A Vote of Confidence (5 page)

“Thank you.”

Morgan led the way into the parlor. “It’s a bit dusty. Mrs. Cheevers cleans on Thursdays.” He motioned toward a chair. “I’d
offer you something to eat or drink, but I didn’t bring much with me from camp and I haven’t made it to the market yet.”

“Sounds to me as if you need a wife to look after you, my friend.” With a wink, he quoted Proverbs, “ ‘Who can find a virtuous
woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need
of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.’ ”

As the two men sat down, Morgan said, “I’d love to meet such a woman.”
If one exists in these modern times.
“But it isn’t easy when one’s moved around as much as I have.”
And it isn’t easy when many young women are only interested in my money.

“Ah, but it seems you’re putting down roots in Bethlehem Springs.”

“Making a stab at it anyway.”

“Why don’t you join us at church on Sunday and you can make the acquaintance of a number of our eligible young ladies.”

Morgan’s mind filled instantly with a vision of the attractive blonde he’d met on t he road t hat morning. He wondered if
Kenneth knew her and, if so, if Morgan would meet her on Sunday as well.

“Speaking of our town” — the reverend leaned forward — “have I been rightly informed that you are running for mayor?”

Kenneth’s question drove out all thoughts of pretty blondes in buggies. “News travels fast.”

“It does, indeed. Then it’s true?”

“It’s true.”

“Well, thank the good Lord. You may be a newcomer to our town, but I believe you’ll win easily. No one thinks Mr. Tattersall
would be a competent public servant. It pains me to say it, but the man is rarely sober. I’m surprised he could be bothered
to complete the paperwork required to enter the race. And as for the other candidate, I’m not sure Bethlehem Springs is prepared
to elect a woman as mayor.”

“A woman? What woman are you talking about?”

It was Kenneth’s turn to chuckle. “I guess not
all
the news travels fast. Miss Gwen Arlington has declared her candidacy for office. It’s now a three-way race.”

“But the clerk said nothing to me when I was in the municipal building this morning. In fact, he told me — ”

“She declared for office this afternoon.”

Miss Gwen Arlington. Probably one of those dour-faced suffragettes, the type he’d seen back East and in England. Not that
Morgan didn’t applaud their cause. He believed in equality for women under the law, as had both of his parents. Still, there
was something about those radical women in bloomers who marched about with signs and chained themselves to pillars and posts
that set his teeth on edge.

“Have you met Miss Arlington?” Kenneth asked.

“No, I don’t think so.”

The reverend chuckled. “If you’d met her, you would remember.”

So he was right. Miss Arlington was one of those unforgettable radicals. No wonder Kenneth was glad Morgan was in the race.

When Harrison Carter heard the news that both Morgan McKinley and Gwen Arlington were running for the office of mayor, he
wanted to hit something — or someone. However, he hid his foul temper until his secretary left the office. Then he rose from
his chair and stepped to the window looking down on Main Street, his hands clasped behind his back, his brow furrowed in thought.

Morgan McKinley could not be allowed to win the election. He had to be stopped. Harrison wanted him gone from Bethlehem Springs,
not becoming its mayor. McKinley had to be forced to abandon that confounded resort and return to his home in the East — or
wherever else he wished, just so long as he didn’t stay here.

Thus far, Harrison had helped frustrate McKinley’s plans, though he hadn’t managed to stop them altogether. He did not doubt
he would ultimately succeed in damaging the profitability of the venture. McKinley might be wealthier than most, but from
all reports, he was also a shrewd businessman. There would come a time when he realized he was throwing good money after bad.
That’s when Harrison would step in and offer to buy the land.

Not that he cared a fig about the hot springs or the resort. No, there was something much more valuable up there: gold. Lots
and lots of gold.

And Harrison meant for it to be his.

But first he must decide what to do about this election. If Hiram Tattersall became mayor, there would be no problem. The
man was a fool and would do whatever Harrison told him to. But now the citizens of Bethlehem Springs had a better choice of
candidates, and it was doubtful Tattersall would win. Harrison couldn’t come out in support of the man. Folks would think
he’d lost his mind.

That left him with Gwen Arlington.

Hmm. A tiny slip of a thing. Pretty. Unmarried. If he recalled correctly, she made her living giving piano lessons, and she
also wrote articles for the local newspaper. Uninteresting pieces of fluff, in his opinion, but she would have a following
of sorts. Her father owned a cattle outfit northeast of town and had some influence in the community, having lived in the
area since before Bethlehem Springs was anything more than a wide spot in the road. That might give her some advantage.

Still, Harrison had no intention of underestimating Morgan McKinley’s potential as a candidate.

He released a sigh. He’d best pay a call on Miss Arlington and offer his services and support. Once she was elected mayor,
he wanted her to look to him for advice, as past mayors had done. He wasn’t about to lose the behind-the-scenes influence
he’d enjoyed for many years.

Come to think of it, Gwen Arlington might make the perfect mayor. A woman would be much easier for him to control.

Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…

Set atop the piano, the metronome marked perfect time. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Felicity Evans. Her fingers
stumbled over the keys in fits and starts.

“Felicity,” Gwen said when the pitiful performance ended. “Have you practiced your lessons every day?”

“Yes, Miss Arlington.”

“Every
day?”

The girl’s dark pigtails flopped against her back as she nodded. Then, after a moment’s thought, she shook her head. “No,
Miss Arlington. Not every day. But most of ’em.”

“You know you shall never be proficient if you don’t practice daily.”

“I know.” Felicity sighed. “But after school, my friend Billy and I’ve been building a tree fort down by the river and I forget
about getting home to practice, and then it’s time to help Ma with supper and — ”

“Does your mother know you’re neglecting your practice?”

Felicity lowered her gaze to her fingers, still resting on the piano keys. “No, Miss Arlington.”

“Your mother works hard in the bakery in order to earn the money to pay for your lessons. You shouldn’t waste it.”

“No, Miss Arlington.”

Gwen suppressed a smile. “Promise me you’ll practice thirty minutes every day in the coming week, and I won’t tell your mother
that you’ve been forgetful about it this past week.” She closed the sheet music that leaned against the top panel of the upright
piano. “That will still leave plenty of time for fort building with Billy.”

Felicity looked up, her face beaming. “Yes, Miss Arlington. I promise.”

“Good.” Gwen rose from the bench. “Then you’re excused.”

Her student jumped up and started toward the door.

“Felicity, aren’t you forgetting something?”

The girl stopped, turned back, a confused expression on her face. Then, with a grin, she grabbed the sheet music from Gwen’s
outstretched hand and raced out of the house, the screen door slamming closed behind her.

Gwen chuckled. Felicity was one of her less talented pupils, but she remained a favorite all the same. Gwen supposed Cleo
must have been a lot like Felicity when she was a child. Tomboys, the both of them.

I wish I’ d known Cleo when we were little.

Gwen closed the piano’s fallboard to keep the dust off the keys and slid the bench closer to the instrument. A cup of tea
was now in order. But the sound of footsteps on her porch drew her gaze to the front door before she could start toward the
kitchen.

Harrison Carter removed his hat when he saw her through the screen. “Good day, Miss Arlington.”

“Mr. Carter.” She moved toward the entry.

Her guest — they were acquainted, although she didn’t know him well — was a tall man of about forty with a distinguished sprinkling
of silver in his thick, dark hair and a thin mustache riding his upper lip. His striped necktie, silk waistcoat, and leather
shoes said he liked fine clothing, and his generous waistline proved he enjoyed fine foods.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” he apologized when she reached the door.

“Not at all. I just finished with my last student for the day.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I believe that was Myrna Evans’s youngest who ran past me on the walk.”

“Yes.”

His gaze met hers again. “I’ve come to see you about the mayoral election.”

“Oh?”

Despite receiving encouragement from her father and sister as well as Nathan Patterson, Gwen couldn’t expect everyone to be
pleased when they learned she was running for public office. This was the twentieth century, but some folks remained stuck
in the Victorian Age. Not everyone believed women were capable of filling roles traditionally held by men. She supposed —

“If I’m not being too presumptuous, Miss Arlington, I’d like to offer you my support.”

Gwen managed to keep her mouth from falling open in surprise. While she didn’t know the councilman more than to say hello
on the street, he seemed the sort of take-charge man who would not take kindly to a woman mayor.

“Could we sit down and talk awhile?” he asked.

She felt heat rising up her neck and into her cheeks. “Forgive me, Mr. Carter.” She opened the screen door. “Please come in.”

“If you don’t mind, could we sit on your porch? The weather is exceptionally fine today.”

“Of course.” She stepped outside and led the way toward the painted chairs near the north corner of the house.

Once they were both seated, Harrison rested his hat on his right knee and gave her a smile. “I confess I was taken by surprise
when I learned you planned to run for office, Miss Arlington. I was also greatly relieved. Hiram Tattersall is not qualified
to be our mayor.”

If that’s how he felt, why hadn’t he declared himself a candidate?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “and the answer is simple. I promised my wife I wouldn’t run for mayor.”

She felt herself blushing a second time, wishing her thoughts hadn’t been so easily guessed.

“Between my commissioner duties and my law practice, my wife and children see too little of me as it is. And to be frank,
the mayor’s salary would not provide adequately for the Carter household. However, I care a great deal that the right person be elected mayor, which is why I intend to back you.”

“But you don’t know me, sir. Not well. Why do you think I’m the right candidate?”

He appeared to give her question deep thought before answering, “ To be frank, Miss Arlington, I’m sure there are several
men in this town more qualified than you. You are young and have no experience in matters of city government. However, you
are not a drunkard as is Mr. Tattersall, and you are not an outsider as is Mr. McKinley. You are involved in the community
already, as evidenced by your articles in the
Daily Herald
, and this area has been your father’s home, if not yours, for more than thirty years.” He cleared his throat before adding,
“With the proper guidance from men who do have experience, I’m sure you will serve our town well.”

Gwen should appreciate his words more than she did . He hadn’t spoken anything but the truth. And yet there was something
off-putting about his manner. He was polite, yes, and yet overbearing too. Presumptuous, even.

“Whatever assistance you need, Miss Arlington — whether before the election or afterward — rest assured I will gladly render
it. In fact, my wife and I would like to have a supper party in your honor. Our way of endorsing your candidacy.”

“That’s very good of you.”

“Not at all. It’s important that I do this. I am not without influence in Bethlehem Springs, so my support will start your
campaign on solid footing. And while I believe you’re the better candidate, we mustn’t take anything for granted.”

“I won’t.” She sat a little straighter in her chair.

“Good.” Harrison stood and set his hat on his head. “Then shall we make that supper for next Friday evening? I’ll have Susannah
come see you about the details.”

“Yes. Of course. Whenever it is best for you and Mrs. Carter.”

“Good. Good. Then I’ll be going. And remember, Miss Arlington.
Whatever assistance I might render is yours. You need only ask. I am here to advise you.” He gave a brief bow at the waist,
then turned and walked away.

I should be grateful for his offer of support.
She frowned.
So why don’t I feel grateful?