Echoes of the Heart (46 page)

           
She
would not allow herself to become pessimistic, knowing she could compete with
the best.
 
Her designs were more
innovating than most she had seen.

           
Raeden
fell into bed wearing only her undergarments, too tired to eat, thankful of her
good fortune in finding someone to take a chance and allow her to show what she
could do.

s

Fifty

           
Settled
in his comfortably furnished apartment with a view of the Capitol from his
bedroom window facing the morning sun, Cash sat at the oak desk in the anteroom
studying policies and procedures acquiring methods to introduce a Bill to the Congressional
Floor.

           
He
stood to stretch before delving into the Constitution to refresh his knowledge
after years away from the university.
 
Two amendments regarding slavery already on the floor made no mention of
Indians rights.
 
He had failed to make headway
to have something included before they came to a vote and the Women’s Rights
movement had been unsuccessful in their fight to be included as well.
Prejudice ran high since several Indian Nations
broke the terms of their treaties, most unwilling to understand the military or
American citizens had taken the first action, leaving the Natives no choice.

           
Now
he would need to start at square one, not leaving much time to amass the
information and support necessary to introduce the Bill to the Floor and the
thought struck him to include women as well.
 
He had long been accustomed to strong women capable of using firearms to
fend off attackers, ride horses astride and make business decisions as well as
any man.
 
Why should they not be allowed
to vote on policies affecting their lives?
 
The session, due to begin soon left him just enough time to clean up and
have breakfast before signing in.

           
During
the noon break, the extent of his endeavor brought him into the network of
hallways seeking the assistance of an aide to research further information to
allow the Committee on Indian Affairs to review his new Bill.

           
After
instructions to send all past legislation directly to his office, he proceeded
to a scheduled appointment with Wilcox with an ulterior agenda.
 
A cocktail party scheduled for the evening,
he desired the guest list in order to garner support.
 
Casually entering Wilcox’s oak paneled
office, he sauntered across the lavish Persian rug.

           
On
the telephone, Wilcox waved Cash inside, motioning him to a matching leather
wingback, near enough to the desk for an intimate conversation.
 
Wilcox completed the call.
 
“Cash, you must be very busy.
 
I hear you are stirring up a bit of
controversy regarding those Indian friends of yours.”

           
The
sarcastic bend to his voice pricked the hair on the back of Cash’s neck.
 
His composure remained hanging by a
thread.
 
“Those Indian friends of mine as
you so eloquently stated Senator, happen to be people, people stripped of their
God-given rights by greedy land-grabbing tsars and slaughtered along with the
buffalo necessary for their survival.”

           
Wilcox’s
mouth dropped, his manner subdued.
 
“Sorry, Cash, I did not intend to slight them.”
 
He changed the subject.
 
“Shall we get on with business?
 
I take it this has to do with the Natives.”

           
His
blood cooled slightly.
 
“I require your
support, Dan.
 
I need a co-sponsor and
with you on board we will stand a better chance in Committee.”

           
With
both palms on his desktop, Wilcox stood and walked toward Cash.
 
“No problem, I will be glad to help out.”

           
The
tension in his shoulders began to relax.
 
He stood to face the Senator.
 
“Thanks, Dan.
 
You must be on your
way out.
 
I don’t mean to detain you but
I have one more question.”

           
“Shoot.”
           
“Will there be enough guests
tonight to make it worth my while?”
 
A
thought had also occurred to him, some wives of the Congressmen who cared to
listen in might be sympathetic and attempt to convince their husbands to do the
right thing.

           
“Sure
enough, more than half of the Body will be there.
 
Look me up when you arrive.”

***

           
Energized,
Cash strode through the two wide entrance doors into the Stafford Edition of
the Library of Congress situated in the basement of the Capitol Building to
retrieve more details regarding the amendments on the Session Floor.

           
His
mouth dropped when he saw reams of documents stacked three tiers high under the
thirty foot ceiling and boxes of papers littering the floor on each side.

           
At
the far end, two caned Shaker chairs stood under a desk piled with toppling
books.
 
My God, this is going to take days!

When darkness
settled in over the city, he rushed to his apartments to clean up for the gala
after having a stiff drink.

***

The massive
reception room boasted a great chandelier suspended in the towering ceiling
enveloping the surroundings with luminous rays, the reflection accentuating the
gleam off marble floors.

           
Women’s
heads turned when the new Senator from South Dakota clad in a black tuxedo
entered the room shaking hands, conversing on his way to the bar.

While working the
room nursing a scotch, he ignored wanton stares from a few of the young women
and continued on his quest, mingling and conversing aiming to seek
corroboration, intent on his mission.

           
A
few expressed interest and fewer pledged their support all requested details of
the Bill’s contents.
 
Most, however,
proved vehemently against the project.
 
Some justifying their positions referring to the Indians as useless red
men, barbarous freaks or inhumane savages.
 
This would be more difficult than he had first imagined.

He planned to
hound them during the next days, armed with statistics they could not ignore
even if he had to toil day and night to find convincing information.

           
Sitting
at the long eloquently carved bar drinking a double scotch neat, Cash managed a
break from the garrulous crowd.

Dressed in a gown
of forest green taffeta, Senator Mead’s daughter, Estelle, swept in beside
him.
 
Her reflection in the long
rectangular mirror behind the bar caught his eye and his brow curved up
arrogantly, having heard rumors about her reputation.

           
The
faint scent of lavender rose from her flawless pink skin as she sipped
sparkling wine from a leaded crystal flute.
 
As she turned a sideways glance, hazel eyes flecked with amber spoke of
desire as she swiveled to face Cash’s right side.

“Good evening,
Senator Rydell.
 
You have been so busy
tonight, I suppose you have not had the opportunity to ask me to dance.”
 
Sensing an implication of some kind, he
turned to face her directly, feeling his male urges begin to rise.

           
Cash
stared down into her eyes while he stood moving closer as she reached out a
gloved hand.
 
“Would you care to dance,
Miss Mead?”
 
Enchanted, Cash folded her
arm across his elbow leading her to the dance floor while his eyes lingered on
the cleavage between soft pink mounds.

           
“You
look radiant tonight, Estelle.
 
It has
been a while since I have been graced with the company of such a beautiful
young woman.”
 
Amusement made him laugh
to himself as his eyes roamed down to her waist then up lingering on the
multi-carat diamond dangling between immense round breasts then rising to the
diamond drops hanging from pixie-like ears outlined by long blonde hair pinned
up in an artistic coif.

           
Grasping
her waist, she drew in close while they glided around the smooth dance floor
nonchalantly talking of mundane events.
 
Estelle’s seductive golden eyes held Cash’s gaze.

           
Stepping
into the crowd when the dance ended, his arm carelessly draped around her
shoulder, the flash of a camera halted their progress.
 
A reporter approached, tablet and pen in
hand.

           
“Senator
Rydell, is it true Indians raised you?”

           
A
perfect opportunity to take advantage of press coverage, he removed his arm
from Estelle’s bare shoulder, glanced down at the reporter, legs slightly
apart.
 
“I wouldn’t go that far.
 
However, I did spend a great deal of time
with the Cheyenne.”

           
The
reporter bent his face down while writing.
 
“Is this why you’re in Washington, to fight for their cause?”

           
Intent
on making a public plea for support he began his speech.
 
“Yes, they’re being slaughtered and starved
off land belonging to them by rights and whoever is left are herded like cattle
onto reservations hundreds of miles from their homeland and treated like
dogs.”
 
Holding back the urge to hurl
into a tirade, he inhaled a deep breath relaxing the muscles constricting his
jaw.
 
“I would say they could use a bit
of help, wouldn’t you?”

           
“Does
this mean...?”
 
Distracted by Senator
Desjardins, head of budget planning, the reporter spun chasing a new lead.

           
A
shrug raised Cash’s shoulders while he turned back to Estelle, gazing into her
hazel eyes. “How about another drink?”
 
He would like nothing better than to have a soft eager body to relieve
the stress from the day.

           
A
wicked gleam flashed in her bright eyes as she spoke in a provocative
tone.
 
“A drink sounds lovely.
 
My apartment is the perfect place to share a
cocktail.”
 
Her manner left no room for
misinterpretation as he grasped her elbow and walked her across the crowded
room.

           
With
no second thought, he retrieved her cloak and escorted her to a carriage
waiting outside.

           
When
they reached her house, Cash jumped from the carriage and looked up at
Estelle.
 
“Do you want to go home or
return to the party?
 
I’m going back to
my place … alone.”

Fifty-one

The meeting with
Jenkins proved beneficial.
 
He thought
her designs had the flare and originality to compete with overseas markets and
minus the cost of importation, they could cover an extensive base of customers.
 
His business acumen impressed Raeden as she
dutifully filed information away in her mind for future reference.

           
With
the assistance of Sally, a local professional seamstress with remarkable
talent, they completed the trial contract then began assembly on other designs
until late each evening.

           
Leaving
for the day, Raeden glanced back at the white rectangular sign written in blue
cursive,
Designs by
Raeden,
over the door.
 
This
will be a success.
 
I can feel it.

She had made
friends with Jenny Maxwell, a catalogue model working with Jenkins, beautiful
and petite with bright red hair, they had Sunday brunch together most weekends
and rode in the park. Raeden liked having a friend to visit with in her spare
time.

It seemed no
matter what she did, she still felt lonely.
 
The nights were especially difficult.
 
        

A carriage
approached and Jenny jumped down waiving tickets in one hand the other holding
down her hat with red curls escaping.
 
She ran to Raeden.
 
Her words
beamed with excitement as she spoke, almost breathless.
 
“I have the tickets to
Enthusiasm
at the New Park Theatre.
 
We go tomorrow night.”

           
Elated
by the chance to get out on the town, she moved in close to Jenny.
 
“We’ll have a great time, Jen.
 
I will make reservations at Delmonico’s for
dinner afterward.
 
Come inside, I have
something to show you.”
 
She had
assembled a new gown for Jenny for just such an occasion.

           
They
hurried into the shop where Raeden held out a black gown trimmed in midnight
blue silk to bring out the color of Jenny’s hair.
 
She held it up pulling the skirt to one side
to allow the fullness to fan out and show the escallop along the hem adorned
with jet crystals in each notch.
  
A
sable trimmed hood on the matching blue cape fell down to the shoulders in
elegant folds.
 
“This is for you to wear
tomorrow night.
 
Free advertisement.”