Page 46 of Taming Lady Temperance

What was that horrendous noise? Noreen tried to sing over the cacophony coming from outside the Salf Fork Saloon, but after marching and singing for the last thirty minutes, her voice had weakened.

As if responding to a clamorous gauntlet being thrown, Connor Reed’s trombone doubled in volume. The other musicians joined suit, one of the clarinetists squeaking occasionally due to the increased airflow. The horns grew so loud, Noreen could no longer hear her own voice, let alone the voices behind her.

She pivoted to walk backward so she could signal Connor to quiet the instruments, but before she could do more than wave to get his attention, Lonnie Wilson with his washboard breastplate cut ranks.

“Is that ‘Old Dan Tucker’? Boy, howdy. I love that song.” He and his spoons dashed toward the saloon, his cackling voice singing out,

“Get out of the way, Dan Tucker.

You’re too late to git your supper.

Supper’s gone and dinner cookin’.

Old Dan Tucker’s just a-standin’ there lookin’.”

“Lonnie!” She called after him, but only once. She recognized a lost cause when she saw one.

As they drew alongside the saloon, her heart sank. Men—lots of men—in high spirits. Clapping hands. Stomping feet. Brandishing signs. Signs that minimized the dangers of drunkenness and even justified its practice.

She fell out of step with the drum’s cadence. She’d been prepared for a crowded saloon, but she’d not anticipated that Taggert would take the fight to her with song and dance and frivolity. Who wouldn’t be attracted to what appeared to be harmless fun? Smiling faces, dancing feet, overloud singing. Clever man. Daring her to lose her temper and play the shrew for all to see. She knew she had to resist, but the desire to storm the saloon and bash him over the head with her sign was so strong, she handed her pasteboard weapon to Martha, fearful she’d succumb to the urge despite her better judgment.

“Take the group around the corner for the prayer meeting,” Noreen instructed Martha. “I’ll see if I can bring the noise down.”

Martha’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “Don’t do anything rash. You’ll undo all the good we’ve accomplished today.”

Noreen smiled. “I won’t. I promise. I’m just going to hand out some temperance pledges.”

“Taggert won’t like it.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

Martha raised a brow. “That’s what worries me.”

Luella leaned into the conversation. “I’ll go with you.”

Martha and Noreen answered in unison, “No.”

“Please. My father’s there.” She tipped her head toward the far end of the group of chairs lining the boardwalk as she dropped one edge of her sign in order to pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “He needs this, Miss Evans. I’ll just talk to him and no one else.”

“It would be better for you to talk to him at home, Lu,” Martha said.

Trusting Martha to dissuade Luella, Noreen glanced behind her and noticed her tidy ranks morphing into an indistinct blob. She signaled for the group to move past, then caught Mr. Cowan’s attention. The preacher worked his way toward her.

“I’m going to do my best to quiet their singing,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over what had to be the fifth verse of “Old Dan Tucker.” Good old Dan must’ve had quite an eventful life. “Hopefully, it won’t be so loud on the other side of the wall. Do you think you can make yourself heard for the prayer meeting?”

Jane’s father smiled. “I’ve been orating sermons into dull ears and distracted minds for more than twenty-five years. I know how to make myself heard. Besides, the Lord will calm this storm. Remember, he’s in control.”

“I know.”

She did know. She didn’t doubt God’s sovereignty for a moment. What she doubted was his willingness to intervene on her behalf. Yes, it felt as if the Lord had been more active in her life of late, blessing her with James’s friendship, the support of the spinster society, and all the wonderful people who’d joined her parade. Her heart had swollen from all the gratitude swimming around inside her today. Nevertheless, memories of her childhood tempered her optimism. How many times had she prayed for God to save her and Mama from her father’s drunken temper? Why hadn’t he intervened then? No one had a good answer for that question. Not even Mr. Cowan.

From her own study of Scripture, Noreen had eventually concluded that while God did intervene directly in people’s lives from time to time, he also worked to accomplish his will through humans. Prophets spoke his words, warriors fought his battles, and servants ministered to those in need. She’d long ago decided that she wouldn’t sit back and wait for the Lord’s intervention. She’d be a warrior for his cause, serving him on the battlefield. And today, that battlefield consisted of a swath of boardwalk lined with tipsy men singing a discordant melody. Surrender was not an option. At least, not one she would accept.

As Mr. Cowan led the group around the corner, Noreen turned to face her battleground and reached for the temperance pledges in the cloth bag slung across her body. Not surprisingly, James found his way to her side.

He didn’t try to steer her away or talk her out of her mission, he simply stood guard beside her as she approached the men on the boardwalk.

She made her way to the harmonica player first. “Afternoon, Mr. Carter. You sure play a fine harmonica.”