by Pamela Nowak
Sarah moved away from the crowded neighborhood of the station, hiking toward the isolation of the meandering City Ditch. The irrigation canal wound past unpopulated stretches, perfect for soul-searching. She kept a brisk pace, crossing smaller, rancid-smelling ditches as she neared outlying areas.
Her rapid steps chipped away at the dreadful confusion that had haunted her for the past twelve hours. Lord, she hated it when things weren’t clear to her.
Sarah frowned at the thick brown water in the ditch. It was the color of Daniel’s hair. Visages of its softness filled her, his hazel eyes, more intense than she’d ever seen them, his lips, unexpectedly demanding, and the incredible way she’d melded with his body.
She kicked at a rock and watched it tumble into the canal. It landed in the water with a plop, sending a fleeting odor of waste into the air. Sarah stepped away from it, disgusted.
Daniel was nothing but an annoying, irritating, pompous man and she should hate it that he’d made advances.
Except she didn’t.
Daniel had her weak-kneed and out of control. Last night, he had been the master of the game and she’d been unable to resist him, even if she’d wanted to.
She nodded to herself, accepting the realization, and moved away from the ditch, across the brown prairie. There was still the matter of Lavinia Morgan.
Sarah bit her lip. She’d never, ever, in her entire life worried about what anyone else thought of her. She should simply enjoy whatever she chose to pursue with Daniel instead of worrying about Lavinia. Still, for some reason, the thought of Lavinia rankled. Elizabeth had hinted Lavinia could be a dangerous woman, and a strange knot of worry had stayed in Sarah’s stomach all night.
Maybe it was the dreadful realization that someone had really paid attention to Bates’s horrid tales that bothered her. Judging by Lavinia’s shocked reaction to what she’d seen, Frank had more than likely fed his rumors to Lavinia over dinner at the boarding house and she’d eaten up every crumb. Sarah had dismissed Frank as less than credible. Yet Lavinia’s comments last night indicated she’d formed an opinion before she ever even opened the door of the butler’s pantry.
Sarah pulled her winter shawl closer and turned back to town, wondering how dangerous Lavinia could really be.
The gossip would be juicier now, but she’d be damned if she let a lifetime of trying to prove she possessed the skills to do anything she wanted get washed away by the rambling of a gossipy old hen. Truth would prevail. All she had to do was meet it the rumors head on and those spreading them would see her abilities.
That’s what Elizabeth would do. Her friend had been dragged through the mud any number of times, often because of Bill’s indiscreet behavior. But she’d stood tall and the rumors had lost credence. It had been difficult for her, but Elizabeth had emerged as one of the most respected women in town. Sarah neared the residential neighborhoods at the edge of the city with new resolve. She would carry herself with character and the public would see it. If she hid in shame, shame is what they would see. She’d fight Bates and those old toads who sent the irritating telegrams. She’d quit denying rumors and simply turn them back on the men, force them to explain the idle talk away. Put the men on the defensive for a change.
And she would not mix any of Frank's insinuations up with her attraction to Daniel. Proving she could succeed was a lot lonelier business than she’d expected. There was absolutely no reason she shouldn’t explore the relationship further, as long as she set the pace instead of allowing Daniel to catch her by surprise again. Besides, what better way to prove Bates wrong than to live her social life her own way.
* * * * *
A sharp rap pulled Daniel’s attention from the simple casket on the table. He frowned, set the container of rouge on the counter next to the tin of caked powder and moved toward the door. There went his quiet, contemplative morning.
Lifting the curtain, he spied Bill’s familiar face and turned back the lock to open the door.
“You look a little grim this morning, my friend,” Bill chided.
Daniel scowled. The last thing he needed was yet another reminder of last night. “I’m busy. What do you want?”
“Testy, too. Rough night?” Bill moved past him with determination, glancing around the shop. He leaned against the counter and offered a wry smile.
“I think you know the answer to that. You here to confirm a story or fish for more news?”
“Neither.”
“That would be a first.” Daniel eyed his friend with suspicion as he moved back to the coffin. By now, most of the town had probably heard the gossip from that wretched Morgan woman. He hated the prospect of Kate and Molly hearing rumors. And then there was the position he’d placed Sarah in.
Bill threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. “I already got the scoop, Daniel. Of course, if you’d like to confirm the details, I’d be more than happy to hear your side of things.”
“You’re not really going to print—”
“Easy, Daniel. I popped over to fill you in on information you might be unaware of. Got a few minutes?”
Daniel fought to bury his frustration, focusing on routine. “If you don’t mind me putting the finishing touches on today’s burial.” He nodded to the body and retrieved a container from the counter, knowing Bill would stay whether he continued or not. “She needs to be ready to go in twenty minutes.”
“Not at all. That rouge?”
“Folks don’t like seeing the color of death on their loved ones. A little touch up makes the body more lifelike. Less shocking.”
He rubbed a small amount of the coloring into the woman’s cold, lifeless face. The pastiness blended away and she looked a little less dead.
Bill watched with rapt attention. “Interesting. You might consider touching up your own face a bit. You seem a little pale this morning.”
Daniel set the rouge down, weary of battling himself over what had happened. Sometimes, he hated being alone. Maybe talking to someone about it might help. “Mrs. Winifred maintains a dry household here. I’m afraid the brandy carried a little more punch than I’d remembered it having.”
“Yeah, I seem to recall you were loosened up a bit.”
“So loose I was almost tight.”
“You weren’t drunk, Daniel. A drunk, I can spot. But you were a whole lot less inhibited than usual.”
Daniel shook his head and put his supplies away, then turned back and closed the lid of the coffin. Last night definitely stripped away his inhibitions. But at a price.
“Makes me wonder if my father’s admonitions on the evil of liquor weren’t correct after all.”
“Easy, no need to take the pledge, my friend. There’s nothing wrong with letting your guard down every now and then.” Bill grinned and settled himself into Daniel’s desk chair. “In fact, there are times it can be damned enjoyable.”
“It was that obvious?”
“‘Fraid so.”
“Damnation.” He slammed the cupboard door shut and ran his hand through his hair. What a mess he’d made out of things.
“Whoa. Cursing from you, Daniel?”
“Seems I’ve been doing a lot of it lately.” He paused and stared at Bill for a few moments, then went on. “I had no business letting myself get that far out of line. I behaved like an ass and I compromised Sarah’s character. As soon as I get this funeral out of the way, I intend to make my apologies and assure her it won’t happen again.”
Bill’s mouth dropped open. “Are you an idiot?”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think she wasn’t offering you invitations all night? Flirting? From what I heard, she wasn’t exactly resisting your kiss.”
“Oh, hell.” Sarah’s reputation was being dragged through the mud already. How could he have been so careless?
“You’d be a fool to assure her it won’t happen again.”
Daniel sighed. Aside from the fact that he’d twice stepped across the line with S
arah, she wasn’t even the right kind of woman for him. He stared at his friend. “Neither of us needs this right now. She’s an outspoken suffragist. I don’t want that kind of influence on my daughters, and I’m sure she’d rather not have her name hooked up with mine. We’re not exactly made for each other.”
Bill nodded but didn’t look convinced. “You got a point there. But, hell, a liberal-minded woman like that, I’d take what she has to offer.”
Rumors about Bill’s affair with that pretty little milliner, Hattie Sancomb, had run rampant a few months back. Daniel didn't know if he believed all the gossip, but Bill sure as blue blazes didn’t deny his interest in women. Daniel just couldn’t picture himself playing around like that. “I’m not you, Bill.”
“You might be more discreet than me, but I’d be hard-pressed to believe any man would turn down a free offer.” Bill offered a knowing smile.
Something about Bill’s words gave Daniel pause. Good God, Bill thought Sarah had initiated this. How the blazes had he gotten an idea like that? He eyed his friend, leaned against the counter, and forced his voice to be casual. “What makes you think she made an offer?”
“A little visit I had earlier from Lavinia Morgan. I thought you’d appreciate hearing what she told me.”
“Damned old busy body.”
Bill laughed. “You pegged her on that one, but she’s got reach. She’s also got lots of sources. Seems she lives at the same boarding house as Frank Bates over at the Kansas-Pacific. According to Bates, Sarah’s reputation is more than a little sullied. That plain-girl image she tries so hard to project may be just that, an image. Bates hinted that there’s only one way a woman gets a job like that and told Lavinia that Sarah uses the wire to arrange illicit meetings with the men on the line.”
“Aw, come on, Bill. You know better. Check your sources. Bates has had it in for her since she got the job he wanted. He made that pretty clear when he accused Sarah of stealing that horse. You heard how he rambled to the judge.”
Bill leaned forward. “What about her request to move to night shift?”
“Request?” Daniel’s mouth tightened into a scowl. “I think she’s on night shift because I threw a fit about the misdirected corpse and Frank Bates used it against her. Jim Wilson himself said it’d go easier if I revoked my complaint.”
“And did you?”
“I was mad. I told him I thought she was incompetent and deserved what she got.” A fresh wave of guilt swept through him. He had dismissed Jim’s insistence that Sarah was the best young telegrapher he’d seen in years. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, and he’d pushed the whole matter out of his mind.
“You sound less than convinced.”
“I get the unsettling feeling I was wrong. The Sarah I’ve seen seems pretty skilled at everything she does. It goes against everything I believe about women, but she probably is a good telegrapher, too. I interfered, and she got moved to nights. Is it her fault she’s getting ribald letters from men she doesn’t even know? You print one word of Lavinia Morgan’s trite little gossip and you set Sarah up for more.”
The comment drew Bill’s attention. “You sound pretty convinced. What makes you believe she’s so innocent?”
Daniel searched Bill’s face and debated with himself. Self-revelation was damned uncomfortable. An image of Sarah, her breath catching as comprehension dawned, filled him. He shifted his feet and took a breath. “Last night, as seductive as I found her, she was completely unaware of what she was doing to me. I saw it in her eyes, the moment she realized what was happening. I felt it in the way she tried to resist and I ignored her.”
“It’s a pretty juicy tale.” Bill shook his head. “I hate to pass it up.”
Daniel pounded his fist on the counter. “Damn it, Bill, giving in to my anger and my lust put her into this, not her actions. I suggest you keep this issue out of the News until I get a chance to fix it.”
It was far past time he stepped forward and did the right thing. He’d have to start with contacting the head officials at Kansas Pacific, and he’d probably need to do something honorable about that kiss. Damn, but people were going to talk.
* * * * *
The November meeting of the Denver Suffrage Association was packed. Sarah glanced across the crowded basement of the Lawrence Street Methodist Church, searching for Elizabeth’s familiar face.
Several of the ladies from last week’s dinner were clustered together in the center of the room. Their busy chatter smacked of their pride in helping resolve the bounty issue and their confidence that they had contributed.
Sarah noted their self-assured bearings, their plucky tones and steady voices. These, indeed, were ladies of action. She approached her comrades, determined to keep her head high. Her comfortable, no-nonsense shoes and plain brown skirt lent her confidence.
The ladies parted. Five sets of intelligent eyes focused on Sarah and conversation stopped. Two of the women had grace enough to look away. The other three stared at her as if she had sprouted horns and a tail.
A thick cloak of discomfort settled about Sarah.
Lavinia Morgan emerged from the crowd and clicked her tongue with disgust.
Sarah slowed her step, unsure of how best to respond to the women’s scrutiny. She had to maintain control. Unfamiliar anxiety hung over her. Each piercing gaze hit her like a rock. Her mastery of the situation slipped, and she fought to keep it in her grip.
Elizabeth stepped into the light and offered a smile of encouragement. Calm confidence leapt from her, giving Sarah strength. If Elizabeth could face gossip and emerge this nobly, how could Sarah run from it?
Sarah drew a deep breath, moved purposely toward Lavinia, and pasted a gracious smile on her face. “Good evening, Miss Morgan. How nice to see you again.” She forced a level of self-assurance that she no longer felt.
Surprise flickered across Lavinia’s face, then disappeared. She glared at Sarah and pointedly ignored her as she moved grandly past to greet someone else.
A low buzz crept across the room.
Elizabeth swept forward into the void and reached for Sarah’s hands. “Sarah, dear. We’re so pleased to have you.” She turned to the women who had attended the dinner. “Ladies, you remember Sarah Donovan. She contributed a number of ideas toward solving the dilemma with the dog bounty.”
Several of the more well-dressed women held back, waiting to take their cues from other people. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at them. Finally, Mrs. Anderson nodded her head and offered a shaky smile. “That she did. I was there.”
“Then you should be able to confirm Miss Donovan’s indecent behavior.” Lavinia’s pinched face emerged from the crowd.
“I … I didn’t see anything such as that.” Mrs. Anderson’s voice shook.
Good for her, Sarah thought. She might not be half as wealthy as some of the other women in the room, but she sure wasn’t afraid to hold her ground.
“Well, of course you didn’t dear. You were rambling on about your children at the time.” Lavinia’s tone was condescending. Mrs. Anderson blanched.
Elizabeth’s face hardened. “Lavinia, I hardly think—”
“Let me, Elizabeth.” Sarah heard her own voice, bold and much more plucky than she expected. Letting Elizabeth fight her battles wasn’t what she had in mind. She stepped forward until Lavinia had little choice but face her. “Miss Morgan, your battle seems to be with me. I don’t think Mrs. Anderson needs to be the brunt of your insults.”
Lavinia stared as if she’d been slapped. “H … how dare you,” she sputtered.
“How dare you.” Sarah flung the words at her. “Who made you judge and jury of Denver’s women?”
“Sarah, I don’t think—”
“Stay out of this, Elizabeth,” Lavinia snapped. “If the little upstart wants to fight, I’ll give her a fight. I suspect it’s time the other ladies learned the truth about her.”
Sarah tried to process her words. Upstart? Good heavens. Lavinia was threatened by h
er. Empowered, her anger surged ahead. “The truth? Would that be your version of the truth?”
“What do any of you know about Sarah Donovan? Lavinia whipped around, addressing the room. She marched forward, questioning the nearest women. “Anything?” Not waiting for an answer, she flung her arms wide. “We all heard Elizabeth’s glowing stories at the last meeting, all about the new female telegrapher. Well, she forgot to tell you how Sarah got the job. She and Jim Wilson, the stationmaster, are thick as peas in a pod.” Lavinia’s eyes narrowed. “Why, to hear Frank Bates tell it, they can hardly keep their hands off each other.”
Sarah pulled back her shoulders and stepped into the battle. “Perhaps that’s the key to the real truth, Miss Morgan. Would you like to tell the ladies how angry Frank Bates is because I was hired for the post he wanted? Surely the ladies want to hear about how he set me up, how he went behind Jim Wilson’s back to complain to Kansas-Pacific officials.”
“He wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t had Wilson in your pocket, dear. But one man’s not enough, is it?”
“Lavinia, Sarah, this is getting a little out of control.” Elizabeth’s commanding voice broke into their clipped debate.
Lavinia leveled a momentary stare at her, then addressed the crowd. “You should all see the messages this woman is exchanging with other telegraph operators.”
Sarah glanced around the room. Curious eyes waited for her denial. She counted to five, unwilling to let the anger consume her. Satisfied her fury was under control, she directed her words to the whole group rather than to Lavinia.
“The logbooks at the station are open for review. They provide a written record of all messages sent and received. I make no attempt to deny that distasteful messages are being sent to me. After all, we all know men will be men. I have no control over what they send to me. You will find no record of outgoing wire either inviting or responding to such messages.”
“Poppycock, I tell you. Mr. Bates has copies.”
“There can’t be copies because there were no messages. Ladies, I invite you to—”
“Is this the kind of woman we want as part of the suffrage movement, ladies?” Lavinia demanded, her face dark with rage. “Do we want all our reputations sullied by the immoral actions of this Jezebel?” She pointed an accusing finger at Sarah.
