Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four (31 page)

“I’m thankful that Jeremy wasn’t asked to travel to Butte.”

“I think Gabriel wanted to ask him to join them but knew you’d want him here to complain to after our suffragist meeting today,” Clarissa teased. She rose, surveying the room. A small desk stood under the front window, the early afternoon sun limning the maple wood. Rows of chairs faced the desk, awaiting the arrival of the women.

“What if no one comes?” Savannah asked.

“They’ll come, if for no other reason than to eat a delicious tea,” Clarissa said. “Few can pass up the opportunity to eat Minta’s treats.” She smiled at Araminta, who entered from the kitchen door to place a plate of cookies on a rear table.

Soon women arrived, and they placed their coats in the office on the opposite side of the front hallway to the living room. By the time the meeting began, all the seats were filled, and Clarissa had dragged in a few more chairs from the library for those who’d arrived late.

Clarissa and Savannah stood toward the front of the room as they discussed their strategy for canvassing for the vote. “Unfortunately Miss Rankin is unable to be here today. Important committee work in Butte prevented her from being here. However, she sent us a letter, detailing what she envisions.” Savannah held up a letter from Jeannette Rankin, the state’s leader for the cause. Although from Missoula, she hadn’t spent much time in the area of late due to her statewide duties.

“We believe it is imperative that we visit each home and discuss with everyone the importance of voting rights for women and for our society as a whole,” Clarissa said. Before she could speak further, she was interrupted.

Mrs. Vaughan, attired in a brilliant shade of tangerine, snickered her disapproval. “You weaken the movement by breaking it up and doing it piecemeal. You should have a large rally in each city and town.”

“I agree that having rallies and gatherings are a good idea,” Savannah said, subtly elbowing Clarissa in the side to remain silent as she inhaled to contradict Mrs. Vaughan. “However, a significant number of families, of women, children and men will always be unable or unwilling to attend such gatherings. We need to visit them in their homes, on their farms and ranches. Everyone needs to understand why we believe in universal suffrage and why we believe that their vote matters. Why the women who live in that household should have a vote and a political voice.”

Mrs. Bouchard huffed as she and her sister shook their heads in disagreement. “You waste your time visiting those not in a city. Their numbers aren’t important. You should focus where the majority of the people are.”

“I don’t understand how you can say that, Mrs. Bouchard,” Clarissa argued. “Montana has a significant rural population, even with its large cities of Butte and Helena. We need more than to appeal to those living in a city. We want this to be successful statewide, so that all residents will look at what transpired and be proud of what occurred, not resentful of what those in the city forced them to accept.”

“I think you intentionally choose this path because you’re hopeful this referendum won’t pass. You’re working as saboteurs,” Mrs. Vaughan snapped, vibrating with indignation, her suit puckering as though she were an overripe fruit.

“Rissa,” Savannah whispered in warning as Clarissa flushed, clamped her jaw and leaned forward for verbal battle with a woman who’d been her nemesis for years.

“You have it backward, Mrs. Vaughan,” Clarissa said. “I’ve always been for suffrage, since I read my first
Woman’s Journal
in 1900. I believe so greatly in this cause I have my young daughters here today.” She pointed to Geraldine and Myrtle, sitting on the left side of the room toward the front. “You are the recent convert, seeing as you railed against my modern eastern convictions upon my arrival and every day since. Your presence here today could be construed as suspect, especially since your own daughter is notably absent.”

Savannah stepped in front of Clarissa as her rage built. Savannah smiled magnanimously while waving Miss Rankin’s letter, now in her hand. “These are the goals set forth by Miss Rankin, and, although they might appear ambitious, I believe they are attainable. However, we want all to feel welcome, doing whatever they can for the movement. If that means speaking to your friends and family, that is wonderful. The more you can do, the better.” She stared pointedly at a disgruntled Mrs. Vaughan, who kept her silence.

“One aspect of this crusade troubling our leaders is the issue of raising funds. To place newspaper advertisements, to run our own newspaper, to print pamphlets—it all costs money,” Savannah said.

“Why raise women’s hopes when it’s doomed to fail?” Mrs. Bouchard muttered.

“I refuse to believe we are doomed to fail,” Clarissa replied. “I refuse to believe the good men of Montana will not listen with a fair conscience to our arguments and then vote accordingly.
You
have little faith,” Clarissa said pointedly to Mrs. Bouchard and her sister. “We have always known that this would be a long crusade, but it doesn’t mean it is any less worthwhile.” She looked around the room and saw the majority of the women nodding.

“With regard to fund-raising, my brother, the estimable pianist Lucas Russell, has agreed to perform a series of concerts throughout the state and donate all proceeds to our cause. He will be here in the month of June, and his performance in Missoula will be at the Opera House.”

The women in the room gasped and clasped their hands together at the news.

A worried-looking young woman raised her hand. “As it will be a fund-raiser, I’m sure the tickets will cost quite a bit of money.”

“I will ask him if he will be able to perform a small at-home performance for our members—as long as the fund-raising concert sells a suitable number of tickets,” Savannah said.

The women of the room whispered among themselves in excited voices. Savannah and Clarissa shared amused glances.

Clarissa added, “For now, what I would suggest is that you discuss with us and among yourselves what you envision doing for the movement, and enjoy the tea awaiting you. For any of you who would like to read Miss Rankin’s letter, it will be here on the desk for you to see,” Clarissa said.

The silence lasted only a few seconds before the room was filled with excited female voices. Clarissa and Savannah were separated, speaking with various women about ideas for promoting suffrage. They discussed forming committees on the proper way to canvass, on practicing a prepared speech for the first few times they approached constituents and the joy of planning for victory.

Clarissa shared a glare with Mrs. Vaughan who left after partaking of a plateful of Araminta’s delicious food.

“Don’t let her bother you, missus,” a young woman whispered. “She’s a lot of bluster but not much bite there. I think that’s what makes her even angrier.”

Clarissa laughed and nodded. “I’m sure that’s part of it. Tell me. What do you plan on doing for the cause?” She focused on the young woman and nodded her encouragement as she forgot about the Mrs. Vaughans of the world and focused on the woman before her and the future.

* * *

G
abriel stood
in front of the ornate mansion with its covered portico entrance, the black walnut door gleaming from a recent polishing. He studied the carvings thereon, shaking his head at the mythical scenes from ancient Greece and Rome. He rapped on the door, meeting the butler’s dour expression with an equally grim one, refusing to be denied entrance. He entered a front hall devoid of warmth or charm, its impersonal, expensive art intending to raise the occupant’s sense of social status scattered throughout.

Gabriel followed the butler into a small side room, darkly paneled with mahogany wood. A small bar stood at the far end of the room, near a desk. Heavy burgundy curtains half covered the windows, allowing in only a fraction of the day’s bright daylight. A thick oriental carpet covered the floor, silencing the sound of Gabriel’s pacing.

“Ah, so the prodigal cousin couldn’t keep away,” Henry murmured as he strolled into the room. His finely tailored navy suit had precise creases down his pant legs, and his starched collar appeared so stiff as to force his neck upward.

His silent, stealthy movement reminded Gabriel of a cat before striking out at prey.

“Have you come to congratulate me on my impending fatherhood?” Henry asked, his eyes sparkling with devious delight.

“I would never find joy in the fact that any Masterson had the ability to procreate. I would have thought you unable to—due to your natural inclinations.” Gabriel examined his cousin from head to foot. “Although I imagine you were only able to … provoke your interest in a woman … if you were causing her physical harm. I imagine raping Fiona would excite you unnaturally.”

Henry sneered at Gabriel. “You’re just upset that I took away your brother-in-law’s toy. She’s a worthless woman. He’ll soon find another.”

Gabriel clenched his fists as his cousin moved toward the small bar at one side of the room. “Why not simply destroy me or Jeremy?”

“It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” Henry saluted him with his glass of whiskey. “I’ll congratulate myself to a job well done, even if you won’t.”

“You feed off her fear.” Gabriel released his clenched fists, not wanting to give Henry any more reason to gloat.

“She’s pathetic. Anyone who allows someone to control her in such a manner is not worth your concern.”

“Will you acknowledge your child? Provide funds?” Gabriel frowned as Henry moved behind the desk in the room.

“Why should I? She was willing enough to allow for my … pleasure, meager though it was, as long as I kept my part of the bargain. I can only assume by your visit today that the bargain is null and void.”

“You truly are a bastard. You’d leave her destitute, pregnant and at the mercy of a man who plots her murder.” At Henry’s gleeful smile, Gabriel snapped. He reached across the desk, heaving Henry across it by his lapels. Gabriel slammed his cousin onto the rug and then spun him so Henry was facedown, with Gabe’s knee in Henry’s lower back.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, with your exemplary values. But when it comes down to it, you’re a barbarian, no better than the men blasting copper day after day.” Henry wheezed out a breath as Gabriel exerted more pressure on his back. “No matter what you do, no matter who you speak with, no law will force me to support that whore. No law will coerce me into giving her or her child my name.”

“You’d ruin a child’s life?”

“Yes.” Henry shifted enough so he could move his head and meet Gabriel’s irate gaze. “Because I can. Men like me always end up on top. I can do what I like, and I always will.”

“I’ve wondered, since the day my parents died, what I did to deserve such heartless relations.” Gabriel grasped his cousin’s head, smashing it into the carpet with a resounding thud before rising. “You may think you’ve succeeded, Henry, but this is far from over.”

Henry sat, his eyes lit with challenge. “I’m hopeful that’s true.”

* * *

G
abriel stormed
toward the Leggat Hotel, nearly plowing down those in front of him in his agitation. When a hand gripped his arm, he spun, ready to fight.

“Whoa, Gabe,” Colin said, letting go to hold up his hands. “Come on.” He pointed with his head to a nearby bar, and Gabriel followed him inside.

The bar was a dive. Dark, smoke stained, with blackened patches hinting of distant fires on the walls and ceilings, it matched Gabriel’s mood. The dim lights enhanced the sense of stepping into a cave.

Gabriel and Colin headed to a table toward the rear where Patrick sat, sipping on a beer.

“I’d try something stronger if I were you,” Gabriel muttered as he flopped onto one of the chairs to Patrick’s left. Colin sat to Patrick’s right, having picked up two more pints at the bar.

Patrick rubbed at his forehead. “No luck?”

“How could I ever have hoped to have a gentlemen’s discussion with the likes of him? No one can give morals to an immoral man. Besides, we’ve hated each other since we were children. It was a stupid idea.” Gabriel rapped his fingers on the tabletop in his agitation.