Suffrage and Suitors

by Noelle, Jo

  Several people behind him replied, “Amen.”

  Callum looked at him with a chuckle. “That might be the first hallelujah I’ve ever gotten for a sermon on compassion. I suppose it’s deserved for the mother who thought more of her son’s life than for her to be right. Thank you, Edwin. King Solomon’s wisdom teaches us . . . ”

  Reverend Bing’s voice trailed away as Edwin noticed Millie glancing at him and away again. She probably thinks I’m a lunatic. Edwin might agree with her.

  He sat back, and his mam had her fists resting on her hips and tapping her toe. Then she started drawing a circle around and around above her head. She skipped around Reverend Bing and the piano in a large circle, flapping her arms like she was flying. If Edwin were to put all that together, he’d have to say that she wanted him to know that she was his mam, rest . . . her . . . soul—maybe not. But she had died, and now she was an angel.

  Is no one else seeing this? Really? But he gazed around—nope, not a one paid any mind.

  He had to admit, either she was an angel or he was crazy. He liked the first explanation much better than the second, but he thought she might be barking mad, too. That’s when she cuffed him alongside the head. Aye. That was his mam all right. What did she want?

  After the final song and prayer, the men separated from the women and began working on woodcrafts outside. Edwin welcomed the chance to breathe fresh air and clear his head. He noticed that Sterling had a whittling knife. Reverend Bing offered one to Edwin, and they began to work.

  Reverend Bing said to the group, “Peter asked this question in his second book. He said, ‘What manner of men ought ye to be?’ It seems like a good question for us today.” Then he set back to whittling in the following silence.

  Edwin, like the other men in the group, contemplated his answer to that question as he studied the work in his hands. He wanted to say, “A man the Lord could count on,” but since he hadn’t been to church these five years past, it felt like hypocrisy. He was a believer. It burned within him. He wondered how something coming up from deep in his soul was so at odds with what he felt like he could do to show it.

  Clint Roberts was sitting next to him and said, “I want Him to know that I’m trying to love my fellow men. I’m trying to see the good in them. Even when they aren’t doing good, in my opinion, I’m trying to look at things through their eyes.”

  “Charity,” Callum said, nodding.

  Edwin could see that. Clint was accepting and kind to people. Edwin hadn’t known that Clint had set a goal to be that way, but he’d seen evidence of it at the meat market when he picked up his orders from him.

  Down the circle aways, Hugh Fontaine said, “I’d have to say I ought to be an honest man. Honest with the Lord and honest with my family and friends.”

  Edwin recognized most of the other men at the service. Asa Young, the foreman at the Mother Lode mine, sat between Callum and Hugh. “Patience,” he said as his knife carved out a hunk of wood.

  Edwin noticed a strain in his voice at pushing out that one word.

  Asa cleared his throat and nodded. “I’m working on patience.”

  Paul Von Hemberg sat on Edwin’s other side. He ran a freight service between Creede and Lake City. Edwin heard him whisper, “Amen,” to the other comments. Maybe he, like Edwin, kept his contemplation in his heart today.

  “I hide my face from the Lord,” Steven Nield said. He was a welder and bought meals from Edwin regularly. “I’m not able to be a light to this town when I do that. I’m working on it, but I think I have a long way to go.”

  “You’re what the Beatitudes call ‘meek.’ The meek want to learn to be like the Lord. We might all be able to use a bit of that, Steven,” Callum said. “We have things we want to work on, and recognizing that we need to do more will help us lean on the Lord’s arm and borrow His strength.”

  Edwin could hear the tinkling voices behind him when Callum announced, “The ladies will be arranging the dinner. Let’s get the benches cleaned up. Then we can eat with them.”

  Sterling McCormick went to his carriage and pulled a basket from under the bench. It seemed like that basket was a special gift. He stood taller and walked with a cocky sort of strut over to Millie, who was setting out food near where Edwin was carrying a bench.

  Sheesh. The man could have taken it to one of the other women he had to pass by on his way over. Edwin thought Sterling was being overbearing in his attentions to Millie.

  “Thank you for the rolls, Mr. McCormick,” Millie said. “They’re the ones Beatrice makes, aren’t they? These might be my favorite.”

  Sterling smiled. “She might have mentioned that, Miss Bing.” That earned him an answering smile, and Millie added the basket to the table.

  Edwin didn’t have anything to contribute to the meal. He hadn’t been aware there would be one. He realized hat Sterling had been coming up here for services before today and possibly had the jump on winning Millie’s heart. Edwin wondered why he really cared. He hadn’t settled on taking up with her. Or had he? His heart thumped erratically like he was being a blamed fool.

  When Edwin filled his plate, he looked around for Millie and found her sitting at the end of a bench with Callum right beside her. Edwin hurried over to sit on the bench on the other side of that table. Sterling went for the same seat. The men met and sat side by side. Sterling excused himself after he put his plate down, then came back a minute later and set a glass of water in front of Millie.

  It was a simple kindness, but it touched Edwin to see it. Sterling treated Millie with special attention, with importance. He was showing by his actions and conversations that he valued her. What did Edwin’s interactions with her say? Maybe that he was busy with running a business or that he thought the food they served was acceptable. It was a powerful lesson to Edwin. He knew she didn’t need another glass of water, but he needed think of some other way to show her that he cared. It surprised him that he cared deeply, and he wondered if he should do anything about it or let it be.

  After the meal, the women began to clean up the food, and the men put away the benches and chairs. When Sterling took his basket back to his carriage, Edwin noticed Millie struggling to carry her dishes.

  “May I get those for you, Millie?” Edwin was saddened by the surprised look in her eyes. How long had they worked together, and this little service by him shocked her? They gazed at each other, and Edwin felt a longing to touch her.

  “Thank you, Edwin. If you’ll get the Dutch oven, I’ll take the bowls,” she replied.

  Edwin was determined to never see that dismayed look on Millie’s pretty face ever again.

  Millie

  Millie left the Creede Candle with the flyers safely tucked inside her carpetbag early that morning. Spitz had followed her and rested in a sunny spot until she came out. He stood and sniffed at her bag before settling to walk beside her. Although she’d left her spices at home, there was still a fragrance to the bag—no doubt to the flyers now too. It was just as well they smelled of spices because Millie definitely was cooking something up.

  Who to visit first? Millie looked up the road toward Bachelor and decided to start in the other direction. She had all day, but she figured it would take many days to invite every woman she knew to the rally.

  The bell above the door to the mercantile jingled as Millie entered without Spitz. The dog knew his place well.

  “Hello, Miss Bing. What brings you to town today?” asked Mortimer Jackson as he paused in stacking a pile of sacks.

  “I was hoping to talk with Toria. Is she here?”

  “No. She went over to that new teahouse with a bag of lemon drops with Sophia Clay. I don’t expect her back too soon. When she takes hard candy, she intends to stay and chat until they’re gone.”

  “Thanks. I’ll catch her over there. Good day,” Millie said as she left. She had a tin of shortbread cookies, a new recipe even, that she could share with the women. She collected her horse from the hitching post. The doo
r to Marshal Murray’s office flung open.

  “Millie,” called Eliza Murray, hurrying toward her. “Where are you headed?”

  Millie stood at the bottom of the steps and pointed up Main Street. I’m tracking down Toria.”

  “I’ll go with you. I’m going to the Stoker sisters’ teahouse myself. It’s our Tuesday tea party. Beatrice Jameson and Mariah Jensen will be there, too.” Eliza shut the door behind her. “We’ve just started getting together, and it’s so much fun. Maybe you’d like to join us.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Millie recalculated her day. She’d get to talk to so many at once that she’d have plenty of time to go out to Topaz and visit with Vivian, Seffi, and Hannah. On her way back, she’d check in with Julianne if she was at the restaurant and with Nora on her way back to Bachelor. Millie was practically bouncing on her toes as she walked.

  When they arrived at the teahouse, they opened the ornately carved door. Millie hugged each of the ladies assembled and seated herself among them. Although the small round tables only fit two for tea, there were several tables clustered, and the floor seemed carpeted with gingham and calico skirts. Ariadne and Regina set delicate cups and saucers in front of each woman. When Regina went to get the tea pots from the stove, Ariadne turned a sign to “closed” before she joined the group.

  Millie sat quietly with the flyers burning a hole in her carpetbag while she retrieved the cookies. “I have a special treat, and I’d like your opinion.” She opened the tin. “It’s a new recipe. Tell me what you think.” She handed them around, and the women nibbled on them between sips of tea. She needed just the right moment to bring up the rally.

  The women begin talking about their homes, children, and husbands, laughing at the antics and surprises they faced as married women. Millie listened with interest, but she couldn’t think of anything to contribute. Although she kept house for her brother, it wasn’t the same as seeing the admiration and passion on the women’s faces as they spoke. She knew their stories, and they were all so different but alike in that they loved their husbands fiercely.

  Julianne had asked her what she thought of Edwin and Sterling as potential husbands. Several years ago, she’d stopped thinking about that. Now she didn’t know how one picked a spouse. Of course, she didn’t have that problem right now. Still, hypothetically, it was good to be prepared for that.

  At a lull in the conversation, Eliza asked, “Millie, why were you looking for Toria? Sorry—it might be none of my business.”

  “Oh, no it’s fine. I was actually going to try to talk to all of you in the next day or two. But listening just now made me curious. Tell me …” Millie hesitated. She was about to ask something very personal, but they were some of her dearest friends, and she had to know. “Tell me something that attracted you to your husband.” She hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but it really was. Millie secretly hoped that something someone said might prompt her heart to know what to do. She needed a list of qualities in a husband, and who better to ask?

  Toria laughed a little. “Well, I guess it isn’t any secret that I was married before I was attracted. That’s the way with mail-order brides.” She paused, and a contented smile overcame her. “Mortimer appreciated me. He acknowledged my intelligence. And then he began doing little things to surprise me and make me happy. Attraction quickly followed.”

  Millie made a mental note—appreciation and doing little things.

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Eliza said. “I fell hard.” The women roared with laughter, knowing that KC had ambushed her when she was dressed like a man, thinking she was out causing trouble. “And the next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Maybe it was love at first sight or maybe that we worked together so well. Either way, it was immediate.” The giggles died down, and Eliza added, “KC saw the real me. He never took note of my limp. He treats me as an equal.”

  Millie’s heart was full for her friends. They’d married good men who loved them.

  Beth said, “Byron values what I say. He listens to my opinion. It seems strange, but my oh my, that’s very attractive.”

  Millie wasn’t sure if she would remember this list when she got home, but she knew now that she could write a list that was important to her.

  “There were a couple of things that sealed it for me,” Beatrice said. “Arthur came to the rescue of a woman crying on a bench—me. It was evidence of his good heart.”

  When she paused too long, Millie asked, “And the other reason?”

  Beatrice smiled. “The way he kissed me. I was all a-tingle.”

  The women laughed softly. Millie knew it was because they’d felt that too with their husbands. Millie had never kissed anyone. She didn’t know if she ever would if she didn’t try to find out if she was interested in either of the two men.

  Regina had married just a week ago. She blushed at every comment the other ladies made. Millie thought it romantic and wonderful. Regina said, “He was there. When I needed someone, it was him. It always will be.” Several of the women nodded, and Regina added, “I also wanted to see him drink tea. Can’t you just see his big old hands on this tiny cup and his pinky straight out?”

  Millie pictured it in her mind and laughed along with the others.

  Long ago, Millie had resigned herself to just be the reverend’s sister, but it might be nice to see if she shared passion with Edwin or Mr. McCormick. Her heart raced a bit with wondering. Was that too much to hope for? Perhaps she should settle for compatible and willing. But even thinking that made her stomach cringe. No. She wanted a loving relationship or she’d keep the life she had.

  Sophia spoke up next. She had a soft smile. “Otto knew I was skittish—scared of being hurt again. He was very patient as I came around.”

  Mariah answered last. “He’s a blacksmith.” She just smiled at the group like that would be enough said. Millie saw confusion on the other ladies’ faces, so she wasn’t alone in misunderstanding. Mariah added, “He lifts steel and swings a hammer all day. That’s been very good to his arms and shoulders and chest.”

  The other ladies laughed, and Millie was a little embarrassed that she’d asked but only a little. She’d add that to her list. Be pleased with how he looks. It was a good idea since she’d be looking at him for a lifetime—if she ever married, that was. Millie could hear a dog barking and wondered if it was Spitz.

  “We’ll meet again next Tuesday,” Mariah said with a little wave to her.

  Millie was closest to the door and opened it. The woman she’d seen walking in the street a few days ago with the plaid scarf over her head was standing in the way. Spitz was sniffing at her hem.

  “Stop,” the woman said, holding her hand up and pointing emphatically to Millie’s carpetbag. “You’ve got something important to share.” The woman pretended to hold a stack of papers and hand them out as she spoke.

  The way she acted out her words was more than a little strange. Millie wondered how the woman knew what was in her bag or why she was even standing there. “I think I’ll give them out later.”

  “You can hear me?” The woman’s eyes were wide with surprise, and she pressed her hand to Millie’s arm. “You can, can’t you? Saints be praised,” she said without waiting for an answer. “Now, listen. Hand those out. Ask them to join you. What you’ve got there is pure dead brilliant. Be bold.” The woman was nodding at Millie with a magnificent smile. Something about it was familiar. Millie felt like hugging the woman just for the brogue to her voice. Oh, how she missed it.

  “Are ye a bit daft?” the woman asked with concern in her gaze.

  Millie realized she had been standing in the doorway for far too long.

  “’Tis a canny idea you have there. Be about your business.” The woman turned her around to face her friends, and with a little shove, said, “Of the now. Off with ye.”

  The ladies stopped chatting and looked at Millie. “I . . . I was going to talk with each of you . . . separately.” Millie remembered the last time and
that she’d had little support. Only Julianne had stood with her. She had thought others would want to help. Why would these women do so now?

  From beyond the door came the command, “Of the now, lassie. Tell them before ducklings die of old age.”

  “But, I guess, it’s as good a time as another.” Millie set her carpetbag down and retrieved flyers from it. “I believe Creede needs to join together to support votes for women in Colorado. The election is soon.” She began handing a page to each of the ladies. When she’d given the last woman an announcement, she was afraid to look up. Afraid that she’d see their eyes looking anywhere except at her. Or that they’d slip the paper on the table behind them to leave it there when they left. She couldn’t take the silence any longer. When she raised her head, she saw the women reading it, some with a smile and others nodding approval. She couldn’t tell what they really thought of it or if they’d come. “I’m holding a rally to ask the men to cast their vote, so we might have a voice in the future.” Then she hurriedly added, “It won’t be like last time . . . I think.”

  Toria laughed. “Oh yes, I heard about that one. Did Archibald really dump beer on you and Julianne?”

  Apparently enough time had passed that Millie could see the humor in it. “He did.” She laughed. “It was miserable. That won’t happen this time. We won’t stand anywhere near the saloon.”

  “What exactly will we do at the rally?” Eliza asked.

  “We’ll start at Marshal Murray’s office and march up Main Street to where the theater is being built,” Millie answered. She wondered if Eliza could do that. They’d walked together from the marshal’s office. Although Eliza still had a slight limp, she seemed unconcerned about it and had walked quickly.

  “That seems harmless. How will anyone know why we’re doing that?” Sophia said.

  “We’ll chant, ‘Votes for women,’ and maybe carry signs,” Millie said. Although she had the date chosen and flyers printed, she realized that she was making this up as they spoke. She hadn’t had a clear plan for imparting their message yet. She was sure it would come.