Chapter 11
Chapter
“All right, ladies. Let’s come to order.” Hortense Lockwood clapped her hands to capture the attention of the women who had gathered in the schoolhouse on Thursday evening for the first official meeting of the Shackelford County Secret Society of Spinsters.
Noreen frowned at the heading on the charter she’d been handed at the door.
There were far too many S’s being employed in their group’s name.
It made her think of hissing snakes. Jane had been delighted with the alliteration, but Noreen would have preferred some rearranging.
Perhaps Secret Albany Spinster Society. Then they could be known as SASS.
A much more feisty and determined acronym.
SCSSS sounded like someone had just let the air out of a pneumatic bicycle tire.
“I’m gratified to see that so many chose to accept the invitation to join our society,” Miss Lockwood said after the room quieted.
Noreen counted fourteen ladies in attendance, in addition to Miss Lockwood and Martha at the front of the room. Sixteen secret spinsters. She fought against the urge to roll her eyes. These S’s were really getting out of hand.
“Miss Evans and I have drafted a charter for our organization. Each of you should have a copy.” Miss Lockwood held up a sample sheet.
Noreen dipped her chin to examine the charter.
It had been written out by hand instead of produced by the local printer.
A necessary precaution for a secretive organization.
The handwriting didn’t look like Martha’s, however, and it differed from the more flourished style used on the original invitations.
Perhaps Martha had enlisted Luella’s assistance.
If so, the girl had done an excellent job of keeping the details to herself.
She’d not said a word at work this week.
Though even if she had, there was no guarantee Noreen would have remembered.
She’d been rather distracted by family issues and her schemes to win Deputy Paxton’s cooperation.
Schemes that had come to naught, thanks to the untimely chicken crisis.
“. . . few basic tenets.” Miss Lockwood’s voice pulled Noreen from her thoughts. “Membership shall be open to any unmarried woman aged twenty-four or older living in Shackelford County.”
Noreen smiled to herself as she recalled Luella’s despair over the minimum age requirement.
“Members shall be women of good character who will support their society sisters and serve the larger community. Should a member harm one of her society sisters with slander or malice, her membership will be revoked. Should a member act in such a way as to bring disgrace upon herself, and by association, her society sisters, her membership will be revoked. Should a member choose to marry, her membership will be retired in good standing.”
Noreen leaned close to Jane and whispered in her ear, “What? No tar and feathers? We can’t let the traitors off that easy.”
Jane smiled, her eyes lighting with amusement even as she gave Noreen’s shoulder a gentle nudge to discourage any further discourse. Always the parson’s daughter on her best behavior. It would be annoying if she weren’t such a sweetheart.
“The society will select one project each month as our service to the community. We encourage all members to engage at some level with each project, but the requirement is to participate in at least four per year to maintain active membership status.”
Noreen’s heart rate picked up speed. This was why she’d joined.
To harness the power of numbers in her quest to rid the town of its saloon.
Energy thrummed through her limbs as she readied herself to nominate her project.
The fingers on her right hand tingled, eager to shoot into the air as soon as Miss Lockwood opened the floor.
But their founding mother seemed more interested in spending time on boring details like meeting dates and introductions.
Having sixteen people stand and talk about themselves took forever.
Noreen tried to hurry things along by making her own introduction as short as possible.
“Noreen O’Sullivan, age twenty-seven. I live at Mrs. Barker’s boardinghouse and am employed at the Albany Hotel.
” She started to sit, then remembered one other pertinent piece of information.
“I’m also a member of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union. ”
Jane kept her introduction brief as well.
Or tried to. She spoke softly, leading an older member sitting near the front of the classroom to interrupt and request that Jane speak up.
Face aflame, Jane apologized and began again, her voice louder, but trembling this time.
She offered only her name, age, and relationship to her parents before ducking back into her seat.
Noreen immediately reached over and clasped her friend’s hand, hoping to lend her strength in the same way Jane had lent her own to Noreen last night when Sheriff Adair had shown up unexpectedly.
Had Jane not been there to smooth things over with the obstinate lawman, Noreen might have found herself keeping Mrs. Hanover company behind bars.
When the interminable introductions finally concluded, Noreen once again readied her arm for flagpole duty.
She intended to be the first to nominate a project idea.
The sooner she could rally her new troops, the better.
Her hopes lifted when Miss Lockwood yielded the podium to Martha, then shriveled when her friend opened a small wooden box and announced she had a gift for everyone.
Patience, Noreen. You’ll get your chance.
Despite the internal reminder, Noreen still fidgeted in her seat and struggled to focus on what was being said. Until Martha mentioned her by name. Like a naughty child caught in the act of misbehaving, Noreen immediately straightened her posture and focused all her attention on the speaker.
“My good friend Noreen O’Sullivan sparked the idea.” Martha caught Noreen’s gaze and smiled. “Some of you might have noticed the white ribbon she wears pinned to her bodice.”
Noreen lifted a hand to touch the bow.
“Most people in town likely have no idea what that ribbon symbolizes. However, should a member of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union see it, she would immediately recognize the significance.
Not only that, but a bond of sisterhood would spring up between the two of them even if they were strangers to each other.
That ribbon is a symbol of shared values and of belonging.
Miss Lockwood and I wish to give the members of our society the same blessing. ”
Martha reached inside the box and pulled out a white linen square edged with a thin border of white lace. Noreen leaned forward. Aha! The mysterious handkerchiefs that Martha had alluded to a couple of days ago.
“Each member will receive a handkerchief that has been embroidered with forget-me-nots.” She folded the handkerchief into a triangle to show where a cluster of blue flowers had been stitched on one corner.
“When you receive your handkerchief today, we encourage you to embroider your initials near the flowers and to make a habit of carrying this hankie with you in a pocket or purse. We chose forget-me-nots because we wanted an emblem signifying that you are not forgotten. Not overlooked. Not unappreciated. Each of us was created for a specific purpose, one not tied to marriage and the production of children. Our Lord has not forgotten us, and we will not forget each other. We will use the talents we have been given to serve a calling higher than ourselves and to minister to one another. Therefore, if any of you is ever in need of assistance, you have only to send your handkerchief to another member, and your society sisters will come to your aid.”
Noreen’s eyes misted slightly as the significance of the handkerchief soaked into her heart, dissolving her impatience as an agenda greater than her own flowed through her.
An agenda of sisterhood. She looked around the room with new eyes as Martha handed each lady a handkerchief.
No one hurriedly stuffed the linen into her pocket.
Each lady examined the handkerchief with care, tracing the embroidered flowers with a fingertip or smoothing out the entire square upon her lap.
A thread seemed to weave throughout the room, stretching from handkerchief to handkerchief and bonding each spinster to the others as the gifts were distributed.
Martha smiled at Noreen and Jane as she reached the back of the room and handed each of them a handkerchief.
Noreen accepted hers with near reverence.
She’d spent so much energy over the years convincing herself that the opinions of others didn’t matter.
If she angered half the town in her temperance crusade, so be it.
The work was more important than conforming to societal expectations.
If her family turned their backs on her, she’d soldier on.
If no man ever desired her companionship, she’d find fulfillment in her reform work.
Yet as strong as she tried to be, her feet often felt as if they were made of clay. If she hadn’t had Jane and Martha to lean on, she would have crumpled long ago. God had fortified her spirit through their friendship, and it seemed he was fortifying her again by widening her circle of support.
“Thank you.” She murmured the words to Martha, but her soul sent even more gratitude heavenward.
Looking at the ladies around her, Noreen no longer saw faceless numbers she could rally to her cause. She saw women who carried their own hopes and dreams. Women who deserved to be seen as more than mere pawns in Noreen’s battle against the saloon.
Shoe heels clicked softly as Miss Lockwood stepped up to the podium once again. “We will now open the floor to solicit suggestions for our monthly service projects. Have you noticed needs in our community that we can meet?”
Noreen hesitated as her priorities shifted. She still wished to recruit aid for her cause, but perhaps she should wait to see what projects other people suggested. Only, the room remained silent. No one wanted to be the first to speak.
“Miss Cowan.”
Jane stiffened in her seat next to Noreen when Miss Lockwood called her name from the front of the room.
“As the daughter of one of our local ministers, perhaps you are aware of some needs that the rest of us are not yet privy to?” Miss Lockwood smiled in an encouraging fashion toward Jane, but Noreen knew her friend would need more than a smile for her to find her footing.
Especially since all the other ladies had turned in their seats to stare in her direction.
“I . . .” Something—likely terror—strangled Jane’s voice, keeping any words from escaping into the room.
Noreen shot to her feet. “Just yesterday, Miss Cowan and I worked on mending a few of the items donated to the church poor box.” Jane’s mother had suggested they bring a sack of mending items to the jail to help pass the time in a productive manner while visiting with Edna.
“The Cowans have collected about two trunks’ worth of items. Many are in need of patches, buttons, and repaired seams. Jane and her mother work on mending the items here and there as they are able, but if we gathered as a group, each lady bringing her own sewing kit, I imagine we could get through the entire supply in a single meeting.
” Noreen looked to Jane. “Do you think your father would let us meet in the church?”
Jane nodded.
Noreen turned back to the group. “Those who aren’t skilled with a needle could bring snacks or perhaps help organize the clothing as the mending is completed.”
Miss Lockwood nodded. “An excellent suggestion, Miss O’Sullivan. That is precisely the type of activity that would be well-suited to this group.”
Her mouth suddenly dry, Noreen kept her feet. “I have another suggestion to make, if I may?”
“Go on.”
“I would like to organize a temperance march. It need not be only our group that participates, since that might reveal our society. We could invite other women—and men—who recognize the role liquor plays in the moral decay of our society. It would be a peaceful event. Perhaps just a march around the square, then up to the Salt Fork Saloon. We could distribute temperance pledge forms and end with a prayer meeting in front of the saloon. Many temperance crusaders have found success with such events. The more the community stands together against the distribution of alcohol, the more likely we are to convince the mayor to declare Albany a dry town. If that happens, crime rates will drop, home lives will improve, and our community will be a safer place for everyone.”
Miss Lockwood’s enthusiasm dimmed considerably as Noreen spoke.
“I will make a note of that suggestion, Miss O’Sullivan.
Perhaps the society might consider it for a future project.
I think it might be best to focus on something a little less .
. . ambitious for our first endeavor, however.
” She swung her gaze away from Noreen and focused on the rest of the group. “Does anyone else have a suggestion?”
Feeling as if she’d just been chastised, Noreen sat back down, her shoulders slouching.
“Don’t worry,” Martha whispered from behind her. “I’ll see that your temperance march gets on the ballot for our next meeting. You might have more supporters than you realize.”
“You should give her a chance to share her heart with the group, Martha,” Jane said before turning her gaze back to Noreen.
“If you tell your story, you’re sure to sway the group to your side.
People can overlook facts and figures when they wish to avoid something uncomfortable, but a compelling story will grab their hearts and win their sympathies. ”
Tell her story? Could she do that? The only people she’d ever told were Martha and Jane, and only after they’d been friends for several years.
She couldn’t tell a room of mere acquaintances.
She glanced down at the handkerchief she’d laid upon the school desk in front of her.
These ladies weren’t just mere acquaintances any longer, though.
They were sisters now. And if a story would win them to her cause, she’d have to find the courage to tell it.