Suffrage and Suitors

by Noelle, Jo

  When she got near, she scratched behind both of his ears. The dog lifted his nose and closed his eyes, enjoying the attention. Edwin thought Spitz was a very lucky dog. What Edwin wouldn’t give to have Millie’s face close to his and her hands trailing through his hair. They had to get the rally over. Then he could make his commitment to her known.

  He opened the door. “Hello. What brings you by?”

  “I thought you could use some help making supper. I saw Mrs. Hensley, and she told me about the guests you have tonight.”

  He could indeed. He had an unexpected houseful. “Thank you, and yes, I’d love some help.” Tomorrow was a big day for her, and here she was at the back door, asking if she could help make the guests more comfortable. That was one of the qualities he liked most about her. She was caring.

  Millie entered the kitchen, cleaned her hands in the washbasin, and tied on an apron. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Indian Frybread, but I haven’t started yet.”

  “You have beans, right?

  “Yeah. I try not to run out.” His eyes kept glancing at Millie in the apron. It was the same kind he wore, but it accented her figure in a very good, very distracting way. He thought he might be able to slip his hands completely around her waist, but not for long. If he touched her, he’d pull her into his arms. He imagined her little gasp of surprise, a knowing smile on her lips, the welcoming tip of her head, his lips on hers. One day soon.

  “I’ll get the dough ready and heat up the grease.” Millie pulled out lard, flour, salt, and sugar. “Do you have baking soda?”

  Edwin shook himself inwardly and then pointed to a cupboard. It was no use. If she was in the kitchen, he’d be aware of her. He watched her move gracefully around the room, her skirt swaying with each step. The bun at the back of her head was loose, and several stray curls floated around her neck. He wondered how many pins he’d have to pull to let her hair down around her shoulders. She was alluring no matter where she was.

  Millie opened the door and stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach the box. Edwin could see that it was just out of reach. He decided to make a stepstool for the dainty woman to use.

  He walked up behind her. “May I get that for you?”

  At his voice, she met his gaze but didn’t step away. “Yes, please.”

  Her upturned eyes sent longing through his chest. He wanted days and years to be with her. He wanted to feel her soft face. Most of all, he wanted to see her expression when he confessed his love. Those weren’t words first said in a kitchen. Perhaps he could hint of their coming, though. He could do it—he could touch her and not scare her away or seek more than that touch. Edwin stood behind her. His left hand slid slowly from her back to her waist and rested on her soft hip as he leaned around her right side. He was glad he had another task to do—get the box, hand the box to Millie. Otherwise, this supper might not get made.

  When he gave her the soda, her hands lingered on his before taking it. This might be the best meal he’d ever made—not for the taste but for the companionship in the kitchen. Her soft fingers ran down his large, rough hand, igniting desire within him while her eye contact never broke. Finally, she took the box.

  “Thank you, Edwin.” Her words were a little raspy, and her chest rose with shallow breaths. He was thrilled to know that he affected her perhaps as much as she did him. He knew then that their passion would last a lifetime. He had to slow his desire—stir the meat, serve the meal, attend the rally, marry Millie, love her forever. It was a simple plan.

  Each of them began cooking, Edwin standing in front of one stove with Millie at the other. Edwin stoked the fire and heated pans, then crumbled ground beef into them. At first he thought Millie was humming. Then he heard a few of the words. “Holy, holy, holy. Lord God Almighty.” Her voice was sweet and soft, reverent even, as she measured and stirred. He worked silently, listening to her sing.

  Before long, she said, “I have enough bread cooked. Are you ready?”

  “I am. Let’s serve.”

  When the guests picked up their plates, Edwin again wished he had tables and chairs. It looked like the boarding house would open, but the restaurant would wait. It didn’t seem to matter much to everyone who milled around, picnicked on the bare floor, or sat on the slats of the staircase, talking and eating. Millie carried her plate with her as she moved to each of the groups, chatting easily. After the second time she’d waved him over to receive a compliment on the food or the building, he began walking with her. She moved the guests on to their rooms with precision to give Edwin enough time to clean up.

  “You’re a lifesaver, Millie,” Edwin said as he set the last stack of dishes he’d scraped beside the sink, and a heaping plate of scraps beside the door. “I hadn’t expected company.”

  The early-autumn sun was shining through the window, setting her ginger head aglow. The sun would be down in half an hour. As much as he’d like her to stay, she had to get on her horse for a quick ride to Bachelor before dark. “I’ll finish the dishes. Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome.” She pulled the apron from her dress and hung it on a nail beside the door. “I enjoy cooking,” she said, pulling the latch up and opening it. “And even more with you.”

  She stood in the doorway, looking at him. He couldn’t mistake the expression on her face, and he thought his was similar as well. He wanted to be closer, much closer.

  He hadn’t realized that he’d walked to her. His hand cupped her cheek, and he gazed into her eyes. “I like it as well, lassie. After the rally, I’d like to spend more time with you.” A few more curls that had escaped at the front and sides lay softly across the back of his hand. His thumb caressed the hollow between her cheek and jaw.

  Millie’s hand covered his. She squeezed it lightly and closed her eyes in a long blink. “I’d like that.” Spitz whined, drawing their attention to where he sat outside the door. Edwin watched as her eyes eased open again. “I’ll be going now, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “That you will. I’ll walk right beside you if you’ll allow me.” Edwin thrilled to see the bright eyes his comment elicited. “Bye.”

  Millie stepped through the door, and Edwin put the plate of food on the ground beside Spitz. “If we’re lucky men, Spitz, she’ll come to live with us. But only if we’re very lucky.”

  He watched as she rode her horse around the restaurant and disappeared. He entered the kitchen and started washing dishes. His mind was full of Millie. She was someone he could be quiet with. Although she was gregarious and friendly, she was also self-assured. She made him a better man when she was with him. His parents had been like that too. His mom was the talker, and his da was a quiet man.

  When he returned home from the restaurant, he sat on his bed. He wanted to do something extra to show his support to Millie. He wanted to show her how much she meant to him. Walking beside her would not be enough. He pulled off his suspenders and hung them in the clothes press.

  That’s when the idea struck him. Oh, it was a grand idea. He hoped she liked it. It would definitely surprise her. He pulled off his pants and shirt. No one in town would know why he did it except for her and maybe Callum and a handful of other Scotsmen in town. It would be a very private gift that he could give her publicly.

  The next morning, after serving the first bagged meals, he prepared as much as possible for the next. The march would be between the two meal times. With everything laid out, he returned home and stripped off his boots, socks, and trousers, leaving only his white shirt on. He traded his socks for new ones. He arranged the length of wool fabric on the floor and began folding the plaid into the pleats that made the kilt. When finished, he secured it around his waist with a belt and wrapped the extra fabric over his shoulder, securing it with pins and a clan brooch. He laced up his shoes and placed the Balmoral cap on his head.

  When he pulled out his set of pipes, his mam appeared. She wore the same green over-dress and white petti-dress beneath. The clan tartan sh
awl she always wore over her head was gathered and secured to her right shoulder with a brooch. “You’ve got the right of it, laddie. We ought to stir people’s souls today. We need some bagpipes for a right proper rebellion.” She winked at him, and then her small pipes appeared under her other arm. “Many people think that we only play harps beyond the pearly gates, but I much prefer bagpipes.”

  Edwin smiled. He’d have one last chance to play alongside his mother. That was a gift for him as well. “Have you a mind of what we should play today?” he asked.

  “Aye. Black Bear. It won’t be the same without the drums, but we will have the group stepping.”

  “We’re ready, then. Let’s be off.” Edwin held the door for her, and they left.

  “And imagine we’re marching the green fields of Scotland,” Mama McRae said.

  Millie

  It was mid-morning when Millie and Callum arrived at the marshal’s office where they were starting the rally. Callum went inside to make sure everything was in order, and Millie sat on a bench. She hadn’t slept much the night before, and she couldn’t eat that morning. She probably should have. Her stomach sparkled like sarsaparilla. The march was in less than an hour.

  Across the way, the restaurant door opened and her friends from the night before poured out onto Main Street. At least she wouldn’t be marching alone. Then she noticed several people leaving their carriages at Otto Clay’s livery down the way and walking toward her. More were coming from the north as Callum, Marshal Wheeler, and Marshal KC Murray joined her.

  Millie stood in awe when Edwin approached the gathering group. If she didn’t know better, she’d say a Highland warrior joined them that day. He was head-to-toe Scottish. Although she was staring, she couldn’t make herself stop. The black and midnight blue of the McRae tartan belted around him echoed his black hair and blue eyes. He carried bagpipes. Her heart raced. He was going to play for their march.

  As she wove toward him through the gathered people, she saw Mama M. She wore the same tartan folded over her shoulder and carried small pipes too. Oh! McRae? It had to be.

  Mama McRae nodded at her and hurried past Edwin, who had stopped to talk to KC Murray and Marshal Wheeler.

  “Ach, lassie, it’s a fine day for a rebellion. I’ll be playing us a march as we go along.” “Thank you,” Millie murmured. “You’re Edwin’s mother, aren’t you?”

  “Aye. I’m his mam. You can call me Mama McRae.” The woman quickly hugged Millie’s shoulder.

  Millie glanced back at Edwin. Seeing him in the plaid, well, her heart nearly stopped, and then it raced like a stallion in spring.

  She had to pull back hard on herself. She shouldn’t set her cap for him. She told herself that nothing had changed so much from five years ago except that maybe she had fallen deeper for him. She hoped it was a hopeless cause, but he hadn’t asked for marriage, only that he wanted to see her more. And his touch last night—she could feel a memory of the weight of his hand at her waist—just thinking about it again warmed her cheek. She could almost feel how his rough hands tickled her skin. She closed her eyes at the memory. When she opened them, she couldn’t stop watching him. She imagined in a week or so, he’d come to see her. They’d talk in the moonlight. He’d kiss her.

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. Her stomach sparkled for an entirely different reason now.

  Callum returned to her side, effectively breaking the daydream. “It’s time,” he said. He helped her up onto an overturned soapbox where she could see over the crowd.

  Her heart filled with happiness to see that so many of her friends had shown up and their husbands, too. During her little daydream, dozens of people had arrived. A group of women caught her eye. Around Julianne were the women who had been captives a year ago. They embraced each other in their special sisterhood grown from their trial. Eliza pulled her cousins forward to join the women. Millie was glad that they all united for a cause of freedom today. Even Clara was in that group. Her brother ruled her with an iron fist, and the town’s folks rarely saw her. Millie knew her story, though, from the day the women got away. Clara had stayed by Julianne’s side, fighting the Goliath of a man. Millie’s heart expanded with joy at the good that would come from today and the people who would march with her to make that happen.

  When she’d first thought of doing this, she never imagined that more than a handful of people might come or that any of them would be men, but at least half were. Millie laughed and waved at Hannah, who had Bob, the rooster, perched on her shoulder.

  She scanned the group, hoping to see Sterling too. She knew he’d warned her to stay away, but she thought maybe he’d come to support the cause anyway. She didn’t see him, but there must have been two or three hundred people in the road. Finally, she saw him in the back, tipping his hat toward her. Her heart didn’t race, but she felt a special friendship toward him.

  Vivian Morgan came running up with streamers flying behind her. Waylon, Seffi, Julainne, and Hugh carried slender poles made of rolled paper with more ribbons attached to the tops. “I’d like to put a sash on all the women to unify us,” Vivian said.

  “And we brought poles for people to carry,” Seffi added.

  Millie smiled. It looked a bit more like an army gathering every moment.

  Callum whistled long and loud to call the crowd’s attention toward the sheriff’s office door. All eyes turned to Millie on her soapbox.

  “Thank you all for supporting Votes for Women. Colorado’s time has come. We’re going to bring women’s voices into the political debates in our great state. We’d like the women to wear these sashes,” she said, pointing to Vivian who held them in the air. “Come pin one on if you’d like.”

  “Come get a pole too,” Callum called out and picked one up.

  Edwin stepped up directly in front of Millie. “My bagpipes will walk in front if that’s okay with you, Millie,” he said.

  She loved the sound of her name in his lilting brogue. It sent shivers clean through her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ll be like a regular army, we will. Thank you!” she answered as Mama McRae came to stand just behind him. The older woman’s finger pressed against her lips, shushing Millie, reminding her to tell no one.

  With the sashes on and the flags flying high, the crowd formed rows and lines. Many of the men removed their hats and waved them in the air. The drone of the bagpipes filled the air as the tune keened above the noise, and the group hushed.

  “Votes for women,” Millie called out and waved her pole to one side and then the other.

  “Votes for women,” chanted the horde following her.

  They hadn’t gone far when the batwing doors of the Nugget Saloon swung open and eight ladies in formal dresses ran into the street. Millie stopped, as did the group.

  “I’m Celeste,” she said, hugging Millie. “You’re doing a good thing here, and we want to help. Thank you for getting a flyer to us.”

  “I’m so glad. I wanted you to come.” Millie took Celeste by the hand, and the rest of the ladies joined the front line too. “We’re sisters today.” Her heart swelled. “Votes for women,” Millie called around the lump in her throat, and the crowd resumed their march. She wished she could see what this looked like from the back, see the poles and ribbons and the depth of the group. The women and men had worn their Sunday best. What a sight they must be.

  “Votes for women!” the crowd yelled back as they tromped up Main Street.

  Tears of joy threatened to gather in her eyes with each chant. She didn’t know if her heart could expand even more. People lined the sides of the street, most waving and smiling. Many had some with signs showing their support too.

  “Votes for women!” The chant seemed louder than before. She wondered if the voices were getting stronger or if the onlookers were joining in. Maybe both.

  The bagpipes continued their song.

  In the middle of the road in the distance, a lone woman in an elegant dress ran toward the marchers. Millie s
trained her eyes to see who it was. A man began to chase after her when she was nearly a block away. Then Millie realized it was Benita Theodore being chased by Reverend Eugene. The folks on the sides of the street pointed and laughed as the couple passed by them.

  As Benita approached, she held her fist to the air and yelled, “Votes for women!” She didn’t even slow down but barreled through the women holding hands on the front row as if playing Red Rover. The marchers stopped to watch as she wove through the crowd up and back and all around. All the while Eugene yelled for her to stop as he chased her.

  Perhaps Benita did it on purpose, but when she ran between Hannah and Marshal Wheeler, Bob squawked and beat his wings, taking to flight just long enough to scratch at Eugene as he ran past, his hand covering his head against the attack.

  When Benita ran out the back, Millie started the march again. “Votes for women!”

  As they marched and chanted, the crowd following her grew. She saw them running in as the march approached. Some women standing on the boardwalks they passed wore scowls, and their arms were folded as they watched the rally move past. Some few men jeered and yelled something angry, their mouths open and their faces red. Millie was glad she couldn’t hear their words over the supporters. Each time they passed a saloon or brothel, the women who worked there joined in the march. The friendship and sense of community swelled with every step they took. Today marked a great change. Creede was headed for better days.

  “Votes for women!” The three words made her spirit soar.

  Up ahead, Archie with Ab Helm standing to his right and a line of men stretched across the road. Wade stood on the end, sneering at her. Grady didn’t look like he wanted to join in but intended to cause trouble. Millie’s chest gave a little squeeze, remembering the bonfire. When they were fifteen or twenty feet apart, he called out, “Your march ends here. You aren’t crossing this line.”

  Millie noticed Edwin step a tad in front of her. It gave her a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. She wouldn’t stop here. This cause was too important. Surely they wouldn’t fire on their fellow citizens with this huge audience of witnesses.