Echoes of the Heart (48 page)

           
The
lights blinked announcing the commencement and Mr. Davis walked to center stage
while she trembled and took deep breaths, arranging the folds of her
dress.
 
She heard nothing of what he said
until he announced her name.
 
“And who
better to describe our creations this afternoon than the designer herself.
 
May I present, Mrs. Raeden Newell?”

           
Raeden
stiffed her back and smiled while she stepped out on the small stage twirling
in her avocado colored satin gown, allowing the skirts to billow around before
taking the dais.
 
The astonished crowd,
heads bent in whispers gave her a polite round of applause.

           
She
relaxed after the wholehearted acceptance of the first gown sewn in deep
amethyst with a lilac gauze over-skirt and bare shoulders except for thin
sleeves encircling the upper arm at each side with a train flowing from the
bustle.
 
Raeden continued with pleasure
while she enjoyed seeing the fruits of her labor on exhibit, at last.

           
At
the halfway mark, she began feeling sick and her mind raced seeking a solution
to her dilemma.
 
She fought the urge back
and quickly announced.
 
“The second half
of our show will be conducted by my superintendent and head seamstress, Mrs.
Sally Wentworth.”
 
She walked quickly off
the stage.

           
Sally
stood on the sideline, eyes wide open in shock.
 
“What are you doing Rae?
 
I can’t
do it.”

           
“Yes
you can, Sally.
 
I need you.
 
All this excitement has made me unwell.
 
You know as much, if not more than I do.
 
Now go out there and don’t forget to show off
your gown.”
 
She tore into the ladies
room to take care of her problem.
 
After
freshening up her face, she smiled at her reflection.
 
Your
timing is perfect, little one.

 
          
She
received deafening accolades when she walked back onstage pulling Sally gently
by the hand to accept her share of the glory.
 
Not until that time, had she noticed a photographer who requested a
smile for the camera.

           
Avoiding
the champagne, she managed to circulate through the crowded reception without
feeling ill.
 
All but one gown sold, held
for a friend of a friend.
 
Being
originals, Sally made appointments for alterations.

           
All
the glitter and din ebbed so Raeden and Sally changed into the clothing they
had brought along, leaving their gowns for Bird of Paradise’s display window in
the front of the store, Raeden’s idea to enhance popularity and requested a
sign placed by the exhibit.

           
After
an additional trip to the ladies room, Raeden looked in the mirror and decided
she looked as tired as she felt.
 
Raeden
emerged to see a man stand from a chair where he had apparently been waiting
and moved slowly toward her and Sally.
 
She tensed but did not allow it to show.

           
“Let
me introduce myself, Mrs. Newell.
 
I am
Andre Dupree, spokesman for the annual Fleur de France show in Paris.”

           
She
held out a hand, and he slowly raised it to his lips then released her.
 
Raeden tensed but did not draw back, hoping
the fear she felt did not show.

           
“And
this is my manager, Mrs. Sally Wentworth.”
 
He followed suit and raised her hand as well.

           
“It
is a pleasure to meet you both.”
 
His
sleek dark hair, elegant style and handsome face made up for his short
stature.
 
His turquoise eyes sparkled
like sunlight on tropical waters reflecting from the gas lamps adorning the
walls of the store.
 
The heavy French
accent only added to his charm.

           
She
stood erect, ignoring the fatigue, waiting for him to state his business so she
could go home, soak in a hot bath and relax.

           
“I
have space for one more entry in our lineup this summer and I would like it to
be one of your stunning gowns.”

           
Her
heart pounded against her rib cage while she spoke in a controlled voice and
spoke in French.
 
“I am honored, Monsieur
Dupree.
 
Of course I will be there.”
 
She remembered the baby and added.
 
“What is the date exactly?”

           
“Ah,
I see you speak French, It will make it much easier for you when you
arrive.
 
The date is the first of
July.
 
I will drop by your office with
the necessary forms before I sail.”
 
He
bowed at the waist then said his good-byes and stated he would be anxious for
her arrival in Paris to boast about his ability to find the finest talent.

           
Following
his departure, Raeden turned to Sally unable to contain the jubilance exploding
inside.
 
“Sally, do you know what this
means?
 
We are an overnight success!”

Fifty-two

           
Cash
stood on the steps of the White House watching the ladies of the Woman’s
Suffrage movement march past carrying their banners and signs, demanding
representation and treatment as equals.
 
A
smile curled his lips thinking he might see Raeden at any moment at the
demonstration waving a poster insisting on the ear of President Caldwell.
 
Perhaps next session he would work on equal
rights for women along with his other passion.

Sitting back in the
chair at his desk, he thought of the past weeks and the disappointments he had
endured trying to make his voice heard and understood by the other
politicians.
 
He had devoted many long
hours of discussion with each Senator, sometimes using devious tactics to
obtain their consideration.

After compiling
his research, Cash had drafted his Bill with the assistance of Wilcox,
predicting close results in spite of his major adversary the distinguished
Senator Charles Dutton.
 
A man with a
vapid prejudice against the Indians, having a nephew massacred, he caused
dissension at each turn.

           
He
had also heard rumors implicating Dutton in a land-grabbing scheme to mine
silver and gold in the Black Hills.
 
The
speculations remained unsubstantiated however, while the malignant greediness
of humanity grated on Cash’s sense of justice like fingernails on a chalkboard.

           
The
numerous press releases he had sent showed only minor public support and failed
to sway many anti-votes in his favor, a precarious slim majority held together
by sheer determination on Cash’s part.

           
The
Bill, recorded and numbered, passed to the Body and then assigned to the Indian
Affairs Committee for review.
 
During the
process, Cash diligently solicited support and participated in many long
lunches and dinners to discuss issues in a casual atmosphere, attempting to
sway their approval and gain a bare-bones advantage.

           
Once
rewritten with the Committee’s stipulations, the amended petition moved to seek
approval on the Congressional Floor.
 
At
this point, Cash began to gain confidence only to have Senator Dutton place a
senatorial hold on his Bill, ending its fragile existence before it could
advance to the Floor.

           
Thrown
into the web of disappointment, Cash hid his desire to strangle Dutton with his
bare hands and renewed his pledge to continue the fight during the next
session.
 
He hired a private investigator
to dig for information on Dutton, hoping to find something to discredit his
name and get him out of the way.

           
While
Congress tied up loose ends, Cash spent the remainder of his spare time back in
the Library ferreting out bits of information to advance his cause for the next
Session and educated himself on all the Suffrage movements, ready to gear up a
battle in that arena as well.

           
Before
leaving Washington, he made a visit to Arlington Cemetery, amazed at the number
of causalities from the Civil War. Awed by the expanse appearing to be miles,
he wondered how long it would take before it became full.

           
He
rode the Sister’s Ferry to the right bank of the Potomac River and viewed
fields spreading over acres in Virginia and West Virginia then took a
paddle-wheel boat up the left bank into Maryland observing the dormant tobacco
fields.

           
During
his stay in Washington, he remained lonely, thinking of Raeden constantly and
couldn’t help thinking what his stay would have been like if she had been with
him.
 
Cash had expected after all the
passing weeks, he could have been able to put her out of his mind.
 
Keeping busy had helped, but now he had idle
time, and it became worse, like a piece of him was missing.
 
She plagued every waking moment and his
dreams as well.
 
He could hardly wait to
get back to Chamberlain, to his ranch.
 
At least there, he could occupy his time with hard physical labor.

***

           
In
the midst of packing, he ran across the discarded papers sent by Raeden
regarding the annulment, and recalled on first reading how he had flung them
into the cold ashes of the fireplace then drank whiskey until he fell into a
crater of desolation, finally passing out.
 
The thought of her free to find someone else made him so jealous, the
notion of dragging her back became almost a reality.

           
Once
sober, he realized he would have to confront her sometime and put an end to
this mental warfare before he would find any peace then picked the documents
out of the ashes and stored them away.

           
He
had seen her picture in the paper and read about her success.
 
It had always been what she wanted, anything
else had just been an illusion to torment him if his mind idled or when he
attempted to sleep.

           
He
tossed them into his luggage while a hole in his gut once filled by Raeden
gnawed.

***

At the Chamberlain
station, Cash unloaded his frisky filly and talked gently while stroking her
neck.
 
She pranced at the end of her lead,
but settled when Cash reached for the blanket and saddle.
 
She butted his rear when he tightened the
cinch strap making him grin.
 
“You’re
ready to go home, aren’t you girl?”

           
Still
too early for spring thaw so far north, he gazed at the familiar sight of
snow-covered hills and the feel of untainted air filling his chest.
 
His mind wandered to Dull Knife, wondering
how they fared in the Canadian Territory and felt remorse he had failed them.
 
He would be ready to take up the fight at the
end of the year, hoping it would not be too late.
 
He would never give up.

           
Cash
strode through the mud to the wagon where Slim waited, shook his hand and
slapped his arm with the other.
 
“Good to
see you, buddy.
 
How are things at the
ranch?”

           
“Better
than expected, the old boy’s been busy.
 
We’ll have a lotta’ spring calves.”

           
Holding
back one package, Cash tossed his cases in the back of the wagon laden with dry
goods.
 
“You can fill me in later.
 
Why don’t you get started, I’ll catch up.”
 
He watched Slim for a few minutes driving
toward the ranch, grateful for his friendship and ability to manage while he
fulfilled his duty in Washington.

           
Clad
in his old jeans and the familiar weight of the six-gun on his hip he strode
toward Mike’s wagons and greeted his friend then helped him load.
 
“Diane’s been waiting to see you ever since
Slim mentioned your arrival.
 
Why don’t
you stop by the store?”

           
“I’ll
do it on my way into town.”
 
He really
didn’t feel like visiting with Diane.
 
It
would only stir up memories he didn’t wish to deal with at this time.

           
He
kicked mud from his boots before entering and Diane jumped from her seat in the
small office.
 
Running out she grasped
him in an embrace.
 
“I’m so glad you are
back.
 
It’s not the same without you
around.”

           
“It
feels good to be here again.
 
I’m going
to see John then head to the house.”