Deborah Camp (9 page)

“They’re going to the cotillion, too?” Regina asked, shocked.

“Nah, ’course not.” Dorrie pushed her stringy brown hair back from her lined face. “I was gathering things for the Hampfs’ charities. Food and clothing for the poor.” She sniffed and passed her sleeve over her nose. “Them gals at the Full Bucket gave me these, but what’s poor people gonna do with dresses like these?” Dorrie made a sound of contempt. “I decided to bring them here, seein’ as how y’all are gonna be servin’ refreshments at the cotillion.”

“That’s right,” Regina said, crouching in front of the basket to examine the frilly gowns. “It was Bitsy’s
idea. The money offered isn’t much, but it’ll certainly be appreciated.”

“Mrs. Nation’s off speakin’, is she?”

“Yes, she’s trying to raise money in her own way.” Regina looked up at Dorrie. “Are you sure you shouldn’t take these to the Hampfs?”

“Now what would they do with them? Mrs. Hampf can’t sew a stitch, so she wouldn’t be able to make anything out of them. You’re right handy with a needle, ain’t you? If you don’t wear them to the cotillion, then they’d make pretty pillow shams. Maybe even curtains.”

“Will you look at all this lace!” Regina held up a gown dripping in black lace. “I had no idea the women dressed so well at the Full Bucket.”

“They’re the best-looking saloon gals in town. Mr. Wilson lets that Emerald O’Brady rent the upstairs for her own kind of business. I guess they’re mighty good at what they do.”

Regina brought one of the dresses to her nose. “Smells like whiskey.”

“That smell will wash out.”

Regina stood up again. “Dorrie, this is sweet of you to think of us, but I’m not sure we can receive these gowns. They were worn by women who work in the very places we’re trying to close down. What if someone recognized the dresses? They’d think us hypocrites and not be too far off—”

“Hey, Dorrie!” Bitsy came trotting from the house next door, her skirts flying, a perky smile on her elfish face. “What brings you around? Did the Hampfs remove your ball and chain?” Bitsy’s gaze fell on the basket of satin and lace. “Oh, my!” She dropped to her knees and sorted quickly through the gowns. “What’s going on? Where’d you get these beautiful things, Regina?”

“Dorrie brought them. The women who work at the Full Bucket donated them to the poor.”

Bitsy grinned. “First time I’ve ever been glad to be poor. These are gorgeous! Hey, we could wear them to the cotillion!”

“I don’t know …”

“Regina, don’t be a goose. You need a pretty dress so Sheriff Stu won’t be ashamed to be seen with you.”

“You’re goin’ with Sheriff Stu?” Dorrie asked, and Regina nodded. “Well, at least you got
him
on your side.”

“Who says he is?” Regina said with a lift of her brows. “From what I gather, Sheriff Stu wasn’t the least bit sorry for putting Mrs. Nation in jail. Oh, he says he was only doing his job, but I don’t think he lost any sleep over it.”

“I get this one,” Bitsy announced, pulling a creamy silk creation from the bundle. “It will look great with my dark hair and eyes, don’t you think?” She held the dress against her, measuring the sleeves to her arms. “Regina, will you strip off some of this here tulle? It’s too flashy. I don’t want to look like a hurdy-gurdy gal.”

“Bitsy, I don’t know if we should keep them. What if someone recognizes those dresses?”

“We’ll alter them.” Bitsy clutched the garment to her bodice. “Regina, this here is charity and we shouldn’t be too proud to accept it. You want them Hampfs to get these pretty things? They won’t give them to the poor. Mrs. Hampf will take them off to a seamstress and have some gowns made up for herself out of these. She’d do something like that, wouldn’t she, Dorrie?”

Dorrie’s perpetual frown deepened. “Wouldn’t doubt it one bit. She sure won’t be givin’ this bundle to the poor. Like I said, what would the poor do with ’em?”

“Regina, please …” Bitsy hugged the gown and sent Regina a pleading smile.

“Oh, very well.” Regina laughed at Bitsy’s whoop of joy. “I should send you out on the street with a tin cup, Bitsy Frederick. You’d bring in a bundle of money with that woebegone look of yours.”

“Which one do you think Joy Edwards would look good in?” Bitsy flung one gown after another over her arm. “This gold one is nice. Take off some of that black lace and it might be nearly respectable.”

“It’s a pity the town don’t know more about what y’all do for folks,” Dorrie said. “Mrs. Nation goes off to other places and enlightens others while the folks in her own town go ignorant.”

“Dorrie’s right,” Bitsy said. “I’ve had people ask me if I was Mrs. Nation’s relation. They don’t even know why I’m here! They have no earthly idea that Mrs. Nation opens her house to women like me—women with nowhere to run. I got no family or friends to take me in. All I had was a mean husband who liked his beer better than he liked me.”

Dorrie pointed a finger at Bitsy. “See there? That’s what folks should hear more about and then they wouldn’t be so quick to talk bad about Mrs. Nation. To hear the Reverend and Mrs. Hampf talk, you’d think Mrs. Nation never did a good turn in her whole life. But I’m here to tell ya, Mrs. Nation has always been kind to me. More’n kind.”

“We ought to hold a rally or something,” Bitsy said. “Or go before the town fathers—”

“That’s it!” Regina snapped her fingers. “I think you two have hit on something. Maybe we
do
need to toot Mrs. Nation’s horn for her, and what
better place than the town council meeting—tonight!”

“Tonight?” Bitsy repeated with a squeak. “That sure don’t give us much time to get up a rally, Regina.”

“The rally can come later. First, we’ll speak to the council.”

“Regina, we’ve got to iron all these tablecloths tonight for that Chautauqua program at Harmon Park.”

Regina slumped, then squared her shoulders. “I’ll go alone. Dorrie’s right. Someone should rally the leaders of this community behind Mrs. Nation.”

“And you’re the one to do it,” Dorrie proclaimed loudly, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “I better watch it. After all, I’m takin’ money from the Hampfs. They’d bust a gut if they knew I was here.”

“You ain’t taking money from them,” Bitsy corrected her. “You’re working for that money, you goose.”

“Thank you for thinking of us, Dorrie,” Regina said. “You’re a good friend.”

Dorrie pursed her lips as if trying to keep words from tumbling out. “You know, I ain’t your onliest friend, Regina. You got others around lookin’ after you. Some friends don’t like to bring attention to themselves, is all.”

Regina slipped an arm around Dorrie’s humped shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “I hope you’re right, Dorrie, and I certainly hope I can make a few more tonight at the council meeting.”

“You just smile at ’em, honey. You got such a sweet smile.”

The white dress fit her snugly at the bodice and waist. Its bell-shaped skirt ended in a modest ruffle.
She’d heeded a streak of vanity in her selection of the dress, knowing that it accentuated her feminine attributes and that the council and most of those attending the meeting would be men.

Pinning up her hair, she didn’t pull it back too tightly, but allowed it to frame her face in soft waves and curling tendrils at her nape and temples. She wasted only a few minutes wishing for perfume and jewelry. She’d just have to entice them with her smile and her words of truth, she told herself as she walked briskly along Mud Street toward the council building.

The rattle of reins and the tinkle of bells gave her pause, and she watched in delight as a “tallyho” wagon, pulled by six white horses, rolled past. Eight smartly dressed couples waved merrily to her, and she waved back. The liveried page blasted on his trumpet, making his passengers laugh and applaud. Regina wondered where they were going. A party at one of the hotels, probably. Ah, for those days of gaiety! She giggled to herself, remembering once when a handsome young man had drunk wine from her slipper. He’d been so sincere when he’d sworn his love for her. He’d said she was the most beautiful girl in the world and—Her thoughts skidded to a halt as a harsh inner voice reminded her that the young man had been giddy with wine, not with her.

Regina lengthened her strides and concentrated on how she would educate the council. By the end of the meeting, she hoped to have its full support. With the council behind her, the scales would be tipped in her favor and Regina wouldn’t have to worry so much about Tom Wilson and the other saloon owners lining up against Mrs. Nation. Her worst fear was that Mrs. Nation would decide to leave Eureka Springs for Kansas, where she was sought as an orator.

Light spilled from the windows of the council house and the door stood open, giving a glimpse of wooden pews. A number of people were already sitting inside and the hum of voices drew Regina. The councilmen sat behind a long table and faced the townspeople. Regina sat at the end of the third pew from the front and battled a bout of nerves. The jittery tumult in her stomach reminded her of the fright she’d always endured before her stage entrances at the Gold Star. Sometimes she’d shake so badly that the first notes wavered from her throat. When the saloon owner had noted it with displeasure, Regina had taken his advice on how to combat her performance nerves. That had been the beginning of her frightening descent.

Taking slow, deep breaths, she shored up her courage with sturdy self-righteousness. It was high time the people of Eureka Springs appreciated the work of one of their own. Otherwise, they would surely lose Mrs. Nation to Kansas.

The meeting was called to order and several issues were discussed and voted on. An hour crept by, then another. Regina began to stifle yawns behind her gloved hands as the council members argued among themselves over concerns ranging from adding more boardwalks for pedestrians to making Basin Street off-limits to cattle, goats, and swine. Finally, the chairman called for new business.

Regina suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. Her corset stays bit into her waist and she had trouble taking a decent breath as she raised one hand for recognition. Three men raised their hands, too. The chairman called on the men first, sentencing Regina to nearly another hour of complaints and demands for retribution. Regina noted that the council members seemed to be weary and
that the new business fell on deaf ears. A couple of the councilmen even yawned hugely, not bothering to conceal their boredom.

When the third man sat down, having vented his spleen about his neighbor throwing the contents of her slop bucket onto his property, Regina raised her hand again. The chairman, a man named Danforth, eyed her and sat back in his chair, hands folded over his ample stomach.

“The lady wants to speak to us, gentlemen. Stand up, will you? And speak as loudly as you can, little miss. What club do you represent?”

“Club …” She shook her head, confused. “I’m Regina Rose and I’m not a member of any club, sir.”

“Church, then? Or does this have to do with the school? If it does, you need to take your comments to the school board. They meet on—”

“No, sir. Begging your pardon, sir,” Regina said, raising her voice to combat the chairman’s booming bass. “It’s not about school, church, or clubs. I’m here to inform, sir.”

Chairman Danforth glanced at the men flanking him and shared a jovial exchange. “Do tell,” he urged. “What information do you have, Miss Rose?”

“We have an important resident in Eureka Springs who needs our support, gentlemen. I’m talking about Mrs. Carry A. Nation, Home Defender.” Regina sensed the change from interest to aggravation and she rushed on before the chairman or anyone else could interrupt. “Mrs. Nation conducts a daily soup kitchen for anyone who is hungry. Her home is open to women and children who no longer have homes of their own—women and children who are victims of men who prefer the taste of liquor to the comfort and care of their loved ones.”

“The council doesn’t contribute to charities, Miss Rose. The money must be used for city expenses,” Chairman Danforth noted, and picked up his gavel to end the meeting. “So, I hereby—”

“I’m not asking for money, Mr. Chairman,” Regina said, almost shouting. “I’m asking for a few minutes of your time. You listened patiently to the others here, and I expect the same courtesy.” She held the chairman’s gaze until he laid down the gavel. “Thank you, Mr. Chairman.” Regina took a long, calming breath. “Sometimes we so admire our neighbor’s flower garden that we don’t see the beauty of our own. Mrs. Nation lives among us and I believe many of us fail to recognize her good work. In the past year Mrs. Nation has fed and clothed fifteen women and forty-two children. She’s fed hundreds of our own hungry and downtrodden.”

“All noble and gracious deeds, to be sure,” the chairman said. “If you don’t want money, what do you want from us, Miss Rose? The hour grows late.”

“A proclamation, sir. Last month you issued a proclamation expounding the council’s support for the town’s May Day. In the past you’ve also issued proclamations praising the library, the Daughters of the American Revolution, the First Christian Church’s choir, and Chester Bunt for cutting his one hundredth head of hair since he set up business in Eureka Springs.” She glanced pointedly at Chester’s father, Councilman Bunt. “I believe it would be in your power to issue a proclamation of support for Mrs. Nation and her many worthwhile causes.”

“I didn’t know Mrs. Nation fed the poor,” Councilman Bunt said. “I don’t see any reason for us not to support her in that.”

Chairman Danforth shrugged. “I suppose I could entertain a motion.”

“Wait!” The ringing voice came from behind Regina.

Turning, Regina knew a moment of white-hot hatred when she saw Harriet Hampf standing three pews back. Tall, erect, and pinch-faced, Mrs. Hampf didn’t waste even a glance for Regina, but kept her gaze fastened on the council chairman.

“Ma’am? Oh, it’s Mrs. Hampf, isn’t it?” Chairman Danforth acknowledged.

“Yes, it’s me.” Mrs. Hampf graced them with an ingratiating smile. “Before you fall in behind this woman, you should know that Mrs. Nation was jailed recently and is awaiting trial. Do you really want to support a lawbreaker?”

“What’s this?” Chairman Danforth asked, directing the question to Regina. “Is this true, young lady?”