Faith read the article through once more, making minor adjustments and savoring each word. Satisfied, she set it aside for the next edition of the Gazette. A wave of accomplishment washed over her, mingling with the anticipation of what was to come.
She stood and stretched, looking out the window. The town had changed so much since she was a girl, yet some things remained the same. Change was a slow beast, she knew, but it was not immovable.
Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door, posters in hand. With each step, she felt the weight of history pressing down while a lift of possibility pulled her forward.
Determined to talk to someone at every business, Faith continued along the boardwalk, stopping at key locations to tack up posters.
The board outside the post office was a tangle of notices and advertisements.
She found a space near the center and pinned up one of her posters as if it were a piece of art.
As she turned to leave, she nearly collided with Mrs. Gloria Graham, a stern woman with a face carved from granite.
Tall and slender, she had a regal bearing and had a tendency to look down on most of the townsfolk.
Her husband was president of the Bank of Mystic, which Mrs. Graham believed put her above everyone else.
She glanced at the poster and then at Faith.
“What’s this about, Miss Goodell?” she asked, suspicion coloring her words.
Faith smiled. “We’re starting a group for the women of Mystic to discuss town issues. We want to have a say in how the town is run. You should come to the first meeting. It will be held at my house after church on Sunday.”
Mrs. Graham harrumphed, but Faith noticed she lingered to read the poster more closely as she walked away.
At the livery, she handed a poster to young Jeremiah Jarvis, who promised to give it to his father, Josiah. She posted another at the train depot, then made her way to the schoolhouse. The building was empty, the children having gone home for the day.
She opened the front door and peeked inside, finding a large chalkboard split into sections. One part listed arithmetic problems. Another had a cursive writing lesson. The final, smaller section held various announcements, and Faith was pleased to see one of her posters already up.
Closing the door quietly, she thought about Evelyn Graham. The teacher had been a steadfast friend, even during the difficult times when Faith’s father died. Knowing she had friends like Evelyn, like the Beckett clan, gave her the strength to push forward.
Every conversation, every curious glance, built her resolve higher.
Faith paused at the end of the block. From here, she could see most of Mystic, including the church steeple, the schoolhouse, and the small cemetery on the hill. This was her home, and every building, every street, held memories for her.
She thought about the progress she’d made. The mayor would mention the meeting, the pastor had given his blessing, and even Casper Jennings had come around. It wasn’t a groundswell of support, but it was a start.
The women of Mystic were strong, she knew. Many were like her, balancing work and family, trying to carve out a small piece of happiness. They didn’t need saving. They needed their voices heard. Her group would provide a platform for their views, if only they were brave enough to seize it.
The bell on the Gazette’s front door jingled, and Faith looked up from her desk. Maisy Cox walked in, followed closely by Evelyn Graham. Faith’s face lit with genuine joy. These two women were more than allies. They were friends.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to dissuade me,” Faith teased as they approached her desk.
“Quite the opposite,” Evelyn said, shrugging off her coat. “We’re here to help. Isn’t that right, Maisy?”
Maisy nodded, though her eyes held a hint of reservation. “We want this to succeed as much as you do.”
Faith stood and hugged them both in turn. “Thank you. I can use all the help I can get.”
The three women set to work, cutting out handbills from larger sheets of newsprint and stacking them neatly. Faith had already made and passed out thirty, but she knew having extras wouldn’t hurt. As they worked, they talked about the upcoming meeting and what they hoped to achieve.
“Do you really think the men will let us do this?” Evelyn asked, her tone more curious than doubtful.
“They don’t have to let us,” Faith said, her conviction unshakable. “We’re not asking for permission. We’re just doing what needs to be done.”
“Still,” Maisy said, “it helps that some of them are supportive. Like Casper Jennings.”
“And Joshua Beckett,” Evelyn added.
At the mention of Joshua Beckett, Faith’s heart did a little flip. The Beckett family was large and influential, and having them on her side was crucial. It was Joshua’s personal support she cherished most.
“Yes,” she said, perhaps a bit too softly. “Joshua understands.”
Finished with cutting the posters, they prepared an agenda for the first meeting and sat back, reviewing their work. Each woman held different thoughts and different anxieties. For now, they were united in purpose.
“This is going to be something special,” Evelyn said, breaking the silence. “I can feel it.”
Their excitement was contagious, and for a brief, shining moment, Faith believed everything would go exactly as planned.
With the handbills ready, Faith set out once more. This time, she planned to talk to one of the wealthiest men in Mystic.
She stopped in front of the Starlight Saloon.
The large, two-story building was from Mystic’s rougher days, its facade a mix of well-maintained weathered wood and white paint.
Pushing through the swinging doors, Faith was greeted by the smell of beer, cigar smoke, and the low hum of afternoon patrons.
Doyle Shaw, the saloon’s boisterous owner, spotted her immediately.
“Faith Goodell! What brings the town’s finest journalist to my humble establishment?
” He waved her over. His dark hair and broad shoulders gave him an imposing presence, though his eyes always held a spark of mischievous friendliness.
“Doyle,” Faith said, walking to the bar where he stood. “I’m here on official business.” She handed him a poster, and Doyle set down his whiskey before taking it. He whistled low as he read.
“A women’s alliance. Well, isn’t that something? Planning to overthrow us menfolk, are you?” His tone was jesting, but Faith recognized the underlying tension.
“We’re looking to contribute, not to overthrow,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Can I count on you to post it somewhere visible?”
Doyle considered her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll put it by the door. Lots of the fellas talk when they’re here. Their wives will hear about the meeting.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, turning to leave.
“Hold on a second,” Doyle said, stopping her in her tracks. “I think what you’re doing is a good thing. Women should have an equal say. My mother raised me to believe that.”
Faith turned back, surprised. “Your mother was a wise woman. So, you’ll support us?”
“I will,” Doyle said, then hesitated. “In fact, I’d like to come to the first meeting.”
Faith’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to attend? Doyle, it’s a women’s group.”
“I know,” he said, leaning on the bar. “If you’re serious about equality, shouldn’t men be involved, too? A lot of the issues you’ll be discussing affect us just as much. I think a male perspective could be useful.”
Faith chewed on his words. He had a point, and having Doyle’s support could lend the group legitimacy. Whether you liked or disliked Doyle Shaw, his support could deter any detractors. Still, it was a risky proposition.
“We need to create a space where women feel comfortable speaking freely,” she said. “Your presence might make some of them hold back.”
Doyle shrugged. “It’s your call. Just remember, we’re all in this together. Whether you like it or not.”
She thought hard, weighing the potential benefits against the possible backlash. “All right. You can attend the first meeting on Sunday. As an observer only, unless one of the women asks you a direct question. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Fair enough.” Doyle extended a hand. Faith shook it, sealing their agreement.
As she stepped into the late afternoon sunlight, she wondered if allowing Doyle to attend was a stroke of genius or the beginning of trouble.
Faith nearly collided with Joshua Beckett as she hurried away from the saloon. The tall rancher caught her by the shoulders, steadying her before she could topple over.
“Joshua,” she said, breathless. Her heart did its usual dance at the sight of him. His eyes searched hers with concern.
“Faith, are you all right? And what were you doing in the Starlight?” He glanced at the saloon’s entrance. His tone carried the weight of an older brother scolding a sibling, and it set Faith on edge.
“I was talking to Doyle,” she said, pulling a handbill from her bag and thrusting it at him. “About this.”
Joshua took the flyer and read it, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more guarded. “A women’s alliance. Does Annalee know about this?”
“Of course she does. Well, she knows I’m trying to organize a women’s group. Josh, why do you sound so disapproving? This is important.”
He sighed, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “I don’t disapprove, Faith. I just… I worry about you. About how this will be received.”
“We can handle a little criticism,” she said, crossing her arms. “We’re not as fragile as you think.”
“I never said you were fragile,” he countered, his voice growing firmer. “But you could stir up a lot of things. People might take your meetings in the wrong way.”
She bristled, uncrossing her arms and standing taller. “Take it the wrong way? We’re just trying to have a say in our own lives, Joshua. Why is that so threatening?”
“It’s not threatening,” he said, exasperation creeping in. “But change like this doesn’t happen overnight. You need to be prepared for—”
“For what? For the men of Mystic to tell us to sit back down and be quiet?” She shook her head, anger flaring in her eyes. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
His face softened, and he reached out as if to touch her arm. “Faith, I’m just trying to—”
“To protect me? I don’t need protecting, Joshua. I need your support.”
She turned on her heel and started walking away. “Faith, wait,” he called after her, but she didn’t stop.
“I have work to do,” she said over her shoulder, her pace quick and determined. “I’ll see you later.”
Faith left Joshua to stare after her, wondering what had just happened.