Page 42 of Taming Lady Temperance

“Focus on all the people who are supporting you. Give them your attention, not Taggert.” He gave her hand a tender squeeze, wishing he could wrap her into a hug instead. “Remember, I’ll be with you every step of the way. Watching over the parade and ensuring that Taggert plays fair.”

He’d add monitoring the men heading to the saloon for cheap drinks to his list as well. Hopefully, his presence would encourage them to mind their manners around the protesters.

“You’re right,” she said, her head bowed as she stared at her feet. “I need to focus on the rally, not the saloon. We can still sway those who . . .”

Her words faded, but her head shot upward, a new excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, James! I just had the most wonderful thought. Taggert’s discounted drinks will increase the number of men coming to his saloon. Men who will have to walk right past our prayer meeting. Don’t you see? The people most in need of temperance pledges will be heading straight for us!”

It was all he could do not to take her smiling face in his hands and kiss her senseless. He’d always been attracted to Noreen’s passion and fire, but witnessing her overflow of optimism nearly undid him. He was falling. Hard. He just prayed his heart didn’t shatter upon impact.

Chapter

20

Thirty-five! Thirty-five people stood in the churchyard lining up to make the march through town. Noreen’s heart felt as if it might burst from abundant fullness. Even in her wildest dreams she’d only imagined perhaps twenty people showing up for her parade, but the Lord had exceeded her expectations. Five men with instruments stood near the front. A trombone, a cornet, two clarinets, and a drum. A sixth man wore a washboard and held a pair of spoon handles at the ready. Noreen was pretty sure she recognized him as a regular saloon patron, but he’d signed a temperance pledge, so she’d agreed to let him march.

Except for the pair of ministers who’d joined their parade, the rest of the participants were women, and what a wonderful collection of women they were. Ten of her spinster sisters showed up for the parade, including Hortense Lockwood, wielding her influence with a deft hand as she recruited other ladies of her generation to join. Looking through the ranks, Noreen recognized several women from church and many others from about town. Each ready to march for the cause of temperance. Amazing! Only God could have accomplished this.

Even Jane had joined the festivities. She stood in the back of the group, flanked by her parents, but she was there, and Noreen’s heart soared at her friend’s willingness to overcome her fear of public attention in order to lend her support.

Noreen had tied dozens of white bows over the past few days, the symbol of purity and commitment to the cause of temperance. She’d distributed ribbons and pins to everyone who had come, and as she inspected the ranks, those white bows glimmered in the sunlight like stars shooting forth bursts of hope from every lapel or bodice.

“And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.”

Oh, how she loved that verse, how she’d clung to it through the years, as if the prophet Daniel had spoken those words specifically to inspire her mission. Yet the longer she’d toiled alone, the more she’d felt her brightness dimming as discouragement and opposition cast deep shadows over her heart. But not today. Like a sputtering candle that ignites a mighty bonfire, through God’s power, her flickering flame had joined with others to bring about a conflagration so bright, it would cast aside every encroaching shadow and shine hope and purpose into the darkest corners.

“Everyone ready?” Noreen peered down the rows, her heart swelling at each nod and smile that greeted her.

“Ready!” Hortense Lockwood wiggled the sign she held with enthusiasm. Black letters painted on white pasteboard proclaimed, Prohibition Promotes Probity.

Noreen grinned. “Excellent.”

She was fairly certain the majority of spectators would have no idea what probity meant, but Miss Lockwood had been so proud of her alliterative accomplishment, Noreen hadn’t had the heart to suggest she replace the final word with a term more readily recognizable, like morality or integrity. People knew what the parade was promoting. They’d figure it out.

She made her way toward the front of the group, double-checking that everyone had their song sheets provided by the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union. She’d specifically selected songs that utilized the melodies of popular hymns or patriotic tunes to make things easier. When she reached the band members near the front, she met Connor Reed’s eye. The trombone player was the most skilled of the musicians and had volunteered to take charge of the music.

“Do you feel comfortable with the song order, Mr. Reed?”

He offered a salute. “Yes, ma’am. ‘Yankee Doodle,’ ‘The Old Hundred,’ ‘Happy Day,’ and ‘America.’ That right?”

“That’s perfect! Thank you for taking charge.”

His cheeks reddened. “Shucks. You’re the one in charge, Miss O’Sullivan. I’m just the accompaniment.”

“Well, I’m exceedingly grateful you’re here. All of you.” She extended her smile to cover each of the musicians in turn. “Your contributions will add a level of festivity the rest of us couldn’t achieve on our own. Your playing will draw attention to a worthy cause, and I’ve no doubt the Lord will reward you for your participation today.”

Noreen stepped into position at the front of the parade block. She, Martha, and Luella would lead the pack, each bearing a sign to make their purpose known to all who saw them. Luella’s sign proclaimed that A Sober Life Is a Better Life. Martha’s urged the community to Make Albany Dry. And Noreen’s sign exposed her woundedness for all to see. Drunkenness Destroys Families.

Martha handed Noreen her sign and gave her arm a squeeze. “Excited?”

Noreen nodded, even as her stomach clenched. “Nervous too. So many people came. I don’t . . . I don’t want to let them down.”

A twinkle lit Martha’s eyes. “You’re far too stubborn to let that happen.”

A chuckle loosened the tightness in Noreen’s chest. “You’re right.”

Martha winked. “Of course I am. I’m a teacher. I’m paid to be right.”

Luella’s laughter joined the mix. “It’s true. No student has ever won an argument with Miss Evans. Her rightness is quite legendary.”