Page 91 of In These Hills

“Nothing,” Dodge said, hearing the gentle reprimand. “Nothing is going on, George. And nothing will. She tripped on a board. I caught her. That’s all.” Dodge shook his head. “I just . . . lost my head there for a minute.”

George nodded. “Hurt draws hurt sometimes. And she is a pretty woman. But—”

“She’s married.”

“So she says.”

“Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

George didn’t speak immediately. “Lottie says you need a woman, especially now that you got Bethie.”

“Don’t even mention Rowena Gibbs. She’s a child.”

George laughed. “That’s what my Lottie said, too. That you need a woman, not a girl.”

Dodge raked a hand over his beard. “What I need is news from Washington. And a cure. Before Texas fever takes the rest of the herd.”

35

EVERY DAY AT THE DISTILLERY OFFICE, Josephine watched for the postal carrier—and with him, the latest edition of The Chattanooga Times. Today was no different, except for the steady rain that had fallen for four nights running—and the sense of dread she couldn’t shake.

No mail had arrived yesterday, which meant two newspapers should come today. She needed to get to them before Mr. Daniel returned from his meeting with Tom Motlow at the bank.

So far, none of the papers had mentioned her or what had happened. Headlines favored prohibition and temperance news from New York or Chicago, legislative updates, railroad expansions, President Roosevelt’s inauguration, and Japan’s stunning victory over Russia.

Still, she felt like she was living on borrowed time.

She checked the mantel clock. Half past one.

To her knowledge, Dodge still hadn’t heard back from Washington about the cattle. She’d seen him a handful of times since the tour, always with others present. Their exchanges had been polite, distant. And with as little eye contact as possible.

But that distance did nothing to stop her pulse from quickening when she saw him. Or her memory of being in his arms. The desire unsettled her, but equal was her resolve to move past it. She knew better than to let emotion steer her. She should’ve guarded her feelings more closely. Should’ve kept the mantras of her other single suffragist sisters closer to heart.

Votes, not vows.

Liberty wears no ring.

Even Miss Anthony, while addressing the suffragists privately before the rally had said, I never felt I could give up my life of freedom to become a man’s housekeeper.

And neither would she.

She’d watched too many childhood friends marry and, one by one, their lives had become consumed with husbands and households, while she had pursued education and teaching without regret. So why was she experiencing these feelings now? And why Dodge Coburn? He was kind, intelligent, respected, yes. But not part of her plan.

Still, her heart had ached for him when he’d spoken of Kathleen. And Bethie. Through that lens, she understood his caution about suffrage. What he didn’t see—couldn’t yet—was that he already had a suffragist in the making.

She checked the clock again. Quarter till two.

Rain had no doubt turned the road from Tullahoma into a soggy mess. So far, she’d beaten Mr. Daniel to the newspaper every day but once. The day he’d intercepted Bart in the street before she could. She’d taken the mail from him under the pretense of sorting it. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She’d remembered how Lannie, their family cook, used to hand-press The Atlanta Journal before her father came to breakfast. So she had adopted the same habit. The first time she’d presented the paper to Mr. Daniel—pages perfectly aligned, edges smoothed—he’d looked up and said, “Mrs. Dunham, you can never leave.”

But that was just it. She would leave. At her first chance.

She wanted her life back. Sarah, her students, her classroom. Yet the question lingered like a bruise: Would Mayor Darden ever allow that?

Rivulets of rain traced the window as she kept watch.

She’d written to Sarah but hadn’t mailed the letter. It was too risky. The postal clerk she handed it to would then know she had ties to Atlanta. She also couldn’t be certain the address to be used in such situations was still safe. It changed often, for good reason. And she couldn’t risk causing Sarah more trouble.