Kaitlin's Silver Lining (6 page)

His patience was to
be commended, but she hated the word he used to describe Bethany’s choice in
occupation.

“At least we’re in
agreement on one thing, Mr. Stanton. I think you were right to bring Charley
here.” If Bethany were still alive, Kaitlin would give that woman a piece of
her mind. How dare she corrupt an innocent child! “She clearly has a very jaded
view on how things should be.”

Bryce gave her a
dazzling smile. “Yes, ma’am, she does at that. She didn’t have a normal
upbringin’ for a young girl. Your sister accumulated many things, includin’
men, but I don’t think she won any motherhood awards.”

“My momma was the
best momma ever,” Charley cried out. “Don’t be sayin’ bad things about her now
she’s gone.”

“Your momma was a
very pretty woman, Charley, but there has to be more to a woman than a pretty
package. It’s what’s on the inside of the package that makes a woman truly
beautiful.”

Kaitlin’s skin
warmed. Would a man ever discover her inner beauty? Bryce’s insight surprised
her. She hoped he meant those words and wasn’t just spouting nonsense. Some
woman was going to be mighty lucky when this man proposed. She could almost
envy Emma the opportunity to become Bryce’s wife. Almost. For all his pretty
words and handsome smiles, he was just a man.

She glanced over to
see Charley watching her. “Think Aunt Katy is pretty, Uncle Bryce?”

Charley knew just how
to bunch up thread into a painful knot. The girl had no diplomacy when it came
to speaking her mind. “Charley, it isn’t polite to put someone on the spot like
that. Now your uncle has to tell a bald-faced lie to be polite, or speak the
truth, which would be equally impolite. You’ve backed him into a corner.”
Kaitlin pushed her chair away from the table and picked up her dirty plate. It
was the perfect excuse to make an exit from this otherwise delicate
conversation.

Bryce followed her
into the kitchen area where he set his dirty plate on top of hers. “You know,
Kaitlin, I can speak for myself. And I don’t lie. I told my last lie when it
almost got the wrong man sent away for murder, so you can believe anything I
say will be the truth.”

“Well, then, by all
means. Let’s hear how you would answer Charley.”

“You have some very
endearin’ qualities that make you interestin’. I find myself intrigued by a
mystery you seem to wear like a protective coat.”

“I want to help
Charley, but I don’t think having you here is going to work.”

“I threaten your
well-ordered life. That wasn’t my intention when I offered my services.”

“You and I have
different goals for ourselves. You want to find the perfect mate, marry, and
set up house. I want to make my life richer, more meaningful, by fighting for
my beliefs. We have very little in common, and yet, you insist on flirting with
me. I’m not comfortable with this type of rapport with a man.”

“Forgive my forward
nature. I’ve always thrown flowers at women. It’s just the way I am.”

“Thrown flowers?”

“Compliments. I was
taught to hold women in the highest regard. I have nothin’ but respect for you
and Miss McGuire. Shoot, I’m thankful you’ve agreed to take Charley in for a
spell.”

“I can’t even begin
to imagine what it was like for Charley.”

“See? You were wrong.
We do have something in common. We have Charley’s welfare to think about.”

Kaitlin looked back
into the dining area where Bethany’s daughter sat, a pensive frown upon her
youthful face. With Charley, she would have a new mission, something to spark
the fires of her goal-driven personality. “Yes. As difficult as I suspect it
will be, I accept the challenge. We must divert Charley’s current career
aspirations, refine her manners, and build her confidence.”

“Together?”

“As long as you
understand, we work together for Charley and not for us. All this flirting will
get you nowhere.”

His eyes lit up as
his mouth widened into a smile. “Charley will be our challenge, Miss Kanatzer,
but I think you might just be mine.”

Five

Kaitlin tugged at the
knotted thread near the hole on the bobbin plate. Today was just not a good day
to sew. Her Eldrich Model B Chainstitch was only a year old, but lately it
acted more like a thirty-year-old machine. The treadle design of this machine
was much better than the hand crank design she used to own but not today.
Today, she verbalized her frustration in a most unladylike fashion. With a
final tug on the matted bit of fiber, the material snapped free. Muttering
under her breath, she re-threaded the needle and checked the bobbin. Satisfied,
Kaitlin attempted another seam.

With a deep breath
and a steady rhythm, she worked the foot pedal. Gently, the feeder foot guided
the fabric while the needle placed a dainty chain stitch along the hem. She
forced herself to go at a constant but slow pace, afraid the mechanism might
jam again and cost her precious time. It was her own fault for procrastinating,
but it was
his
fault she wasn’t concentrating like she should. Bryce
Stanton had upset her routine, making her nervous and unsure.

She’d promised the
local suffragists she would have the flag ready for tonight’s march. At this
rate, she wasn’t sure she’d be keeping that promise. Too many things kept
crowding her mind.

Maggie entered the
room a few moments later, a welcome distraction.

“Aren’t you finished
with that yet?”

“No.” Kaitlin yanked
at another knot. “This infernal Eldrich keeps jamming. Of course, it’s my own
fault for not oiling it regularly, but who has time?”

“How much more do you
have to do?” Maggie peered over her shoulder.

“Almost done. Take a
seat and wait.”

“Abigail doesn’t like
to be kept waiting. She’s a firm believer in promptness.” Maggie leaned closer.

“And I’m sure to get
a lecture, but it can’t be helped.” Kaitlin continued to guide material into
the feeder foot. “A protest march won’t carry the same weight without a symbol
to lead the way, and I plan to finish this flag.”

“Did anyone tell you
you’re stubborn?”

Bryce had made the
same comment the first day he’d showed up on her front porch. He’d told her
again when she insisted on helping him put in the glass for the window. She
pushed the memory aside.

“You have a habit of
reminding me at least once a week.” Kaitlin snapped the thread with her teeth.

“There. What do you
think?” Kaitlin turned in her chair and held up the colorful pennant. It was a
large, rectangular piece of blue fabric with a torch in the middle, surrounded
by a halo of stars. She’d placed a star for each member of their group. The
torch symbolized their burning desire to fight for women’s rights. Maggie
complimented the simple design with appropriate words.

Kaitlin smiled,
satisfied with her accomplishment in such a short amount of time. “Let me put
my shoes on, then we can go. Is Charley ready?”

“She’ll be down
shortly. She’s fixing her hair.”

“Good. I don’t mind
telling you, I had my reservations when that child first arrived.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know. It’s
hard to explain. I didn’t think I’d have anything in common with her or that
I’d be able to talk with her. It’s difficult, but I’m actually enjoying the
child.” Kaitlin set the flag aside to retrieve her button-up shoes from under
the sewing table.

“Kaitlin?” Maggie sat
down in a wing chair. “Do you regret never getting married?”

Kaitlin’s eyebrows
lifted. “And become a slave for the rest of my life? No regrets here.” She had
plenty of regrets, but none she wished to share, not even with her dearest
friend.

Maggie smiled gently.
“Slaving isn’t so bad if you have the right master.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie.
That was a very poor choice of words, but I think you above anyone else would
understand my aversion to slavery or anything remotely like slavery. Marriage
is just a different form if you ask me.”

“Not for some folks.
Some folks consider marriage a partnership.” Her dark hands rested against the
tan covering, offering a stark contrast in color.

“Let me guess. You’re
in love again.”

“No. Just thinking.
What about children?”

Kaitlin placed her
left foot on the floor and wiggled it about to settle her foot into the tight
shoe before placing it on her knee to button. “I take it you’re not very happy
about spinsterhood. You sound wistful, melancholy.”

“I’m just not so sure
I’ve chosen the right path for myself. Don’t get me wrong. I still think women
should be able to vote, but I also think black people should have the same
rights as white folk. Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting too many battles. I
hate the idea of men wasting money in saloons when their families need food and
clothing. Our mission is a noble one, but I can’t help wondering what it would
feel like to have a man’s arms around me. Being a suffragist is lonely. And
being a black suffragist is even lonelier.”

“All right, Maggie,
come clean. What man has your fancy this week?” Kaitlin peered at her best
friend. They had been friends and roommates for so long Kaitlin no longer thought
of Maggie as black. To her, she was just another woman with similar dreams and
aspirations. The only difference between them that mattered was Maggie’s
flirtatious manner. Maggie was always finding some man to ogle over. Every
other week or so, Maggie would moon over a new face. Unfortunately, most men
steered clear of vocal women such as herself or Maggie. That was fine by
Kaitlin.

If she ever found a
man willing to consider marriage as a partnership where both parties had an
equal say, she might be persuaded to change her mind. She doubted such a man
existed. Very few of the men she knew tolerated her opinion on women’s rights,
and not a one of them supported her efforts.

Standing, Kaitlin
shook out her skirts and indicated to Maggie it was time to go. This evening,
they planned an organized march against the new saloon again. The day Bryce had
shown up, they’d staged a blockade against the delivery of a shipment of liquor
to the Tip Top. The police had arrived too late to save Kaitlin from being doused
with molasses, but early enough to prevent someone from seriously getting hurt.
The women had been summarily disbanded, and the liquor had been unloaded as if
nothing had happened. So far, their marches had been relatively peaceful
gatherings, but tonight, Kaitlin sensed more hostility. Today, they marched
against a saloon full of thirsty patrons. She just hoped no one got hurt as
they tried to make their point.

Charley sat down on
the settee with a pout. “I’m ready, but I don’t wanna go. I don’t see why I
can’t just stay here.”

“Don’t you want to be
a part of history?”

“Not the kind of
history you’re makin’. My momma always said women should please men. That if’n
we please our fellas we’d receive riches for our trouble.” She rubbed her nose
on her sleeve. Since staying in Kaitlin’s home, the poor girl had developed a
cold. “I don’t see how picketing in front of a saloon will please anybody.”

After Charley’s
discussion a few days ago, Kaitlin was not surprised by the girl’s admission.
She had no illusions where her sister was concerned. Bethany had run away from
home at the tender age of fourteen to become a painted lady. Their father had
found Bethany some two years later in a saloon, catering to any cowpoke with
enough money to buy her time. That she’d instilled some of her immorality in
Charley was criminal.

Kaitlin focused on
Charley. “I don’t want to please anyone with this march, Charley. That’s the
point. Liquor is just plain evil. Men will drink away honest wages better spent
on their families. I’m looking to educate folks, not please them.”

“Uncle Bryce drinks
sometimes,” Charley responded with the guileless artifice of a child.

“That’s his
prerogative, but he won’t be drinking in this house, and if we make any headway
tonight, he won’t be drinking in that new saloon.” Kaitlin jammed her hat upon
her head and gathered the flag. “Come along, ladies. It’s time we made our
stand.”

Six

Bryce tugged at the
scratchy tan tweed, the jacket sleeves just shy of being too short against his
long arms. Thank goodness, he’d had a professional seamstress stitch up a pair
of darker brown pants for him, or they’d be on the short side also. Ready-mades
didn’t fit his long legs and arms as they should. He had to settle for
store-bought on the jacket since the seamstress hadn’t had time to make him
one. He hoped Emma appreciated all the trouble he’d gone to on her account.

 He held his Stetson
in front like a shield. If it had been spring or summer, he’d have brought her
a bouquet of flowers. At least the snow had melted, leaving only scattered
patches here and there. After running his hand over his slicked-down hair one
more time, he knocked on the door.

A tall, portly woman
answered. He assumed the woman to be Emma’s mother. She gave him the once-over,
her sour expression making him wonder if he’d put on enough bay rum. She
wrinkled her nose. He stammered out an introduction and the reason for his
visit.

“You wait out here.
She’ll be along shortly.” The woman shut the door in his face. He paced the
length of the porch, praying Emma would be pleased by his visit.

As promised, the door
opened, and Emma stepped out, her smiling face a ray of sunshine on this brisk,
wintry day.

Bryce rushed forward.
“Miss Emma, you are a vision. I thought you were pretty the last time we met,
but my memory didn’t do you justice.” Bryce twisted his hat in his hand.

“Bryce? Bryce
Stanton?”

“The same. It’s been
a spell. Two years as I recollect.”

“My. This is a
surprise. What brings you here?”

Sweet, like cornbread
soaked in milk. Her honeyed voice washed over him, caressing each of his senses
with a promise he had yet to discover.

He gave her his
biggest smile. “I came to see you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I figured
writing wasn’t good enough. I had to see you again in person.”

“Oh. Oh my.” She sank
onto the porch swing. “I guess you didn’t get my last letter then, did you?”

“I got one about four
months back. I responded, but I’ll admit, it wasn’t a quick response. I only mailed
it a month ago.”

“Yes, I know. I
received it. And well...well, I wrote straight away.”

He glanced at the
swing, wanting to sit beside her. She sat in the center, leaving no room for
him. He frowned. Something about her tone and the way she held herself aloof
made him think this meeting wasn’t going to go as planned. “Then no. I didn’t
get that letter. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. I reckon you can tell me in
person what you wrote in that letter.”

She smiled, though it
didn’t quite touch her eyes. He was making her uncomfortable, and that wasn’t
his intention. “This feels rather awkward, Bryce.”

“I reckon that’s how
it’s supposed to feel when folks first start callin’ on one another. I know
this is sudden, but...”

“You’ve caught me by
surprise.” Her voice sounded as cold as the light coating of snow on the
railings of her house. This first meeting was definitely not going as he’d
planned.

“That wasn’t my
intention, ma’am. I thought you wouldn’t be opposed to seeing me. Your letters
gave me hope that such was the case.”

She sighed. “I
suppose I must apologize then. Though I am glad you’ve come. It’s been a long
time, and I’ve enjoyed corresponding with you.” Her voice thawed with what
sounded like regret.

Bryce stared at his
scuffed boots, the only real part to his outfit. He felt like a turkey dressed
for Thanksgiving dinner with everyone gnawing on the ham instead. Embarrassment
made his necktie seem tighter. He wasn’t used to women giving him the cold
shoulder, and especially one he’d entertained a special rapport with. She sent
mixed signals he didn’t fully understand.

“What impression did
you mean to give me, Miss Emma?”

“Don’t be upset,
Bryce.” She held her hands primly in her lap.

“I’m not upset. I’m
just a little confused. I thought you’d be happier to see me.” He rubbed his
forehead. “I’m not sure I understand. That’s all.”

“Of course, I’m happy
you came by. I would have been disappointed to discover you were in town, and
you didn’t stop to see me before heading back to Texas. Friends should stay in
touch.”

Friends? He fingered
the Stetson again. Maybe she’d misunderstood him the first time, or she was
playing hard-to-get. He hadn’t come all this way not to at least make his real
purpose known. “The fact is...well, it’s like this...Oh, heck, Emma. I was
hoping...”

“Emma? Who’s your
caller?”

Bryce swiveled toward
the new voice, bristling at the man who walked up the steps with an arrogant
stride. It didn’t take an educated man to see Emma had herself another beau.

As the man reached the
porch, Emma slid over, making room on the swing for this newcomer. The gesture
wasn’t lost on Bryce. Whoever the man was, he had staked a prior claim. Bryce
had lost the opportunity to court Emma long before entering the game. The
radiant smile Emma bestowed upon the man clearly identified his opponent as the
winner. Bryce’s ego deflated a bit at the thought.

“Farley, may I
present Bryce Stanton from Texas. His family owns the Double S in Brownwood.
Bryce, this is my fiancé, Farley Kaufmann.” Emma made the introduction,
ignoring Bryce’s momentary look of surprise.

Bryce shook the man’s
hand, pretending to find joy in her announcement. Humbled, he realized how
presumptuous he’d been to think Emma would still be free after a two-year
absence. She was a beautiful woman, and it was only natural she’d find herself
a husband among the eligible bachelors who resided close by.

“You’re a long way
from home, Mr. Stanton.” Farley took the offered seat next to Emma.

“I had business that
needed tending to.” He gazed at Emma who shifted restlessly on the seat.

“Have you known my
fiancée long?”

Bryce smiled, forcing
himself to remain cordial, though he felt quite foolish now. “I’ve known Miss
Hood for the past two years. I couldn’t pass up the chance to say howdy.”

Farley pulled Emma
closer to him, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Cold?”

“A little. I didn’t
know I’d be receiving guests for any length of time, or I’d have grabbed a
wrap.” She seemed a little stiff within Farley’s embrace. Curious.

Bryce pulled his own
tweed jacket closer together. He could take the hint. She wanted him to take
his leave, or she would have invited him inside where conditions were a bit
more cordial. He leaned his weight against the railing, entertaining a devilish
need to make the woman as uncomfortable as she’d made him. It didn’t speak very
highly of him, but then again, a smidgeon of retaliation gave him some
satisfaction. He’d spent a lot of time daydreaming about Emma and marriage.

“I didn’t mean to
impose. Just payin’ my respects while passing through.” Bryce grinned.

“I’m glad.” Emma gave
him a gentle smile.

“So what business
brought you to Denver?” Farley asked.

“A little of this and
a little of that. I became the guardian for a young girl, and I wanted to bring
her to meet her aunt. Other than that, I’ve just bided my time lookin’ up old
friends and the like.”

“And how did you meet
my fiancée?”

The man’s voice
carried an obvious note of jealousy. There was something about Farley that
rubbed Bryce wrong, though he couldn’t put a finger to it. “We stumbled into
each other at the bank.”

Emma chuckled. “I
dropped my reticule, and Bryce kindly picked it up for me. We struck up a
conversation afterwards, and one thing led to another.”

“She offered to show
me the town and I accepted. A goodly amount of time was spent in each other’s
company until I had to return to the family ranch. We’ve been correspondin’
since.”

“Have you?” Farley’s
eyes narrowed. “Then I suppose she told you all about me?”

“Not much.” Bryce
hedged. “So, how did you meet Emma?”

“Through a mutual
acquaintance.” He squeezed her hand. Was it Bryce’s imagination, or did she
just flinch? “It didn’t take long for me to see how special my Em was.”

“I do believe you are
one lucky man.” Farley’s smugness bothered him more than he’d like to admit,
but dadnapit, he’d had his heart set on courting Emma. “If I had a gal as
lovely as yours, I’d be settling my rope about her, too.”

Emma blushed. “I’m
sure the right girl will come along soon.”

Bryce expelled a
pent-up breath. He couldn’t fault her for finding her own happiness, but he
wasn’t so sure she was fully amenable to marrying Farley. While her words said
one thing, her body told him a whole other tale.

“I hope you’re
right.” He settled the Stetson on his head, thinking he’d have to ask Emma a
few questions when her fiancé wasn’t around. “I won’t keep you folks any
longer. I know it’s cold out here, but it was good to see you.”

“Maybe we’ll see you
again before you leave. Where are you staying?”

Bryce took a step
down and looked up at the two of them. “I’m currently staying with Maggie
McGuire and Kaitlin Kanatzer. Do you know of them?”

He watched Emma’s
eyes widen while Farley’s eyes narrowed to beady slits. What an odd reaction,
one he didn’t fully understand.

Farley recovered
first. “Our local suffrage movement. They’ve done their best to put me out of
business.”

“I’m sure they
wouldn’t do so on purpose. They seem like nice ladies.”

“Bryce, you mustn’t
associate with those two. They’ll bring trouble to your door.” Emma’s brow
wrinkled in a worried frown.

“That would be a
little hard since my door is miles away.” Bryce laughed. “Honestly, Emma,
they’re both wonderful women. America was built on strong views. You can’t
blame them for voicin’ their opinions.”

“You sympathize with
them?”

Bryce shrugged. “I
don’t necessarily agree with some of their ideas, but I’m not holdin’ these
differences against them. I admire their courage.”

“Courage is one
thing, Mr. Stanton.” Farley stood, untangling himself from his fiancée’s hold.
“Stupidity is quite another.”

“Are you calling
Maggie and Kaitlin stupid?” Bryce bristled. Farley made him think of a snake
oil salesman.

“You may call it
anything you like, but a passel of women pecking at a man’s right to drink is
not the smartest thing for those women to do. They want the right to vote, but
there’s not a man alive who’s going to vote for suffrage if he thinks giving
women this right will ultimately set the stage for a no-liquor law to be
passed. They’d be cutting off their own noses.”

“What better arena is
there than a saloon where a large number of men gather?” Bryce suddenly felt
defensive. “Maybe they’re smarter than a raccoon with a locked door. They’ve
just found another way in.”

Farley narrowed his
eyes, and growled. “Well, that may be, but if they know what’s good for them,
they’ll find another lock to pick. I don’t want any trouble, but as a saloon
owner, I’ll do what I must to preserve business.”

“I’m sure you will. Likewise,
I reckon they’ll do what they have to.” Bryce walked down the rest of the porch
steps but turned when he reached the last step. “Good day to you both. I reckon
we’ll be seein’ each other again, and congratulations on the comin’ nuptials.”

“Thank you for coming
to visit.” Emma smiled.

He tipped his hat.
“The pleasure was all mine, ma’am.”

His smile faded the
minute he turned from her engaging presence. He headed straight for the nearest
saloon and liquid fortification against his depressing thoughts. Kaitlin might
throw a fit when she smelled the liquor on his breath, but she wasn’t his
keeper. With Emma spoken for, he’d have to look in other directions for a
potential wife.

He groaned. This
courtin’ business was harder than ropin’ a wild bronc.