Chapter One
The Homestead Weekly Herald
Homestead, Idaho
Friday Morning
May 19, 1916Local Woman
Returns to
Homestead
The Homestead Herald has
recently learned that Miss
Katherine L. Jones, daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Yancy
Jones of the Lazy L Ranch, is returning to Homestead
next week after residing in
the East for several years.
Miss Jones was born and
raised in Long Bow Valley
and is a 1913 graduate of
Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York.
A welcome-home potluck
is being planned for Friday, May 26, at the Homestead
Community Church. Everyone
is invited.
The wind tugged at Katie's hat, and mud splattered her duster
as the motorcar bumped and rocked its way toward Homestead.
Katie had driven on more than a few bad roads in
recent weeks, but none so deplorable as this one between
Idaho's capital city and Katie's hometown.
Not that she hadn't been warned.
"You ain't meanin' t' take that 'mobile up thataway, are
you?" the old man at the Boise hotel had asked her last night.
"That road's not fit for those confounded contraptions. If'n you
had a lick o' sense, you'd wait and take the train, young lady."
It certainly would have been easier to heed the man's
advice, but she hadn't wanted to wait until Friday. The Susan
B, as Katie fondly called the intrepid-and often cantankerous-Model
T Ford, had come too far, had climbed too many
hills in reverse, to be left behind now. The motorcar wasn't
about to be undone by a few more deep ruts or other adverse
road conditions.
Nor was Katie herself.
She thought of her father as she tightened her grip on
the steering wheel. Yancy Jones wasn't going to be any too
pleased when he learned that his daughter had motored,
unaccompanied by an escort, across the country in her own
automobile. Her father was old-fashioned in many ways.
Although she knew he loved her and tried to be tolerant of his
freethinking daughter, he didn't care for many of Katie's
newfangled notions.
That's why she hadn't told her parents in her most recent
letter, which informed them of her upcoming visit to Homestead,
that for the past several weeks she'd been a participant
in the Suffrage Special, as it was known in the newspapers.
Touring the West by motorcar, the gifted speakers and leaders
of the suffrage movement were calling upon women voters to
help form a new political party dedicated to the passage of a
national woman's suffrage amendment. Katie had felt privileged
to be a part of the entourage, for she was an impassioned
supporter of the movement.
Suffrage would give women full rights of citizenship. It
would give them access to better educational opportunities. It
would open doors to their ability to serve in professions such
as medicine and the law. It would help women campaign for
social purity and for adequate housing. It would help win the
fight against permissive work laws. Suffrage would offer
protection for women who were abused or abandoned. It
would give them more autonomy in matters related to property
rights and child custody.
Katie couldn't understand why there was any resistance at
all, especially among Christian women, to the passage of
suffrage. Evangelical Christianity, which had spread with the
Second Great Awakening in America, emphasized the moral
and religious autonomy of women and established women's
moral authority in the priesthood of all believers. Many of the
leaders in both the National American Woman Suffrage Association
and in the Woman's Christian Temperance Union
were women of strong faith as well as strong convictions.
The front tire hit a large hole, sending the Susan B jouncing
toward the edge of the road and the sharp drop-off to the
river below. Katie felt her hair slipping free of its pins as her
hat slid sideways on her head. The end of her scarf flew up
into her face, blinding her. Quickly she braked, bringing the
motorcar to an abrupt halt. She let out an exasperated sigh as
she tried to right her touring hat, but all she succeeded in
doing was loosening the remainder of her hairpins, causing
her hair to tumble into her face.
"Oh, bother," she muttered in frustration. She removed
the straw bonnet and shoved back the mass of hair. "I've a
good mind to cut it all off." Men wore their hair short so they
didn't have to be concerned with such nonsense. Maybe shewould cut it once she got to Homestead. Nothing like a fast
hairstyle to get folks talking.
With a quick twist and the jab of a few hairpins, Katie
secured her hair atop her head once more, then set her hat
back in place. A glance at the sun hovering above the canyon
rim told her she'd best hurry if she wanted to reach town
before dark. Although the Susan B was equipped with headlamps,
it would be hazardous to negotiate this winding river
canyon after nightfall. Katie certainly didn't warm to the idea
of spending the night on the road, sleeping in the motorcar.
Besides, she was excited about getting home. It had been
three years since her parents had come back East for her graduation
from Vassar College, and she hadn't seen her brothers,
Sammy and Ricky, in seven years. They were young men now
instead of the boys of ten and nine she'd left behind.
Then there was Ben Rafferty. Dearest, best, beloved Benjie.
It would be grand to see him again. He was the only one who
hadn't tried to dissuade her from remaining in the East, working
for the NAWSA. His letters while she was at school and
then in Washington had been filled with encouragement.
He'd always told her to pursue her calling, no matter what
stood in the way.
That was exactly what she'd done.
She'd had dreams for Ben, too, and she wondered why
he'd returned to Homestead after his graduation from college.
He could have had a marvelous career in any number of cities
around the country. He could have made a name for himself,
become a famous man of letters. Instead he'd gone to work
for the Homestead Herald and then purchased the newspaper
when Mr. Bonnell, the owner, died.
But wasn't it lucky for me that he did?
Katie accelerated, her mind churning as fast as the tires on
the bumpy road. She had much to accomplish now that she
was coming home.
Home. She was surprised how good the word made her
feel. Of course, it wouldn't be the same town she'd left
behind. So much must have changed. Some of the older folks
had died. Some of the younger people had moved away. Most
of her schoolmates were married and had children.
What will they think of me?
She knew the answer to that question. They would think
her as strange as they always had.
"Too headstrong for your own good," her father had told
her more than once.
"Just like me," her mother had countered every time. "I
knew what I wanted and went after it. That's how I got your
father to marry me."
Katie grinned at the memory. Yes, it was good to be
coming home. Until recently she hadn't realized how much
she was needed in Idaho. Not until Inez Milholland, the spirited
suffragette lawyer, had explained to Katie the good she
could do.
"Miss Jones," Inez had said a few months ago, "you come
from one of the few enfranchised states in our Union. But are
the women of Idaho exercising their right to participate in
their government? I fear not in the numbers they should. We
must find a way to see they do so, for all our sakes. It is
women for women now and shall be until the fight is won.
We shall stand shoulder to shoulder for the greatest principle
the world has known, the right of self-government. Victory is
in sight, Miss Jones. We must not let it slip away for lack of
attention."
Katie felt a shiver of excitement roll up her spine as she
recalled Milholland's words. She must not fail the women
who were working so tirelessly in support of a federal suffrage
amendment. She must do her part. She would do her part.
Her attention returned to the road as the mountains
suddenly parted and she beheld her first glimpse in seven
years of Long Bow Valley and, in the distance, Homestead.
Katie was home.
* * *
Ben frowned as he read over his editorial for the third time. It
was boring. The words were as dry as dust, pure and simple.
With a sigh, he dropped the papers onto his desk, then
leaned back in his swivel chair and rubbed his eyes with his
knuckles. He wondered if he was ever going to get it right.
Staring at the ceiling, he allowed his thoughts to drift once
again to Katie. Only three more days and she would be here.
And it was about time, too. When he'd left Homestead to go to
school eleven years before, he'd never dreamed it would be so
long before he saw his dearest friend again. He hadn't expected
her to go off to college four years later and then choose not to
return. His mother feared Katie had been gone so long they
wouldn't recognize her, but Ben knew that was impossible.
He remembered the little girl with the thick black braids
reaching to her waist and the enormous brown eyes that had
seemed too big for her face. He remembered the tomboy,
often dressed in shirt and trousers, scabs on her knees,
scrapes on her hands. He remembered the girl who could
swing a baseball bat as hard as any boy in Homestead and
who was absolutely fearless as she raced her horse alongside
the train. He remembered his childhood pal in a hundred
different ways, and all of them made him smile.
Katie Jones was unforgettable.
She was certainly different from Charlotte Orson, the
young woman Ben had been keeping company with of late.
Charlotte, the daughter of a minister, was quiet and unassuming.
Not in his wildest dreams could he imagine Charlotte in
trousers or swinging a baseball bat or riding a horse astride.
No, Charlotte was much more conventional than the irrepressible
Katie.
Ben closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the
fingertips of one hand.
There were many in Homestead who'd already decided
Ben and Charlotte were perfect together. A few figured
they'd be married before year's end. But Ben wasn't convinced.
Not yet anyway. He was fond of Charlotte, of course,
and he hoped his feelings would deepen with time. The
Bible said, "Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing,
and obtaineth favour of the Lord." He believed that to be
true. He wanted a home and a wife and children. But how
did a man know when he'd found the right woman to be his
wife? Was fondness enough? He didn't know. He just didn't
know.
With a shake of his head, Ben opened his eyes and looked
at the partially written editorial on his desk. It hadn't changed
itself in the last few minutes while he'd been daydreaming. It
was still boring, boring, boring. He picked up his pen, promising
himself that he would finish it, even if he had to sit there
until the wee hours of the morning.
Maybe if he added a paragraph right here, and then-
"You're working late, Mr. Rafferty."
He glanced up, surprised that someone had entered without
his hearing the door open.
The woman smiled. "Haven't you a welcome for an old
friend?"
Ben stood. "Katie?"
"Have I changed so much?"
Had Katie changed? Yes! When had she become a woman?
A beautiful woman? And despite the flecks of mud on her
cheeks and clothes, she was beautiful. She hadn't been beautiful
before, had she? Ben didn't think so. She'd just been Katie.
A frown replaced her smile. "Well, for pity's sake, say
something."
He moved from behind his desk, stepping toward her,
studying her face for some sign of the gawky schoolgirl he
remembered. Her eyes were the same luminous dark brown,
but they no longer seemed too big for her face. Her complexion
was smooth, her skin the color of honey. She was still
tiny, a good foot shorter than he was, but she was noticeably
more curvaceous than the girl he'd left behind. The braids
were gone, he suspected, but he couldn't be certain because
of the broad-brimmed hat and scarf she wore.
"Have I really changed so much?" she repeated.
"I can't believe it's you."
Her dazzling smile returned. "It's me all right, Benjie."
Then, without warning, she threw herself into his arms and
kissed him on the cheek as she hugged him tightly. Her
laughter warmed the office like a fresh ray of sunshine. "Oh,
Benjie, it's so good to see you."
Suddenly he laughed with her, all else forgotten. "It's good
to see you, too." He set her back from him, his hands still on
her upper arms. "How did you get here? You're not expected
until Friday."
"I arrived in Boise City yesterday and decided to drive up.
My motorcar is out front."
"You drove?"
"All the way from Washington, D.C. I've been following
the Suffrage Special on its tour of the West in the Susan B."
"The Susan B?"
Katie took hold of his hand and drew him toward the
door. "She's my Ford touring car. I named her for Susan B.
Anthony. Come take a look at her."
This was Katie all right. Leave it to her to be the first
valley resident to own an automobile. Leave it to her to motor
clear across the country regardless of conventions that said a
woman shouldn't do such things.
"There she is." Katie waved an arm toward the Model T
Ford parked in front of the Homestead Herald office. "Isn't she
scrumptious?" She squeezed his fingers as she turned toward
him. "Will you drive out with me to the Lazy L? I'm sure Papa
will loan you a horse to get back to town, and I'd love to talk
with you awhile. It's been so long since we've seen each other,
and I want to catch up on all the news."
"Don't want to face your father alone, huh?"
She lifted her chin defiantly. "That's not it at all."
"No?"
"No."
"No?"
Katie pursed her lips for a moment, then broke into a
smile. "All right. Maybe that is it. A little. But just a little." She
stepped closer, and he caught a whiff of rose water.
"Honestly, Benjie, I do want to talk with you."
When Ben was twelve and Katie just shy of eleven, she
had told him she wouldn't ever marry. She'd wanted to
accomplish something special. Even then, Katie had been a
girl with big dreams and a desire to change the world for the
better. Now, seeing that she was no longer the girl of his
memories, he wondered if there was a special man in her life,
someone who might change her ideas about marriage and
settling down.
"Say you will, Benjie. Please?"
Memories of Katie saying those same words rushed over
him-Say you will, Benjie. Please?-and he knew it was useless
to argue. She would get her way before she was through. It
had always been so between them.
He nodded. "Let me get my hat and lock up."
Continues.
