Chapter 51
FOLLOWING SUPPER THAT EVENING, with the dishes put away, Josephine joined Bethie and her friend Agnes Preston in the library while Agnes’s father conducted business with Mr. Daniel and Dodge in rocking chairs on the front porch.
Their conversation—mules, cattle, distillery matters—drifted in through an open window.
She’d come to understand that this was how deals were struck in Lynchburg. Over shared meals and rocking chairs on front porches. It wasn’t a bad way to do business.
Despite the open windows, the house remained warm.
Bethie had personally invited her to join the girls, so Josephine hadn’t dared refuse.
Still, the girls’ choice of reading—The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi—felt uncomfortably apt.
Its lessons on honesty and consequence struck too close, especially now that Dodge knew the truth about her.
And especially remembering how Bethie had once called her a liar in this very room.
The thought of the girl eventually learning she’d been right filled her with regret.
Half an hour later, Josephine looked out the window to see Mr. Daniel and Ballard Preston shaking hands.
“Come on, Agnes,” her father called. “Sun’s fixin’ to quit on us.”
The girls hugged, and Josephine walked Agnes outside while Bethie disappeared into the kitchen in search of pie.
As Mr. Preston and little Agnes headed down the road and Mr. Daniel turned the other way—hardly a limp in his gait—Josephine lifted her face to the breeze, welcoming the cooler air. And the quiet.
Evenings in Lynchburg carried a stillness she hadn’t known before. No electric lights, no streetcars clattering toward their final stops. When darkness fell here, it claimed the town outright.
“Join me?” Dodge asked softly.
“It would be my pleasure.” She settled into the rocker beside him.
“If you weren’t still married,” he whispered, eyes forward, “I’d hold your hand right now.”
“And if I were still single,” she whispered, “I’d let you.”
His soft laughter eased something inside her. He’d been subdued all evening. She suspected it had to do with the letter he’d received.
“You told me about your friend Sarah.” He glanced toward the front door as though making certain they were still alone. “Have you been in touch with her since you left?”
“I mailed her a letter only yesterday. I had Nannie Burroughs forward it for me.”
“The woman who preached. I remember.”
She turned toward him. “Do you disapprove of a woman preaching?”
He sighed. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
She smiled faintly.
“I’m fine with women preaching, Josephine.
Even though I’ll be the first to say, it would take some getting used to.
I’m fine with women voting and owning land and having their own bank accounts.
I think a woman ought to be able to choose her own path in life, just like a man does.
If she wants an education, she ought to be able to get one.
If she wants to marry and be a mother, she should do that.
If she wants to run for Congress, then by all means, run for Congress.
But what I can’t approve of . . .” He leaned forward in the rocker, forearms resting on his knees.
“Is women being thrown in jail and force-fed and nearly dying in the process. Or a woman being dragged into an alley and beaten by a man who’s so threatened by her intellect and independence, a man so full of prideful ignorance, that he can’t see that woman for who and what God created her to be. ”
Tears blurred Josephine’s vision.
“Is that clear enough? Or do I need to expound further.”
She sniffed. “You used expound on purpose, just to show off.”
“Absolutely I did. Look who I’m talking to.
” He finally leaned back. “As I’ve told you, I’m all for change.
But it’s going to take time. And it’s going to take not just women, but men coming alongside to help enable that change.
And if it riles you to hear that, then you’re just going to have to be riled.
But that is the truth, Josephine. Men are largely in charge right now.
Be that right or wrong, and frankly, I see a lot of wrong.
But just switching which sex is in charge, pardon my bluntness, won’t fix the issue either.
It’s the character of the man or the woman that matters. ”
The silence lengthened.
“Any other questions on that point?” he asked, the faintest smile coloring his tone.
“Not at present, no. But I appreciate your clarity.”
“And I appreciate your relentlessness. Most of the time.”
She did her best not to let her smile show. He was so good at masking his humor, which only made what he said seem more humorous. But his words had found their mark, and were already taking root.
Silence surrounded them as she gazed up at the vastness of the dark night sky, every star visible in sharp detail.
The moon, a brilliant white, shimmered against the inky backdrop, almost iridescent.
She drank it all in, along with the soothing trill of crickets and the soft songs of other midnight serenaders.
“So about that letter you received from the Department of the Interior . . .”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I have a buyer, but it’s not the price I was hoping for.”
“A bit lower?”
He pointed downward.
“Much lower?”
He nodded. “I have to admit, though, it’s still a fair-enough price, considering. It’s just not what I paid, or what I think the land is really worth. But the offer meets the reserve I set, so I’m legally obligated to sell. I just wish now that I’d never signed the agreement.”
He’d originally described the land in Wyoming as wild and breathtaking, his connection to it undeniable.
And though the “wild west” had never held appeal—she preferred Europe or even Africa with its ancient wonders, the places she and Sarah had dreamed about traveling to together—his disappointment still tugged at her heart.
“I’m so sorry, Dodge.” And she meant it.
But the words felt weak and flimsy in the moment.
“I wish I could have shown it to you, Josephine. Prime acreage with good water rights and fertile grasslands. Not a day’s ride to the railroad. I think you would’ve fallen in love with it, too.”
Perhaps it was the sadness in his voice or the barrier that had lifted between them since she’d revealed the truth about her situation, but it occurred to her that she was still growing accustomed to the possibility of the “we” of them and hadn’t looked much beyond that.
How could she, considering her situation?
But he apparently had. Which told her they weren’t just discussing land anymore.
He turned toward her in the fading light. “Does land out west like that not appeal to you?”
Too late, she realized her silence had revealed more than she’d intended. “Dodge, the way you described your dream of Wyoming sounds truly breathtaking—”
“But?”
Another layer of disappointment lined his voice, and she hated having put it there. “There’s no ‘but’ really. It’s just that . . . I’ve studied world history all my life and what I’ve always dreamed of seeing are the great cathedrals of Europe or the ancient pyramids of Egypt, that’s all.”
A long moment passed, and the front door opened.
Miss Mary stepped out. “I’m just coming to say good night.” She paused for a long moment. “Everything all right out here?”
Dodge stood. “You bet, Miss Mary, everything’s fine. Thanks again to you and Calla for supper. It was delicious.”
“Want me to send Bethie on out?”
“Please. And tell her no more pie.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Miss Mary said as she closed the door.
Josephine rose, the creak of the rocker overloud in the quiet. “Dodge, I didn’t mean to upset you by what I said, I—”
“You didn’t.” He looked at her, his face hidden in the darkness. “It’s just that, when I look at you, I see a woman determined to make her own history, not one content to just walk through someone else’s.”