Vestige of Power

by Sara Blackard

  Shelves of books lined the walls of the office and it smelled of sweet tobacco. A man with broad shoulders and graying hair sat behind a desk in front of a wall of windows that overlooked the street below. He stood and walked with purpose around the desk, holding his hand out.

  “James Wright, at your service,” he remarked. “You made quite the impression on our Mr. Fink out there. How can the Pittsburgh Trust and Savings Company assist you today?”

  “I’d like to open an account. I’d like it to earn interest and, considering I live out West in the Rockies, I’d like to be able to communicate privately with someone often about the state of the account,” Joseph said, shaking Mr. Wright’s hand.

  “What brings you to Pittsburgh, and how much are you looking to deposit?” Mr. Wright asked as he went back to his desk, motioning for Joseph to take a seat.

  “God brought me here, and, on the second, I haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe you could help me,” Joseph answered as he sat in the chair and placed the haversack on the desk with a loud clunk.

  Mr. Wright’s eyes bulged in surprise as he stammered, “There must be twenty pounds worth of gold here.”

  “Closer to twenty-five,” Joseph quipped. “So can we do business or should I find another bank?”

  “We most certainly can, Mr. Thomas,” Mr. Wright said enthusiastically. “I must gather some equipment and our assessor, then we will get down to business. If you’ll excuse me, you can relax here while I do that. We can take care of business here, rather than out in the lobby.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Joseph answered.

  “Of course, Mr. Thomas. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, I’ll have some refreshments sent up.” Mr. Wright rushed out the door before Joseph could thank him.

  Joseph stood and scanned the books, taking in titles of finance, business, and industry. He heard a noise through the crack in the door Mr. Wright had neglected to pull shut on his haste to leave. Thinking the refreshments arrived and he’d help whoever brought them up, he moved to open the door.

  “I’m telling you we have to act now.” The harsh, whispered voice stopped Joseph in his tracks.

  “Randall is no fool,” another answered. “If we act against him and don’t succeed, any hope of staying in a position of power vanishes.”

  “If we don’t act now, any hope of gaining power vanishes the minute they hammer the nail into that rail,” the first whisperer said with force.

  “We’ve talked over this before. The man is untouchable. He’s too rich and embedded to take down now, plus with all his philanthropy and religion, he’s looked at as a saint,” the other scoffed.

  “He’s untouchable every place but one, his daughter Victoria. If we get her, he’ll do anything to get her back. Anything. She’ll speak tonight at a foolish equal educational rights meeting at the town hall. I say we grab her there and force his hand,” the man explained.

  Joseph wondered at the condescending-tone of the man’s voice as he talked about the meeting. Joseph had never understood some men’s insistence that women were inferior. He’d learned just as much if not more from the women he’d been acquainted with than the men. His own mother had proven women were just as capable as men by teaching the trappers who couldn’t read and do their sums to do so. She even spent time helping the Ute people they lived near learn English when they visited.

  Joseph slid to the crack to see who stood there. A tall, skinny man and a shorter, heavyset man stood in the shadows, their features indistinguishable. Joseph seethed in frustration.

  “The minute she’s back in her daddy’s arms, we’d be dead,” the shorter man stated shaking his head.

  “Not if she’s never able to get back into those arms,” the taller one said, poking the other in the chest.

  A cart at the end of the hall appeared, pushed by Mr. Fink. The men in the shadows started walking down the hall away from Joseph’s location. He listened, hoping Mr. Fink would give him a hint to their identities, but the infernal man just nodded his head to them as he passed. One thing became plain, Joseph’s evening would be spent attending a meeting for equal educational rights and saving some frilly lady from death. Then he’d finish with God’s mission and figure out how he would get home.

  Chapter 3

  Victoria rushed down Diamond Street towards City Hall, her blue silk brocade dress swishing as her legs moved at a speed any well-meaning matron of the city was sure to inform her father of. However, she couldn’t worry about that at the moment with her on the verge of being late to the most important meeting she’d had to date. She chided herself at the ridiculous time she’d wasted getting ready, but she wanted to pose a picture of not only intelligence but also elegance when she gave her speech on the importance of equal educational rights for girls. For that, and her own confidence’s sake, she’d donned her favorite dress and her maid styled her hair just right.

  “Please, Mrs. Leeter, can you try to keep up?” she asked her father’s cousin and Victoria’s chaperone, whom she loathed to take everywhere, not that she didn’t like the dear lady, who wheezed next to her in a murky brown dress and a favored flowered hat Victoria found hideous. Mrs. Leeter had moved in when living with her crazy mother, Victoria’s great-aunt, had become too taxing.

  Victoria’s complaint fell on the need for a chaperone at all. She longed for the freedom to live unencumbered by the restraints society tied around her. She sometimes wished she could escape it all together and live like the Bedouin people she read about, free to live among the wilderness.

  Victoria’s appearance would most likely be ruined with her quick walk blowing her hair every which way and her face flushed apple red from the exertion. She slowed her walk at that thought, not wanting her face to be blotchy and sweaty when she took the stage. Mrs. Leeter wheezed as she caught up and walked beside Victoria. Victoria praised God that her father still considered it important to live close to his work like many other affluent men of Pittsburgh, since the city hall was an easy walk from their home on Fifth Street. She assumed he’d want to build a home out on Squirrel Hill like so many were now doing, but she hoped that would be awhile yet. She would miss not being within easy walking distance of everything.

  The city hall came into view and Victoria spied Harriet Carter, the meeting’s organizer, greeting people as they came to the door. She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at her friend and mentor. When Harriet had asked her to join the movement to allow girls to receive the same education boys got, Victoria had flung herself in head first. Her own father had taken Victoria’s education seriously, not only having her taught the classics and etiquette but also science and business against her tutors’ wishes. She’d even taken classes, thanks to her father’s influence, at the Western University of Pennsylvania. Though she knew her father’s power and money granted her that opportunity, she remained convinced it should be a privilege afforded to all girls and young women.

  “There you are,” Harriet exclaimed as she reached for Victoria’s hands and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I began to worry you would not get here in time. Could your father not make it?”

  “Forgive me, Harriett. My father received an urgent message he had to take care of, so he won’t be able to come, and I took an excessive amount of time attempting to bolster my confidence, only to have it ruined from my brisk pace to get here.” Victoria laughed at herself as she lightly touched her hair.

  Harriet threaded her arm through Victoria’s and walked into the meeting, chiding, “Nonsense, my dear, you look just as beautiful as always.”

  “Not that it matters anyways. Men may think I have an appealing face, but the minute they realize my passion for educating girls, love of learning, and a desire for adventure, they quickly turn in search for someone more sedate. Which is quite fine by me. I’d much rather spend my time helping others than sitting at home, doing needlepoint and hosting tea parties.” Victoria laughed.

  “You just need to find a man courageous enough to tak
e on a challenge. I’ll be praying God brings such a man to sweep you off your feet. Come, let’s mingle for the few minutes we have before we get started,” Harriet declared as she dragged Victoria into the crowd.

  Victoria made her way through the people gathered, which numbered smaller than she had hoped. As she chatted with a reporter from The Pittsburgh Daily Post, she noticed a man walk in. While he dressed like any other man there, though more somber in black trousers that hugged his legs, a black frock coat and a splendid dark blue vest, he had a rugged and wild air about him. She supposed it must be the pleasing, full auburn beard, but it seemed more the way he held himself and scanned the room as if in search of prey. A shiver chased up her spine, and she couldn’t tell whether from fear or excitement.

  At that moment, Harriet’s husband took the stage and requested everyone find a seat. Victoria went to the stage and took her seat next to Harriet behind the podium. She would speak last of the three speakers and was the only woman speaker. At first she felt honored that she’d give the closing speech, but now that she sat in front of this crowd, she wished she had requested to go first. She glanced at the crowd as the first speaker started, noticing quite a few faces twisted in scorn. Would this meeting turn ugly with naysayers and protesters? She prayed not, for the speakers only wished to encourage progress. Victoria fiddled with her glove, then stopped the erratic motion, vowing that she would not allow her nerves nor the scorn of others to diminish her resolve.

  She peered out into the crowd again, her gaze arresting on the piercing stare of the stranger she had noted coming in before. He sat near the front of the crowd and his intense blue eyes searched her with an open inquisitiveness. No derision or scorn appeared. After she stared at him for more moments than proper, his lips curved into the most subtle, yet inviting smile that caused Victoria’s own mouth to curve in return. Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked down at her gloved hands then up to the speaker, where her attention should be. She chided herself that now was not the time to have flittings of the heart or brazen flirtations. She sat here for a purpose, and it had nothing to do with the exciting danger sitting in the second row.

  Joseph’s purpose slammed hard in his chest. He recognized it the instant he spotted the striking young lady taking a seat on the stage. He tried to figure out what about her made him feel like the Holy Spirit tugged on his brain real hard to get his attention. It seemed as if his entire life, every trial and hardship he’d gone through, ended tied up and cumulating into her. He consciously knew it sounded loco, but God laid a straight path to her in his heart, and who was he to deviate from it?

  Joseph attempted to listen to the speakers, but his gaze and attention went back to the beauty in the blue dress the color of his mountain sky. He wondered if the men had plotted against her or the woman sitting next to her.

  After two speakers, the meeting director moved to the podium and said, “And last, I’d like to welcome Miss Victoria Remming to the podium.”

  With some sedate clapping and a few grumbles, he had his answer as the woman he’d spent most of the meeting staring at, Victoria Remming, walked to the podium. Joseph listened with rapt attention as she expounded the importance of educating girls in the same capacity as boys. He marveled at her intricate reasoning and strength of conviction. He wondered at people who still believed women less capable intellectually than men. Sure men had more brute strength, though he’d even question that with the men sitting in this room, but some of the most intelligent people he knew, white or Indian, were women without a doubt.

  Miss Remming finished her speech and several hands shot up. Joseph chuckled as her eyebrows, the same roasted chestnut shade as her hair, winged up as her expressive green eyes widened. It appeared clear she hadn’t expected questions but offered quick retorts and wit.

  The good-looking man he’d watched women fawn over before the start of the meeting shot his hand up and said, “Miss Remming, it sounds as if you want women to join the distinguished calling of doctors, lawyers, or journalists, when they should be home keeping house.”

  “Many women already labor outside of the home. While Pittsburg doesn’t have the cotton mills like other cities and women certainly aren’t working at the steel factories, many of them work in dressmakers’ shops or as domestic servants. They work long, draining hours, then return home exhausted only to work long, draining hours at home. I’ve spoken with many of them, and they are intelligent, intelligent enough for the professions you stated. If given even the basics of education, they could succeed at an occupation that won’t leave them a shell of who they were or dead far too early,” Miss Remming answered, smiling tight at the slick snake.

  “That is quite a jump from servant to doctor or even the humble journalist. You honestly believe a woman has the strength of spirit to operate on injured people or the political understanding to write articles about scandal, murder or disease outbreaks? Why, most women I know would faint at the slightest cut, let alone a bloody crime scene. A woman journalist might write bits of poetry or recipes or such nonsense, but there is no way a woman could write compelling stories that sell newspapers,“ the man said in a condescending tone that caused Joseph to prepare to help the man exit if he became too bothersome.

  Miss Remming’s eyes sharpened and Joseph sensed power and determination pouring from her. She became a mountain lion crouched and waiting for an opening to pounce. She smiled a deceptively sweet smile, and Joseph braced for the attack.

  “Have you read the articles of Victor Reynolds that appear in your paper the Gazette, Mr. Snelling?” Miss Remming questioned.

  “Of course, I have,” the man chuckled. “Everyone who can read has read his compelling exposure of brutal treatment of children and the threat of tension between the states. Why his discovery of the dirty police covering up murders and taking bribes still circulates about the city, but I do not see how that matters here.”

  “You see sir, if you had half the journalistic instincts that the acclaimed writer has, you’d already be placing the pieces together that I, Victoria Remming, am Victor Reynolds. I’ve written under a pen name, and not a brilliant one at that.” Miss Remming beamed at the sputtering man. “I thank you for the kind compliments on my journalistic expertise and also on proving my point. If given the opportunity to learn, woman are just as intelligent as men.”

  With that she returned to her seat to a cacophony of applause and shouted questions. She had pounced well, causing the man to slither out the room in the chaos. As the meeting closed, Joseph kept in the shadows as people rushed to talk with Miss Remming. She answered with grace and kindness to everyone, even those who criticized her speech with rudeness. Joseph noticed she kept scanning the crowd.

  He watched the people as they milled about the room. He tried to recognize the two men he’d overheard in the hallway, but none of them looked familiar, though in all honesty he had seen nothing that would help him in his search. He listened for their voices, but in the discord of conversations that echoed around the room, Joseph wondered how anyone could understand what the other said.

  Joseph saw Miss Remming scan the room again. She sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit. She turned to the woman that had sat next to her, speaking something to her. They hugged, and Miss Remming walked towards the exit. A smaller, plump lady that looked like a frazzled whistle pig with her muted tan dress that reminded him of mountain dirt and a hat adorned with ugly flowers followed close to her.

  Joseph trailed behind, wanting to make sure she got to her carriage unharmed. He watched from within the doorway when she turned to walk down the street instead of approaching the carriages that lined the walk. Why in the world would she walk, and with only Mrs. Marmot as a chaperone? Joseph rushed to follow, keeping close enough to come to her aid, but far enough not to frighten her.

  Chapter 4

  Victoria marched down the boardwalk, her shoulders pushed back and her spirits soaring. She wondered if this was how her father responded after brokering
a merger or purchasing a company. If so, she now understood the sense of power that came from socking it to them. She considered it a little sneaky confronting Mr. Snelling, or Mr. Smelling as she secretly called him, like she had, but the arrogant man deserved it. Not only for his high-handed attitude but also for his less than stellar journalism.

  Victoria hoped with her revealing her identity she’d be able to get rid of the pen name all together. It would be a joy to see her name attached to the articles that so many were attributing with the movement of civil compassion and justice. She slowed when she realized it would likely do the opposite. With people now knowing that she wrote those articles, not Victor Reynolds, her journalism days were probably over. Even if they had respected Victor, that would change when she became Victoria. Stumbling, she shook off that distressing thought, not being able to do anything about it now, and continued her inventory of the night’s events.

  That brought Victoria right back to the man that had captured her thoughts and her attention through all the speeches, including hers. She’d had difficulty remembering her points as he looked at her with open admiration and respect. She worried for Smelling as the stranger had grown tenser and tenser, like a cat stalking its prey, preparing to pounce. She almost wished the insidious man’s retorts had turned nasty, just to see the stranger in action. Unfortunately though, the evening had ended, and try as she might, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the stranger when the meeting finished. She supposed she’d scared off another man, him not even willing to engage in conversation, because of her unconventional tendencies. No matter. If a man lacked a strength in confidence and character to seek past or even embrace her oddities, then he lacked qualities of the man for her. With a resolute nod, she continued her march, invigorated by her internal bolstering.