Henrietta stirred on her cot. “Good night, Sarah. Thanks for all your help. I promise I’ll be stronger, and I’m not going to cry again.”
Sarah smiled. “That’s good. We’ve all got to stick together if we’re to survive this place.”
Sarah lay awake for hours listening. Snores rattled the walls of some cells, while muffled cries crept from others. The words of someone talking in their sleep reached Sarah’s ears. “Take care of my baby.”
Everyone here had a story, different from all others, but they all had one thing in common—their determination to make lawmakers finally give them the liberties promised to all citizens under the constitution. Sarah knew the long struggle still lay before them, and she hoped their imprisonment would help reach the final conclusion.
Thirty days—halfway through the sentence, but each day grew more difficult. Sarah stared at the tree barely visible through the small window of the sewing room. She ignored the hunger pangs in her stomach and focused on the change in the color of the leaves. For the last thirty days the tree had been her one link to the outside world, and she watched each day to detect the slightest hint of autumn in the foliage.
“Attention, prisoners!”
The booming voice startled Sarah from her daydreams, and she pulled her attention to the matron who had just entered the sewing room. The menacing scowl on the woman’s face alerted everyone that they were about to be chastised. “I can’t let this insubordination continue. You will sew, or you will suffer the consequences.”
Sarah braced her hand on the back of her chair and pushed to her feet. She fought the dizziness that swirled through her body and struggled to keep from swaying. “We’re political prisoners. We have broken no laws, and we refuse to be bound by your work rules.”
The guard, her face mottled with red splotches, walked toward Sarah. She opened her mouth to speak and tiny flecks of saliva lined her lips. “Well, if it isn’t our little princess.” She practically spat the words. “You’ve given us trouble since the day you came. You watch your step, or you’ll end up with your great leader down in solitary.”
A ripple of surprise vibrated throughout the room. Sarah, faint from hunger, tried to concentrate on the words but couldn’t comprehend their meaning. She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
The guard smiled and licked her lips. “I guess you ladies don’t know that none other than Alice Paul joined us last night. She got herself arrested, and now she’s downstairs locked up in solitary confinement.”
Sarah lurched and grabbed the chair to keep from falling. She lowered herself back into the seat and looked at her friends scattered around the room. Disbelief etched their faces, and tears streamed down their cheeks.
The guard laughed and walked back to the front. “Well, I guess that surprised you a bit. Now it’s time for the noon meal, so line up without talking.”
The women walked slowly across the floor and formed a line to march to the dining room. Sarah still reeled at the news of Alice’s imprisonment in this very building. How could this have happened? The plan had been to protect Alice from the authorities since she plotted the strategies and directed all the activities. With Alice in jail, who was leading the movement now?
The silent group trudged to the serving area and picked up their half-filled bowls. Since their refusal to work, their food had been cut in half. Sarah sat at her assigned table and watched her friends pick at their food. Henrietta shot looks of despair at her from time to time, and Laura appeared lost in thought.
Sarah glanced up at the kitchen worker who stood by their table with a pitcher of water. She leaned forward to fill their glasses and glanced over her shoulder before she spoke. “I took Alice Paul’s food to her, and she refused to eat it,” she whispered. “She said she’s a political prisoner and she won’t eat a bite until all the women are released from this place.”
Sarah clutched at the girl’s skirt to keep her from leaving. “How is she?”
A look of fear flashed on the girl’s face, and she brushed Sarah’s hand off her dress. “She said to tell everyone to take care. She’s planning a hunger strike in hopes the news will leak out and all of you will be released.”
One of the guards looked their way, and the girl moved on to the next table. Sarah pondered what the girl had told them. A hunger strike? Maybe that was the way to focus attention on their plight. If word got out that prisoners were staging a hunger strike, the authorities might release them.
Sarah pushed her bowl to the center of the table and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m going on a hunger strike in support of Alice. I don’t think any of you should join me unless you’re prepared for possibly the worst time of your life.”
Laura, Ernestine, Rose, and Henrietta stared at her and down at their uneaten food. Slowly Laura pushed hers away and placed her hands in her lap.
Henrietta burst into tears. “Sarah, I don’t think I can do this. Please don’t do anything that will get you hurt.”
Sarah thought of her parents, who had encouraged her to stand up for her rights. She thought about Alex and how she’d lost his love. Then she thought of Roger Thorne and the evil things he’d done. She had endured much in her journey toward enfranchisement. Nothing could be as bad as what she’d already experienced.
She took a deep breath and let her gaze drift over her friends. “I’ve come a long way from home and lost too much for this cause. I have to do everything I can to win this fight.”
“Win what fight?”
The cruel sneer startled Sarah, and she turned her head to see Matron Herndon standing behind her. Sarah raised her chin and looked into the woman’s eyes. “We have done nothing wrong. All we want are our rights as citizens under the constitution. We still insist we are political prisoners.”
Matron Herndon bent over and glowered at Sarah, their eyes only inches apart. “Princess, when are you going to realize that you’re mine now and you’ll do as you’re told or suffer the consequences? Now quit your smart talk and finish your meal.”
Sarah glanced down at the bowl in front of her and with a swift shove toppled it onto the floor. The crash of the utensil startled the inmates at other tables, and they looked down in horror at Matron Herndon’s shoes covered with the thin gruel that had been Sarah’s meal.
The woman looked down at her shoes and back up at Sarah. A red flush started at the base of her neck and flowed upward until her face appeared crimson and her eyes flashed fire. “You little demon!” she screamed. “You’ll be sorry you ever crossed me.”
Sarah reeled at the impact of the matron’s fist on the side of her face and toppled to her knees on the floor. Two guards towered over her, and each grabbed one of her arms and pressed her face toward the floor. Sarah struggled to raise her head and looked into raw hatred etched into the matron’s face.
The matron lifted her foot toward Sarah’s mouth, which nearly touched the floor. “You made the mess. Now lick it off!”
Sarah clenched her lips and twisted her head away. The guards bent her forward again until her mouth touched the tip of the matron’s shoe.
All around her the inmates screamed as they yelled for the guards to quit, but the pressure on her head increased. Strong hands pushed her face until it scraped the floor, and they forced her mouth to smear across the shoe and through the gruel.
Finally they relaxed their grip, and Sarah, her face streaked with the remains of her meal, peered up at Matron Herndon. A cruel smile curled the woman’s lips. “What do you have to say now, Princess?”
Sarah stiffened her body and looked into the face before her. “I have done nothing wrong. I am a political prisoner.”
“Get her out of my sight,” the matron snarled. “We’ll see how hungry she gets before morning.”
The guards pulled her to her feet, and Sarah stood and wiped her face with her hand. “I don’t intend to eat anything else in this prison until I’m rightfully freed from here.”
The guards grabbed her and
turned toward the door. Sarah looked over her shoulder as they led her away and smiled at Laura in hopes of gaining some courage and strength from her friend. Her heart pounded, and energy coursed through her body. If they wanted a fight, they’d get one.
“Poppa, watch me. I’ll be an adversary,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sarah blinked and tried to focus her eyes on the tree outside the window. With her blurred vision, she could barely make out the lines of the tree limbs, bare now of their leaves, waving in the early November wind.
She tried to remember how long it had been since she had eaten, but she found it difficult to hold on to any thoughts. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Her skin prickled from the icy coldness that filled her body. She glanced at the other women sitting in the room. Everyone seemed lost in thought, their faces devoid of any expression. She wondered if their arms and legs felt weak like hers.
Her hair hadn’t been combed in days, and she reached up to brush some from her eyes. She frowned and stared in unbelief at her hand as she pulled it away. Her fingers grasped long blond hairs. With a gasp she spread her fingers, and the hairs fell to her lap.
Panic struck her as she reached up and tugged at the locks that tumbled over her forehead. A tangled clump pulled from her head. She was losing her hair. Buy why?
She looked up and Ruth Cochran stood in front of her. Without speaking, Sarah held out her fingers for Ruth to see. The guard knelt beside Sarah’s chair and touched her arm. “Hair loss is a symptom of starvation, Sarah. You haven’t eaten in a week and you were already malnourished before you began this hunger strike. Give up this ridiculous rebellion before it kills you.”
Sarah clenched her teeth and shook her head. “If I die, it’ll be for something I believe.”
Ruth shook her head sadly. “I don’t want to see you get hurt more.”
“What more could you possibly do to me?” Sarah averted her gaze from the woman.
Ruth stood and moved back to the front of the sewing room with the other guard. The door opened, and Sarah looked up to see two men enter the room with Matron Herndon. She spoke softly to the guards. Ruth frowned and cast a quick glance in Sarah’s direction.
Matron Herndon walked to where Sarah sat and bent over her. “Will you give up this hunger strike and eat some food?”
Sarah tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “I am a political prisoner. I have broken no laws. I will eat when I’m released from this workhouse.”
Matron Herndon grabbed her arm and jerked her out of her chair. “I think you may change your tune, Princess.”
She pushed Sarah to the front of the room where the group stood. A middle-aged man dressed in a wrinkled black suit peered at her through wire-rimmed spectacles. His loosely knotted tie bulged upward from the vest that fit snugly across his midriff.
“I’m Dr. Gannon, the prison physician, and I’m here to help you.” His soothing voice contradicted the look of anger Sarah detected in his eyes.
Sarah struggled to straighten her shoulders and push to her full height. She gritted her teeth and bent double when sudden stomach cramps attacked her. She inhaled a deep breath, “H–how can you help me?”
The doctor placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up until she stared into his eyes. “You’re suffering from malnutrition. The guards tell me you haven’t eaten in a week. That’s a long time to go without food.”
Sarah crossed her arms over her stomach and shook her head. “I–I’m f–fine. I’m a political prisoner who has broken no laws. I refuse to eat until we are released from this horrible place.”
Dr. Gannon shook his head sadly. “We can’t allow you to die because you won’t eat, so we’re going to help you.”
Sarah hobbled a step back from the group and surveyed the faces watching her. These people had no desire to make things better for her. Her gaze darted around the room for an escape route, but none existed.
The guards took a step toward her, and Sarah frowned. She raised her arms to fight them off, but her hand flopped like the wings of a wounded bird. “D–Don’t t–touch me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Ruth Cochran moved in front of the other guards. An expression of regret shadowed her eyes, and she clenched her lips. She reached for Sarah’s arm. “We just want to help you, Sarah.”
“No.” What she had intended as a scream released more like a moan.
The two men pushed past Ruth, grabbed Sarah’s arms, and pulled her toward the door. Despite her weakness, Sarah willed her feet to kick at her attackers. The man who entered with Dr. Gannon cried out in pain. “Ow, you little hellion, you nearly broke my leg.”
The cries of the women in the sewing room bounced off the walls. “Let her go! She’s done nothing wrong!”
Sarah turned her face toward the hand that gripped her arm and clamped her teeth into the soft flesh.
“Let go, or you’ll be sorry!”
Sarah increased the pressure until she felt the hand release her arm. She looked up into the angry eyes of Matron Hendron.
Sarah quaked at the sight of the woman raising her nightstick into the air. This attack had now become a matter of survival, and Sarah threw her released arm over her head to ward off the blow. The nightstick crashed down on her arm, and Sarah sank to the floor in pain. Dizziness overtook her, and she struggled to stand but could not. She felt her body being lifted and carried from the room.
Dr. Gannon’s assistant, who supported her weight as if she were light as a feather, walked quickly through the halls and descended the stairway into the basement. Sarah tried to wriggle free, but he held her tightly. “Be still. You’re making this worse for yourself.”
Where were they taking her? She felt the dizziness again and wished she could sleep and never wake. A face flashed before her eyes. “Alex,” she whispered.
Welcoming darkness closed over her.
Sarah blinked her eyes open and lay still for a moment as she tried to figure out where she was. She winced at the piercing beam of a bright light shining into her face and realized she sat upright in a chair. People moved about the room and spoke in soft whispers, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She wanted to rub her eyes to clear her blurred vision, but her arms wouldn’t move.
Slowly her surroundings came into focus, and she turned her head to stare about the room. Shelves containing medical utensils and bottles of various liquids lined the white walls. Footsteps approached her bed, and she looked up into the face of Dr. Gannon. He held a long tube in his hand.
“Sarah, you must be fed for your own good. We don’t want you to die.”
Understanding of her situation flashed in her mind, and terror rose in her throat. “No.” She hardly recognized the feeble voice that protested the coming assault. Again she tried to raise her arms, but something restrained them.
Dr. Gannon leaned closer. “This will go a lot easier if you don’t fight us.”
Sarah turned her head to the side and gritted her teeth.
Dr. Gannon sighed. “Have it your way.” He hesitated a moment before he spoke to someone nearby. “I’ve got to begin. Hold her down.”
Strong hands pinned her arms and legs to the chair. Another person held her head. Dr. Gannon bent over her again. “Open your mouth, Sarah.”
She tried to twist from the grip of those holding her, but it was no use. Determined the tube would not slip between her lips, she gritted her teeth and clamped her mouth shut.
“Stubborn, huh? Well, I can be too.”
And then she felt it. The tube slipped into her left nostril and snaked its way toward her throat. As it scraped and gouged its way through the passageway, waves of nausea rolled through her, and she retched violently.
Something wet tickled her upper lip, and the taste of blood trickled into her mouth. She twisted in an attempt to escape, and her chest heaved as she gasped for air. The more she resisted, the harder the doctor pushed.
Sarah thought the assault w
ould never end. After a few minutes Dr. Gannon released his hold on the tube. “It’s in her stomach now.”
Sarah panted in dread of what would come next. Dr. Gannon turned, picked up a container, and began to pour a liquid through the funnel at the protruding end of the tube. “This isn’t moving fast enough,” she heard someone say. “It’s backing up in the tube.”
Sarah gagged, and the contents spewed from her mouth. Her hope that it would end died when Dr. Gannon began to pour again. As the foul-smelling liquid continued to pour into her stomach, Sarah lost all sense of time. It seemed hours before she heard Dr. Gannon speak again.
“We’re just about finished.”
She tried to relax, hoping that would speed up the end of her torment. At last, she felt the hose being withdrawn. She opened her eyes and watched the doctor pull it from her nostril. She shivered at the sight of the blood-covered tubing.
Ruth Cochran stepped forward. She released Sarah’s arm, handed her a cloth, and guided it to her nose. “Here, Sarah. Use this to stop your nose bleed.”
Blood rushed from her nostrils, and she pressed the handkerchief to her nose. Her stomach churned, and she felt bile rising in her throat.
She turned her head to the side of the chair and expelled the contents of her stomach all over the floor. When she had finished, she sat back exhausted.
Matron Herndon stepped up. “Take her back to her cell for now. We’ll try again tonight.”
The words penetrated Sarah’s foggy mind, and she froze in fear. They were going to do this again? Soft whimpers drifted from her throat. “No. Please, no.”
Ruth Cochran bent over her. “If you’ll eat, they won’t do this again. Please say you will.”
She wanted to say yes to anything that would keep her from having to endure again the torture she had just been through. But before she could speak, she remembered telling her father she would be an adversary. Instead of yielding to the kindness she heard in Ruth’s voice, she closed her eyes. “I’m a political prisoner. I have done nothing wrong. I’ll eat when we’re released from this workhouse.”
A Lady's Choice Page 23
