No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(6)
Grace Mallory came through the door next, her head bent down as usual, her gaze fixed on her feet as she slid onto one of the back pews. The quiet woman had only been in town six months and liked to keep to herself, but thanks to her skill as a Western Union telegrapher, Harper’s Station now had a working telegraph system. The county hadn’t yet granted them a post office, so mail still had to be forwarded from Seymour, but any lady in town could send a telegram for less than a nickel a word. Losing Grace would be a blow, if she chose to leave.
Emma’s attention flitted to the others already gathered. Those who worked the community garden and put up preserves and canned vegetables to sell. The ladies who ran the café. The boardinghouse proprietress. The midwife who served as the town doctor.
And, of course, the aunts.
Henrietta and Alberta Chandler sat on the front row, staunch as ever in their support of her. Aunt Henry’s eyes glowed with a fierce, nearly militant light as she sat stiff as a board, flaunting her bloomers as she always did whenever anything that might possibly relate to women’s suffrage came into play. Aunt Bertie, on the other hand, sported a much softer posture and more feminine garb as she sat next to her older sister. She turned to smile at Emma and gave her a little finger wave of encouragement.
The aunts had raised Emma since she was eight—Aunt Henry instilling in her the passion to stand against injustice, and Aunt Bertie teaching her to lead with her heart. They had been the ones to help her dream up the idea of a women’s colony, a place run by women to benefit women. A sanctuary for those needing to escape, and a place of opportunity for those looking to better themselves.
Two years ago, when Emma came into her inheritance at age twenty-one, she’d heard about a small town of abandoned buildings being sold for pennies on the dollar. Residents had abandoned the old stagecoach town when the railroad came through nearby Seymour. The aunts had combined their funds with hers in an investment pool, and they’d purchased the land. Thanks to a few well-placed ads in area newspapers that first year and what some would call their growing notoriety since then, the colony boasted nearly fifty members—if one counted the children—women surviving and thriving by supporting one another.
And now some bullheaded, hateful man threatened to destroy all they had built. Emma clenched her jaw. Not on my watch.
As the women found their seats, Emma sought a last-minute dose of heavenly wisdom. You can see what I cannot, Lord. You know what is best. Please don’t let me advise these ladies poorly. Guide us in such a way that we might triumph over our enemy.
“Emma?” Victoria touched her arm. The gentle understanding in the contact soothed and reassured her. “We’re ready to begin.”
Emma nodded and gave her friend a small smile. Then she straightened away from the wall, tugged on the edge of her tailored navy blue suit coat, the one she always wore when she wanted to project an aura of authority, and stepped up to the small pulpit the circuit preacher would use on Sunday to deliver his sermon. If they still had a town come Sunday.
The room instantly fell quiet.
Emma cleared her throat. “Thank you, ladies, for coming on such short notice. We have a matter of great urgency to discuss.”
She glanced at the familiar faces, some visibly nervous, others curious, a few accusing, as if this current dilemma were somehow her fault. Emma immediately diverted her gaze back to her aunts. Henry nodded to her, her eyes blazing with confidence in her niece. Bertie just smiled, but the gesture was so obviously heartfelt and sincere that Emma couldn’t help but be buoyed.
“I’m sure by now, word has reached most of you that a third note was found this morning. I’m afraid the author of said note has increased his demands. He has instituted a deadline, demanding we all leave by tonight.”
A loud murmur swept the room as the women turned to each other with their questions.
“Ladies, please.” Emma raised her voice to be heard. “I will be happy to answer all your questions in just a moment. But first, I want to make it clear that you are under no compulsion to stay. Everyone must decide for herself what is in her best interest. And know that I will support your decision no matter what it might be.
“Having said that, I think it imperative to confess to you that we still have no idea who this man is or why he wishes us to leave. Miss Adams and I visited with the sheriff after we received the first note. He did a search of the immediate area but found nothing suspicious. We wired him again today, just as we did after we found the second note. Due to the cattle rustling that continues to plague the ranchers in the southern parts of Baylor County, he is unable to lend us his protection. He reiterated his recommendation that we pack up and leave. That we remove ourselves from the threat and take up residence in Seymour or Wichita Falls or return home to our families.”
“But I have no family,” one lady shouted out from the back of the room. “That’s why I came here.”
“There’s nothin’ for me in Seymour,” another called. “I done looked already. Without the egg money I earn workin’ at Miss Betty’s farm, I won’t be able to feed my young’uns.”
A chorus of panicked agreement rose, filling the room with desperation.
A lady in a brown dress shot to her feet. Flora Johnson, one of the newer women, who worked the garden. She’d shown up two weeks ago with a black eye and a midsection riddled with bruises. “You told us we’d be safe here.” She crossed her arms over her rib cage. “Now you tell us we’re on our own? That the sheriff won’t even be bothered to lift a finger?” She glanced around to the crowd, all of whom had fallen silent. “I don’t know about the rest of ya, but I’ve seen what happens when a woman tries to keep a man from gettin’ what he wants. It ain’t pretty. If I had someplace to go, I’d be packin’ up right now.” She turned back to the front, uncrossed her arms, and pointed an accusing finger at Emma. “You can’t keep us safe, Miss Chandler. No one can.”