A Great Catch (9 page)

“What about lunch?”

“Good idea, and nice of you to offer. We’ll have a picnic after we practice.”

Before she could protest, he jogged off, every athletic muscle doing exactly as he told it.

As Emily watched him go, her corset felt tighter than ever, and tears burned in her eyes. When Carter saw how clumsy she truly was, all his interest in her would disappear.

Gathered in the shade of a grove of sky-reaching cottonwood trees, the Council Bluffs Equal Suffrage Club sat at picnic tables enjoying almond cake provided by Lilly’s mother. Roses tumbled from a nearby planter, and Emily fought the urge to skip the meeting and go soak in their fragrant sweetness. Her idea, which had seemed so perfect, now made her palms sweat and her pulse quicken.

She touched her flowered straw summer hat self-consciously, rapped the gavel on the table, and called the meeting to order. “Good morning, ladies.” Heads turned in her direction, and she continued. “I believe we have two fights on our hands at this point in the suffrage movement.”

“Two?” Greta Wilson asked.

“Yes, two. As many of you are aware, my grandmother was dear friends with Amelia Bloomer, the suffrage leader from our very own town. Allow me to share one of Amelia’s thoughts. ‘The human mind must be active, and the thoughts of a woman’s heart must find vent in some way; and if the garden of the mind instead of being highly cultivated, so that it may produce a rich harvest of fruits and flowers, is suffered to run to waste, it is not surprising that it yields nothing but weeds, briars, and thorns.’”

“What’s your point, Emily?” Olivia DeSoto waved a fan in front of her face.

“My point is . . .” Emily paused and smiled at the women. “As we sit here at this lovely lake, soaking up all of God’s beautiful creation, it is easy to see what Mrs. Bloomer was referring to when she spoke of gardens. So, to begin our meeting today, I wanted to say if every woman here represents a blooming flower, then we have indeed already started to cultivate a rich garden free of weeds, briars, and thorns.”

The ladies applauded.

“Now, as Mrs. Bloomer said, we must also cultivate the garden of our minds. I’d like to discuss how each of us is trying to enrich our minds.”

Olivia’s brow scrunched and her lips pursed. “You are pushing us to read again, aren’t you?”

“Books are certainly one of the best ways to enrich your mind. My grandmother told me this was the reason the Bloomers were strong advocates of the library.”

“Amelia Bloomer thought wearing pants like a man was a good idea.” Olivia turned to her group of friends and waited for them to agree. “That little experiment certainly failed, and we don’t need her telling us how to live in 1901.”

“Mrs. Bloomer simply advocated a change of dress for women—something allowing more freedom of movement, like the divided skirts and Turkish pants we now wear today for cycling, riding, and other sports. I don’t think you can say she failed when we in fact enjoy the product of her labors in our own clothing. We should applaud her for having the fortitude to actually follow through on what she said. She didn’t let ignorance hold her back.”

Emily waited, hoping her words stung as much as she intended. Olivia didn’t want to change. What she really wanted was the prestige of being a member of the suffrage association. The right to vote would be lost on women unwilling to think beyond petty rivalries.

Olivia glowered, but Emily didn’t flinch. “I’m reading
The War of the Worlds
by H. G. Wells,” she announced. “I find it fascinating.”

“A book about Martians?” Olivia rolled her eyes.

“It’s eye-opening and makes you consider a world of possibilities.” Not that Olivia would understand. Emily swallowed a giggle.

Soon the women had launched into a discussion of their current reading selections, including
Captains Courageous
by Rudyard Kipling,
Tom Sawyer
by Mark Twain, and
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
by L. Frank Baum. Delighted by the breadth of their choices, Emily listened intently to each of them as they shared. Finally, she pounded the gavel and announced it was time to move on to her second point.

“While most men have more physical strength than women, when we set our minds to a job, we find a way to accomplish the same goal. Ladies, I believe we must make the community aware of our ability to overcome all obstacles.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, that is simply not true!” Mathilda Henningsen, a railroad vice president’s wife, cried out. She glanced at Olivia for affirmation.

“Let Emily speak.” Marguerite sat up in her chair. “She has a marvelous idea, and I for one want you all to hear it.”

“Thank you, Marguerite.” Emily pressed on. “I believe we can tell the citizens that women are capable of doing the same things as men over and over until we’re blue in the face, but if we
show
them what we mean, they may get the message. For this reason, I’ve arranged for the Chicago Stars, a Bloomer Girls’ team, to join us here at the lake on the Fourth of July for an exhibition game.”

Expressions on the club members’ faces ranged from nervousness to excitement to disgust. Such a vast assortment almost made Emily want to laugh.

Elderly Mrs. Bradley beamed. “And who are they going to play, dear?”

Emily smiled at the gray-haired woman, who was always willing to do whatever was necessary to get the job done. “This morning the Manawa Owls agreed to participate, on one condition.”

“Which is?” Greta asked.

“Since all the Bloomer Girls’ teams have a couple of men on the team, the Owls insist a woman play on their team as well.”

“Lilly would be excellent at that.” Sally Nesmit nodded in Lilly’s direction.

“She would, but unfortunately, the condition the men’s team has put on participation is that
I
must play with the Owls.”

“You?” Olivia erupted into laughter. “Do they want to lose?”

“Olivia!” Lilly glared at her.

“It’s all right, Lilly. It gives me a chance to make my final point. I’ve had some time to think about this. I said a woman can do anything she puts her mind to, so I have every intention of working hard and not making a fool of myself.”

“Good luck,” Olivia said under her breath.

Emily raised her eyebrows. “Thank you. I’m going to need it.”

Sleep evaded Carter like a fly avoided the swatter. Outside the Manawa Owl Club, where he and some of the other team members rented rooms, a few stars blinked against the inky sky. With the window open, the breeze ruffled the flimsy curtains. He jammed his fist into his feather pillow, wadding it into a ball, and rolled on his side. If he couldn’t get his mind off Emily, it was going to be a long night.

In the cot beside him, Ducky snored with a soft quacking sound. Carter would have laughed if he wasn’t so annoyed about not being able to sleep. The last few days blurred in his tired mind, and yet he remembered every detail—about her. The smell of her rose-scented hair, the sound of her bubbling laughter, and the feel of her soft, velvety hand in his. His insides jellied.

He whacked the pillow again.

Somehow she’d gotten him to agree to a baseball game with a women’s team! How was he going to tell his boys about that? They’d probably use him for batting practice—literally. For certain, they were going to tell him he’d been hit in the head with one too many baseballs.

And what would his family say if they heard he was seeing someone? Although his father seemed to ignore him most of the time, Nathan had an uncanny knack of showing up whenever he didn’t approve of Carter’s decisions. It didn’t take a genius to guess seeing a Graham would not be a choice Nathan would like.

Carter flopped on his back and stared at the shadows playing on the ceiling. Tree branches waving in the wind seemed to laugh at him. Even the crickets chirped mockingly. He’d let it all happen. From asking Emily to the shooting gallery that first day, to the play, to the episode on the swing. All his ideas. And when she stepped into the path of those horses earlier today, he’d known the truth when his heart stopped.

He’d been licked.

But what a way to go.

After stretching and warming up, the team members took their bases for practice. Hours spent in prayer had left Carter with an extra lift in spirit despite the lack of sleep. He’d woken early and arrived at the baseball diamond with a calm in his heart concerning Emily. God had brought them together for a reason, and he’d let the Lord show him how and when to proceed.

Carter stepped on the mound, scanned the basemen, and eyed Ducky behind the plate. Their fifth man to bat was up—Elwood Taylor, the Owls’ best batter. Carter wound up and let the baseball fly. He waited to hear the familiar crack of the bat. The man swung, met only air, and swaggered in a full circle.

The ball whacked into Ducky’s padded catcher’s mitt. He jumped up and threw both the ball and his glove on the ground. A cloud of dust puffed as he shoved Elwood away from the plate. “Taylor, what was that? You keep this up and we’re going to get trounced.”

Carter ran in from the pitcher’s mound.

Elwood drew back his fist, but Carter stepped between the two men before Elwood could deliver the blow. Elwood staggered.

Carter whirled on Ducky. “What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

Ducky’s chest heaved. “Look at him, Carter. Smell his breath. He’s been hitting the bottle again.”

Turning back to the right fielder, Carter stared in his eyes. It was only ten in the morning, but the telltale signs were there. How had he missed the bloodshot eyes, the unsteady stance, the red nose and cheeks? The answer hit him hard. He’d been too preoccupied with Emily and her Bloomer Girls’ plan.

Carter shoved Elwood toward the bench. “Get out of here, and if you come back like this again, you’re off the team.”

Elwood staggered and stopped. “Aren’t you going to tell ’em?”

The other teammates had circled around them.

“Tell us what?” Ducky asked.

“Stockton’s got us playing them Bloomer Girls.” Elwood’s words slurred together.

A chorus of chuckles and disbelieving guffaws surrounded them.

Ducky sliced the air with his arm. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Glaring at Elwood, Carter crossed his arms over his chest. This was not the way he had planned to let the team in on the situation.

“Tell ’em, Stockton. I heard it from my girl, Greta. You said yessss to spunky little Emily Graham ’cause you’re sssweet on her.” He stumbled, and the shortstop grabbed his arm.

“Get out of here and take your stories with you.” Ducky scooped up the baseball.

“They aren’t stories,” Carter said.

The team’s laughter died, and with puzzled faces, they stared at him.

He sighed. “I said yes to the Owls playing an exhibition game against the Bloomer Girls from Chicago next month, and Emily Graham will be playing on our team.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Fred Brunner, second baseman, said in his nasally voice.

“Anyone have a problem with it, they can talk to me.”

“I got a problem with it.” Joe Powel, the burly left fielder, stepped forward. “I don’t happen to like playing with a bunch of girls ’cause you got your eyes set on that know-it-all Graham girl and her family’s money.”

Coal-hot anger burned in Carter’s gut. “Powel, you better make sure your mouth doesn’t get you in more trouble than you can handle.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carter struck his mitt with his fist.

“Take it easy, boys.” Ducky situated himself between the two of them. “Joe, how’d you like it if someone was spouting off about your Belle?”

Joe yanked off his hat. “I still don’t like the idea of playing girls.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to play.” Ducky clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re a team. Carter brought us together, and if he thinks we should do this, we should trust him.”

“Carter, no disrespect intended to Emily,” Fred said. “But in high school, everyone knew she was so uncoordinated, she made bungling Bill Hancock look good. Does she have to be the girl on our team?”

“Yes.” Tired of their attitudes, Carter leveled his gaze at his teammates. “Emily is playing and so are we.”

Judging by the glares he received, clearly most of the team did not like the idea, but he didn’t back down. Let them be mad. The idea would grow on them. He glared right back, not even blinking. Some things his brother had taught him came in handy.

Carter glanced toward Elwood weaving his way down the path. He could also decide who deserved to play and who didn’t, and he imagined Emily would try harder during one game than Elwood Taylor would in a month of Sundays.