Asa turned to Olivia. “Anything else?”
She shrugged. “No.”
Asa faced the crowd and said, “All right, the candidates will take questions. Who’s first?”
Doc Johnson stood. “Mr. Malloy, how do you plan to bring in all these new citizens you’ve been talking about?”
The doctor sat and Malloy stood. “By bringing in attractions that will be unique to Henry Adams. Folks coming west these days are looking for amusements, something to take their minds off plowing and planting. We could build an opera house or a world-class saloon.”
Olivia stared. “But the last thing this town needs is a saloon.”
The women applauded.
Malloy countered in a patronizing voice. “Spoken like a true woman.”
The men applauded.
Malloy went on, “Men need a place to relax after a long day in the fields or at their businesses. In a saloon they can talk freely without worrying about offending tender feminine ears. And what is so wrong about playing a little poker and smoking a few cigars?”
Male voices chimed in approvingly.
Olivia had to admit, he was smooth. “How will a saloon benefit our families or our children?”
“It won’t. That’s why you ladies build churches, to look after those sorts of things.”
Olivia shook her head in disbelief.
Asa asked, “Anybody have another question?”
Cara Lee Jefferson stood and asked, “Mr. Malloy, what are your plans for the school? It’s too small, the roof leaks, and we lack basic supplies, like books.”
Malloy frowned. “Personally, I don’t believe formal schooling is for everyone. Our children should be encouraged to explore ways to lift themselves that don’t involve sitting in a classroom for hours a day. Where is the emphasis on learning a trade? Earning a living by the sweat of your brow should be just as valued.”
More applause.
Cara Lee pressed him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“My answer to your question is that when I’m elected mayor we’ll discuss the matter.”
An obviously angry Cara sat down.
For the next half hour the candidates expressed their views on everything from taxes, to the impending arrival of the railroads, to what should be done about the desertion of the race by the Lily White Republicans, as the party of Lincoln was now called.
Points were made by both sides, and each received rounds of applause. When the last question was asked, Asa closed the proceedings, then said, “Voting starts here Saturday morning, nine o’clock sharp. May the best candidate win.” He gave the gavel a bang, and the debate was over.
Olivia spent a few minutes being greeted and congratulated by her supporters. Cara Lee gave her a kiss on the cheek, then left to get Branch home to bed—there was school in the morning. The Two Spinsters waited for Olivia to finish up, then walked her home.
Daisy said, “I do hope that nasty little man doesn’t win. Can you imagine him representing Henry Adams at conventions and such? They’ll think we’re all a bunch of bombastic fools.”
Olivia agreed. “Did you see the faces of the folks who didn’t know Miss Rachel surveyed the town? A few literally dropped their teeth.”
Rachel said with a chuckle, “And one of them was Malloy. His eyes looked ready to bulge right out of the sockets.”
Olivia grinned. “Good.”
Rachel and Daisy’s house was about five hundred yards from Olivia’s, and the two homes were the only ones on Third Street. As Rachel and Daisy stepped up onto their back porch, Daisy said, “I think we should have a torchlight parade on Friday night.” Olivia thought that a great idea. Torchlight parades were a popular and dramatic preelection event all over the country. Supporters of sponsoring politicians marched through the night with lit torches. The parades back east were usually conducted the night before the vote. During presidential campaigns, participants numbered in the thousands.
Of course there wouldn’t be that many marchers at a Henry Adams parade, but Olivia thought the idea might go over well.
Daisy said, “We should start spreading the word tomorrow.”
Rachel added, “I believe we should all wear white and pin on our Olivia Roses.”
Daisy turned to her old friend. “And if someone doesn’t have a white garment?”
“They can wear a white bonnet or a scarf or gloves.”
Olivia was pleased she hadn’t been volunteered to sew up white dresses for the supporters. She didn’t have time for such a project.
The three women spent a few more moments discussing preliminary details for the march, then Daisy and Rachel offered Olivia their good-byes and went into the house still talking plans for Friday night’s march. Always amazed by their energy, Olivia walked the remainder of the way home.
As she lay in bed that night, she thought back on the day, but when she turned over to go to sleep, her last thoughts were of Neil July.
Cara Lee came charging into Olivia’s shop Friday afternoon, seething. “Do you know what that nasty little man has planned for this evening?”
“Getting back up on his flagpole?”
Cara chuckled for a moment, letting her anger dissolve, then she said, “No. Fireworks.”
Olivia, in the process of inventorying her threads, looked over at her friend. “Fireworks?”
“Yes, and they start thirty minutes before the march.”
Olivia’s lips tightened. “You have to give him credit. He’s going all out.”
“And he’s lower than a snake’s belly. No one is going to come to the march when they can see fireworks instead.”
“True.” Olivia was very disappointed by this turn of events.
“The children were so excited in school this morning, I had to almost tie them down to make them stay in their seats. Malloy’s fireworks were all they could talk about.”
“You have to admit it does sound exciting. I haven’t seen fireworks since I left Chicago.”
“Which is why I didn’t argue when Chase said he was taking Branch.”
Olivia didn’t fault Cara’s decision; she understood. “So, shall we cancel the march?”
Cara shrugged. “What do you think?”
“I say no. Malloy’s head would swell even larger if we call it off. I’ll march alone if I have to.”
“Then there will be two of us.”
Olivia was glad to have Cara Jefferson as her friend.
Cara said, “Then I’ll spread the word that we are going to march.”
“And I’ll do the same.”
Friday evening at dusk, eight women wearing white gathered in front of Sophie’s hotel for the torchlight parade.
“Are we ready?” Olivia asked. The ladies were lined up, torches lit. However, not one person had shown up to view the march. No one. The street was as empty as a ghost town, and the lack of supporters was as hard to overlook as the bursts of colorful lights in the sky.
“Ready,” Sophie called back.
So they began the walk to the other end of Main Street. They marched slowly, past shuttered stores and windows with signs saying CLOSED. They could hear the ohhing and ahhing from the crowd on the outskirts of town, and it only added to their glum mood. They’d planned to sing, but no one felt like singing.
So they marched on.
It didn’t take them long to reach Handy’s livery, the last business on the street. Upon reaching it, they doused their torches, said their good-byes to each other, then silently dispersed.
A disappointed Olivia walked home with the spinsters. No one had anything to say; there was nothing to say. When they reached Daisy and Rachel’s home, the two gave her a strong hug, then silently went inside.
Olivia continued on to her own home, taking the worn path through the high grass. She had so hoped for a large turnout tonight. She’d even been silly enough to fantasize about the streets being filled with cheering and waving supporters as she and her ladies marched by. Eight people—that??
?s all that had shown up, and they’d been marchers. Humiliated didn’t begin to describe how she felt, but it came real close.
On Saturday morning, Olivia took down the navy walking suit she’d been saving for a special occasion and put it on. She’d based its design on one she’d seen in a Bloomingdale’s Brothers catalog. The skirt’s front was plain, but it had wooden buttons bordering a series of pleats on one side and a bustled back. The jacket, high-necked and long-sleeved, was simple, but the small wooden buttons that ran diagonally across the bodice made it very stylish. Her pulled-back hair was oiled and glossy and twisted in a fashionable chignon low on her neck. Her bangs were curled and split down the front, according to the fashion. She topped off the ensemble with a frothy little bonnet decorated with small blue flowers, then tied the satin strings beneath her chin. If she was going to go down in defeat, at least she would be well dressed.
The line to go inside the town hall was long. The process involved making a mark on a ballot, then dropping the ballot into a box overseen by a member of the Elders. As she waited, she spotted Armstead Malloy strolling out of the hall. Apparently, he’d just voted and was looking very smug and barkerlike in a black-and-white checkered cutaway suit. Seeing Olivia, he and a few of his cronies strolled over to where she stood waiting.
“Ah, my worthy opponent. How are you this fine morning, Miss Sterling?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Malloy.”
“I heard your march wasn’t as successful as you hoped.”
“No, it wasn’t. I’m sure everyone enjoyed your fireworks.”
“The whole town was there.”
Olivia didn’t respond.
Malloy contemplated her for a moment, then said, “Had you hitched your wagon to mine, we could have gone far.”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone much worthier.”
“I’m sure I will,” he tossed back, then said, “Good day, Miss Sterling. If you have to take to your bed after being trounced, I’m sure everyone will understand.”
As he walked away, he and his cronies laughed. Olivia sneered. Too bad she couldn’t take Neil July out of her pocket and sic him on Malloy again. Suddenly Neil’s dark, mustached face shimmered before her mind’s eye, and she forgot all about Malloy. Where is he? she wondered again. Out of her life, she presumed. Pushing aside thoughts of her kissing bandit, she focused on the line of people stretched out in front of her. She waited for her turn to enter the hall. After voting, she spent a few hours shaking hands and encouraging those in line to consider her candidacy, then she went back to her shop to await the results.
It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon when Cara burst into the shop shouting, “You won!”
A stunned Olivia looked up from her seat at the sewing machine.
“All the votes are in,” Cara exclaimed excitedly, “and you are officially the newly elected lady mayor of Henry Adams, Kansas!”
Olivia’s mouth dropped with astonishment. She’d won! Jumping up, she and Cara shared a happy hug in spite of the great differences in their heights. Olivia certainly hadn’t expected her reluctant candidacy to bear fruit, especially after last night’s disappointing march, but it had, and she was elated. Before she could ask Cara for more details, the small shop was filled with well-wishers all bearing congratulations and smiles. Sophie Reynolds rushed in, accompanied by a beaming Asa Landis. Sophie gave Olivia a strong hug, saying emotionally, “You won. Isn’t that something?”
“It certainly is.”
Asa told her, “Your opponent wanted a recount, so we gave him one, but the best woman still won.”
“How’s he taking it?”
“Badly of course, but that’s why he lost to begin with. No character.”
Sophie added, laughing, “He was giving away cigars and his best whiskey to the people voting for him, but he forgot to inform the clerk he’d left in charge at the store to make certain his supporters voted before they began imbibing. Some of the field hands got so drunk they couldn’t even make it to their tied-up horses, let alone the hall to vote.”
Chuckling, Olivia shook her head.
That evening, after a celebratory dinner at Sophie’s, Olivia went home feeling as if she were walking on air. Never in her wildest imagination had she thought she’d win, but she had.
Because of all the excitement, she was too wound up to sleep, so she plopped down onto the rocker on the back porch. She smiled. Take that, Armstead Malloy! People were wondering now if he’d leave town, but Olivia didn’t think so. She figured he’d stay around if only to bedevil her. Right now, she didn’t care one Confederate dollar about Flagpole Malloy. She, Olivia Jean Sterling, was mayor. Mayor! Her mother was going to pop her buttons when Olivia wrote to tell her the news, and she made a mental note to do so immediately after she returned from church tomorrow. Mayor Olivia Sterling. She certainly liked the sound of that. She was so full of restless energy that she felt as if she could walk to Chicago to tell her mother the news and then turn around and walk right back to Kansas. She wanted to dance, jump up and down, run across the plains, howl at the moon, and let the world know how happy she was.
She heard the horse before she saw it; it sounded like it was moving slowly, easily. Instinctively she knew who the rider would be. A heartbeat later, Neil July rode out of the darkness.
Chapter 6
Olivia had been hoping he’d show up tonight, but she’d pushed the thoughts aside, chalking them up to silly schoolgirl yearnings that had no place in the sedate and proper life of a newly elected lady mayor. Yet there he sat, astride his large, seventeen-hand stallion looking for all the world like a dark-skinned centaur. Every cell in her body felt his presence. The day had already been remarkable, and now fate seemed determined to make it even more so. “Good evening, Mr. July.”
He touched his hat. “Evening, ma’am. Thought I’d come by to make sure Malloy wasn’t bothering you. How’d the election go?”
Her elation returned. “I won,” she said with sparkling eyes. “I am the new mayor of Henry Adams, Kansas.”
“Well, hot damn,” he replied with a laugh. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you celebrating?”
Amused, she shook her head. “No.”
“Why not? You’ve done something no other woman I know has. A man would be drunk by now.”
“I’m not a man.”
“No, you’re not.”
His voice was so knowing that Olivia felt heat creep into her cheeks.
Sensing he’d touched her, Neil asked, “So, how do seamstresses celebrate? Do you count threads, knit, purl—what?”
“No. We really don’t do anything.”
“Then how about a quail hunt?”
“A quail hunt?” Her voice sounded dubious.
“Sure, that’s how I celebrate—go out at night, find some quail, build a fire.”
“A quail hunt? At night? I believe you’re pulling my leg, Mr. July.”
“What happened to ‘Neil’?”
The caress in his voice made Olivia drop her gaze for a moment. When she raised her eyes to his, she said softly, “Neil. I think you’re pulling my leg.”
His answering chuckle ruffled the darkness. “I am. No such thing as a quail hunt. Just fishing for a way to get you to go riding with me.”
Olivia’s excitement over the election was replaced by emotions far more complex. A night ride with him was the most tempting proposition any man had ever proposed, and as giddy as the day had been, she really didn’t want it to end. She did need to celebrate, so why not? “We won’t go far?”
“We’ll only go as far as you want, darlin’.”
That low, drawling voice sent a wave of anticipation over her senses. Even a woman as inexperienced as she knew he wasn’t necessarily talking about the ride. She forced herself to breathe slowly. “Is there anything we’ll need on this quail hunt?”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “Person can get pretty thirsty quail hunting. If
you have any of that lemonade around, it might come in handy.”
Spellbound by all that he was, she finally tore herself away and went into the house. The first thing her conscience screamed was, Have you lost your mind? You’re the mayor now. Olivia admitted that maybe she had, but she took the ade out of the icebox and filled up a canteen anyway.
Back outside, she handed him the canteen. He laced the rope over the saddle, then reached down a hand for her to grab. Olivia found the heat of his hand even more potent than she remembered. As the effects of him spread through her like smoke, his strong arm pulled her up behind him. A nervous Olivia adjusted her skirts. They hadn’t been this close to each other since the time he’d kissed her, and she again questioned her sanity, even as the memory of those kisses filled her mind.
“You should hold on, Madam Mayor. Don’t want you falling off.”
Olivia realized the only thing to hold onto was him, and the boldness of such an action made her hesitate for a moment. Casting aside her rising trembles, she eased an arm around his waist, feeling the warmth of his skin and the leather belt around his waist. She was careful to establish a respectable distance between their bodies; not that it mattered—his nearness filled the space like steam.
Neil was convinced he’d died and gone to heaven. Having her close enough behind him to feel the heat of her body and smell her perfume thrilled him like a boy courting his first girl. He turned so he could see her face. “Ready?”
Olivia nodded at the man whom destiny had sent to alter her life and said, softly, “Yes.”
He signaled with the reins, and the horse galloped away from the house.
Olivia would have loved for their ride to have been under the moonlight, but in reality she was far more thankful for the clouds. This had to be the most reckless act she’d ever agreed to, and she didn’t wish to be seen by anyone.
Once the town was behind them, Neil slowed the horse and asked, “Where to?”
Olivia had no idea. “This is your quail hunt, you decide.”