Chapter 25
THE THROB OF HER OWN PULSE pounded in her ears, and Josephine regretted pressing him for an answer. If meeting Dodge Coburn’s gaze had been difficult before—and it had—it now took every ounce of her resolve. How did she extract herself from this conversation without digging an even deeper hole?
“Well then . . .” she said carefully. “Where does such an assessment leave us?”
A slow smile tipped one corner of his mouth. “Right where we were when I walked in, ma’am. Only maybe a little less cloudy. Good night to you, Mrs. Dunham.”
He turned to leave.
“Oh, please take this with you.” She drew Black Beauty from the shelf and held it out. “Bethie was eyeing it earlier. Only, don’t tell her I asked you to take it, or it may end up in the kindling box.”
He studied the cover.
“It’s a novel told from the perspective of a horse,” Josephine continued. “Black Beauty is his name, and he narrates the story himself. It’s a wonderful book, especially if you’re an animal lover. I’ve recommended it to my students for years.”
“She’s actually read this one,” he said, thumbing the pages. “More times than I can count. It’s a favorite.”
“Do you read, Mr. Coburn?”
Something in his expression suggested he found the question amusing. “On occasion.”
She debated whether to share her next thought but figured if he was raising a girl who loved to read . . . “Considering your work with livestock, you might find the novel of interest as well. It would be worth giving it a try. You have nothing to lose.”
He nodded slowly. “I appreciate that recommendation, Mrs. Dunham.” Then his stare turned downright appraising.
“Though I might describe this novel more as a powerful portrayal of animal cruelty and the importance of treating all creatures with kindness. Not to mention the story explores themes of compassion and social injustice in relation not only to the treatment of animals but of human beings as well. But what you said is true . . . It’s a wonderful book. ”
Josephine tried to mask her surprise. And failed. “I-I’m sorry, I did not take you for a man who reads novels written for children.”
“I think what you mean is you didn’t take me for a man who reads at all. Or possibly one who knows how to. And for the record, I wouldn’t call this a children’s book. Plenty of adults would do well to read it.”
Embarrassment coursed through her, yet his quiet laughter held no rebuke. And once again, the word underestimated came to mind.
“I actually enjoy reading, ma’am. Surprising as that may be. And I make a point to read everything Bethie does.”
“You read all the books she reads?”
“Yes, ma’am. I want to know what ideas she’s taking in.
What worlds she’s visiting. Because sooner or later, those ideas will make their way out and shape who she becomes.
I’d rather walk those roads alongside her now, help her navigate her path.
And help her make the right choices that’ll serve her well in life. ”
A spark of warning stirred inside her. “Your niece strikes me as a very bright girl. I imagine she does well in school.”
“She does.”
“She has a confidence about her, too, more than is customary for a girl so young.”
“Again, that’s Bethie. She’s an independent little thing, much like her mother was.” Melancholy edged his voice. “But I’m determined to give her the guidance she needs.”
Perhaps she was mistaken, but something in his tone hinted that his sister’s choices might not have been good ones.
Still, she couldn’t let the comment pass.
“Guidance is always proper, of course. But caution is warranted against foisting our own choices upon children as they grow. Take your niece, for example . . .” She chose her words with care.
“As she comes of age, she must be free to choose her own path. Even if it’s one you might not have chosen for her. ”
His laugh came out hollow. “That’s quite the speech, Mrs. Dunham. And no offense meant, but given what I know of you—and having seen that sash in your pocket that first day—I don’t have to guess where that sentiment comes from.”
The spark from moments earlier ignited. “It’s not sentiment, Mr. Coburn. Women must be allowed to pursue their own callings. And that includes girls coming of age in a culture where men dominate—”
“Allow me to bid you good night, ma’am.” His tone was polite, but final. “And on Bethie’s behalf, thank you for the book.”
Staring at his back, Josephine didn’t like being so summarily dismissed. “Apparently I had you pegged as well, Mr. Coburn. A man so threatened by a woman’s independence and capability that he cannot even entertain the notion she might be his equal in—”
He turned and swiftly closed the distance between them. Heart pounding, she stood her ground.
“Ma’am, you can peg me however you like. But do not presume you have leave to fill my niece’s head with your suffrage ideas. I will thank you to keep your distance in that regard. Do I make myself clear?”
“Do you even understand what you’re talking about when you say suffrage ideas? Because I—”
“Believe me, I know more than you think. And those ideas you champion?” His voice tightened. “They’ve already cost me more than I care to—” He broke off, jaw hardening. “I will not allow her head to be turned by such foolish notions.”
“Foolish notions?” She stepped closer. “You would deny women the very rights you enjoy as a man, then call those same rights and freedoms foolish?”
“Those rights come at too high a price, Mrs. Dunham. The world is not ready for your brand of freedom.”
“As long as laws are made solely by men, women will never—”
“Save your speech for one of your rallies. I’ve heard it all. Some of what you’re after has merit, I’ll grant you that. But the world doesn’t change so quickly. It takes time. You’re pushing so hard and fast that—”
“So fast? We’ve been fighting for equality for decades!
You may not be aware, Mr. Coburn, living where you live, but this is not a new fight.
And it’s not going away! Women will gain the vote.
Perhaps not in my lifetime, but I will fight for those who come after me.
Including girls like Bethie. Because others fought before me, and I will do no less! ”
He looked at her. No, looked into her, and she let him.
“You have determination, Mrs. Dunham,” he finally said.
“You’re a fighter. I saw that straightaway.
” His gaze briefly lowered to her mouth, then he looked away, frowning.
“That can be a good thing, as long as it’s tempered with wisdom.
Just be careful. Folks around here don’t take kindly to others meddling in their affairs.
In fact, they can get downright prickly about it. ”
“You mean men who mistreat their wives won’t take kindly to a woman being given a seat at the table—and to having a voice in the laws that govern this land.”
He opened his mouth as though to respond, then sighed instead, weariness in the act.
“I trust I’ve made my position clear. Bethie is my charge, my responsibility.
” He paused, then swallowed with effort.
“She’s all I have left of my sister. I love her with all my heart.
And I will not allow her to be misled. Good night, Mrs. Dunham. ”