Chances (34 page)

“There’s a group of drunken men out there hitting anyone who looks at them sideways. Imagine, drunk at this time of day. They must have been at it all night long.”

“Our ladies?” Sarah insisted.

The woman offered a dismissive wave. “A few snowballs and rotten vegetables, as expected. So far, the respectable folk have kept the others back.”

“How’s the group inside?”

“Very receptive. You’ll have a rapt audience. I’ve heard a number of the ladies express interest in your presentation.”

Anticipation leapt through her. She’d waited a long time for the validation that would be hers today. Her constant efforts to prove herself as capable as male telegraphers would be embraced and understood. Her accomplishments would be recognized and today, being a woman wouldn’t hinder her. Her efforts would encourage others and she would make a difference.

“Come, let’s get you backstage. I know you have a bit of time but I feel better knowing where you are.” The woman smiled and tucked another loose section of hair behind her ear. “It’s a madhouse, so take care.” She beckoned to Sarah, then led the way out of the side hall and into the main lobby.

A rush of sound and movement accosted them. Busy voices filled the room. Nearby, a trio discussed the angry crowd assembled in front of the building. Another group chattered about their dissatisfied husbands. A brightly garbed matron ran by in search of a hatpin and jostled a pacing young suffragist practicing an introductory speech. Women seeped through the front door, smoothing skirts and sighing with relief.

“See what I mean?”

Sarah smiled at her, comfortable amid the bustle. “Is the auditorium this wild?”

“Not since the speeches started.” She ushered Sarah into another hallway and pointed to the end of it. “Wait there with the others. You’re scheduled to go on at nine. Good luck.”

Sarah’s stomach churned for a moment. She hadn’t practiced her speech since yesterday afternoon. She reached into her pocket, searching for her notes. She pulled the paper out and unfolded it, refreshing her memory. Everything was in place, all the details. There was nothing to be nervous about.

She drew a breath and exiled her anxiety. This was what she’d been waiting for. She strode down the hall, determination and confidence rising with each step. In less than an hour, she’d share her story. The months of struggling for acceptance would disappear and her accomplishments would be recognized.

She could taste the fulfillment already.

* * * * *

Lavinia pushed her way through the swarming crowd in front of the Guards Hall. She noted the strong line of women and their hand-made signs advising voters to support suffrage in next week’s referendum. A few sported bright red spots from the tomatoes that had sailed out of the crowd. Others were wet from well-aimed snowballs. Catcalls and threats filled the air.

It was all she had hoped for, and more.

She noted the familiar scowl of a disgruntled woman-hater and jabbed him with her elbow in passing.

He turned, his face crimson.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Sullivan,” she said. “The crowd—”

“Bitch,” he muttered with a threatening tone.

Lavinia gasped and allowed her face to register shock. People reacted to the situation with open stares and comments of their own and a reporter jotted down notes. A group of stalwart suffragists surrounded her and moved her through the crowd while Sullivan and the others ranted. She smothered the smile of satisfaction threatening to spoil the picture of her injury.

Up ahead, Marshal McClellin and the two deputies Lavinia had arranged to keep the peace stood at the main entrance. The three would be sufficient to keep the crowd from storming the building but would have little effect on the protesters outside. The rally itself would experience few, if any, disturbances, and the press would publish all sorts of sordid details about the rabble-rousers who threatened the peaceful gathering.

It was exactly as she had planned.

She mounted the steps, offered a sweet smile to McClellin, and entered the building.

The lobby teamed with women. Women in common house dresses mingled with those wearing their finest walking suits. More experienced suffragists issued orders to new recruits, directing them with gestures and exasperated sighs. Enthusiastic young women with clipboards and lists moved through the room, eager to please. Lavinia paused for their acknowledgment.

“Oh, Miss Morgan!”

Lavinia turned and recognized Fern Jacobs, a pale, inept young woman who was forever attempting to ingratiate herself. She took a deep breath and offered Fern a smile. “Yes, dear?”

“The raffle prizes are here. We were able to get a lace tablecloth, a lavender parasol, and a bottle of French perfume. I set them up on a table, just over there, next to the refreshments, and we can draw names whenever you’re ready.”

Lavinia patted the girl’s arm and beamed at her as if she’d accomplished a major feat. “That’s fine, dear. Let’s wait until the end of the day, though. After all, the more tickets we sell, the more money the association makes.” She hoped Fern had enough sense to keep the raffle proceeds in a locked box.

“Oh, and there’s a Mr. Bates waiting to speak to you.” Fern fidgeted with her hands. “I put him in the sitting area next to the cloak room.”

Lavinia sighed. She did not need Frank and his ever more erratic behavior right now. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? Whatever the little ferret wanted, it would have to wait. She entered the sitting room and glared at him.

Frank jumped up from his seat on the leather settee. “Lavinia, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here. This is my rally. I’m supposed to be here. You, on the other hand, are not.”

“Now, Lavinia, don’t be angry.” His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “I just wanted to top things off. Make your special day into one you’ll never forget.”

Lavinia shivered and took a step backward. Something about his eyes wasn’t right. This was not the docile Frank she was used to. “I’m busy, Frank. Can’t we talk about whatever it is later?” She turned toward the door.

Frank’s hand shot forward, clenching her arm. “No, damn it.” Fury filled his eyes. “I done everything so you’d be pleased.”

Lavinia swallowed. What in heaven’s name was going on? She smiled and forced herself to be calm. “And I am, Frank. It’s just that—”

“Then you’re happy with me?”

She nodded, discomfort knotting her stomach. “Of course.”

He dropped his hand and began pacing. “I knew it. I knew it. All the time we was courtin’, I knew it.”

Lavinia frowned at him, worry dissolving into anger at his insistent belief. “We have not been courting, Frank.”

“Yes, we have.” He nodded his head, frantic, and stepped toward her. “And now you’re gonna marry me.”

She stared at him. “M-marry you?”

“Aw, shoot.” He pounded his fist into his hand and began pacing again. “I was gonna get down on my knees and do it all sweet-like. You got me all flustered and I ruined it.” His voice rose. “You made me ruin it.”

Lavinia made an inadvertent sound of disgust. “I am not going to marry you.”

“I’ll ask you pretty.” He licked his lips and looked around the room with darting glances. “I didn’t mean to say you ruined it. It was me. I’ll make it right. I’ll—”

“I am not marrying you, Frank. Not now. Not ever.”

His face paled. “But what about us?”

Lavinia shook her head. “There is no us, Frank. There’s never been any us.”

“But I done everything you wanted.”

She stepped forward, determined to put an end to his delusions. “That’s right, you have, and I’ve tolerated your sniveling far longer than I wanted to. But I’ve had enough. Enough! Go away and don’t ever come near me again.”

“But—”

“You are a rotten little ferret and I find you despicable. I always have.” Men were nothing but ungrateful, incompetent fools, and Frank Bates topped the list of them. Besides, he wasn’t behaving the way he was supposed to, and this new Frank scared her. She took another step forward, until her face was mere inches from his, and narrowed her eyes. “If you so much as look at me sideways, I’ll tell your uncle all about your forgeries at the station. And then, I’ll march on down the street and have a talk with Marshal McClellin.”

Shock filled Frank’s face. “You bitch,” he yelled. “You ungrateful, worthless bitch. You used me!”

Confusion rushed through her at the unexpected outburst. She calmed her own voice and reached for his arm. “Frank, I—”

“That ain’t right.” He shook off her hand and scowled at her. “Not after what I done. You’re just like all those other suffragists, after all.” His face clouded for a moment then exploded in fury. “You’ll regret turnin’ me away. You all will. I ain’t gonna be anybody’s errand boy no more.”

He stormed past her, shoving her to the floor.

Lavinia struggled to her feet and smoothed her dress. How dare that little fool accost her? Why in all the years she’d known him, he’d never been anything but subservient. What had caused him to explode was beyond her. She certainly hoped no one had heard his outburst.

She peeked out the door. Down the hall, the hustle and bustle continued in full force. She doubted anyone had noticed Frank’s little fit. She straightened and entered the hallway.

In the lobby, Fern demonstrated the merits of the lavender parasol and sold two more raffle tickets. A pair of elderly women debated the merits of Susan B. Anthony’s most recent speech, their faces animated above the pristine white lace collars of their somber black dresses. Past them, the side door creaked open and two girls stepped into the crowd.

Lavinia stared at them. She’d told all the women to leave their children home. Someone hadn’t the good sense to listen. She shook her head and approached.

“And what may we do for you, ladies?”

The taller girl stopped and smiled politely. “We’re here for the speeches ma’am. Where might we find the auditorium?”

“I’m not sure you girls should be here. We discourage children from events such as this.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” piped up the younger girl. She tossed her brown curls and grinned. “We’re just gonna listen to Miss Sarah and then we’ll go. We won’t be no bother.”

Lavinia stared at her. Heavens, thanks to Frank, she’d forgotten all about Sarah Donovan’s little speech. She let her eyes roam over the girls, no doubt Petterman’s daughters. Perhaps, she just might be able to stop Sarah’s speech, after all. She glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice and smiled. Not quite nine o’clock. Sometimes, good luck just happened.

“Do come in. I’ll need you to wait here in the lobby for a few minutes. Fern has cherry pie on the raffle table. You may have a piece while you wait. Someone will let you know when it’s time to go in to the auditorium.”

She pointed to a bench and waited until the girls were settled, then made her way through the crowd. She had a few things to do, and if fate was smiling on her, she’d have just enough time before Sarah’s speech.

* * * * *

Daniel sprinted up Blake Street, dodging patches of fresh ice. Already, his chest was tight from the frigid air that filled his lungs with each breath. He’d left the Thompsons’ house some five minutes ago, immediately after Abby Thompson’s admission that Kate and Molly were headed to the rally. They’d assured her he’d given his approval.

In those few minutes, his thoughts had jumbled. If the girls had been at home, he’d have never allowed them to go to the rally. He couldn’t chase away the fact that he’d left the girls in someone else’s care last night, someone they’d easily manipulated. Or that he’d selfishly spent most of that night making love to Sarah. Remnants of guilt prickled at him and he knew he’d have to stand up to his culpability later but, first, he had to make sure Kate and Molly were safe.

His heart thundered with anxiety. He’d heard enough rumors of premeditated violence yesterday at the barbershop to justify his worry. He hadn’t even wanted Sarah to go, except that he knew better than to insult her independence or take away from her accomplishments. Besides, if anyone started anything with Sarah, she’d hold her own.

But Kate and Molly … He just couldn’t imagine them coming out of a riotous mob without harm. What in the blazes were they doing at the rally in the first place?

He rounded the corner of Blake Street and turned toward the Guards Hall. The crowd in front of the brick-faced auditorium moved with threatening force, surging forward, then back, with each shout of opposition. People shook fists, arguing the merits and follies of suffrage. Daniel’s stomach lurched.

He searched the periphery of the crowd and realized he wouldn’t find them unless he made his way to the steps of the building. Two little girls would be lost among so many adults. He took a breath and began to slide his way through the suffocating bodies.

Tommy Sullivan, well known for his frequent violence toward his wife, shouted slurred threats and waved a near empty bottle of whiskey. Daniel frowned and dodged away from Sullivan’s erratic movements. Closer to the front, angry voices rumbled as vehement women attempted to convince skeptics that they deserved the right to vote. A fistfight broke out as two men pummeled one another over their differing opinions.

Sweet Heaven, where are they?

Daniel struggled forward, ignoring elbow jabs and muttered curses. He mounted the steps and peered out at the mob, each second of his search seeming to take a lifetime. Kate and Molly were nowhere to be seen. He turned and edged his way to the front door of the hall.

“Got a pass?” asked Hanks, the balding deputy who protected the entrance.

“I’m looking for my girls. Could they be inside?”

Hanks shrugged. “If they had a pass or an official invite. Otherwise, I’m not supposed to let anyone in.”

“May I go in and check?”

“You got a pass?”

Daniel shook his head in irritation. “If I had a pass, I’d be in there already.” He glanced around, seeking someone with more authority. “Where’s McClellin?”

“Handling a fight.” Hanks gestured helplessly. “Look, when he gets back up here, we’ll see about letting you in.” He pointed out at the crowd and indicated McClellin making his way forward. “Right now, I got better things to do than argue with you. Looks like Hanson’s having problems at the other door. Just hang on until McClellin gets back and let me do my job.”