Page 5 of Heart of Mystic Valley
“Just mention it,” Faith interrupted, her tone pleading but firm. “Let the women decide for themselves.”
Casper set the poster down and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Deflated, Faith muttered her thanks and left the store. As she walked down the boardwalk, she thought about what Maisy had said.Not everyone would be supportive. Faith knew this, but Casper’s hesitation stung more than she expected.
Back at the Gazette office, she fired up the printing press again and made a few tweaks to the original design. The new posters emphasized how the group would discuss various issues affecting Mystic, making it sound less like a radical movement and more like a community forum.
When the ink was dry, she headed back to Jenning’s Mercantile. Casper looked surprised to see her again so soon.
“I made some changes.” She handed him the new poster. “I think this better explains what we’re trying to do.”
Casper read it over and nodded, a small smile forming. “This looks more reasonable. All right, Faith, I’ll mention it. No promises, but I’ll mention it.”
“That’s all I ask. Thank you, Casper.”
She left the mercantile with a lighter step, reminding herself even small victories could turn the tide.
Maisy slipped into a chair at the Golden Griddle, rubbing her hands together to chase away the cold. The restaurant was quiet, a lull between the breakfast rush and lunch crowd. Hersister, Aggie, stood behind the counter, flipping through a worn cookbook.
“How did it go?” Aggie asked, looking up.
“Faith is determined, as always,” Maisy said. “She makes a convincing case. I think the group could really make a difference.”
Aggie closed the cookbook and leaned on the counter, her gray eyes intent. “We’ve always supported her, you know that. But this is different. It’s a bit more political.”
Maisy shrugged. “Remember when folks got upset because we started serving coffee from a dealer in Seattle? They wanted what they knew, even if the new coffee was better. It didn’t take long for them to appreciate the new beans. Sometimes, change is necessary.”
Aggie considered her sister’s words and nodded. “You’re right. So, what can we do to help?”
“Faith needs a good turnout for the first meeting. We should go, of course, and maybe bring something to eat. Spice bread and the new pumpkin bread recipe you’ve been working on.”
“Food always helps,” Aggie said. “All right, we’ll make a batch of each. Let’s hope the other women are as willing as we are.”
Meanwhile, Faith returned to the Gazette and sat at her desk, staring at the article about a new bull a local rancher had bought. She set it aside.
She’d been relieved when Casper agreed to mention the meeting but knew his willingness was only the beginning. The first meeting had to be a success if they were to gain any momentum.
She thought about the women in Mystic. All of them worked as hard as the men, yet had little say in matters affecting their lives. Would they see the value in what she was proposing? Would they risk the disapproval of their husbands and the community?
Standing, she moved to the old printing press and ran her fingers along its metal frame. It had been her father’s, and working the press always made her feel closer to him. He’d taught her the power of the written word, the way a single article or pamphlet could spark a revolution.
She loaded a new roll of paper and let the machine take it, watching as the ink was applied with precise pressure. The press groaned and clanked as it came to life, a mechanical heartbeat that echoed her own growing anticipation.
With a stack of freshly printed posters in hand, Faith made her way to the mayor’s office. Carl Jurgen had been mayor for as long as she could remember, balancing his public duties with running the town’s lumberyard. He was a fixture in Mystic, his wiry frame and quick-talking nature well known to every resident.
The mayor’s office was a modest affair, tucked above the lumberyard’s storefront. Faith climbed the creaky wooden stairs and knocked on the paneled door. A muffled “Come in!” greeted her, and she pushed the door open to find Carl seated behind a cluttered desk, papers strewn about like fallen leaves.
“Faith Goodell! To what do I owe this pleasure?” Carl said, standing and extending a hand. Faith shook it, noting the rough calluses that spoke of a man unafraid to work alongside his employees.
“Mayor Jurgen, I’m here to ask for your support on something important.” She took a seat opposite him and handed him a poster. Carl put on his reading glasses, peering at the paper with the intensity of a beekeeper inspecting a hive.
“A women’s alliance? This is ambitious,” he said, setting the poster down. “What’s your aim with this, Faith?”
She took a deep breath. “We want to create a space where women can discuss issues that affect us all. Taxes, education,charitable works. It’s not about stirring trouble. It’s about making sure our voices are heard.”
Carl leaned back in his chair, intertwining his fingers over his stomach. “You know I’ve always respected your family, Faith. Your father was a fair man, and you’ve followed in his footsteps. But this… some might see it as upsetting the balance.”
“We’re not looking to upset anything,” she said, her voice unwavering. “We just want to contribute more directly to the community. Mayor, you know how hard the women in this town work. Isn’t it only fair for us to have a say?”
