Chances (25 page)

A prickle of warmth spread through Sarah, relief that, for once, she hadn’t pushed him away.

“But, Sarah … if I’m going to exorcise my ghosts, I’m going to expect you to confront a few of yours, too.

* * * * *

Lavinia Morgan surveyed the crowded basement of the Lawrence Street Methodist Church, taking note of the swelling membership of the Denver Suffrage Association. The spare whitewashed walls were nearly hidden behind the faithful entourage. Her faithful entourage.

She’d crafted the organization, almost since its founding, pouring her heart into making it strong and influential. Here, if nowhere else, she reigned as master of her own fate. Losing her inheritance hadn’t mattered any more than losing that horrid young man her father had chosen for her. If her father were here, she’d spit in his face and claim her victory. And tonight, she would reign supreme in the unveiling of her greatest coup, a rally they would laud for years to come, a perfect rally hand-crafted to make her shine.

She stepped forward, pulling herself to her full height behind the lectern, and struck the gavel. The sharp sound reverberated through the room and the multitude turned their eyes to her and silenced.

“Good evening, ladies. Tonight, we have before us the final planning for next week’s suffrage rally.” She peered out over the crowd, nodding to the most recent recruits, currying their loyalty. “We have received word that the Colorado Suffrage Organization will indeed hold their meeting in conjunction with the rally. Further, we will be honored with an appearance by Miss Anthony herself.”

Lavinia paused, allowing the group to digest her announcement. A shiver of anticipation raced through her as the ladies heralded her coup with a burst of avid applause.

“An added reminder, ladies: the state suffrage referendum will occur within the month. With the agreement of the state organization to run their meeting during the rally, we have before us the most important two-day event in Colorado’s move for suffrage. We will split into committees for final planning. I urge all of you to put forth the extra effort to make this rally a premier event which will set the tone for the election.”

“Miss Morgan?” A tentative voice interrupted her instructions.

Lavinia searched the room and finally placed the voice. “Mrs. Anderson.”

“With all those extra doin’s, do we need to ask Marshal McCallin to put on an extra man?”

“An excellent point. I suspect there may be a significant increase in public unrest, especially with Miss Anthony’s presence. Our usual small group of drunken men may become more numerous and vocal. Perhaps it would be wise to alert McCallen. I’ll personally attend to it.”

In fact, with the referendum vote upon them, dissenters would swell in number. Lavinia shivered. The men would be livid. Their drunken slurs would grow loud, intimidating, and more than a few would approach the suffragists. The women’s hand-painted signs would be smashed on the ground, and violent threats would be made. One or two might even strike out and be carted off to jail. It would create magnificent press, if presented correctly.

“Elizabeth Byers, are you present?”

“I am.”

“We will place press coverage in your capable hands, as usual. I trust Mr. Byers will devote a fair amount of space to unbiased coverage of the event.”

“I’m certain he will.”

“You may wish to speak to him specifically about the potential for more than the usual amount of trouble. We wouldn’t want careless violence to reflect badly on the ladies or the movement, after all. I’ll ask McCallen to cooperate fully with the
News
so that any sordid background information associated with such troublemakers is revealed to the public.”

“Mr. Byers will do his best to include the information.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth. Now then, is there anything else we need to discuss as a whole?”

“We’re going to need more speakers.”

Lavinia peered out in search of the voice. An attractive young woman stood in the rear of the room, a newcomer. Lavinia bit her lip. How in heaven’s name had someone new stepped into a committee leadership role? Gracious, had Frank’s plans for that Donovan woman distracted her that much? She drew a smile and beamed at the woman. “I’m sure the officers of the state organization would be happy to oblige. Has everyone met you, dear?”

“I … uh … Amelie Parsons. I’m just filling in for Mrs. Noble. She’s ill.” She blushed under the unexpected scrutiny of the other women, then drew a deep breath. “Shall we round out the state officers with a few additional orators to fill the slate? Do you wish us to present the list for approval?”

“I’m sure Mrs. Noble’s committee is doing a formidable job.” Lavinia nodded, secure that Parsons wasn’t worth worrying over. “Time is getting away from us and we really do need to split up and pursue our remaining work. Ladies? Move approval?” Lavinia nodded at the quick motion and second, then called for the vote. As expected, the ayes carried. “Motion approved. Carry on as you see fit, Miss Parsons. Committees, let’s get busy.”

Women swarmed, moving folding wooden chairs into smaller cliques. A busy chorus of voices filled the room, and Lavinia smiled at their industry. Without her tutelage, the group would have floundered long ago. Now, they were a force to be reckoned with. Her force.

She strode through the noisy room, stopping to check on each committee. Refreshments were assigned, transportation and accommodations arranged for visitors, a tent and folding chairs secured, and two hundred painted signs committed. Her ladies were doing well.

The crowd thinned with each committee’s completion of its task until Lavinia alone remained in the now empty basement. She straightened a few last chairs and collected the lists her diligent groups had left for her. Everything was neatly penned out, firmly planned, and sure to catch the attention and admiration of the state organization.

She scanned the last of the lists, the guest orators. It was a fine collection of the best Colorado had to offer and even a national figure or two, a list the association could be proud to have approved. Even the names penned below Mrs. Noble’s original list showed foresight. There were long-time suffragists, a female photographer, wives of businessmen and politicians, and Caroline Churchill, that young journalist who kept talking of opening her own suffrage paper.

Lavinia’s gaze halted on the last name and a tight acid knot formed in her stomach.

Miss Sarah Donovan was scheduled to discuss her exploits as Denver’s first female telegrapher.

* * * * *

Twilight descended, darkening the sidewalk next to the double front doors of Orchestrion Hall. Daniel sat on an icy wooden bench and wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time. German music leaked from the establishment and he grimaced at its ribald audacity. He shouldn’t have suggested coming. Not at all.

He pulled up the collar of his overcoat and exhaled into the cold January air. He suspected he was going to be even more uncomfortable tonight than he had been last night. A German beer hall, for God’s sake, with dancing. He had to be out of his mind. Mary would have steered him away, gentle reminders about the dangers inside falling from her lips. Ebenezer would have sermonized, pounding his fist on the pulpit, or on Daniel. A few days ago, he’d have simply avoided the place. And he would have tonight, too, except he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Besides, he’d told Sarah he was a new man, ready to take risks, and he wasn’t about to let her know otherwise.

Boasting is a sin, Daniel.

God shall smite the deceiver, boy. And woe to those who tempt the devil and court evil. Do you hear me, son? They shall be swallowed by wickedness unless they are willing to seek forgiveness and endure the punishment they are due.

He slammed his hand on the bench, shutting the voices out, refusing to believe he was doing something wrong by walking into a perfectly respectable German establishment and enjoying himself.

These challenges had turned his thoughts in directions he didn’t want to chase any further. His life had been just fine until Sarah raised all those questions and left them lingering in his mind. He’d found enough ghosts to last for a while. Tonight, he intended to shift the focus. Enough was enough.

He had to make Sarah believe the challenges had worked. He’d told her more than he’d ever revealed to anyone about his childhood, or Mary, and he didn’t intend to bare his soul any further. Sarah had a way about her, a fiery temper that covered up such softness that a man’s heart just about melted. Or he’d melted, at least, and he’d melted about all he wanted to. Tonight, if anyone melted, it was going to be her.

He crossed his arms against the chill and glanced down the street. Sarah had rounded the corner, looking half-frozen herself, curiosity lighting her big eyes.

“A beer hall?” She asked, sounding doubtful. “Are you sure?”

Daniel grinned, a projection of the new man he’d told her he’d become. “I figure maybe my father’s ghost won’t even set foot inside.” He rose from the bench and shrugged in feigned nonchalance. “I’ve spent the whole day telling myself that some fine people frequent the place. I thought of every German I know and not one of them seemed to be any less respectable for drinking beer and dancing. They’re all good people. And Bill Byers is among the non-German regulars down here. Occidental Hall doesn’t seem to have smudged his reputation any. My common sense says this won’t be my ruin.”

It was true enough. There
wasn’t
anything wrong with the place, not really. Places like this were only temptations of evil when people allowed them to be. And he didn’t have any intention of letting himself do anything he’d regret. He’d have a couple of beers, dance a little just to prove the ghosts were gone, and convince Sarah it was her turn to field the questions.

Sarah laughed. The sound came out far too unnatural to pass muster and, for a moment, Daniel feared he’d overdone it.

“Nervous?” he asked. At least she seemed convinced that
he
was comfortable.

“I am not dancing,” she told him in flat tones.

Ah, dancing. He should have known. “It’s a challenge, Sarah. It’s meant to stretch us, remember? Both of us. Last night, I got stretched a whole lot, and if I can do it, so can you. Now, let’s go in.” He opened the bright red door and the polka music poured out, engulfing them. Sarah stepped into the darkened room, and he followed her, pausing to let his eyes adjust. In the rear corner, behind the crowded dance floor, a flamboyant machine blasted forth.

Sarah stood, staring. “Good Lord.”

The machine was close to eleven feet high with horns, drums, and a xylophone all built in. Next to it, a small group of musicians, accordionists, mostly, were warming up on a makeshift stage.

He laughed, a bit shocked by the gaudiness of it, despite having been forewarned by Bill earlier in the day. “Want to go take a closer look?”

Sarah shifted her attention to Daniel and shook her head. “It’s loud enough from here. I don’t know if I want to get any closer. Maybe we should just go for a nice quiet walk.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. We’re trying something new. Tomorrow night, I get to watch
Little Women
so tonight is my choice.”

Sarah swallowed. “And this doesn’t bother you?”

Daniel lifted his palms in a no-care gesture. “Not a bit.”

God hates a liar, Boy. Do you hear me, son?

“Can I buy you a beer?”
Take that, old man, and leave me alone.

“I guess you might as well. I doubt they have anything else to offer.”

He caught the barkeep’s eye and raised two fingers, then looked at her and winked. “See, I paid attention last night.”

A warm smile lit her face, releasing the tension that had surrounded them since her arrival.

Daniel led the way to one of the few remaining empty tables that edged the dance floor and they sat. In the center of the room, couples spun together, legs frantically pumping to keep up with the music.

A plump waitress, her hair bound in halo of braids, set two beer steins and a small loaf of rye bread on the table and waited while Daniel counted out payment. The woman’s ample bosom strained against the white cloth of her traditional German dress. “On da bar, we have pretzels und blutwurst und sauerkraut,
ja
?”

She strode on to the next table, her bountiful posterior swaying.

Daniel tasted his beer, finding the forbidden hops and barley more pleasant than usual, then leaned forward. “What in the world is blutwurst?”

Sarah shrugged. “Some sort of sausage, I think.” She lifted her beer, drank, then added, “Something guaranteed to make you thirsty.”

“More sage knowledge from your Saint Louis days?”

“Just common sense.” She shifted in her chair and offered a bright smile. “You know, like yours.”

The smile did little to fool him. She evaded discussing herself, sometimes even more than he did. And he’d allowed her to get away with it. “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Sarah sighed. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Then it wouldn’t take long to tell, would it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I was raised by loving parents and had a tranquil childhood. Papa owns a bank and served several years in the state legislature.”

“And your mother?”

She held his gaze and drew a breath. “Mama was his elegant wife. She died just before I left home.” Her eyes clouded and she looked away.

“You were close to her?”

She nodded and drank again.

“Tell me about her.”

Wariness fill Sarah’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t think we need—”

“I didn’t think I needed to talk about my past, either. Or are we back to not playing fair?”

“I’ve been playing fair, and you know it.” Her voice had taken on a defensive tone. She crossed her arms and sat ramrod straight in the chair.

“Then why do you always get to change the subject when you don’t like it? I told you last night that you were going to have to face a few ghosts, too. Is this one of them?”

“I don’t think that’s fair. Mama gave me nothing but love.” She fingered the locket at her breast. “Don’t you
dare
put her in the same category as your father.”