Ruffling Society

by Kay Moser

  “Of course I’ll write them, but letters from me won’t bring Richard back, nor will they give Victoria the cool air and medical treatment she needs.”

  “Nothing can bring the man back, but as for Victoria’s health problems, why don’t you send her information about the Boulder Sanitarium?”

  “What? There’s a sanitarium in Boulder?”

  “Yes, and a very respected one, I hear. There’s another not far from here in Eldorado Springs. The water around here is supposed to be quite restorative.”

  “Where can I get information about these sanitariums?”

  “Back in the auditorium, I should think; there were plenty of local officials in there—Sarah! Where are you going?”

  “To find out about the sanitariums, of course.”

  “Now? But we need to pick up our textbooks.” Bert hurried after her. “Oh, never mind, I’ll do all that. You’re not going to be worth anything until you do what you can for your friend.”

  Sarah stopped and turned back. “You’re wonderful, Bert.” She tried to hug the older woman, but Bert brushed her aside.

  “Oh, get on with you, girl! Go do whatever you need to do to get your mind back on your classes.”

  When Sarah sat down on a bench on the shady side of the auditorium that afternoon, she was determined to write three letters in time to send them off in the five o’clock mail. She detailed the events of her trip thus far in one letter, addressed it to Victoria, and encouraged her to share it with everyone. In the second, shorter letter, she addressed Hayden at the store, told him what she had learned about the local sanitariums, and encouraged him to send Victoria to the fresh, cool air of the Rocky Mountains. Sarah penned the third missive to Christine, assuring her friend of her prayers during Christine’s time of bereavement, but also giving her the information about the sanitariums and asking her to encourage Victoria to take advantage of the change of climate.

  Sarah’s thoughts turned to Lee as she walked down to the dining hall to put the letters in the outgoing mailbox. I should write him. I want to write him, but what do I say? Nothing has changed, and Victoria will share all my news with him.

  When she arrived, the mailman was emptying the box, and she barely had time to add her letters to the outgoing mail sack. Tomorrow, I’ll write Lee. I will.

  ***

  After a noisy suppertime in the dining hall, Sarah slipped away from Bert and the other Fort Worth teachers, who raced off to capture the seats closest to the bandstand for the first sing-along of the summer. Sarah craved solitude after the non-stop, excited chatter of the teachers and the activities of the day. She smiled as she noticed that her steps turned toward the mountains and began to climb the mesa. Those huge rocks pointing to heaven have already captured my soul. Her frazzled nerves began to relax as she focused on the jagged rocks, which were fragmenting the bright colors of the recent sunset behind them and filling the sky with rays of gold and orange.

  “You would think I’d be used to noise after growing up with all those brothers,” she murmured. “Of course, I was too busy helping Mama keep them fed and clothed to notice.” Sudden sadness brought tears to her eyes. “Of all the people, I miss …” She turned and looked back as brilliant shafts of sunset orange touched the valley. “How I wish this stunning color could reach you in Texas, Mama.”

  Determined to climb higher than she had before, she marched upward, her breath growing labored, toward the first swath of evergreen trees at the base of the mountain. The golden, knee-high grass swayed against her skirt in what felt like a caress to Sarah, and the higher she climbed, the cooler the air became. Finally, she had to admit that the high altitude still reigned over her Texas body, and panting, she settled on a large rock that perched on the side of the mesa. She discovered that from this height she could see a wider panorama than she had seen on her first visit. Not only were the plains, with their ever-changing, sunset-hued colors, spread before her, but over to her left a string of purpled mountains lined the western edge of the valley, sloping away in ever-diminishing size until they disappeared over the horizon. The wide color palette thrilled Sarah. Oh, how Victoria would love this view! The vibrant, bright golden colors of the plains contrasting with the purples and blues of the mountains sweeping toward the horizon. She would be sketching a mile a minute with her pastels if she were here.

  “If she were here.” Sarah spoke the words, then pressed her lips together and shut her eyes tight to keep her tears back. Oh God! You have always provided … You will provide … You are goodness itself. You want good. I believe you will help Victoria … I do!

  When Sarah opened her eyes again, she saw a male figure climbing toward her, and when he raised his hand in a salute, she realized it was Dr. Wickham. She tensed. What can I possibly say to him?

  As it turned out, she didn’t need to say anything. When he approached her perch, he initiated the conversation.

  “Ah, Miss Novak.” He removed his hat and bowed. “Finding you here is surely the best gift of the day.”

  Sarah squinted up at him as she tried to discern his tone. Is he being sarcastic?

  “May I join you on your throne?”

  Sarah cocked her head. “Pardon?”

  “You look like a queen sitting there surveying the glories of your kingdom. May this humble servant of yours join such an elevated presence as yourself?”

  While the professor’s superior choice of words nettled her, in the interest of future good relations with one in authority, she nodded her assent.

  “What a magnificent view,” he said as he settled on Sarah’s rock perch. “And isn’t it heaven to escape the unwashed masses below?”

  “Unwashed?”

  “Just a figure of speech, Miss Novak, but you must admit that Texado Park is a very dusty place full of chattering people.”

  Sarah only nodded.

  “I am delighted to have some time alone with you,” he continued. “I have checked your pre-registration information, and as I suspected, you had intended to register for my class.” He held up a hand to stop an apologetic speech Sarah had not even formulated. “I want to assure you that you have made the wiser choice in registering for Dr. Morton’s Shakespeare class. He is an adequate scholar of Shakespeare, and I shall have to cover only the basics in my British literature survey class. You are too far advanced in your studies to gain anything from my class. But we shall turn this sad state of affairs into an asset.”

  Sarah could not get a word in before he raced on.

  “Yes, indeed. I am a firm believer in seeking out the positive in all circumstances and capitalizing on it. And you, my dear Miss Novak, are the positive in this—” He waved his hand toward the tent city far below them. “This so-called intellectual gathering.”

  Sarah felt her temper rising.

  “Not that it’s their fault, of course,” Dr. Wickham continued. “No, they have risen far, given their opportunities. I shall make it my business to educate them and to encourage them to reach higher.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to defend the teachers.

  “It is my calling!” Dr. Wickham raced on, his tone becoming more fervent. “I can hardly reach every child in America—even if every child were worthy of my valuable attention—but these teachers can be my hive of missionaries spreading the gospel of higher education. I am sure you agree.”

  He finally quit talking.

  Unable to trust herself to speak calmly, Sarah stared at the horizon and took deep breaths, hoping to dissipate the anger that his words had produced in her.

  Dr. Wickham leaned forward and peered at Sarah’s face. “Perhaps you are shyer than I had imagined. Well … no matter. I’m certain that I can—”

  Sarah abruptly stood. Dr. Wickham stared up at her for an instant, then sprang to his feet. “Oh my dear young lady! I see that you are more uncomfortable in that tent city with its chattering females than I had imagined. Fear not. I place myself at your service, and I assure you that I—”

  “S
top!” Sarah held up her hand. “I will hear no more of this.” Her temper now boiling, she struggled to remember Christine’s demeanor in such situations and intentionally straightened her spine, lowered her commanding hand, and cupped her hands together at her waist. “First and most important, Dr. Wickham, allow me to inform you that every child in this country deserves a good education. Second, I insist that you give the teachers who have gathered here at Texado Park the respect they deserve. I assure you that they have left behind far more comfortable surroundings to camp out here because they are eager to learn and to help every child they will teach in the future. They are a noble group with a noble purpose!”

  “My dear Miss Novak, I … that is to say, I … Well, this is a surprising turn of events,” Dr. Wickham stammered, “but a most enlightening and encouraging one. Obviously, you are a lady with the noblest purposes, and I—”

  “Good evening, Dr. Wickham.” Sarah dismissed him with a frigid voice.

  He stared at her, his mouth agape.

  Determined not to give up her reflection time on the mountainside, Sarah refused to move and coldly added, “Do not allow me to interfere with your evening stroll.”

  Dr. Wickham jerked himself to attention, made a stiff bow, and proceeded up the trail. Sarah sat down on the rock, careful to keep her straight, formal posture in case he looked back, and struggled to regain her peace. Much to her disappointment, the valley had turned to shades of purple and gray, and she realized she needed to return to the camp.

  CHAPTER 22

  Just as Sarah and Bert were leaving the tent to walk to breakfast the next morning, a young boy ran up and handed Sarah a note. She was barely able to call out her thanks before he scampered out of sight.

  “What’s this?” Bert asked.

  “I don’t know.” Sarah opened it, scanned the contents, and felt the blood rush to her face.

  “Not bad news, I hope. You’re scarlet!”

  “Uh … I suppose … that depends on your perspective,” Sarah stammered as she handed the note to Bert.

  Bert held up her reading glasses to her eyes and read aloud, “‘My dear Miss Novak, please accept my deepest apologies for any offensive remarks I made last evening. I assure you that I hold you in the highest esteem and would never intentionally disturb your serenity. Will you kindly consider dining with me this evening and allowing me to escort you to the concert? I should be most honored if you feel you can answer in the affirmative. Cordially yours, Augustus Wickham, Ph.D.’”

  Bert’s eyebrows shot up as she lowered her glasses. “Dr. Wickham has been offensive? When did this happen?”

  “I ran into him up on the mesa last evening.”

  “You went up on the mesa alone last night?”

  “It wasn’t dark. The sun was just setting, and there was a full hour of good light left.”

  “Sarah, there are wildcats on the mesa at dusk! We were warned; don’t you remember?”

  “The only wildcat on the mesa at sunset yesterday was yours truly, but I make no apology for my anger. Dr. Wickham insulted the teachers gathered here and even suggested that not all children deserve an education.”

  Bert drew herself up in indignation. “He didn’t!”

  “He did.”

  “Because you didn’t register for his class?” Bert demanded. “That’s absurd and totally unfitting for a man of his rank. What kind of professor is he anyway?”

  “A rather conceited one, I’m afraid.”

  “So it would appear. I knew I didn’t like that man! Still, you would be wise not to make him an enemy if you can help it. I hate to have to admit it, Sarah, but the fact is that we women teachers need the recommendations of men like Dr. Wickham.”

  Sarah glared at Bert. “Are you suggesting that I—”

  “I am suggesting that you keep your relationship with Dr. Wickham cordial. He is a respected educator who could be of help to you.”

  “I don’t care to know the man further!”

  “You needn’t accept the man’s invitation—in fact, I think it would cast you in a bad light if you did—but you need to maintain a positive, professional relationship with him.”

  A flash of angry frustration shot through Sarah. The necessity of subjugating herself to a man’s ego felt far too familiar. “I refuse to pander to his—”

  “Sarah, this is the real world. For now, men control it, and we must use whatever means we have to influence them in our favor.”

  “Bert, I have spent my life fighting against the tyranny of my father, followed by two years of pleasing male professors. But now I have a degree and a job—”

  “And you have discovered that you must continue the same humiliating behaviors in order to advance yourself and your sister teachers. There’s the truth, Sarah. We women are making small advances, but a critical component of furthering our success is pretending to follow the directives of men while we carve out our own power positions. We are in a war, Sarah!”

  Sarah bit her lip and looked around at the rows of tents set up like a military camp.

  “Yes.” Bert seemed to read her thoughts. “Even here. Especially here. We have traveled far to educate ourselves further, it is true, but there is something much bigger going on here. We are making connections, endeavoring to build a power base that will someday enable women to move up in the ranks.”

  “I do not like the man,” Sarah retorted.

  “That is of no consequence. You may detest him privately, but you must appear to respect him so he will recommend you.”

  “I dislike dishonesty.”

  Bert nodded. “Don’t we all? But we must play the game … and we must win!”

  “So what are you recommending I do? Cozy up to him?”

  “No! Use his overblown ego for your good. Gently refuse his romantic maneuvers—and make no mistake, that’s what this is—” Bert raised the note to Sarah’s eye level and shook it. “But find a way for him to feel superior. Perhaps, ask him for advice or ask him for help with your Shakespeare class.”

  Sarah plopped her fists on the waist of her gored, ankle-length black skirt.

  “I know, Sarah. I know. It’s infuriating, but it’s necessary. For you and for the good of the other teachers. We all need Dr. Wickham to feel important so he will speak highly of Texas teachers. Your cause may not feel noble, my dear, but it is. After all, the more we can help our sister teachers, the more we can help our students.” She patted Sarah on the arm. “What would your Victoria Hodges do?”

  The image of an indignant Victoria—her blue eyes blazing, her red hair seeming to catch fire—made Sarah smile. Then she remembered how quickly Victoria calmed herself, how steely her resolve became, how cleverly she manipulated her foe. “She would win,” Sarah answered. “Victoria does what it takes to win.”

  “And so will you.”

  ***

  After breakfast, Sarah wrote Dr. Wickham a note worthy of Victoria’s touch, accepting his “gracious” apology and “regretfully” declining his invitation. She explained that she felt certain that a social association with such a distinguished man would single her out from the group of teachers in a way that would not benefit either one of them. She ended by “praying” he would condescend to assist her as a student as she would surely need his “distinguished erudition” before the summer was out.

  Her effort was well rewarded that evening when she and Bert entered the auditorium for the first concert of the Kansas City Symphony, which had taken up residence at Texado Park for the Chautauqua season. Dr. Wickham hastened to greet them and to invite both of them to sit with him and several other faculty members. Sarah did her best to emulate what she knew Victoria’s behavior would be in similar circumstances. She stood tall, smiled confidently, and utilizing her most elevated diction, spoke to Dr. Wickham and the others as if they were her equals and were—of course—honored by her attention.

  Inside, however, she was still Sarah Novak with no experience of the world, a young girl amazed by the shee
r size of the auditorium, bright with electric lights, which had been built to hold several thousand people. The intellectual discussions of faculty members around Sarah thrilled and fascinated her. When the woman conductor, Madame Natalya Makarova, took the stage to conduct the all-male orchestra of fifteen players, Sarah struggled mightily to appear composed. A woman conductor! If a woman is allowed to conduct a male orchestra—oh my goodness! My female students could become doctors, lawyers … anything they choose. Why, I could even become superintendent of schools. We could—we will—gain the vote!

  Sarah’s pulse raced with excitement, keeping time with the fast-paced first selection of the concert. When Madame Makarova handed the conductor’s baton to a violinist and seated herself at the grand piano for the second selection, Sarah’s heartbeat slowed and soared. The music of Beethoven’s “Fifth Piano Concerto,” the “Emperor Concerto,” filled the auditorium, flew past its roof, and lifted to the mountains. Sarah’s mind flew to memories of Christine at the piano. She should be up there! She deserves to be there.

  CHAPTER 23

  The next morning, Sarah joined Bert and Ella in the spot reserved for the Fort Worth teachers close to the front of the auditorium. Well aware that the morning held hours of sitting through elocutions, she stood with her fellow teachers and scanned the massive building, amazed to see more than two thousand people milling around and vying for seats on the hard benches. The mob of chatting people sounded like huge swarms of bees, but they quieted abruptly when the Kansas City Symphony opened the celebration, playing a grand march to provide music for the dignitaries to take the stage. The Chautauqua superintendent welcomed everyone and gave a formal invocation. Having placed the day’s activities under the sovereignty of God, he introduced the governor of Colorado.