Page 4 of Heart of Mystic Valley
Gavin tried to smile but drifted back into a restless slumber. Joshua glanced over his shoulder every few minutes to check on him. He was already considering who would pick up Gavin’s chores for the next few weeks. The important matter was ensuring Gavin healed properly.
As if reading her brother’s mind, Annalee reined her horse closer to the wagon. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”
Joshua nodded, knowing she was right. The Beckett family had faced numerous challenges over the years, and they’d met each one with the same resolve. This was just another hurdle, he told himself.
Chapter Two
Faith Goodell leaned across her cluttered desk, her gaze bright as she described her reasons for wanting to organize a women’s group in Mystic.
“It’s not just about women getting the vote, Maisy. We need a place where women can gather, support each other, and make our voices heard. Especially women business owners. The men have their say in everything. Why shouldn’t we?”
Maisy Cox, her dark hair pinned up in a hurried twist, considered Faith’s words. She was the quieter of the two sisters who ran the Golden Griddle, but her silence often carried more weight than a shout.
“You’re right. Do you really think the women of Mystic are ready for a group like this? It’s a big change. Bozeman has twice the number of women business owners as Mystic. We may not get the support you expect.”
“We won’t know until we try,” Faith countered, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Remember when your sister, Aggie, wanted to add ground elk meatloaf to the menu? Everyone thought it was madness. Who would order the meatloaf when they can get an elk instead? Now the meatloaf is one of the most popular dishes on your menu.”
Maisy shrugged, conceding the point. “All right. So, what issues will we focus on first?”
Faith grabbed a pencil and started scribbling on a piece of newsprint. “Taxes, growing businesses, the right to vote, supporting the church’s children’s fund, and opening a library. Can you imagine how wonderful it would be to have a library in Mystic?”
Maisy peered over Faith’s shoulder, her eyes thoughtful. “It sounds ambitious. Who will lead this group?”
“Initially, I will,” Faith said, sitting back in her chair. “My idea is for it to be a collective effort. Every woman will have a chance to lead and to speak.”
“You know Aggie and I are with you. But prepare yourself. Not everyone will be so supportive.”
“I know.” Faith sighed. “We have to start somewhere. Your backing means a lot.”
Maisy stood and gathered her shawl. “I’m going to talk with Aggie. We’ll see you soon. Good luck. We’ll definitely need it.”
Faith watched as Maisy walked out into the brisk autumn morning. Her determination was as unyielding as the Montana winter, and she knew the first step was simply spreading the word.
The clatter of the old printing press filled the room as Faith carefully fed paper into its maw. It had taken her two hours to set the type and wood blocks for the images. Each large sheet came out with bold, black letters proclaiming the formation of the Mystic Women’s Alliance and details of their first meeting on Sunday after church.
When she finished, and the sheets were dry, Faith cut them into 11 X 14 posters. She stacked the papers and read one over, satisfaction washing over her.
An hour later, she was making her rounds through town, the chill air nipping at her cheeks. The Mystic community was tight-knit and sometimes resistant to change. She liked to think growing up here gave her an advantage. She understood the rhythms of the town, the way people swayed with new ideas before either embracing them or letting them fall away.
At Butterman’s Boardinghouse, she handed a poster to Rosamund Butter, who accepted it with her usual warmth. “Maisy mentioned this to me. This is quite exciting, Faith.”
Faith smiled. “As you can see, the first meeting is set for Sunday after church. I hope we get a good turnout.”
“I only serve breakfast and supper on Sundays, so I’ll be able to attend. I’m looking forward to hearing what others have to say,” Rosamund said.
Next, she stopped at Jenning’s Mercantile. The bell above the door tinkled as she entered. She waved to Casper Jennings, who stood behind the counter sorting bolts of fabric. His once-thick hair was now a sparse halo around his scalp, giving him an angelic appearance.
“Casper, how’s business?” Faith called, walking up to the counter.
“Faith Goodell,” he said, his voice carrying a note of fondness. “Busy as ever. What can I do for you?”
She held up a poster. “I was hoping you could mention this to your women customers. We’re starting a group to discuss issues affecting us all.”
Casper took the poster and adjusted his spectacles. He read it slowly, his lips moving with each word. “A women’s alliance, eh? Sounds a little progressive.”
“It’s important we have a place to talk about issues that matter to us, Casper. Like taxes and education. You know how much I care about this town.”
He scratched his chin, looking uncertain. “You know my Melody has strong opinions about these things. If I start pushing this, she might think—”
