Tracie Peterson - [New Mexico Sunset 03] (5 page)

“And I know you’ll have Lillie’s and Dan’s,” Maggie added.

“Thanks,” Gavin said and turned to leave. “I know it will make all the difference.”

Chapter 7

A
ngeline had already been told more than ten times by Willa that tonight’s rally was an important one. She had been instructed to send messages to all of her family’s good friends and encourage them to attend. After that, Willa had suggested that Angeline rest up, and with special emphasis she added that Angeline should wear something pretty to the rally.

Pacing in her hotel room as twilight fell in a golden glow against the adobe churches and plaza structures, Angeline picked up one of Willa’s books and read for several minutes. From outside her window came the sound of a baby crying and, for some reason, it caused Angeline to think of home.

Going to the window, Angeline gazed out on the ancient city of Santa Fe. “I wonder if they hate me?” she whispered. She couldn’t help but envision her father and mother sitting down to the empty dining table and gazing at her vacated spot the way they had when John and James had gone into the army.

“I don’t know what to do,” she moaned and wished that God would open her eyes miraculously. She’d gone to church since she was a little girl, but none of that or the multiple sermons and Bible verses that had made their ways to her ears, seemed to help now.

Down in the center of the plaza, Angeline could see the makings of a crowd starting to gather. Willa had told her that many of the local politicians were shy about their cause, but with a little encouragement from solid citizens and people such as Angeline, they would turn out in mass number. If for no other reason, just to see what the fuss was all about. If they were lucky however, as Willa told Angeline they must be, these men would offer their support for the suffrage movement.

Angeline felt torn like never before. She really did want to help Willa. More than that, she wanted to do something worth while with her life. Something that people would remember her fondly for. Women’s suffrage seemed to be a worthy enough cause, but Angeline knew her heart wasn’t in it completely. How could it be when part of her heart was several hundred miles away in Bandelero?

The knock on her door startled Angeline, because she knew Willa would simply enter with her own key.

“Who is it?” she asked softly.

“Douglas.”

Angeline opened the door. “Mr. Baker.”

Douglas smiled revealing his perfect teeth, and Angeline immediately thought of a tooth powder advertisement she’d recently seen in one of her magazines.

“I hoped to escort you to the rally tonight. Willa will undoubtably have her hands full, and I wouldn’t want you to arrive alone.”

“That’s very considerate of you, Mr. Baker.”

“I thought we dispensed with that earlier today. Call me Douglas.”

Angeline nodded and offered him a shy smile. “Very well, Douglas. I shall meet you in the lobby at seven o’clock.”

“I will look forward to it.” He gave her a slight bow and left without another word.

Angeline closed the door behind her and leaned against it heavily. Every time Douglas was near her, she couldn’t help but think of Gavin. The troubling part was that she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

❧

Ten minutes ’til seven, Angeline put on the finishing touches by adding a pink ribbon to her carefully pinned up hair. She wanted to make Willa proud, and so she had chosen her very delicate white eyelet dress with the pink ribbon waist band and snug bodice. Checking herself in the mirror one final time, Angeline opened the door and made her way to the lobby.

Douglas was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He cast an admiring glance at her, quickly running his gaze up and down the full length of her.

“You look ravishing, my dear.” His tone was sincere enough, but something in his expression seemed almost leering.

“Thank you,” Angeline murmured, uncertain why she suddenly felt so uncomfortable.

“Come along,” Douglas commanded, taking hold of her arm. “They are about to begin, and Willa has instructed me to have you close to the stage.”

“Why would Willa want me there?”

“I’m uncertain as to her exact reasons,” Douglas stated, making his way with Angeline into the street, “but I believe she holds you in high esteem. You will offer her great support as you have all along.”

Angeline said nothing but immediately began to pick up on the atmos
phere surrounding the plaza grounds. Somewhere in the midst of the people, a band was playing popular ragtime tunes and most of the people seemed in high spirits. The crowd was growing by the minute, and though most of the participants were men, Angeline counted a great many women among the group as well. It should please Willa, Angeline thought.

Douglas manuevered them expertly through the mass and finally arrived at the place where Willa, in a stiff looking suit of blue serge and a banner proclaiming her cause, awaited the moment of her speech.

“Good, you’re here,” she said, noting Douglas’s possessive control of Angeline’s movements. “Sit here and I will start the rally.”

Angeline allowed Douglas to lead her to the chair, while Willa had the small band stop playing their ragtime tunes and cued the percussionist to give her a drumroll.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are happy to welcome you here tonight.” The crowd seemed to still and move in closer to the stage. Willa began to speak in earnest, commanding everyone’s attention and enrapturing Angeline as she had the very first night in Denver.

“For centuries women have played a vital and necessary role in the lives of their families. When God first created the universe and mankind, He showed the necessity for womanhood and, by special design, created her for life on this earth.”

Angeline smiled. Willa said she always liked to start with something about God, because who could argue with the Bible? True to form, she was leading the crowd where she wanted them to go.

Willa continued, “The position women have maintained over the last several hundred years, however, has been less of a helpmate to her male counterparts and more of a servant. A servant whose mind has been closed to the reality of what she was created to do. Women all across this great nation, and even throughout the world, have offered important progress in the lives of all people. They must be rescued from obscurity and thrust forward in the limelight.” Willa paused to see how the crowd was effected by her stern words before moving on.

“Madame Marie Curie in 1911 won the Nobel Prize for chemistry. Her contributions to the field of science have been magnificent and will continue to be so. And only a few years ago, an upstanding Southern woman named Juliette Low created an organization for our young women—the Girl Scouts. This association promises to help girls everywhere to formulate leadership qualities and push forward into the future. However,” Willa paused, and everyone seemed to lean forward, “that future cannot be mastered, and those young women cannot be sufficiently utilized until they are able to exercise their choices for the leadership in this country. Women need the right to vote. Men need for women to have that right.”

The crowd murmured unintelligible things, while Angeline seemed to momentarily forget Willa and concentrated instead on the people nearest her. She hated to eavesdrop but she wanted to know, no, she needed to know what they were thinking. Douglas seemed to immediately sense her contemplation and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Smart men will know she speaks the truth, and if their women are motivated to seek the vote, they will rally behind them.”

Angeline looked up at Douglas for a moment and nodded, while Willa finished her speech and prepared to move from the stage to walk amidst her listeners and answer questions.

For some strange reason, Angeline suddenly felt very misplaced. She felt the people around her shifting to accommodate those in front of them and a fearfulness gripped her momentarily. With a quick glance at Douglas, Angeline assured herself that all was well.

Willa shook hands with people, while Douglas helped Angeline to her feet. “She’s very good at this,” Douglas said as if sensing Angeline’s uneasiness. “Just watch her and you will learn a great deal.”

Suddenly, a man approached Willa with an narrowing of his eyes that quickly told Angeline he wasn’t a supporter of the “cause.”

“Madam,” the man began in a loud enough voice that everyone around immediately fell silent. “I have listened to you suffragettes from one end of this country to the other. You spout about rights that were never extended to you, because frankly, Madam, they were never necessary. Proper women, women who are biblical-minded as you so clearly like to associate your cause with, seek the protection and authority of men. Men, whom I might add, the good Lord made first and put in charge of everything else.” At this, a roar of approval went up from the crowd.

“Sir, proper women are women who seek to do their best. They are
women who, knowing God gave them many gifts, choose not to waste a single one. They seek not to usurp the authority of man, but to augment the benefits they might offer their fellow human beings.”

The man made several notes on a tablet before questioning Willa again. This time the attack was far more personal, and an ugliness was born of the group that startled Angeline.

“Why is it, Madam, that all of you suffragettes are homely, spinster-type women, who obviously can’t seem to attract the attention of a man any other way than to try to steal the pants from him?” The people surrounding them roared in laughter, and Angeline moved closer to Douglas, feeling fearful that things might get physical as Willa had warned her had happened on occasion.

Without any warning, Willa seemed to part the crowd with the wave of her hand and pulled Angeline forward. “This lovely young woman is my assistant. Perhaps you would like to tell her how homely and spinster-like she is.”

The man stared at the stunned-faced Angeline and smiled. “No, Madam,” he said to Willa, and a broad smile crossed his face. “I doubt anyone could accuse this beauty of being homely.”

Angeline wanted to crawl into the nearest hole, but Willa’s hand firmly gripped her arm and moving away was out of the question. The man quickly motioned to someone, and Angeline blinked her surprise when a man thrust a camera into her face and started snapping pictures. The flash blinded her momentarily, but Angeline stood fast.

“Tell me, Miss,” the man began.

“Her name is Angeline Monroe. She is the very model of virtue and grace,” Willa stated for the newspaperman.

“Tell me, Miss Monroe,” he began again with pencil in hand, “do you honestly support the cause of suffrage and if so, why?”

Angeline felt Willa’s hand tighten on her arm, but she wasn’t schooled enough to know this was her mentor’s signal to remain silent. Willa opened her mouth the speak but found Angeline’s soft voice answering instead.

“I hold the highest regard for womanhood. I believe that God has given women a very special place on this earth, and that place is neither to usurp the man’s place, nor to exceed it.” The crowd grew completely silent as everyone strained to hear the delicate voice.

“My own mother is an intelligent woman who works at the side of my father, a physician. She is often consulted for her opinion, and my father, even with his college training, supports and honors my mother as a colleague. Other women I know are just as resourceful and just as important. And, Sir, I find it sad indeed that you seem to place a woman’s value only in her appearance. One cannot always help the way one looks. Should we scorn the cripple because he,” Angeline paused, “or she, cannot walk as we do with strong, sturdy legs? Do we not love the unlovable, just as Christ did when He walked this earth?”

The man stopped writing and stared at Angeline in earnest. Several women in the crowd dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs, while their men stared down at their feet and shifted uncomfortably.

“The Lord made us all,” Angeline continued. “Who are we to condemn that which He created? You, Sir, report the news with the critical eye of one who has seen many things and perhaps has seen too much. You have lost in your sense of vision what it is to feel the heartfelt sorrow of the people around you. We are not seeking to thrust you from your place. We are merely asking to join you there. We are asking you to be proud of your women—your wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters. If we lack wisdom and education, then teach us. If we lack courage, then bolster us with your own, but don’t turn us away as though you were ashamed. Not a single man here can boast of an entry into this world without the assistance of a woman. We are now asking for the return of that favor in assisting us into the world. We are asking for the right to vote.”

For several minutes, no one said anything. There were sniffling sounds that were heard, then the sound of a solitary pair of hands clapping, then two, then a dozen, then a hundred. Willa smiled and gave her protégée a hearty pat on the back before nodding to Douglas. Angeline Monroe would be a bigger asset than even Willa Neal had imagined.

Chapter 8

I
t was as though that one small speech had somehow justified Angeline’s existence in Willa Neal’s eyes. She beheld the girl with a new respect and the fervent, driving knowledge that Angeline just might get them voting rights in New Mexico.

The papers that ran the following morning were plastered with front page photographs of Angeline Monroe. Her speech was recited, almost word for
word, and the article citing it listed Angeline as a remarkable and clear-mind
ed suffragette.

Willa was thrilled at the coverage. They often had to pay out precious money to get the kind of newspaper attention that Angeline’s one, heartfelt outburst had surged. She pored over the stories and the multiple requests which had started arriving as early as six that morning, for interviews with Angeline Monroe.

Further evidence came in the form of flowers and cards from the political connections whom Angeline had invited to the speech. Willa read one card after another, noting the dates and times of invitations to dinners, small parties and teas. She intended to work the situation to her benefit no matter the consumption of Angeline’s time and energies.

The one bit of attention that Willa would not tolerate came from the more conservative suffragists who sought to have Angeline join their cause instead of Willa’s more militant one.

Willa refused to even admit these women into the hotel suite, and Angeline couldn’t help but wonder what the real threat might be. Willa passed it off as unimportant, however, and insisted Angeline read a speech that had been given by Alice Paul several years earlier and not concern herself with the merits of the less passionate.

❧

Angeline, herself, loved the attention. Used to the limelight, she was once again thrust front and center, and it was everything she’d hoped it would be. A surprising sideline came to her in the form of Douglas’s ardent regard.

Angeline enjoyed Douglas’s pampering, but her heart nagged at her and reminded her that Gavin was at home in Bandelero, waiting for her.
But I never committed myself to him,
Angeline thought.
In fact, I told him that I wasn’t interested in marriage.
She reminded herself of this at least twenty times a day, for all the good it did.

When Willa announced they were moving on to the next city, Angeline was a bit taken aback. She hadn’t thought of how far she was drifting from home and the people she loved until Willa pointed out that they would be traveling for several weeks. Guilty at the thought of her parents’ suffering because of her disappearance, Angeline suggested to Willa that she write or telegraph them, but Willa quickly dismissed the idea.

“They won’t understand, and they’ll only insist that you come home,” Willa replied. Angeline nodded in acquiescence, but felt a terrible lump in her throat at the thought of her parents worrying over her.

❧

Two days later, Angeline found herself sitting to the far side of the stage, where Willa, front and center, urged the people of the small town to see the merits of women’s suffrage. This town was much smaller than Santa Fe and far less progressive in its thinking. Many of the men and women gathered there were natives to the area and cared little for the ideals behind voting when they were worried about water for their crops and animals.

Angeline was amazed at the crowd’s seeming indifference, but even more amazing was the way that this indifference changed to anger at one simple statement made by Willa.

“I have seen the treatment of animals in this country and deemed it better than that of women,” she announced in a heated fury.

“Animals are our life’s blood,” a man yelled from the murmuring crowd.

Willa shook her raised fist, and Angeline felt herself cower against the hard wooden chair. She didn’t much care for this side of Willa. “Women gave you life, not those animals you pamper to market.”

This created quite a stir in the gathering and, before Angeline realized what was happening, there were angry shouts and rocks being thrown at Willa.

Staring in dumbstruck silence, Angeline watched as several men
approached the stage. They were shouting and cursing about Willa’s inability to understand their plight. It wouldn’t be learned until days later that several boxcars filled with sheep headed to market had derailed and consequently pushed more than one of the local families into financial ruin.

Angeline came to her feet at the sight of the first dissenter coming on stage. She backed up against the edge, not knowing what would happen next, fearful that she would be unable to protect herself from the rushing crowd.

Glancing around into the inky shadows of full night, Angeline began to pray as never before. “Please God,” she whispered, “please help me.”

Utter pandemonium broke out after that, and the stage was rushed with Willa being safely spirited off in the opposite direction of where Angeline stood. Without warning, Angeline felt herself being lifted and thrown heavily against the broad shoulders of a stranger. She fought for all she was worth, kicking, screaming, and beating at the man’s back, but nothing could stop him.

The man pushed through the crowds, leaving the dissenters behind to tear up the stage and suffrage banners. He wormed his way through new arrivals who were clearly endowed with false courage from the assistance of the local saloon. When her captor started to run, Angeline felt the wind knock from her as her mid-section slammed against his shoulder again and again.

“Dear God,” she breathed aloud, feeling herself grow faint.

Then as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The man stopped, glanced
around, and opened the small wooden door that entered a tiny adobe building.

He had to stoop to get through the doorway, but once inside, he straightened back up and pulled Angeline down into his arms.

Angeline kept her eyes closed tightly. Partially because she was afraid to see her captor and partially because her head was spinning.

“Hi, Angel,” the stern, but familiar voice called out, as Gavin Lucas cradled her to his chest.

Angeline’s eyes flew open and a small gasp escaped her lips before she threw her arms around Gavin’s neck and squealed his name.

“Gavin! I’m so happy to see you. I thought I was going to die back there!”

“You very well could have. Those people weren’t a bit happy with your cause.” He said the word in such a snide way that Angeline immediately took offense.

“They just don’t understand,” she began. “They don’t see the necessity of women being allowed to choose their representation in government.” She wound down a bit and looked around the room. “Where are we?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Gavin replied. “I looked in the window and saw the place was empty and figured I needed to check you out and see if you were all right. Are you?” His expression was one of sober consideration, while his eyes traveled the length of Angeline’s simple white shirtwaist and blue serge skirt.

Angeline noted that her suffrage ribbon had somehow been torn from her and was probably beneath the muddy boots of the town’s male population. Otherwise, she felt fine now that she could breathe. “I’m perfectly well,” she finally answered.

“Good.” Gavin’s voice still sounded rather indifferent. “We’d better get out of here and get back to the hotel.”

“You’re staying at the hotel?” Angeline questioned. “Why are you here, Gavin?” she pressed without giving him a chance to answer her first question.

Gavin opened the door and peered down the alleyway in each direction. He motioned her to the door with his finger pressed to his lips to insure her silence.

Angeline was never good at keeping quiet, however. Especially when she wanted answers to important questions. She stared up at the handsome face of the man who claimed to love her and whispered, “Why?”

Gavin looked down at her as though she’d asked the stupidest question possible. “Why do you think?” he replied softly and pulled her into the shrouding darkness.

Angeline didn’t like leaving the lighted room, but she liked the idea of awaiting the return of an angry owner even less. She allowed Gavin to pull her along until they approached the main street and saw that at least twenty or thirty angry men still surrounded the front doors to the hotel.

“Come on,” Gavin growled in a barely audible voice. He pushed Angeline toward the end of the boardwalk and ended up pulling her into the livery at the edge of town before he’d allow her to rest.

“What in the world is wrong with you, Gavin Lucas?”

“Me? You think there’s something wrong with me?” His voice was indignant.

“Yes,” Angeline began, but Gavin wouldn’t hear any more.

“I came here because your mother and father are sick with worry and grief about your well-being. I’ve followed you from Santa Fe and tried a hundred times to get close enough to talk to you, but you have more watchdogs than prime herd of beef on its way to market.” Angeline started to respond to his reference but closed her mouth quickly at the look of warning Gavin gave her.

“I nearly get killed in that crowd just to save your scrawny, ungrateful neck, and you have the audacity to ask me why I came here?”

Angeline was quite taken back at this side of Gavin. She knew him to be quite serious and decidedly dedicated to his loved ones, but she’d never seen him this mad. “I’m. . .I’m. . .” she wanted the words to be just right, but they wouldn’t come together.

“You’re what?” Gavin asked her as if he thought her reply might actual
ly be important.

“I’m sorry.” Angeline finally managed to say. “I never meant to hurt my folks, but the cause is important.”

“You and your causes!” Gavin exclaimed in disgust. “Your cause got a little out of hand tonight, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t expect it to result in a fight,” Angeline admitted, taking a seat on a nearby bale of straw.

Just then the livery keeper entered from outside. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know I had company. Sorry to keep you waiting, but it seems we had a bit of excitement at the hotel tonight.”

“No problem,” Gavin replied and nodded, toward Angeline. “I had a bit of excitement tonight, myself.”

The man looked at Angeline, nodded, and gave Gavin a sly wink. “I’ll be out back if you need me, but I suppose you won’t.” Then the man left as though it were perfectly normal to find two strangers arguing in his livery.

Angeline jerked herself upright and glared at Gavin. “I’ll not have you besmirch my reputation by implying that you and I, that we, that we. . .” She blushed furiously and fell silent.

“That we what? That we raced through the streets, fighting to save our own necks?”

Angeline stomped her foot, unable to unleash enough words at once to tell Gavin Lucas just what she thought of him. “Go home, Gavin,” she finally uttered and turned to walk toward the door.

Gavin spun her around and pulled her into his arms. “They’re using you, Angel. I’ve heard the way they talk behind your back. I’ve been following them, remember? They just want to use you until you can’t help them anymore.”

Angeline pushed against Gavin and, to her surprise, he released her. “Mind your own business, Gavin.”

“You are my business, Angel,” he replied softly. “I intend to marry you or did you forget that?”

Angeline tried to sound self-confident when she laughed. “It’s immaterial what you intend. The cause needs me, and I intend to fight for women’s suffrage in any way I can. It’s a cause worth fighting for.”

“Is it a cause worth dying for?”

Gavin’s words seemed to hit some deeply buried reality in Angeline, but she hated to yield that conquest to him. “I’m not sure any cause is worth dying for,” she replied honestly. “At least, I’m not sure I’ve found a cause worth that to me.”

Gavin stepped forward and reached out to her. When Angeline didn’t refuse his touch, Gavin pulled her close. “What about God, Angel? Where does God fit into your cause?”

“Why do you ask that?” Angeline whispered, staring deep into Gavin’s smoky blue eyes.

“You were sure calling on Him for help a little while ago. I was just wondering how He figures into your plans for the future. Or does He have a place in your plans?”

The spell was broken, and once again Angeline pushed away and headed for the door. “He has a much more secure position than you do, Mr. Lucas.” The words were delivered with stilted exasperation. Lifting her chin defiantly, Angeline continued, “Now if you don’t mind, I intend to return to my hotel room. I’m quite exhausted.”