Page 78 of In These Hills

“He’ll be busy then, too.”

“Just tell him, Bethie!”

Bethie mumbled something Josephine couldn’t hear, but could easily imagine.

She admired Bethie’s spunk. Her clarity. And not for the first time, she wished she’d possessed such certainty at that age. Wished she’d known sooner that women didn’t have to make themselves small. That they could be strong, capable, independent—

And what? End up getting beaten senseless in an alley. Forced to run. To hide. To land in backwoods Tennessee, where much of what she’d spent her life learning seemed to count for very little. Except bookkeeping for a distillery.

It might have been amusing had it been someone else’s story.

Maybe what we’re fightin’ for is too much, Sarah had whispered to her in the alley. Maybe it’s never goin’ to happen, Finny. Josephine mouthed the words she’d answered with then, willing them to give her fresh courage. “Failure is impossible.”

Because didn’t they owe it to girls like Bethie to keep fighting for equality? Even if, perhaps, a certain girl’s uncle warned her off? She had no plans to turn Bethie into a young suffragist. Because, whether Dodge Coburn knew it or not, he already had the makings of one on his hands. If Bethie was this strong-minded at nine years old, heaven help the man when the girl came of age.

“No, Uncle Dodge! You can’t. I won’t let you!”

The urgency in Bethie’s voice snapped her back.

Josephine edged forward just enough to see Dodge Coburn standing in the stall, rifle in hand, looking as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“One more day, Uncle Dodge. Just one more!”

“That’s what you said two days ago, Bethie. I’m just keeping my promise not to let Maple suffer, remember? And she’s suffering plenty right now.”

“But Doc said—”

“Bethie,” he said gently, but firmly. “There’s a good chance the calf will have it too. Then we’d have to put it down too. So please, go on home. I’ll be there directly.”

Bethie ran from the barn, her sobs heart-wrenching.

Feeling every inch the intruder, Josephine decided it best to leave. She turned—and knocked a pail from its hook. It clanged, struck another, and both crashed to the dirt floor.

She cringed, then looked up to see Dodge Coburn striding toward her.

“May I help you, Mrs. Dunham?”

She rehung the pails on their hooks. “No, I’m sorry. I— I shouldn’t be here. I just came to see how things were.” She gave a small shrug. “To see if I could help.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “I appreciate that. But I think we’ve got it covered.”

She turned to go.

“Dodge! You best come quick! It’s Maple!”

Dodge Coburn rushed back to the stall, and Josephine could only follow.

31

JOSEPHINE WASN’T PREPARED for the grim sight that met her when she peered into the stall.

The young heifer, barely more than a calf herself, lay on her side, her reddish-brown hide dull and slick with sweat. The young mother-to-be shuddered and strained in feces-stained hay, her taut, bloated belly rippling as she labored.

“Dodge, her calf’s coming!”

“It can’t be.” Mr. Coburn stared. “She’s all but dead, Doc.”

“She may be, but the calf isn’t. And she’s trying to push it out.”