“At the time, more destitute than the old chiefs could ever have imagined. Our children, our elders; were it not for the gold they would not have survived.”
“Did the authorities know this?”
“That my people were starving? Yes.”
“No. I mean do they know why you do what you do?”
“No, and if you told them they’d never believe it anyway. In this country the native tribes are supposed to starve.”
She now understood the root of his bitterness. According to the newspapers, the Indians’ problems stemmed from their own refusal to accept assimilation. As a member of a race of people newly freed, Olivia knew that the issues surrounding the tribes had to be more complex than that. “So what are you going to do about the bounty hunters? The sheriff says you have almost a thousand dollars on your head.”
“Do what we’ve always done—ignore them.”
“But what if they find you?”
“They won’t, so how about we talk about something else,” he offered in a quiet voice.
Considering the dangerous men he might be facing, Olivia thought he was being very cocky, but he was the outlaw; she was just a seamstress. “Such as?”
“Such as, why aren’t you over at the hall dancing with some fella instead of here in the dark with me?”
The rush of the kiss came back on the heels of his words, and she unconsciously touched her fingers to her lips and the memories they held. Gathering herself, she told the truth. “No one asked me.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Not really. A woman living life on her own terms is not what men want out here. They want meekness, compliance, and for me to give up my business and all I’ve learned so that I may sit at their table and nod yes to everything they say.”
Neil scanned her dark form. Outside of his sister and a few old cathouse queens, he knew very few women who didn’t want to rope some poor dope into hitching his wagon to hers and supporting the children she planned to have. “Well, stick to your guns.”
“I intend to.”
He wanted to take her in his arms again and see if her lips were as sweet as they’d been a few moments ago, but he drained the remainder of his lemonade instead. “I better get going.”
Olivia stood. More than anything she wished he were a clerk or a cooper, or even a sheriff so that what had begun here might continue, but he wasn’t. “Thank you again for the cameo.”
He stepped up on the porch, and her senses began to shimmer.
“Here’s your cup back,” he said, drinking her in with his eyes.
She took the vessel from his hand. “Thank you.”
“And thank you for the kiss,” he whispered. He leaned down and gently brushed his lips over hers, then slowly repeated the caress. “Good-bye, Olivia…” he murmured.
The kiss, the voice; she was melting like ice on a stove. He backed away and touched his fingers to her lips in farewell. A moment later he was gone.
Olivia stood in the darkness a long time.
The Henry Adams Ladies Historical Society met once a month at the home of Cara Lee Jefferson. The house, one of the largest in the area, was situated on the plains outside of town. When Olivia arrived for the meeting, she wasn’t surprised that the only other buggy parked outside belonged to the Two Spinsters. More than likely everyone else was home sleeping off last night’s festivities.
Cara and the spinsters were on the porch enjoying the cool morning breeze and metal tumblers of lemonade. Branch Jefferson, Cara and Chase’s five-year-old son, was seated on the steps with a cup of his own. He was the spitting image of his father, but he had his mama’s smile.
Cara Lee called out, “Morning, Olivia. You’re not carrying pickles, are you?”
Olivia laughed, and Rachel Eddings pulled her pipe out of her mouth and cracked, “Too bad there wasn’t enough brine in the barrel to drown him.”
Olivia replied, “I agree. Nasty little man.”
Cara Lee said, “Well, that nasty little man may be the next mayor.”
Olivia patted Branch lovingly on the head as she passed him on the steps and asked, “What do you mean, the next mayor?” She took a seat, and Daisy poured Olivia some lemonade.
“Martin Stuckey died last night.”
“What? When?” Martin Stuckey had been the mayor for many years. He was in his eighties but still spry enough to have sent away for a mail order bride last year who was to everyone’s surprise five decades his junior.
“Died dancing one of Handy’s jigs.”
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. “Last night at the ball?”
“Yep. Keeled over and was gone before anyone could get to him,” Daisy explained.
The news saddened Olivia. Mayor Stuckey had always been a nice man.
Rachel said, “We all knew that young woman would kill him. Never thought it would be on the dance floor, though.”
Cara looked to her son and said, “Branch, honey. Go and see if the hens have any eggs.”
“Yes, Mama.” He took off at a run for the coops behind the house.
Cara said, “Now that little ears are gone, we can talk.”
Olivia said, “I’m sorry to hear about his passing, but where does Malloy fit into the picture?”
“As the men were carrying Martin’s body out, Malloy announced his intentions to run for mayor.”
Olivia’s mouth dropped.
Cara said, “My sentiments exactly. Can you imagine how he’ll be strutting around if he gets the post?”
Daisy said, “He’ll have to be elected first.”
Like women in some of the other Black townships on the plains, the women of Henry Adams were allowed to vote on local issues. The ladies took full advantage of the privilege and came out in force on election day to ensure that their voices be heard on township matters.
“Is anyone else going to throw their hat into the ring?” Olivia asked hopefully.
Cara Lee shook her head. “Far as I know, Malloy is it for now.”
Olivia didn’t like the sound of that at all. “There has to be someone interested.”
Rachel said, “Harvest is coming—folks are too busy to play politician. The Elders have called for an emergency town meeting tomorrow evening to sort it all out. Let’s pray someone challenges Malloy for the nomination. Otherwise…”
Olivia sighed. Contemplating Malloy as mayor did not make for a happy rest of the day.
Chapter 4
On Sundays, Henry Adams rested. In keeping with the Sabbath, stores were closed, farmers set aside their tools, and everyone went to church. After church, families usually gathered over supper. However, on this particular Sunday, instead of spending the remainder of the day resting, visiting, or reading their Bibles, the citizens headed to the new town hall to see who wanted to be mayor. The late Mayor Stuckey had been laid to rest at this morning’s church service.
Olivia was seated at a table in her shop leafing through the latest editions of Godey’s Lady’s Book in search of new pattern ideas when she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Seeing it was half past seven, she hastily set aside the magazines and prepared to leave. The town meeting called by the Board of Elders would begin in less than thirty minutes, and it wouldn’t be good for the recording secretary of the board to be late.
Taking a quick look around to make sure no lamps were burning, she grabbed up her ledger and handbag, and headed outside to her buggy. The hall, situated on the outskirts of Henry Adams, was only a short ten-minute drive away. Normally, she would have walked, but she really didn’t want to be late.
When Olivia arrived, the low-slung building, with its fresh white paint and red roof, was surrounded by all manner of carriages, buggies, wagons, and buckboards. She recognized many of them as belonging to neighbors from all over the valley. It pleased her to see so many citizens interested in the future of their township—she just wished they’d left her a place to park.
The field behind the building offered a few open spaces, so she tie
d the reins of her horse to the hitching post and hurried to the door. On her way she passed many of her neighbors. They waved and Olivia waved back but didn’t tarry.
Once inside she was met by a sea of Black folks, talking, laughing, sitting. A meeting like this not only functioned as a forum for decision making but also had social benefits. It offered everyone an opportunity to come together to catch up on gossip, political issues, and small-town goings-on, and all talk today centered on the candidates for mayor.
Since it didn’t appear to Olivia as if Asa Landis, the president of the town’s Elder Board, had arrived yet, she made her way through the crush to the front of the room where Cara Lee Jefferson stood talking with her sheriff husband.
“Oh, there you are,” Cara said with a smile. “Trouble finding a place to leave the buggy?”
Olivia nodded. “They may have to start stacking vehicles on top of each other out there pretty soon.” She couldn’t believe the number of people in attendance. “My goodness, there are a lot of folks here.”
Chase said, “Real impressive, don’t you think?”
Olivia agreed. She’d thought she knew everyone in the valley, so she was surprised to see more than a few faces that she didn’t recognize.
The room was loud with the buzz of dozens of conversations, but when Asa Landis finally stepped up to the table where the Elders were sitting, the noise faded to silence. Asa was as tall as an oak, and his dark skin bore the kiss of Mother Africa. “Let’s get started.”
People moved to the long, pewlike benches and took seats, but there were more people than seats, so the folks left standing took up positions along the four walls.
Behind Asa sat the six other male and female members of the elected Elder Board, which served as the town council. Behind them sat Olivia. Her job as recording secretary was to chronicle the proceedings. Pulling out her pens and ink, she opened the ledger and waited for the meeting to begin.
“First of all, I know we had the service for Mayor Stuckey this morning at the church, but let’s take a moment of silence in his memory.”
Everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes. After a few long minutes, Asa said, “Thanks. Now, we’re here this evening because we need a new mayor. I’d like all the candidates to stand.”
Armstead Malloy stood at once, then walked to the front of the room, smiling widely at the people he passed. As always, he was dressed in a fancy cutaway suit. This one was patterned with small black and green checks that made him stand out like a carnival barker against the plain flannel work shirts and cotton trousers worn by the other men in attendance.
Asa asked the assemblage, “Is there anyone else?”
When no one else came forward, the low buzz started up again as neighbor whispered to neighbor and husbands to wives over the lone nominee.
Then Sophie Reynolds stood and called out, “I nominate Miss Olivia Sterling.”
A shocked Olivia looked up to see everyone in the room staring at her. Sophie continued, “Since her arrival almost a year ago, she’s served on committees at the church, the school, and with me on the Ladies League. As secretary to the Elders she’s been at every meeting without fail. She’s smart, resourceful, and a businesswoman. I believe she would make a good mayor.”
Before Sophie could sit down Malloy told the crowd, “Henry Adams doesn’t need a good mayor, we need an effective mayor. Besides, a woman can’t be mayor.”
Daisy Miller rose to her feet and tossed back, “If you knew anything about the history of this place, Mr. Malloy, you’d know that the first mayor of Henry Adams was female.” And she sat down to applause.
Malloy’s eyes flashed angrily, but he gathered himself and turned to Olivia. “I’m sure Miss Olivia is flattered by Miss Sophie’s kind words, but what would a woman like her know about overseeing a town?”
Olivia assumed he was still angry over her interactions with Neil July, and she was tired of his sneering. Keeping her temper in check, she put down her ledger and stood. Looking Malloy straight in the eye, she said, “I accept Miss Sophie’s nomination.”
Shouts of joy erupted from the crowd. Olivia smiled. She doubted she would win the post, but letting Malloy run unopposed was unacceptable.
Malloy shot her a very false looking smile before facing the crowd and declaring in a loud voice over the din, “A vote for me will be a vote for progress. I intend to take Henry Adams into the future—bring in the railroad, make Henry Adams the county seat, and start a campaign to bring in more citizens. What about you, Miss Olivia?”
Olivia raised an eyebrow and replied, “I prefer to concentrate on bettering the schools and services for the residents already here.” Applause rang out, and Olivia was buoyed by the support. “Our school is wholly inadequate in terms of size and space, and since I’m a firm believer in education as a means to uplift the race, I want to raise funds to correct the situation.”
Malloy scoffed. “Education? See. Women don’t have the mental capacity to run a town as well as a man.”
The slur made Olivia and most of the women in the room quite furious. Malloy considered himself very intelligent. If you didn’t agree with him, he’d offer a pitying smile, then explain why your position was wrong and his was right. Now he must have seen the blood in the eyes of the women in the room, because he immediately raised his hands and proclaimed, “Now ladies, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure Miss Olivia is as smart as any woman here, but I don’t believe that qualifies her to be mayor.”
A few men applauded. Chase Jefferson, who didn’t applaud, asked pointedly, “Tell us about your qualifications.”
Malloy nodded. “Well, many of you know that I ran a successful dry goods store back in Richmond and am always looking for ways to be even more successful. Unlike Miss Olivia, I don’t have an Oberlin education, but how many of us here in this room do? I made myself what I am today with hard work and a sharp mind. It’s all anyone needs.”
There was a smattering of applause.
Asa asked, “Are there any more nominations?”
Silence.
“Then the election will be held here on Saturday. May the best candidate win.”
After the meeting, Olivia was overwhelmed by supporters who pledged their votes and promised that their husbands and neighbors would do the same. Olivia thanked them profusely, but she didn’t think she stood a chance.
That evening, as she prepared for bed, a knock sounded on the door. Glad she hadn’t undressed yet, she hurried out to the front, then peered out the window before opening the door. It was Armstead Malloy. She sighed heavily and opened the door.
His face was tight. “Good evening, Miss Olivia.”
“Mr. Malloy.”
“I’ve come to ask you to withdraw so as to save yourself the embarrassment of losing hands down.”
Olivia really did not care for this man. “Your concerns are noted. Good evening, Mr. Malloy.”
“All right then, but don’t say you weren’t warned.”
“I won’t.” And she closed the door.
Olivia changed into her nightclothes and went to sit on the back porch. She was sure Armstead Malloy would have plenty to say were he to learn she was out here in her night rail, but it was hot inside the house. Out here, a light breeze stirred the humid air, and for the first time since the meeting she could feel herself relax. The clouds were hiding the stars tonight, but she didn’t mind. She sat and listened to the sounds of the insects playing against the otherwise quiet darkness.
She was actually running for mayor. Would wonders never cease. Again she doubted she’d win the election. Many men would rather have their teeth pulled out by a pig than vote for a woman for anything, but she felt better giving the women a choice. Malloy running unopposed would be a travesty of the democracy that townships like Henry Adams stood for, and besides, it felt good to be the fly in his ointment. Nasty little man. In her mind, he didn’t deserve to be mayor, but the people would eventually decide.
She put both the
election and Malloy out of her mind and concentrated on just enjoying the night. Unlike the last time she’d sat out here, there was no music, nor was there Neil July. Her thoughts slowed at the memory of him, so dark and dangerous. Where was he? she wondered. Was he safe, or in the clutches of bounty hunters? She’d never danced with a man under the stars before, and even now she could feel the light weight of his hand against her back as they’d waltzed, could vividly remember how that touch had sent sensations spreading over her skin like a slow-moving flood. Olivia knew mathematics, and how to lay out a pattern, and could even speak a smattering of French, but she knew absolutely nothing about the raw male power of a man like Neil. She’d never even been kissed before, yet she’d stood with him in the shadows and let him kiss her until she’d been breathless. Had he been disappointed by her inexperience? Had he laughed at her when he’d ridden away? Did he think her loose? The questions didn’t matter really, especially considering his occupation and how she, as a properly raised woman, was supposed to conduct herself when confronted with such rough company, but she wondered anyway, just as she wondered if she would ever see him again.
The next morning, Olivia was just getting ready to open the shop for the day when she heard Daisy Miller at her back door call out, “Olivia, are you ready to go?”
Confused, Olivia went to see what her neighbor wanted. She opened the door and let her in. “Morning, Daisy. Am I ready to go where?”
“Campaigning.”
Olivia saw that Daisy had on one of her best dresses and her straw church hat with the big silk rose on the band. “Campaigning?”
“Yes. Armstead Malloy thinks this is going to be a coronation, but we have news for him. Put your Closed sign back in the window and let’s go.”
“Daisy, I hadn’t planned on campaigning today.” Truthfully, she hadn’t had time to even formulate a campaign.
“Plans change. Rachel has the buggy waiting out back. We’re due at Cara Lee’s in twenty minutes.”
Olivia didn’t know what to say. As always, she knew it was better to go along with Daisy on something like this, so she set the sign in the window, picked up her handbag, and followed Daisy outside. Sure enough, there was Rachel behind the reins, a situation Olivia planned to change.