Page 29

L ily heard a wagon approaching and peeked through rows of wet clothing on makeshift clotheslines running from the church to the parsonage.

She held her breath and prayed it wouldn’t be Matt and Elijah.

She had been helping Amanda and several other women do laundry all morning.

Her red hair hung in limp strands around her sweaty face, and truth be told, she didn’t smell like a bouquet of roses.

Even if nothing could ever happen between her and Matt, she didn’t want him to see her in such an unkempt mess.

Elijah parked the wagon and eased down off the buckboard, and two other men followed him. Both were dressed in suits, so very different from Elijah’s drab work pants and shirt. One carried a notebook and the other had some kind of equipment in his hands.

Lily slipped a pair of pantaloons to the side so she could see better.

All three men went into the church. Could they be lawyers bringing divorce papers?

Lord, she hoped not. Divorced women were looked down on as bad—or worse—than those who worked in saloons.

“What is going on? Are those lawyers with Elijah? Daisy hasn’t quite finished drafting our petition of demands, so why are these people here? ”

“I’ve lived in this town my whole life, and I know both of the lawyers in town. That ain’t either of them,” Amanda replied.

The church bells rang one time, which on a normal day, meant it was mealtime.

But breakfast had been served a while ago, and dinner was at least an hour away.

No matter, the bell meant there was some kind of business that required all their attention.

Sally Anne and another woman dismounted the horses they’d been riding astride instead of sidesaddle.

Others, like Daisy and Lily, left their laundry in the pots, and still more came from the barn, where they’d been throwing old straw out to the horses and bringing new down from the loft for fresh bedding.

Children dashed around in front of them, behind them, and even holding their mothers’ hands as everyone in the camp made their way to the church.

“Do you think this is over?” Amanda asked. “I recognize Elijah’s wagon—and I’m so ready to go back to my house.”

“We haven’t turned in our list, so it can’t be over, but I guess we’re about to find out,” Lily answered.

The church was quiet when Lily and Daisy found a place to sit up close to the front.

Maggie stood behind the lectern and looked to be every bit as sweaty and hot as the rest of the ragtag women who filed into the church and sat down.

Elijah and the two men sat on the deacon’s bench only a few feet away from Maggie.

“I’ll be glad when someone tells us what this is all about,” Daisy whispered as she tucked a strand of blond hair back into her bun.

“Me, too, but Elijah is smiling. That makes me think it’s not anything bad,” Lily said.

“I believe we are all here,” Maggie said. “The men beside Elijah have gotten word about what we are doing for women’s rights. They want to interview us for the newspaper in Waco, and then they want to include a photograph as well. All in favor of doing this, raise your hand.”

The vote was unanimous.

“I am hoping that this will give more women the courage to make a stand,” Maggie said. “I’ll turn this over now to Wilbur Gibson, the reporter. This other gentleman is Alford Holt, and he’s the photographer.”

Mr. Gibson pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses as he stood and crossed the stage area to the lectern.

For someone with such an interesting job, Lily couldn’t see anything outstanding about him.

If he’d been walking down the street in Autrie, or any other town, he would have blended in with his surroundings.

Even his voice didn’t have anything distinctive about it—just a normal man’s voice, not too deep nor too high.

“Thank you, ladies, for doing this for us,” he said.

Lily bristled at his words and rose to her feet. “Let’s get something very clear, Mr. Gibson. We are not doing this for anyone but our fellow sisters. If you can spread the word, that is all good, but rest assured that all of us, no matter what station in life we are in, are united in our efforts.”

Mr. Gibson wrote in his notebook the whole time Lily was talking and didn’t look up until she finished. “May I quote you on that?”

“Yes, you may. My name is Lily.”

“Lily what?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter. I vote that we all go by our first names only. Raise your hands if you agree with me,” she said.

Again, every hand, including Bea’s little one, went into the air.

“Okay, then ... Miz Lily.” The man raised his chin enough to look down on her. “I was about to ask for a spokesperson for the group. I think you will do fine.”

“I’m willing to do that, but I would like to include the others in answering as well,” she said.

“Agreed. We spent the last hour interviewing some of the men in town, including the owner of the saloon,” Wilbur said. “I understand all of the women who work for him have joined this group. Is that right?”

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “Like I told you, we are all equal women here, and we are in this battle together.”

“That’s amazing that you can do that,” Wilbur said. “Most decent women would have gone back to their husbands rather than live with the likes of saloon workers.”

Frannie stood up in the middle of the church. “I’ll take any questions that you might have about the ‘likes of saloon workers,’” she said with a sneer.

“Okay, then,” Mr. Gibson said. “Why are you here, and how are the proper women of Autrie treating you?”

Beulah had been sitting right beside Frannie and was on her feet in a flash. “My name is Beulah, and I take offense to those words— proper women —and I do not want you to use them in your article. In this place, we are all equal, like Lily told you. There are no divisions.”

Mr. Gibson adjusted his glasses again, apparently a sign of nervousness—or so Lily thought—and scribbled something in his book. “I will make a note of that. Are you a saloon worker?”

“I am not. I own the general store in Autrie. But we want all women everywhere in the world to know that we are working together for our rights and freedom,” Beulah said. “And you may quote me on that, for sure.”

“Okay, then ...” His voice sounded a little bewildered.

“My answer,” Frannie replied, “is that we are here to fight for our rights just like these ‘proper women,’ as you called them. We want a fair shake when it comes to our portion of the money that we make, and we don’t want to be slapped around any more than all these other women do.”

“I understand that you have made a list of what you want in order for you to go back to your homes. If those conditions are met, do you plan to go home soon?” Mr. Gibson asked.

“If the conditions are agreed upon, we will return to our homes and businesses,” Lily said. “We will be sending our terms to Judge Martin today, whom I believe has agreed to negotiate for the menfolk. From there, it’s up to the husbands, fiancés, and even the saloon owner whether we leave.”

Daisy stood up right beside Lily. “Quite frankly, we’ve become very comfortable right here.”

“And you are . . . ?” Wilbur asked.

“My name is Daisy,” she told him.

He looked up from the paper he’d been writing on. “You’ve had no squabbles in the past ten days?”

“Of course we have,” Daisy answered honestly.

“Some of us don’t have personalities that blend, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t live in reasonable harmony.

We are working together, both for the cause and with each other.

Those that didn’t know how to ride astride a horse are learning.

We’ve had shooting lessons, and I’m planning to teach some more defensive moves this week.

If anyone thinks they can abuse one of us again, they’d better think twice. ”

Wilbur removed a hankie from his pocket and wiped sweat from his forehead. Lily wondered whether he had a wife at home in Waco, and how he might chastise her.

“There is strength in numbers out here, but what if someone is mean to one of you when they are alone?” Wilbur asked.

Daisy felt anger rising up from her toenails. “Then the next day that woman will call for a meeting, and we will decide the proper punishment for the offender. We will not be sweet little submissive women anymore. And you can quote me on that.”

Wilbur wiped away more sweat, glancing quickly at the photographer. “That’s very bold.”

Daisy balled her hands up into fists. “It’s fact, not just words blowing in the wind.”

“Any more questions?” Lily asked.

“Yes, can we see the petition that you are presenting to the judge later today?” Wilbur asked.

“No, you may not. That is confidential,” Lily said.

“Then if Miz Maggie, Lily, Daisy, and maybe Frannie will all step outside in front of this church, we would like to take a picture,” Wilbur said.

“That’s not acceptable,” Daisy said. “Either all of us and the children will be in the picture, or none of us will be.”

Wilbur set his thin mouth in a firm line and almost snorted when he released the air in his lungs. He closed his book and tucked the pencil into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Okay, then, line up on the porch from the shortest to the tallest. The children can sit on the grass in the front.”

“What if a rattlesnake comes like it did when me and Miz Lily were at the shooting place?” Bea asked.

“ What? ” Wilbur asked.

Frannie raised her hand. “I’ll take care of this one, Lily.

” She told the story, ending it with the fact that she had cleaned all the snakes and the women had them for supper that evening.

“You can put that in your story if you would like. It’s just one example of how we are taking care of each other and plan to do so in the future. ”