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T he seamstress shop was packed on Monday afternoon, and Lily could already tell that one pot of coffee and one of hot water for tea wasn’t going to serve so many ladies.

Besides that, they didn’t have nearly enough cups and saucers to serve the group.

She was trying to figure out a way to explain that she hadn’t expected more than a dozen women when Beulah whistled—loud and shrill—and all the conversations stopped.

The whole room was suddenly so quiet that Lily could hear the leaves rustling on the trees at the back of the store.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Beulah said. “We didn’t know what to expect at this meeting, so we aren’t prepared to offer refreshments, but next week we will be better equipped.

Our primary purpose here today is to discuss making things to sell at next year’s Independence Day event.

The money we make will be divided three ways—one third to each church and one third to expand our school. ”

Edith raised a hand, and Beulah acknowledged her with a nod.

“I will see if Elijah has a crate of cups that I can buy, and next week I will volunteer to bring iced tea for everyone to enjoy while we visit,” she said.

Sally Anne didn’t wait to be given permission to speak. “I vote that we sign up, ten at a time, to bring a dozen cookies or cupcakes each week. That way we can all chip in. Lily and Daisy are doing enough by letting us meet here.”

“All in agreement, raise your hands,” Beulah said.

Lily raised her hand and glanced around the room to see that all hands were up except Alma’s. Poor woman must have been so beaten down that she was afraid to even offer to bring a dozen cookies to a women’s meeting without asking Joshua.

After the vote, the women began to gather in groups of four to six and visit, some talking loud enough to be heard, others whispering behind their fans. Beulah grabbed Lily’s arm and pulled her across the room to where Alma stood back in the corner.

She draped an arm around Alma’s thin shoulders. “Are you okay? I noticed you didn’t raise your hand to help with cookies.”

“I’m fine, but Joshua is angry with me for coming to the meeting. He says that such a thing is giving woman entirely too much power. I reminded him that we were gathering to talk about funds for his church, but ...” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Did he hit you again?” Beulah asked.

“No—I’m afraid he’s punishing the girls to get back at me, so I’m going to sneak out early,” she answered, and headed for the door. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I have dreams about killing him.”

“I’ve got a lot of land behind my old house,” Beulah said. “If that ever happens, they’ll never find his body.”

Alma almost smiled but stopped herself. “You are a good friend, and sometimes I would risk going to hell to have that happen—if not for me, then for my daughters. The way he treats them is not a good example. I’ll write you a letter and see you later in the week.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, and if you need help between now and then, you know that you and the girls will always have a safe place with me,” Beulah assured her, then turned back to Lily.

“I don’t expect you to understand where Alma is coming from, but I do.

Orville didn’t ever lay a hand on me. If he had, my father would have carried his cold dead body out to the end of our land and fed him to the coyotes.

But he was abusive in other ways. Constantly putting me down for not being able to have children, or not staying as slim as I was when he married me.

I often dreamed of him being dead, too, and always awoke with a smile on my face. ”

“I really do understand.” A shiver danced down Lily’s spine. “But that’s a story for another day.”

Edith knocked on the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Daisy and Lily took a big step on Independence Day—come to think of it, that was a good time to show that women could buy whiskey, and we need to support them and each other in our fight for real freedom. I vote that next Sunday, all of us women march into church and sit down with our husbands. It will take some courage, but it’s a step in the right direction if we are ever to have any rights at all.

I love my husband. We’ve been married for forty years.

But as women, we have about as many privileges as a cow out in the pasture. ”

A lady in the middle of the room spoke up. “I don’t feel like I even have that many benefits. My husband would be looking out over the crowd for a new wife at my funeral, but if one of his cows died, he would be a wreck for a month.”

“You got it, sister! Preach on,” another one piped up.

“My husband is a good man. He treats me well.” The third woman to speak took a step toward the door. “When I had our last baby, he even cooked and did laundry, so I won’t be taking part in all this fuss about women having rights.”

“Keep him,” the first one said. “There’s not many who are brave.”

“I’ve got a good one, too, but I’m willing to stand up with all y’all for some rights.

I would love to sit with my husband in church, and maybe have a cup of good black coffee without sneaking it,” another woman agreed.

“But I probably wouldn’t vote if we were given the right.

I don’t know anything about politics. I leave that to the menfolk. ”

“I’ve heard enough of this balderdash,” said the dissenting woman. “The good Lord made woman to be a help for menfolk, and I’m a God-fearing woman. I’m leaving right now, and I won’t be back.” She stormed out of the building.

Edith took control again. “Well, glad you-all met Gertrude Abernathy. We are not forcing anyone to stay. You are welcome to leave if you don’t want to have any more say-so about your lives.

But until we start to stand up for ourselves, even in small ways, we will never reach the point where we are counted as equals with men.

I hope you were as pleased as I was when the bill passed that said married women could own their own property, but that isn’t enough.

We have to take this to a new level here at home.

I, too, am tired of not being able to sit with my husband in church.

God made families for a reason, and I can’t find a single place where Jesus said that men should treat women like property.

Are we together on this, even if it will cause problems? ”

The majority of the hands went up, including Sally Anne’s, which surprised Lily. But a few women focused on anything in the room other than Edith. A handful even started to leave.

Beulah nudged Lily on the upper arm. “Looks like most of the women are with us.”

“I see fear in some of their eyes, though, even if only a few have left,” Lily told her.

“I didn’t expect a unanimous vote,” Beulah said. “I’m just glad for those who are willing to join us here at the first. When the others see that we’re making progress, they might come over to our side, too.”

“Okay, then, we will take our first step next Sunday, but until that time, we will be diligent little wives and do our handiwork to sell for the school and missionaries,” Edith said.

“And now let’s end this part of the meeting and just visit for the rest of the hour.

” She made her way through several of the small groups and laid a hand on Beulah’s shoulder.

“I realize that you got this whole thing started, and I apologize if I overstepped by taking over.”

“Nothing to apologize about,” Beulah said. “Thank you for taking a role in this. I wasn’t sure how many to expect or who might attend today. I’m just glad to see that some of the women are willing to stand together and make some noise.”

Edith chuckled. “Not noise, my friend. I intend for us to roar.”

Lily took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and walked across the room to stand behind the table.

She knocked on the table three times and everyone got quiet.

“For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Lily Boyle.

I don’t know how many of you are comfortable sharing your stories, or even any private things about your life.

But it might help us all if a few of us tell about how we came to battle for women’s rights.

I’ll go first for this week. I came from the far west side of the Texas Panhandle.

I was engaged to a fine upstanding man in town.

My parents were happy I was making such a good marriage, and out in public he treated me well—most of the time, anyway. ”

A few women nodded, and that gave Lily courage to go on.

“But,” she said with a long sigh, “he abused me in the worst kind of way by forcing himself on me more than once, and he justified what he did by quoting that Bible verse that said women were to be submissive to their husbands. When I cried and told him that he wasn’t my husband, he left bruises on me.

They weren’t where anyone could see them, and I was too ashamed to even show them to my mother.

When I told her about what he had done to me, she asked me what I had said or done to give him the impression that he could do that, making it my fault. ”

Several women dabbed at tears.

Lily went on. “Then she said I was damaged goods now, and I had to marry the man because he was the only one who would ever have me. I took what little money I had and ran as far as I could. A kind woman took me in, and I worked for her for the next five years. That’s my story and why I want to help other women—so they don’t ever have to suffer like I did. ”

Beulah and Edith started a round of applause, and the other women joined in. A robust woman with brown hair streaked with gray came up to the table and stood beside Lily.