She studied her toes a moment before meeting his gaze. “You’re not doing as bad as you think.”
With a soft smile, she climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door.
Mack did the same, but sleep would not come. Winnie’s distrust this evening showed him how fragile their relationship was, how easily it could crumble to dust.
He laid awake until the first light of dawn, running scenarios in his head of how he could escape his uncle’s plan unscathed and still win his girl.
Nothing came to him.
CHAPTER18
The morning sun was high in the blue sky as the wagon turned down a bumpy lane leading to the Wilson farmhouse. Winnie’s knee started jiggling, earning an amused look from Mack. How could he and Aunt Jenny sit so calmly? Surely it wasn’t just her that felt the promise of possibility in the air. It was hard to believe she was attending—reportingon—her first major suffrage event. Even harder to believe she did so with Mack Donnelly at her side.
She flicked him a glance, wondering again at what had transpired between them the day before. She had examined every touch, word, and action late into the night, but she still didn’t have a solid conclusion. They had made love with an intensity that stunned her, but it was what happened afterward that still had her on edge.
Something had shifted inside Mack. At first, when he’d pulled away to lie on his back, she thought he regretted being with her. But then he had dressed her so gently, pausing to kiss a freckle on her shoulder blade or caress the slope of her calf. She wasn’t used to feelingcherished, and it had roused an intense longing that terrified her. Her thoughts had revolved aroundwhat ifsfor the rest of the day, making it easier to suspect Mack’s every move than confront her growing feelings.
For whatever reason, Mack was trying to make her believe in him—and it was working.
She took a deep breath and thrust the confusing matter far from her mind. Today, she was representing the Seattle Suffrage Society. There was no telling who she would meet, and she was determined to be seen as a confident professional. Hopefully, said confidence would kick in soon.
Mack reined in alongside a bevy of other wagons and assisted she and Jenny to the ground.
“You’ll do wonderfully, dear,” said Jenny. “Make the rounds, find your connections, and never forget I am near if you need anything.”
Winnie smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Aunt Jenny.”
The older woman nudged Mack. “Hear that? We’re already family.”
He had no response, but Winnie saw the dimple trying to make an appearance. Mrs. Bartlett waved to them from inside the garden gate, and Jenny squeezed Winnie’s arm before striding off to join her.
The vibrant flower garden was decorated for a party, replete with flowing white tents, chairs, and tables topped with lemonade and small bites. The sea air flitted around them, ruffling the purple ribbon on Winnie’s hat, and the soft morning light brightened everything it touched.
As they reached the garden entrance, Mack leaned in close. “You’re going to impress the hell out of them, sweetheart.”
Her breath hitched. Did he know how novel his support was, or how desperately she’d needed to hear it? She gave one last adjustment to her hat, straightened her shoulders, and plunged into the groups of suffragists.
Before long, she was conversing with both interested locals and those who had arrived by steamboat. Once the local leaders learned she was Clem’s replacement for the Seattle Suffrage Society, she was welcomed with open arms. Mrs. June Wilson, the elderly suffragist who had invited everyone to her home for the event, graciously patted the chair beside her in invitation. Refreshments were served, and in a short time span, she had filled half her notebook with ideas, anecdotes, and addresses of the numerous people she promised to get in touch with afterwards.
The demographics of the attendees surprised her. At least one-third were men, many of whom accompanied a female family member, but several had come on their own. She had met so few male supporters of the cause in her personal life, but it appeared the numbers were increasing. And thank goodness, since men were the ones who would vote on whether to pass the bill.
Winnie was pleased to find Jenny’s Skagit friend, Katy, in attendance as well. From the way the locals made easy conversation with her, she must be a common participant. Winnie had never heard of a native woman involved in the suffrage movement, but it made sense. Indians were non-citizens, so neither men nor women could take part in elections. It was understandable Katy would want to change that.
As the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden, the formal talks began. Winnie found a seat and readied her pen for more notes. There was a rustle as Mack lowered himself into the empty lawn chair beside her. She gave him a distracted nod, which seemed to amuse him greatly.
“What?” she whispered.
There was a curious intensity to his gaze. “I find your concentration and dedication very attractive.”
“Oh, hush.”
Luckily, Mack took mercy on her, shifting his body to face the podium. A series of brief lectures ensued. Each speaker had selected a branch of the movement to discuss, including past and present outreach strategies, the importance of education, and the need to include women from all walks of Washingtonian life. The consensus was that increasing the numbers of involved women would result in a simultaneous increase in men who would vote in favor.
Finally, Mrs. Wilson was led to the front. She eschewed the podium, instead taking a seat facing the crowd. She gazed around the garden with a pleased smile. “It brings me great joy to see champions of the cause. I am grateful to my compatriots, who have stood beside me over the years. As we know, this fight is not new, and is one that demands fresh young minds to reinvigorate the most tired of spirits.” She spread her hands before her in entreaty. “My children, hear my story, and keep my hopes alive. When I moved to Washington, it was just a territory. But oh, how we dreamed.”
Winnie leaned forward, riveted as Mrs. Wilson recounted tales of the pioneer days, of the brave women who demanded a voice in the young territory. How their fight had been approved in 1883, and she had exercised her rights for four years until suffrage was revoked on a technicality. Atechnicalityhad silenced women once more. The anguish in the woman’s voice brought tears to Winnie’s eyes. It was so unfair, so unjust. How did Mrs. Wilson stand it? How couldshestand it?
A swell of resolve swept through Winnie so strongly that she trembled. As she gazed unseeingly at the dedicated suffragists around her, she understood what was happening to her.
