Page 89 of In These Hills

“But I still don’t understand what you meant about suffrage ideas costing you dearly.”

He looked back. “Ever heard of Lucy Stone and The Woman’s Journal?”

The bitterness in his tone made her flinch. “Of course. She’s a hero of the movement.”

“Kathleen read that journal almost like Scripture. I didn’t know what it was—I thought it was like Godey’s Lady’s Book. But more and more, she talked about voting rights, education, labor, marriage reform. Then along came a man who agreed with everything she said. Told her everything she wanted to hear. In order to get everything he wanted.” His voice went rough. “And he did.”

Josephine’s heart squeezed. “Which explains why you read everything Bethie reads.”

“And why I won’t let her young mind be filled with ideas that could cause her enormous heartache.” He paused. “It’ll come as a surprise to you, Josephine, but I do agree with many of the suffrage ideals. But the cost has to be weighed. And in my opinion, it’s too great a price to pay. At least for Bethie. For now.”

She wanted to challenge him. But from her own experience, she couldn’t. “I understand,” she said softly.

A faint murmur rose from beneath the floor.

Dodge pointed down. “They’re drawing whiskey. Want to see?”

“I think I’ve seen enough. You showed me the vats, so Mr. Daniel’s requirements are met—for the most part.”

A faint smile. “Not quite.” He tapped the rim of the vat. “Uncle Jack insists every guest gets a good whiff of Old No. 7 in the making.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not.” He gripped the edge of the lid. “You ready?”

“Should I hold my breath?”

“No, but maybe step back a little.”

She did. He lifted the lid and let it drop.

The smell punched her square in the chest. She staggered. “Again—how does anyone drink that?”

“In a glass, on a porch, with a friend,” he said, grinning. “That’s Uncle Jack’s wisdom.”

She shuddered playfully. “Give me sweet tea, the porch and a friend, and I’ll be happy.”

He nodded toward the door. “Your exit—and fresh air—awaits, madam.”

“Lead on, kind sir.”

“Words I never expected from a female suffragist.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She tossed him a stoic look, but he saw right through it.

Enjoying the time with him more than she should, she turned to follow him toward the door when her foot caught on something—and she pitched forward.

Strong hands caught her by the waist and hauled her upright.

“Whoa there,” he said, steadying her until she found her footing. “You all right?”

She faced him. Close enough to feel the strength in his arms, the solid breadth of his chest. His trimmed beard revealed the contours of his face—and mouth—and her gaze lowered, and lingered there, her thoughts causing her face to heat. She was just grateful he couldn’t read them.

Then she lifted her eyes to his, and realized—he could.

34

DODGE KNEW HE SHOULD LET GO OF HER, but he didn’t want to. And she didn’t move away.