Chapter 2
“OFFICERS, PLEASE!” Josephine called, approaching the man who appeared to be in charge. “These women have done nothing wrong. Our organization obtained the necessary permit with the city to hold a public—”
“That permit was for a peaceable gathering. You call this peaceable?” He glanced down at her sash. “You women are inciting a riot.”
“Inciting a riot? It’s the men who resorted to violence!”
“You best get in the back of the wagon, ma’am.” His jaw firmed. “Or I will forcibly install you there.”
Josephine’s chin lifted of its own accord. “You will no more place me in the back of that vehicle than—”
He grabbed her by the arm and shoved her forward.
She’d counted the cost when joining the suffragist movement two years ago, inspired to fight for women as Todd had fought for freedmen.
“Great change requires great sacrifice, Jo,” he’d always said.
His passion for justice had inspired her—and had cost him his life.
She thought of the women still in jail. Three weeks earlier, eight suffragists—mothers all—had been arrested while picketing outside the courthouse.
The women had agreed beforehand that, if taken into custody, they would, in solidarity, refuse food.
But the mayor, a fierce opponent of suffrage, ordered them force-fed.
Three nearly died from liquid being pumped into their lungs instead of their stomachs.
The others suffered cuts to their mouths and throats resulting in sickness and fever.
So while Josephine was willing to suffer for the cause, she had no intention of going to prison under Mayor Darden’s rule without a fight.
Seething, she resisted as the others did and took a hard blow across her backside. When the officer raised his club again, she lifted her hands in surrender. His grip tightened on her arm as she fell into step beside him, glancing back and hoping the others would follow her lead.
Todd—older by only seven minutes but a true big brother—had taught her much about the differences between men and women: how men often underestimated women, and how women mistakenly assumed men reasoned as they did.
Those lessons, sometimes humorous and sometimes maddening, had proven useful. Especially now.
She reached for the back of the patrol wagon as if to climb in. The officer loosened his grip—and she tore free. He lunged for her, but she ducked, twisted away, and bolted into the crowd with the other suffragists. Not looking back, she cleared the electric streetcar rails and kept running.
At the corner she finally glanced back. No sign of the officer.
But she did see Sarah. A man had her friend by the coat collar, shouting in her face.
Sarah, well acquainted with cruelty, fired back something Josephine couldn’t hear, but the smirk said enough.
The man drew back to strike her, and Josephine rushed at him from the side, trying to get there in time—but couldn’t.
Sarah’s head whipped hard to the right as Josephine, shoulder down, sent the man sprawling.
She grabbed Sarah by the hand and helped her up. “Are you all right?”
Sarah nodded, her cheek bearing a handprint that all but matched the fiery red of her hair. “Thanks, Finny girl.” Sarah turned and kicked the man in the abdomen. “That’s what I’m thinkin’ of your opinions on me friend’s speech today—and of your asinine views on givin’ women the vote.”
Hand in hand, they set off through the crowd, Josephine unable to quell a smile.
Sarah’s language, matching her Irish temper, could be quite colorful, so Josephine had taken to suggesting more acceptable vocabulary.
Asinine was one of Sarah’s recent favorites.
Never mind that she emphasized the first syllable far more than needed.
They reached the corner and broke into a run, but Sarah tripped and went down hard. Josephine bent to help her when someone grabbed her hair from behind, snapping her head back. White-hot pain radiated across her scalp.
“I’ll show you lack of decency and intellect.” The young man from earlier grabbed Josephine around the waist.
Sarah helped her fight him off until another man yanked Sarah away and hurled her to the street. The last Josephine saw, Sarah lay motionless on the roadway.
Josephine kicked and screamed for help as the young man dragged her into an alley, but her strength was no match for his. He shoved her down and her head slammed back against the hard-packed dirt. Her vision blurred, and when it finally cleared, he was unfastening his belt. Her insides went cold.
She scrambled back but he caught her by the ankle, dragged her toward him, and straddled her, pinning her to the ground.
“You’re so high and mighty up there, Miss Josephine Dunham. Let’s see how you are once I’m done with you.” With quick movements, he pulled the belt from his waistband and raised it high over his head.
His intentions now clear, Josephine felt the thinnest sliver of relief—until he followed through.
She covered her face and turned away, but the crack of leather on her palm wrenched a cry from deep inside.
Her hand burned like fire as he raised the belt again.
She reached frantically for something to use as a weapon, but had to shield herself again when he brought the belt down.
The sting of cut flesh on her left cheek, jawline, and corner of her mouth drew hot tears.
Her stomach roiled from the pain as he hauled back for a third time.
“Finny!”
At Sarah’s voice, he stilled and looked behind him. Josephine blindly groped for something—anything—when her hand closed around an object rough and hard. She brought it up with as much force as she could muster and slammed the broken brick into the side of his head.
The young man listed to one side. His eyes rolled back into his head. Then he went limp and slumped on top of her.
Sarah dropped to her knees beside them. “Finny girl, are you hurt? Oh, dear lass . . . your face.”
“Get him off me!”
His body heavier than she would have imagined, they managed to roll him off and onto his back. Blood poured from the gash at his temple.
“Oh Finny, do you know who this is?”
“I don’t care who he is, Sarah. He was whipping me with his belt!”
“I know, but—” Dread filled her eyes. “—it’s Clay Darden, the mayor’s son. I overheard some of the other men talkin’ as I was lookin’ for you.”
Fresh panic knifed Josephine’s gut. She looked back at him and watched for the rise and fall of his chest. She felt for a pulse, heart hammering against her ribs, then checked again. Finally, she looked up, her hand slick with his blood.
“No, no, no,” Sarah whispered and gave his shoulder a hard shake.
He didn’t move.
“It was self-defense, Sarah. And that’s the truth!”
“Finny, you know good as me that won’t be matterin’ a whit. Not to the mayor and not to any of the other men in charge. What his son did to you won’t even be bandied about. Only what you did to him.”
Police whistles sounded, drawing their attention toward the street.
“You have to go, Finny. Now.”
“Go? Go where?”
“As far away from Atlanta as you can get.”
“But Sarah, my life is here. You’re here. The other women, my students. Without all of you, I—”
“You’re not goin’ to have a life if you stay here.
You’ll not only be goin’ to jail, you’ll never be gettin’ out.
Not with how things are right now. Remember what they did to your dear Todd.
You know I’m speakin’ the truth.” Doubt crept into her eyes.
“Maybe what we’re fightin’ for is too much. Maybe—”
Sarah, who rarely showed her more tender emotions, struggled to contain tears, and for the first time since they’d met at a suffrage rally nearly two years earlier, Josephine read fear and disillusionment in her friend’s expression.
“Maybe it’s never goin’ to happen, Finny. At least not in our—”
“No.” Josephine looked her in the eyes. “Don’t ever say that. We have to remember . . . Failure is impossible.”
With a tepid nod, Sarah rose and pulled Josephine to her feet.
Her expression sobered. “We have to get you to the train station before they find him and start postin’ officers ’round the city.”
“The train station? What—”
“Some of the men saw him draggin’ you back here. They’ll figure it’s you who did it, and figurin’ will be proof enough, whether they have real proof or not. And when they go learnin’ you’re kin to Todd . . .” She shook her head. “Do you have any money with you?”
It took Josephine a moment to respond, the depth of deception within the local authorities—and the evil behind Todd’s death—hitting her full force again. “No, but—”
“Here.” Sarah dug into her skirt pocket. “I got me week’s wages from the mill this mornin’. It’s not much but it’s yours.”
“Sarah, I’m not taking your money, and I have no intention of—”
“You just killed the mayor’s son, Finny! In self-defense, I know, I was here. I seen it. But a woman’s testimony counts for nothin’, do you hear me? Nothin’. So if you want to live, you will run!” She shoved the money into Josephine’s hand. “Now come on.”
Josephine struggled to think clearly. As much as she wanted to argue, she couldn’t. Sarah was right. Todd had been, too.
They stuck to the alleyways Sarah knew well and were halfway across town to Union Station when police whistles sounded again, distant this time, followed by the clanging of a bell—the alarm on one of the patrol wagons.
They both paused, breathless.
Sarah glanced back. “They must have found his body. Come on! We have to hurry.”
Numb, still trying to make sense of it all, Josephine raced to catch up.
Sarah, twenty-three and younger by only a year, was the kindred sister she’d never had.
They’d shared a room at Mrs. Lowery’s Boarding House for Women for months now, and Sarah was forever thanking her for allowing her to move in.
But Josephine knew the real truth. It was Sarah who had rescued her following a time of such loneliness and grief there had been moments when Josephine hadn’t been sure she would live through it. Or even wanted to.
Minutes later, Atlanta’s Union Station came into view, and Sarah stopped abruptly. Josephine followed suit, her gaze trailing Sarah’s past the barrage of freight wagons and horses and buggies to the two police officers standing guard at the entrance of the terminal.
“Surely they don’t know yet,” Josephine said.
“Nay, but they’ll be knowin’ it soon enough.” Sarah turned to her. “Buy a ticket for whatever train is leavin’ next. No matter where it’s goin’. What matters is—Finny, are you listenin’?”
Josephine nodded, feeling as if she were in a fog.
“What matters is you gettin’ out of the city as soon as you can. Now take off your sash.” Sarah gestured, then did likewise, stuffing hers into the pocket of her coat. “Oh Finny . . .”
Josephine looked down to see blood smearing the front and right sleeve of her already-soiled woolen coat, the remnants of rotten egg dried and crusted.
“Here.” Sarah shrugged out of her coat. “Mine’s not near as fine, but you can’t be travelin’ in that. You’ll set tongues to waggin’, mark my words.”
Josephine put on Sarah’s coat, the garment thin compared to her own and snug about the shoulders. Sarah being a few inches shorter and more slender, her coat barely fell past Josephine’s knees. Whereas Josephine’s all but swallowed her friend’s lithe frame.
Sarah gently touched her cheek. “He got you good, didn’t he?”
“It’s that bad?”
Sarah shook her head. “Get somethin’ cold on it soon as you can. That’ll help with the swellin’.”
The blast of a train whistle sounded and smoke plumed into the cloudless afternoon sky.
“You best go.” Sarah pointed, her voice tight. “I’ll tell the school-master you’ve taken an unexpected trip and didn’t have a notion as to when you’d be returnin’. Write me soon as you can, lettin’ me know where you are. And that you’re safe.”
“I will.”
“And remember what address we’re to be usin’ in situations like this. Don’t dare send it to ol’ Miss Lowery’s or to one of the group. The authorities will for sure be—”
“I know. I’ll remember.” Josephine hugged her tight. “What will I do without you?”
“Well, you’ll have to be learnin’ how to cook, for one thing,” she whispered with a strained laugh. “You can’t go back to eatin’ flapjacks that taste like sawdust and drinkin’ that brew you try to pass off for coffee.”
Josephine tried to smile, and found Sarah struggling to do the same.
“Watch out for yourself, Finny girl. And don’t trust anyone. That’s one of your most noble faults. You think all people have good in them, but they don’t. Some are dark through and through. So when someone like that shows you who they really are, believe them the first time, all right?”
“I will.” Josephine started toward the street when fear rushed to meet her, overpowering and foreboding. She couldn’t move.
“You’ll find your way, love,” Sarah said softly, coming alongside. “You’re smart as they come and know more about the world than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“All I know of the world is what I’ve read in books, Sarah. I’ve never even been outside of Atlanta. We were going to travel to so many places together. See the world. Paris, Italy, Spain, Switzerland. All of Europe.”
“And we still will. Someday we’ll go to all of them places and more. But for now . . .” Sarah leaned closer. “Remember what me mam said to me, ’fore she took her last breath?”
Josephine nodded. “This isn’t forever—”
“It’s just for now,” they finished together.
“We’ll be together again soon, Finny Dunham. And I don’t mean in the hereafter.” A smile softened her voice. “I’m meanin’ this side of the great beyond.”
“Not if it means putting you in danger. I would never—”
“I know you wouldn’t. Now go. And look for a small town.
Somethin’ off a rugged road. Used to be, a person could hide in big cities.
Not anymore. Not with newspapers and police—and mayors who hate suffragists.
When faced with a choice, Finny, trust your instincts.
And trust God. He’ll guide you. After all, he led us to each other after an awful time for us both, now didn’t he? ”
Understanding that Sarah knew every corner of her heart, Josephine gave her friend a last, tight hug. “I love you, Sarah McFee,” she whispered, then hurried across the street toward the entrance to Union Station.
Josephine smoothed a hand over her hair, disheveled strands now loose from their pins, and did her best to look as though she belonged. But when one of the police officers out front caught her eye and frowned, his gaze narrowing, her heart all but stopped.