he meant it. Yes, she’d thought of Edwin much too much.
He’d moved there five years ago, having suffered a prior tragedy he wouldn’t speak of. To Millie, he seemed like a wounded bird.
She’d been twenty-five and well on her way to becoming a spinster, but for a few months, her heart had packed a little bit of hope in one corner and waited. Friendship grew, and the hope shriveled. She was happy to have his trust and respect but had resigned herself to not moving his passions. She was surprised that the realization still stung.
They walked past the newly rebuilt Nugget Saloon. Millie’s eyes cast upward. The rooms upstairs were filled with women who had likely had dreams of home and family one day, but some circumstance had dashed their hope as well. Something terrible had stolen their happy futures. Millie knew she was a lucky one. When her mother died in Scotland, her brother protected her and sent for her to come to America and live with him. She had a measure of happiness that many never experienced.
“If not Edwin, then maybe Sterling McCormick,” Julianne said, interrupting her thoughts. “He likes you.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s just nice.” She examined her heart. Did she feel anything special for Sterling? She supposed that she would have had some recognition of it if she had. She’d just never thought of him as a suitor before.
“If we all walk into the worksite together, Mr. McCormick says hello to you before anyone else.”
Millie hadn’t noticed that.
“He always eats at Edwin’s place.” Julianne’s voice tried to sound casual but failed.
Millie knew what she was trying to imply but refused to get caught up in it. A broken heart hurt. She couldn’t say Edwin broke her heart by failing to make her dream come true. No. She’d done that to herself by manufacturing the possibility of marriage to him in the first place, then wetted her pillow many a nights wondering what had gone wrong. Oh, but marriage would have been grand. She pushed that little disappointment away and said, “Lots of people eat there.”
Julianne stopped at the end of the boardwalk before crossing the street to the dry goods store. “He does it to compliment your cooking.” Her eyebrows rose as she stared at Millie. In a moment, she sighed and shook her head, then linked arms with her and walked across.
True. Millie liked hearing that her food pleased people. She even remembered being flattered by his compliments.
“No matter where he is when you come by the restaurant, he manages to begin working in the room where you are.”
Was she really missing that much about him? “That doesn’t mean he’s looking for matrimony,” Millie said. She wondered why he hadn’t married.
“He’s more mature. He’s built a nice business. He can afford a wife and children comfortably. Maybe you should think about that, Millie.”
Millie considered something her mother had said many years ago. Millie had only been fifteen or so, but the saying amused her and caught in her memory. “Any man who has more than two nickels to rub together wants a wife.” Well, Mr. McCormick certainly had that. She determined to watch and see if there was evidence for any of Julianne’s arguments. Maybe, but most likely not. And since she had no romantic feelings toward the man, should she entertain the notion all? Somehow it felt like she was untrue to Edwin even to consider it.
“Why are you concerned with getting me married?”
Julianne put her arm around Millie for a brief hug as they walked. “Because you want to be. You want a child of your own. You’d be a wonderful mother.”
Millie knew that was true. She didn’t know her friend knew it too. What was she going to do about it?
They arrived at the dry goods store, and Julianne held the door, so the three of them could enter. A small bell tinkled above them as the door swung shut.
“Good morning,” Mr. Crowther called out from where he stood on a ladder dusting the cans on the top shelf.
“Good morning,” Millie and Julianne replied.
Mrs. Crowther came from the back room. “Oh, Millie. I have your special order. Let me get that for you.” She disappeared back through the door.
“Special order?” Julianne asked.
Usually her orders were spices she wanted to try, but this one was very different. “It won’t look so special when you see it. It’s just paper.” Millie handed Grace back to her mother.
Mrs. Crowther reentered and handed Millie a package tied up in brown paper. Millie was a little shocked to see what five hundred sheets of paper looked like all in a bundle. She noticed the surprise on Julianne’s face too.
“Do I want to know?” she asked quietly. Although her voice sounded worried, it was a little theatrical. Millie thought she was curious instead.
“Maybe?” Millie answered with a tentative smile. She hoped Julianne would want to join her rather than just knowing what Millie was planning.
“Is there anything else I can get for you today, ladies?” Mrs. Crowther asked. Just then, her daughters Penny and Lissy came into the room arguing.
“He said hello to me at church, so he’s mine,” Lissy said, her voice high-pitched and whiny.
“Well, he brushed against me that day,” Penny countered.
“He had to since you moved into his way as he was leaving. You saw that didn’t you, Mother?” Lissy asked.
“I’m busy right now, girls,” Mrs. Crowther said, her voice straining to remain polite.
Penny turned on Millie and Julianne. “You both know Michael Turley.”
“He’s so handsome,” Lissy cut in.
“He’s not going to marry either of you,” their youngest sister, Rita, said as she walked through the room.
Millie found it hard to keep from laughing out loud at the young ladies. Often she pressed her lips onto Baby Grace’s bonnet to hide her smile.
“Who do you think he’s most likely to marry—me or Lissy?” Penny asked Julianne, who blinked at Millie in a plea for help.
“Girls, take your ridiculous conversation upstairs.” Mr. Crowther’s voice was stern as he climbed down the ladder. “I’m sorry, Miss Bing, Mrs. Fontaine. They’re at an age—well, I don’t pretend to understand them.”
When the young ladies left, Millie ordered the cardamom. She’d have to wait on the other spices since the paper had come. She would have to save more money for them.
“I need a few items too.” Julianne handed her list to Mrs. Crowther. “May Mr. Fontaine come by for this in a couple of hours?”
“That will be fine,” Mrs. Crowther answered.
They left the store, and Millie saw a woman walking down the middle of the street. She wore a plaid over her head and a rough dress beneath like she was
fresh off the boat from Scotland. A team of horses passed between them and when it moved off, Millie could no longer see the woman. Where had she gone? Millie hoped to see her again. She missed the lilting cadence of a Scottish tongue. Millie turned back to her friend. “I need to take this paper over to the Creede Candle.”
Millie felt Julianne’s hand on her forearm, tugging her to stop. “You buy a suspicious amount of paper that you’re delivering to the newspaper office, which has the only printing press in Creede. What are you up to, Millie Ray Bing?”
“I’m having flyers printed.” Millie tried to sound nonchalant. Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell Julianne was staring at her.
“How many flyers?” Her hand lodged on her hip.
Millie found that she looked down and then over her shoulder. She knew she looked guilty of something, but really she didn’t want to see disappointment on Julianne’s face. “About five hundred,” she replied, still not looking right at Julianne.
“Now I know you’re stirring something up. Tell me.” Julianne moved them to the other side of the street and stopped between the marshal’s office and the livery. “You know, I got knocked in the head the last time you riled people up. I liked that hat, too. You owe me a warning at least.” She laughed along with saying the last sentence.
Millie knew she’d tell her sooner or later. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a voice?” Julianne gave her a puzzled look, but Millie continued. “A voice in what happens to you or your town or your state? And not just yours but the voice of all women that could be as strong as the voice men have had?”
“Many times.” Julianne’s reply was soft, but sure.
“Women in the state of Wyoming and in the Utah and Washington territories have been voting for twenty years. Young women have grown up believing that their opinions and perspectives matter. Why not here? Colorado should be next. Grace could grow up believing women and men are equals under the law.”
Julianne locked elbows with Millie and began walking toward the news office. “You’re printing flyers to encourage votes for women?”
“Not exactly.” They took a few more steps, and when Julianne nudged Millie with her shoulder, Millie added, “I’m making flyers to invite people to attend a rally in support of suffrage.” The idea filled her with excitement. “It’s a grand cause, isn’t it? Just think. We could be voters this time next year. Women would be respected for their opinions. Maybe someday, women will even run for office. They could be leaders in their towns and states or maybe in the country.”
“Votes for women.” Julianne said it as if trying out the words, but a smile grew on her lips.
“Yes. Will you come?” She needed her there, but she wouldn’t pressure her.
“A rally?” Julianne’s broad smile softened. “I’ll talk to Hugh.”
“No, don’t talk to Hugh. He’ll just bring up last time.” And last time hadn’t gone as planned. It had started out well—they had prayed with many people that day and had sung Amazing Grace, Millie’s favorite song. And that’s when it had all turned a little sour. The cookie brawl was still whispered about frequently. Was everyone going to think this rally would be the same? No. This time would be different. It had to be. “And he won’t let you come.”
“We’ll see.”
Millie delivered the paper and instructions for printing the notices to Mr. Carroll, the editor of the weekly paper. A new dream, a new cause was about to be born with the printing of those bulletins. She felt pulled between excitement and uneasiness. What if she were alone in this crusade too? She refused to think that about her neighbors. Surely they cared about the rights of women as much as she did. They were fair. They were rational. They had courage. That’s what she would believe and remember in the coming days.
“Do you think this town will support votes for women?” Millie and Julianne turned away from the Creede Candle’s office and walked back to the restaurant. “Our time has come in Colorado. I want to do something more to help this along, but I don’t know exactly what that should be,” Millie said.
Julianne nodded. “We’ll think of something.”
Just before they reentered the restaurant, Millie smiled at Julianne. “You said we.”
Edwin
Edwin handed out the last of the Sunday bagged lunches. The meal was a little larger than usual so it took extra time to prepare. He only served one meal that day, but if he didn’t, many men would go without eating. He decided to take a walk and look at the ornamentation that was installed around the windows, doors, and veranda the day before. Had it been up to him, the building would have been plain and functional—no fancy moldings or cornices, but Millie thought people wanted to stay in a place that looked homey. Edwin made it seem like he’d debated the decision, but really he’d have given her whatever she chose. He imagined there would be an abundance of “homey” in front of the building since he’d left it to her and Julianne to decide.
As he surveyed the ornamentation and scrollwork on the porch, he noticed Sterling McCormick looked spiffy enough to be heading to church. The man was duded up in a dark suit with a white shirt and a black tie around his neck. Edwin stepped into the street and waved. When the carriage stopped, Edwin called out to him. “I was just admiring your handiwork here on the porch. I had my doubts, but you’ve sure done a great job for us.”
“Thank you.” Sterling glanced from Edwin’s face and up Main Street several times. He seemed nervous or in a hurry, but he was early for church. Not that Edwin had gone for years, but he’d seen folks go.
“I need to be on my way, or I’ll be late to church. Good day to you, Edwin.”
Late? Edwin suddenly realized that Sterling needed the extra time to get to Bachelor instead of attending here in Creede. He decided to test out that theory. “May I get a ride to church with you?”
Sterling acted as if it was a difficult question, finally answering, “Not today. I’m going to church in Bachelor.”
Edwin admitted that Reverend Theodore wasn’t a beloved leader, but it seemed a waste to travel an extra twenty or thirty minutes just to avoid him. Then Edwin’s heart nearly stopped. What if he wasn’t avoiding Eugene? What if he was more interested in the company he was going to keep than in the sermon he heard? As the man was about to shake his reins, Edwin raised his hand and called out, “Oh, me too.”
Edwin’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t attended a service for the past five years, but he had to do it today. He told himself that it was necessary.
Mr. McCormick stared at him and then answered, “All right,” with a flat smile on his face.
Edwin hopped aboard the carriage. They traveled the length of Main Street without speaking a word and left town. The carriage climbed a steep hill and topped over the other side. They were halfway to Bachelor at Cougar Flat, where Julianne Fontaine had killed a mountain lion. The carriage creaked over the dips and rocks, and dust rose behind them.
“What made you decide to go to the Bachelor church?” Edwin asked.
He had his suspicions but wondered if the man would admit it.
Sterling opened and closed his mouth without answering. After a long moment, he said, “Reverend Bing.”
The man’s lying like an old rug and while on his way to church to boot. Edwin shook his head at the shame of it.
“Why’d you decide to?”
He hadn’t expected McCormick to turn the tables on him. “Reverend Bing. I like his sermons.” While that might be the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth. Yeah, he was a rug too.
“Ha. Sermons. Me too,” Sterling replied with sarcasm tainting the words.
It sounded like the man might be calling him a liar by the way he said it. Well, the man wasn’t as daft as Edwin had thought. It was fair turnabout, he supposed. “Aye, right.”
When they got there, a few people were entering the little white church. They both hopped down, and Sterling tied his horse to a tree limb. Edwin blocked the back wheels then walked casuall
y toward the chapel. He didn’t want to tip Sterling off that he had every intention of sitting next to Millie. The man would have made this trip for nothing.
Walking slightly ahead of Edwin, Sterling pulled at his sleeves and straightened the bottom of his sack coat as he walked to the building.
It seemed to Edwin that Mr. McCormick had increased his speed a bit. Edwin matched it and nodded at Sterling when he looked at him. Then Edwin sped up, but the man came alongside him. Soon both were running toward the church. They pounded up the steps at the same time and rounded the corner to enter the front doors. Sterling had a better angle and pushed Edwin out of the way to get through first. Edwin charged down the aisle, spying Millie in the middle of the very front pew. In a race, Edwin and Mr. McCormick dropped to the bench on either side of Millie, startling her.
Callum laughed behind his hand, then straightened his cleric’s collar and black coat, and stood to start the meeting.
Edwin paid more attention to Mr. McCormick and to Millie out of the corner of his eye than he did to Reverend Bing until the preacher began to talk about King Solomon offering to cut a baby in half to satisfy two competing mothers.
Then Edwin wished he hadn’t looked in Callum’s direction. Edwin blinked his eyes. His mam, rest her soul, was back. This time she pointed straight at him, her finger pressing into his chest. He could feel it. The delusion continued when she pointed at herself and mimed holding a baby in her arms. Edwin looked around. No one seemed to notice the woman standing before him at the front of the church.
Then she lay down on the floor near his feet and crossed her wrists over her chest and shut her eyes.
Memories of her in a casket flooded him. It had taken weeks before she’d succumbed to her illness. She had wasted to skin and bones. He felt the emptiness of long ago at settling her into that dark grave and how he yearned to see her once more. As if his plea were granted, here she was hearty and hale. When she sat up, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He realized he was standing and said “Hallelujah” before retaking his seat.