SUMMARY: It’s all Cartwright hands on deck when Adam’s oldest daughter decides to join the fight for woman suffrage. Can they keep her safe or will her innate Cartwright conviction to stand up for what is right cost them, and her, everything?

RATING: T (some violence)     WORD COUNT: 33,703

Adam’s Little Women Series:

Queen of the Dunes

Beth Cartwright, Detective

The (Almost) Grand Adventure

I Know What I’m Doing (I Think…)

 

I Know What I’m Doing (I Think…)

 

Chapter One:

Thunderous applause met the conclusion of the victory speech, its sound echoing off the high ceilings of the room, as the celebration kicked into high gear at the St. Charles Hotel in Carson City. Glasses clinked, the room buzzed with chatter and laughter, while a small orchestra struck up a triumphant tune. Well-wishers pressed forward to offer handshakes and congratulations before making their way towards the considerable spread of food and drinks. No expense was spared for the occasion.

At the front desk, a telephone rang, it’s trill sharp and insistent. The clerk answered it, then glanced towards the crowded ballroom. Placing the receiver on the desk, he stepped away from the counter and headed towards the party, carefully making his way between the animated guests. He sought one individual yet many of them looked similar in their suits and gowns. At last, the clerk caught sight of the man he was seeking.

He leaned in, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the din.

“Sir? There’s a telephone call for you.”

A moment later, in the relative quiet near the desk, the receiver was lifted.

“Hello?”

“Hey old man,” Joe greeted his eldest brother. “Just heard the good news and called to congratulate my niece. Where’s the Assemblywoman?”[1]

“Beth is enjoying her party,” Adam reported. His tone held a mix of fond amusement and weary acceptance, but there was no denying the pride he felt. Glancing back at the ballroom, he could see Beth moving around the space, radiant and animated as she spoke with her guests, clearly in her element. “And making plans already.”

Joe laughed. He couldn’t see Adam’s face, but he practically heard the other man’s look—lips thinning into a line of controlled displeasure. “You sound downright thrilled.”

“Oh, I’m just downright elated.” Adam’s tone was heavy with sarcasm.

“That bad, huh?” Everyone loved Beth, but if there was a word to describe her, Joe usually thought of one: outrageous. And that was saying something, coming from him.

“She wants to go to Washington, D.C. Tomorrow,” Adam explained flatly.

Joe blinked. “What for? She just got elected to the state assembly!”

Adam chuckled wryly. “I did attempt to point that out. But Joe; it’s Beth. Think about it for a second. What’s all over the papers these days?”

The younger brother mused on the possibilities—there were so many when it came to Beth.  Nothing was simple when it came to ideas when Beth was involved. Before you knew it, there were like-minded individuals gathered, speeches, banners, the works. He thought back to the paper he saw that morning, announcing his niece’s victory, and thought of the other headlines.

“You don’t mean?” Joe already dreaded the answer.

“Oh yes.” Adam’s voice hardened with the weary certainty of a man who knew exactly what storm was gathering. “She wants to join the pickets outside the White House. Ensure the vote is spread across the United States—now that the women of Nevada have given her a mandate.”

Joe scrunched up his nose, staring at the wall as if it might offer reassurance. “Is that what they did?” he asked. He listened to Adam hum noncommittally on the other end of the line, followed by a muttered word that Pa would’ve had their hides for uttering

“Which means I’m glad you called,” Adam continued, his tone shifting into brisk practicality. “I need your help with a few things. Go talk to our banker in Virginia City and let him know there’s likely to be some large expenditures from my account. I can’t give him a time frame, but probably for some while.”

“Expenditures?” Joe repeated, one brow lifting.

“We’ll need a hotel, Joseph,” Adam pointed out dryly. “Plus, I’m not letting my daughter sit in jail when she inevitably gets arrested. And you know Beth—she won’t leave if her compatriots are there.”

Joe winced, already envisioning the chaos. “Things are rough there,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the pictures. Are you sure Beth knows what she’s doing?” He paused, then added with a sigh, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

There was a brief silence on the line, long enough for Joe to imagine Adam rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Of course, I know what I’m doing,” Adam countered, frowning. “I think. Or so I tell myself at least. But that brings me to my next point. Tell my nephews to back their bags. I’m not running a protection detail all by myself.”

“Adam,” he said again, louder now, as though volume might knock some reason into his brother through the wire, “we’ve got a ranch to run here. Cattle don’t feed themselves. Payroll doesn’t wait because your daughter’s decided to go save the Republic.”

“And I’ve got a kid that’s stubborn as a Missouri mule,” Adam shot back. “Hire people, Joseph. We’ve done it before. Get the boys to Carson City, today. Tell ’em bail is on me, and it’s for Beth.”

####

“You know Pop, this trip would go a lot faster if we had an automobile,” Simon pointed out.

“Over my dead body,” Joe responded vehemently. “And Hoss’s and Adam’s. Those need roads, son. Wait ‘til the three of us are dead and buried before you even so much as think about putting roads in this place.”

Hoss shook his head. “Practically sacrilegious. I don’t wanna live long enough to see somethin’ like that happen. Then you’ll be gettin’ sightseers an’ picnic parties and all sorts of folks just swarmin’ the place. Cain’t raise cattle an’ breed horses with them noisy things everywhere. I tell you, Mr. Pettibone’s version was a heck of a lot quieter.”

Joe gave his brother a sideways glance. “You never got a people sized one finished. Could’ve been that loud once it was bigger.”

“Oh no, Joseph.” Hoss shook his head emphatically. “Not the way Daniel designed it. Since it ain’t his roamin’ round, I tell you what; a horse and wagon does me just fine. I know what to expect from a horse!”

In the back of the wagon, the ‘boys’ shared grins with one another. Their fathers were always going at it over something, typically good naturedly, too. And if it wasn’t those two at each other, it was them against Adam.

“Beth’d find some codicil or law or what have you to stop it anyway. Gal’s dadburn smart,” Hoss added proudly.

“Not smart enough to avoid tangling with whatever she’s mixed up in this time,” Hoss’s son, Benjie, pointed out. “What is she into that we’re now into anyway?”

All the boys were told was, “Pack a bag, you’re going on a trip. Beth needs you.” Those were practically magic words on the Ponderosa. Everyone loved Beth and no one turned her down when she needed help, no matter what it was. Or refused a rescue when she got in over her head from time to time.

Beth loved them all just as fiercely and was just as loyal in return. All the cousins, and her sisters, had lost track of the times she saved their hides or helped when they asked, no matter what the ask, or the cost. Despite their being grown, she was still their fearless leader whose tenacity and grit, along with her love, had earned their respect.

Hoss and Joe shared a leery look that made the rest of the boys uneasy.

“Uncle Adam’ll tell ya when we get there. He’s got more information than we do,” Joe explained. He cringed at the chorus of groans that followed.

######

Sets of skirts and shirtwaists lay on the bed, each examined with a critical eye. Serviceable, practical, and plain, she decided they would work nicely and started to fold the items carefully. This was the third time Beth packed her suitcase; the first two times were before leaving the Ponderosa as she checked and rechecked her choices. One did not wear just anything to picket for woman suffrage.

Already inside the suitcase were her ‘influencing clothes,’ as Beth thought of them. Suit sets she wore to court and evening gowns to parties where she cajoled, persuaded, argued, and did whatever else was needed to gain support, save losing her respectability and reputation of course.

A sigh drew her attention towards Adam. He leaned against the door, hands tucked into his arm pits, face revealing the disquiet of his thoughts. “You won’t let me talk you out of this?” Adam already knew the answer but felt compelled to pose the question just the same.

“No.” Beth’s response was firm and final.

“I suppose if you were to give in, I might drop dead of shock. You’ve always been my most stubborn, strong-willed, and challenging child. Heaven forbid you stop now.” There was no rancor to Adam’s words. In fact, a smile tugged at his lips while he spoke.

This was, after all, the child who demanded justice for her school mate… at seven.

The one who—at eleven years old, no less—had planted herself in front of Nora’s bedroom door like a determined little sentry after her younger sister tried to fly off the barn roof, calmly laying the blame at his feet for dismissing her warning that Nora might take a story too seriously… And firmly forbid him from directing so much as a spark of anger toward his middle child.

Adam could still remember that girl with startling clarity. She had been small, stubborn, and absolutely certain that being right meant standing her ground, no matter who happened to be standing on the other side. Looking at her now, he realized that time had changed remarkably little about that part of her. It had simply grown up with her, sharpened by years of watching, learning, and making up her own mind about what she believed mattered.

Grinning, Beth went to her worried father and put her arms around him. “I’ve done my homework Papa. I know the risks; I’ve considered them carefully. It’s the right thing to do. I can bring publicity, now that I’m elected. I campaigned on this; my women voters endorsed this part of my platform. I can’t make that into a lie. You taught me to be honest. You also taught me to do what was right, even when it isn’t easy or the cost may be great. This is right, Pa.”

Adam closed his eyes for a moment. “Is it too late to tell you to forget everything I said?”

When she laughed, the sound bright and unrepentant against his collarbone, he sighed and pressed a kiss into her hair anyway. His arms tightened around her briefly before he released her, though the worried crease between his brows remained. He knew perfectly well that he had lost this argument. Worse, he knew that he had probably known it from the moment she began explaining herself. “You do realize,” he said quietly, “that I’m coming with?”

Beth didn’t even pretend surprised. She leaned back just enough to look up at him, her smile already sharpening into something pleased. “I thought as much. I’m going to put you in charge of hiring the moving picture person.” A gleam of mischief filled her eyes.

He blinked. “The moving picture person?” Adam repeated the words slowly, as if he’d misunderstood.

“Yes! I want to hire at least one to come and capture images of the picket each day. Perhaps people will be less likely to commit assaults or press made-up charges that way. Also, if I have their faces, I can identify them and sue and use the results for defense purposes.”[2]

The grin Beth gave him was positively devious—sharp, satisfied, and unmistakably like her mother, Alta. Adam threw back his head and laughed until he had tears in his eyes, the sound warm and edged with pride. “That is a plan worthy of your mother,” he declared after catching his breath.

Beth’s eyes softened, her entire expression melting into something quieter and almost reverent. “The greatest of compliments.”

A knock at the door interrupted the tender moment. “Get dressed for dinner,” Adam instructed. “I want to hear more about your plans.”

Largely so I can prepare for the fallout.

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway to find the hotel clerk hovering there, hands clasped and eyes darting down the corridor. “Mr. Cartwright,” the man said, lowering his voice, “a large number of men have arrived asking for you.”

 

Chapter Two:

The hotel clerk was accurate in his description of size of the group waiting for Adam. Four nephews and the addition of his brothers, a surprise to the eldest of the Cartwrights, made six. A large number indeed. Adding himself, Beth would have an entourage of seven men.

The group gave Adam a boisterous greeting, clamoring around him. There was no denying he was pleased to see them. The papers were full of reports, and photographs, of violence against the women protesting at the White House—the silent sentinels.[3] Here was his plan to prevent Beth from being among the injured. He greeted each of the younger men with a grin, clapping them on the back and thanking them for coming.

“Pop said it was for Beth, so we came running,” Joe’s oldest son, Rob, reported with a grin. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Dressing for dinner. We may have to change our plans now that you’re all here,” Adam confessed. “My reservation was for two, not an army. I wasn’t certain when you’d arrive and there’s a few stragglers I didn’t count on.” He looked at his brothers, an eyebrow rising a fraction.

Joe instantly turned on the charm, flashing his big brother a smile as he opened his mouth to respond.

Adam cut him off before Joe could say a word. “Tell me Joe, what happened to those complaints about needing to a run a ranch?” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrow arching higher as he waited for an explanation.

Sensing their fathers and uncle were about to go at it again, the younger men headed to the desk to get rooms settled.

“Well, you see older brother, I’ve never been to Washington, D.C. and it sounded like an adventure. I hate to miss out on any fun,” Joe grinned.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Don’t I know it.” He looked at Hoss. “And you?”

“Brother Hoss here heard what Beth was up to and put on his gunbelt faster than you could blink,” Joe answered for their middle brother. “And I’m not going to tell him no.”

“Of course not,” Adam intoned. “Why would you want to go somewhere without your partner in crime?” He shook his head, feeling grateful for their help but somewhat wary he’d have to watch them as well as Beth. His brothers might be grayer, or balder in Hoss’s case, but they were no less prone to mischief than when they were younger. Fatherhood hadn’t done much to curb their natural tendency towards silliness.

“You won’t be any help if I must divide my attention between you two and Beth. And if you’re all here, who’s running the ranch?”

“You’re not underestimating all the gals in the family, are ya?” Hoss asked. “I expected better of ya. They’re all perfectly capable. Some of us’ll wander back after a bit and tend to the things that need doing, but they’ve got the foreman and the hands. All our girls know what they’re doing. We taught ‘em, didn’t we?”

Hoss had a point; all the Cartwright women were more than capable. “Then I suppose you can come along.” Adam chuckled at the boyish looks of glee on their faces.

God help us all.

######

Beth was ecstatic to find her uncles, cousins, and brother-in-law were joining them for dinner. Having spent the last several months campaigning across the state with just Papa for company, she missed the sense of home that the large Cartwright brood always gave her. Certain that nothing could dampen her spirits, the motley group went to dinner at a nearby café, ignoring the strange looks they garnered on arrival. She and Adam were dressed for fine dining while the others were dressed for ranch work. The juxtaposition made them all laugh, and the conviviality of the gathering continued throughout their meal.

“This is really the nicest surprise,” Beth declared, pushing her dessert plate away. “I never imagined you’d all come share a celebratory dinner with me. I’m rather upset though that you didn’t bring everyone. Surely the ranch would have survived an overnight trip without everyone.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Ted and Simon looked at the tablecloth while Rob studied the ceiling with great concentration while Benjie stared deep into the depths of his coffee cup, shifting uneasily in his seat. Only Hoss and Joe dared to look at Beth, and even their eyes moved between she and Adam.

“You didn’t tell her?” Joe finally ventured to ask Adam.

The smile on Beth’s face disappeared in an instant. “Tell me what, exactly?” She turned piercing hazel eyes on her father.

Adam cleared his throat and averted his eyes. She wasn’t going to take this well and he greatly regretted not telling her before they all went to dinner together.

“You know what? Let me buy you all a beer,” Hoss interjected.

Joe almost leaped out of his seat. “The Old Globe is a great place. Not even far from here. If you haven’t been, you ought to be. Beer’s wet, and that’s the best kind.”

Before he finished speaking, the younger men were out of their seats and hot footing it towards the door. They were nearly halfway across the street before an angry, “WHAT?!”  reached their ears. Every single one of them winced.

Hoss let out a low whistle. “Beth sure hates it when she thinks we think she cain’t do somethin’ on her own.” While his sons and Joe’s continued into The Old Globe, Hoss and Joe stood on the sidewalk outside the saloon to watch the show; or potentially run interference.

Joe couldn’t help laughing softly as Beth stormed out of the café, followed not long after by Adam, the pair wearing identical looks of fury. “You know, I love that kid, but I’m glad she’s not mine.” He looked at Hoss, giggling in that way only Joe could, while the bigger man guffawed.

“Think we oughta follow ‘em?” Joe wondered. “Probably not going to come to blows, right?”

Hoss rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think better of her than that?”

“Oh, I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about Adam. He might forget she’s all grown up.” Joe raised his eyebrows. “She’s an elected Assemblywoman now, with a reputation to protect. Remember how embarrassing Pa was sometimes?”

The two shared a pained look before hurrying after their elder brother and niece.

Beth stalked down the street, purposefully ignoring a similar sound as someone trailed behind her. She fumed silently, jaw clenched tightly and walked as quickly as was considered decent. Where she was silent, he certainly was not and Beth’s unwillingness to engage did little to dissuade him.

“Beth!”

Adam had been somewhat delayed in his efforts to follow her, needing to apologize for the abrupt exits and then settle the bill for everyone before he could make his escape. By the time he finally pushed through the door, Beth was already halfway down the street.

He lengthened his stride, his boots striking a steady rhythm as he made up the distance. It would have been considerably easier if she would simply stop and wait for him. But that wasn’t Beth’s way.

She had inherited—or perhaps stubbornly cultivated—a remarkable ability to move toward whatever she had decided needed doing without waiting for anyone else to catch up. Adam had spent most of her life trying to teach her that sometimes a person had to slow down and consider the consequences. Judging by the determined set of her shoulders as she continued down the street, he suspected she had listened to that particular lesson only when it suited her.

“Beth, stop!”

She kept walking.

Adam’s jaw tightened. He took the last few long strides faster, his coat swinging with the motion. He could see the faintest suggestion that she had heard him in the tilt of her head, but she made no effort to turn around.

“Elizabeth, I’m talking to you!”

There was a thread of warning in his tone now, the old paternal edge creeping in despite his best efforts. It irked him to no end that Beth paid no attention to it.

Indeed, judging by the slight lift of her shoulders, he had the distinct suspicion she was enjoying herself.

Not bothering to look back, Beth gave her head a small, emphatic shake. She was going to make it back to her hotel room without creating a spectacle if it was the last thing she did. Unfortunately, that required her not to run, which would have made it considerably easier to reach her room and lock the door before Papa caught up with her.

Running in skirts and several layers of petticoats was hardly practical, anyway. Beth was fast on her feet, but she was not foolish enough to believe she could sprint down a public street without attracting every eye in the vicinity. And attracting attention was precisely what she was trying to avoid.

Adam, meanwhile, had no such disadvantage.

His long legs carried him swiftly over the distance, and he possessed the particular Cartwright knack for moving with purpose without making it look as though he were in pursuit of a runaway daughter. A few hundred yards from the hotel, he finally caught up with her.

A firm hand settled on her shoulder. Beth stopped.

Adam turned his recalcitrant daughter around to face him, his expression already settling into the familiar sternness that had served him well when she was a child and, apparently, was now being called upon again.

“When I tell you to do something, Elizabeth Frances,” he began, “you do it. Is that understood?”

Beth opened her mouth, but he raised a finger.

“You do not storm out of restaurants like a child in a fit of temper, nor do you raise your voice to me.” The finger remained pointed squarely at her, his stern expression matching the warning in his voice.

Beth’s first instinct was to make a smart remark and flounce away at the earliest opportunity. She was an adult, for heaven’s sake. An assemblywoman. She had been elected by actual voters. She would not stand on a street corner and be scolded like a naughty child.

Then he wagged his finger at her. And, quite inexplicably, Beth became seized by the most ridiculous urge to bite it. She stared at the offending finger, then at her father’s face. The image of his expression if she actually did it flashed through her mind, and that was enough.

A laugh escaped her.

Adam stared at her. “Elizabeth.”

That only made matters worse.

Beth pressed her lips together, desperately attempting to compose herself, but her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She would not, of course, actually bite him. She was not twelve; or Georgie.

But the thought of doing it was so wonderfully, absurdly tempting that she could hardly breathe for laughing.

“Is this funny to you?” Adam asked, his temper rising. “Embarrassing me with your appalling lack of manners in the restaurant and then running away is somehow amusing to you?”

He could not imagine what she found so funny about any of this. Whatever had struck her as amusing moments ago, standing there laughing in the middle of his reprimand came across as nothing less than further disrespect.

“No, no, it’s not that.” Beth struggled to bring her giggles under control. It helped that he was no longer pointing his finger at her. Unfortunately, that was because he had both arms folded across his chest and Beth was quite familiar with that posture. It generally meant Papa had reached the point where patience was becoming a scarce commodity.

Adam’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “No, what?”

Beth’s eyes widened. Her laughter stopped immediately.

Oh, he really was upset.

“No, sir.” She decided it would be considerably more prudent not to elaborate. Really, what possible good could come of explaining the ridiculous thought that had popped into her head? She had a strong suspicion that Papa would not find the idea of biting his finger nearly as amusing as she had.

“You have some excuse, then, for that outburst at the restaurant?” Adam asked. “And for why you find all of this so amusing?”

Beth said nothing.

“It was beneath you, Elizabeth. Beneath your new position. And it was disrespectful to everyone around you.” Adam’s voice remained controlled, but the disappointment beneath it made the words sting. He had not expected Beth to greet the news with enthusiasm, but neither had he anticipated her raising her voice, knocking over her chair in her haste to leave, and slamming the door behind her hard enough to turn heads throughout the establishment.

Beth’s eyes flashed. “And putting off telling me until you had no choice but to do so in public isn’t beneath you?”

The words were out before she could stop them. Regret followed almost immediately. First, because they were not entirely fair. Adam had not explained the circumstances surrounding the boys’ arrival, but neither had she asked him for an explanation. Second, because while Beth might occasionally skirt the boundaries of what was respectful, she was not deliberately cruel. Calling her father a coward—however indirectly—crossed that line.

And third, there was the expression on his face that suggested she might not live long enough to apologize.

Adam reached out, caught her firmly by the arm, and drew her a little closer. His jaw had tightened, and the last trace of humor had disappeared from his face.

“Excuse me?” he said. His voice was dangerously quiet.

Beth swallowed.

“Little girl,” Adam continued, each word measured with alarming calm, “you are not too old to—”

“Ooh! Looks like we showed up just in time, brother,” Joe observed. He slipped neatly into the narrow space between Adam and Beth, laying a hand on his older brother’s shoulder before Adam could object.

“The boys are waiting for you at the Old Globe, elder brother. They’re busting a gut for details about their special assignment.”

“I’m a bit busy here,” Adam ground out.

His glare made it abundantly clear that Joe’s timing was not, in his opinion, particularly fortunate.

“We sorta thought we might take care of things with this one here,” Hoss interjected, nodding toward Beth. “’Fore anybody gets too riled up.”

Beth kept her eyes fixed on her father. If there was any hope that Adam might accept the intervention and let the matter drop, she was certainly not going to interfere with it.

“I think it’s too late for that,” she murmured.

“You’ll regret it if you two come to loggerheads out here,” Joe said more quietly. “Scold her later if you need to. In private. After you’ve both had a little time to simmer down.” He gave Adam an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “We’ll take her back to the hotel, give her a talking to—”

“Oh, you will, will you?” Beth challenged immediately.

Hoss glanced at her. “Darlin’, it’s us or him, and he’s looking pretty mean right about now.”

Beth flicked a glance at her father.

Hoss wasn’t exaggerating. Adam looked as though he had enough anger simmering beneath the surface to scorch the road.

“How ’bout it?” Joe asked.

Adam looked from one brother to the other. For several long seconds, he said nothing. His gaze finally settled on Beth, and some of the fury in his expression gave way to reluctant resignation.

“All right, all right,” he conceded. His hand dropped from Beth’s arm. “I’ll go talk strategy with the boys. You two take Beth back to the hotel.” He paused, giving his daughter one last pointed look. “We will talk later.”

Beth had the distinct impression that the words were not an invitation.

“And you two don’t spoil her rotten in the meantime.”

Joe looked genuinely affronted. “When have we ever done that?”

Adam rolled his eyes toward heaven. He had apparently decided that answering the question would only prolong matters, so he turned on his heel and headed toward the Old Globe.

Joe waited until Adam was several paces away before turning to his oldest niece and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, namesake,” he said, grinning, “you sure do rile him up like no other.” He gave himself a modest little nod. “Save yours truly, of course.”

Beth couldn’t help smiling.

“What do you say we find some coffee and grumble about your pa for a while?”

“And maybe talk about where he’s got a point or two that we agree with,” Hoss added.

Beth sighed with exaggerated resignation.

“That sounds fair enough. Take me back to the hotel. We’ll find some coffee, and I’ll try to listen to my elders.”

She glanced in the direction Adam had disappeared. “After the prerequisite grumbling.”

Joe laughed, and even Hoss allowed himself a chuckle.

Together, the three of them headed toward the hotel, each carrying the profound relief that came with knowing a family crisis had, at least temporarily, been averted.

 

Chapter Three:

Adam’s return to the hotel took longer than expected. When the boys started drinking and his brothers didn’t return, he’d felt it was his duty to remain at The Old Globe and make sure they stayed out of trouble. Eventually he cut the youngest two, Simon and Ted, off and told them all it was time to go, or he’d get their Pa’s out of bed.

“I’m too old to deal with all of you alone,” Adam complained good naturedly. “Give me a break and come back nice and quiet.”

“Anything for you Uncle Adam,” Ted promised, tripping over his feet as he got up from the table. “Didja know I’m named for ya?” He put an arm around Adam’s shoulder and leaned close as if sharing a secret.

“I do seem to recall that fact. You want me to announce your full name to the whole saloon?” Adam asked, looking amused.

Ted’s face lit up. “Hey everybody! I’m Theodore Adam Cartwright an’ this here is my Uncle Adam!” His announcement didn’t garner the sort of reception that he anticipated. Most people kept on drinking or playing poker, paying no mind to the drunk being maneuvered towards the door. Frowning, Ted opened his mouth to try again, but by that time Adam had him outside.

“Boy, you are going to have one sore head on that train tomorrow.”

Somehow Adam managed to get everyone back to the hotel without the lot of them being arrested for disturbing the peace. Between Ted stumbling around and Simon deciding this was the perfect time to break out in song, it took their brothers and Adam combined to both silence and walk them. It was lucky the older two had watched their drinking. There was no denying it was a relief to deposit them in their rooms and retire to his own.

He paused at the door of the suite, noting the light underneath. An eyebrow rose.  Adam had said they would talk later, a part of him expected her to be in bed, either because of the hour or having decided to avoid him until morning was her wisest course of action. Knowing Beth, he wasn’t quite certain which decision might have amused him, or exasperated him, more. With a quiet shrug, he unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind him.

Beth was stretched out on the settee under a blanket when she heard a key in the lock. She peered above the top of a book at him, her eyes sparkling and asked, “Would you call this a respectable time of the evening to come home?”

“That is my line, young lady.” He crossed the room and bent down to kiss her head. “What are you reading?”

“In Search of the Castaways. Home feels closer when I read it,” Beth noted.

He gave her a fond smile. “Might have something to do with the fact Grandpa and I read it to you girls a hundred times or better.” Adam shed his suit coat and laid it over a chair near the settee before taking a seat.

“I gave serious consideration to Ann Veronica though.”

After searching his brain for a minute to place the title, a look of amusement settled on his face. “That’s the one with the impetuous, rebellious daughter and the completely reasonable father, isn’t it?”

Beth’s eyes narrowed.

Her scowl only widened his grin. “What?” he asked innocently. “That seems like a perfectly fair characterization.”

“It does not.”

Adam chuckled. “What made you decide against it?”

“I don’t have it with me.”

The resignation in her voice made the corner of Adam’s mouth quirk.

“Should I bother asking whether your uncles followed through with their promised talking-to?” he asked, settling more comfortably against the settee. “Or should I simply assume the afternoon was spent commiserating over what a terrible, mean father I am?”

Beth’s expression stilled. Whatever amusement had lingered in her eyes disappeared. She dog-eared the page of her book to mark her place, then carefully set it aside before sitting up straighter and turning to face him.

“No. They actually did.”

Adam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. His eyebrows lifted slightly, but he said nothing. Though curious, he had learned long ago that Beth was more likely to tell him what mattered if he gave her room to arrive at it herself.

“I was reminded of all the things I’ve been able to do in my life that most girls and women cannot,” Beth began slowly, “because I’m lucky enough to have you as my father.”

Adam’s expression softened, though he remained silent.

“That you choose to support me while I make choices that are still considered unusual, and sometimes even unacceptable. That you lend me respectability by escorting me on the campaign trail. And all the other things you do that I often think of as…”

She faltered, her brows drawing together as she searched for the right word.

“Not interference,” she continued at last. “But overprotectiveness. An inability to let me go. To let me be. To see me as grown and capable, and not needing to be parented every minute of every day.”

His brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t always feel that way,” Beth hastened to add. “But tonight, when you explained what the boys were here for…” She shook her head. “It felt exactly like that. As though you trusted me so little that you needed a whole cavalry to watch over me.”

Adam said nothing. He listened, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, while an uncomfortable understanding settled over him. He had spent so much of Beth’s life thinking about keeping her safe that he had not always stopped to consider what that effort might look like from her side of things.

“You used to say, a lot, that you were going to have to prepare the world for me,” Beth continued. “And Uncle Hoss thinks this is your way of doing it. Mitigating the dangers. Trying to clear the path in a way that lets me be who I am and do what I do, but still lets you sleep at night.”

Her mouth curved faintly. “I’m not the problem—”

“Oh, you are definitely a problem,” Adam interrupted, his tone deliberately affectionate.

Beth stuck her tongue out at him.

Adam nodded gravely. “See? A problem.”

Despite herself, Beth smiled. “It’s the rest of the world,” she said, sobering again, “and what might happen to me in it, that scares you.”

His smile faded, though there was no anger in his face now.

“So I was told to accept the cavalry,” Beth continued, “because this time they were scared about what other people might do, too. And if I didn’t, the only place I was going in the morning was back to the Ponderosa, any which way they had to get me there.”

She sighed. “So we’re all taking the train tomorrow.”

For several seconds he was completely speechless. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was more surprised by Beth for accepting the arrangement or by his brothers for apparently negotiating the whole matter without him. At last, he found his voice.

“How many of those pearls of wisdom belonged to Joe?”

Beth immediately covered her mouth with one hand, trying to suppress the giggles bubbling up again. “A few,” she admitted. “Mostly, he was strong moral support for Uncle Hoss.”

Adam shook his head, though the beginnings of a smile tugged at his mouth.

When Beth was certain she had herself under control, she lowered her hand and met her father’s eyes. The humor faded.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For what I said when we were arguing. And for leaving the café the way I did.”

Adam pulled Beth closed, hugging her tightly. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shouted outside. Shouting is for inside.” He pressed a kiss to her hair when she groaned. “Remind me to thank your uncles tomorrow, hm?”

“Is my cavalry ready?” Beth could feel her father shrug and looked up at him questioningly.

“Ted asked if I was expecting him to stand beside you with a sign.”

Beth sighed with exasperation. “You didn’t tell him yes, did you?”

“I thought about it.”

Her eyes widened. “Pa!”

“Don’t you ‘Pa’ me,” he laughed. “But yes, the boys are ready. Are you?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Beth gave him an almost feral grin. “Never been readier in my life.”

######

Getting everyone and their things on the train the following morning was something akin to herding cattle. A count of the people going was made and redone several times at important intervals, like breakfast and on leaving the hotel. Wayward steers, or individuals rather, were guided back on track when they veered off in the wrong direction, paused to have conversations they didn’t have time for, or asserted that a visit to the saloon would ease a hangover.

By some miracle they arrived and boarded the train with all their cattle, er, people still present and accounted for. Adam made certain of it by doing a head count every now and again, and a final one was made on the train. Satisfied that visual and numerical confirmation said no one was left behind, he finally sat down by his brothers. The trio cast not-so-sympathetic looks at Simon and Ted nursing sore heads as they searched for a seat.

“Were we ever so young?” Joe murmured.

“You left off the second half of that sentence, baby brother,” Adam teased. “Foolish. If we’re talking about you, just a few weeks ago we were dragging your behind home, trying to sneak you into bed before Pa caught sight of you.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Hardy har har.” Truthfully, that happened more often than he cared to remember, and probably many more times that he couldn’t remember, too.

“I see Beth’s holdin’ court today.” Hoss pointed out where Beth and all the boys, including the hungover pair, squished into a few seats. Heads together, smiles on their faces, the group talked animatedly.

Adam smiled. “Beth really took what you two told her to heart.”

Joe sprang up from his slouched position as fast as a jack-in-the-box popping out of the box. He elbowed Hoss and asked with wide eyes, “Is that older brother attempting to thank us?”

“Seems like it might be. Hasn’t got the words out yet though, has he?” Hoss gave Adam a grin, enjoying the way he groaned with annoyance.

“I was getting there! Don’t know if I’ll bother with it now.” He crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his seat, almost sulking. It became a full-on sulk when Hoss and Joe began laughing, loudly.

Up ahead, the group of cousins abruptly stopped talking and looked towards where their respective fathers sat. “Looks like they’re ganging up on your pa again,” Rob reported as he gave Beth a nudge.

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “We’re…” She paused to consult the clock in the train car. “Ten minutes into trip spanning a majority of the continent and they’re already annoying him. That’s a record, right?”

“Has to be. Could be worse you know.”

Beth eyed Benjie, a finely shaped eyebrow arched questioningly.

“Imagine if it was a wagon trip.”

Benjie was promptly, and loudly, booed while collectively pushed off the seat.

 

Chapter Four

They arrived in Washington, D.C. with considerable—albeit short lived—relief. The journey was long and tiring, but the real work was just beginning. Not just for Beth, but for Adam, too. Most of the family had never travelled further than California or Texas, let alone the nation’s capital city. Adam noted the way his nephews and brothers looked around in awe.

Beth was too preoccupied to take notice of her surroundings. From the moment she stepped off the train, it was all about business again and Beth ran through a multitude of mental checklists and began delegating tasks to her entourage. Much to her delight, they readily obeyed and began securing the luggage and seeing about transportation to their hotel. They might be rather useful after all.

In the meantime, Beth located the telegraph office to inquire about any message that might be waiting for her. She discovered several and ripped the first envelope open to scan the telegram’s contents. The brief missive wasn’t what she hoped to find, but Beth wasn’t disappointed by it. The ladies of the Ponderosa had sent their love and best wishes. What wasn’t included, but could be read easily between the lines, were their pleas to be safe.

She placed the paper back inside the envelope and into her reticule. The second telegram was similar but came from her baby sister alone. Georgie, almost ten years younger than Beth, wished her a ‘grand adventure’ and added ‘remember to bring me something nice!’ She gave an unladylike snort. Sisters. Chances were though that she would find something nice to bring back for both her sisters. Whenever she managed to get home, that was.

The three remaining wires were the ones she was hoping to find. Her heart raced a bit as she reread the one from the National Woman’s Party headquarters.

Intrigued by your strategy ideas STOP
Come immediately on arrival if possible STOP
There’s plenty of work to be done STOP

Beth hugged the paper to her chest, inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. She was here and they were waiting to hear from her. Her! Breaking into a wide, open smile, she placed the telegrams into her bag and went to tell the family she wasn’t going with them to the hotel. There was somewhere more important to be first.

Halfway back to meet her family, Beth stopped and abruptly reversed course, returning to the telegraph office. There was no way she could just leave when there was so much to do! A good list was needed, and she couldn’t see the harm in asking for paper and a pencil.

The man at the window handed both to her absentmindedly, his mind on a message that started just after she began speaking. The tap tap tap of the machine almost matched the beating of her heart as Beth set out the tasks she wanted done. Some only she could do, such as double-checking with the court that the documents she needed had arrived. The Governor and Attorney General each telegraphed that they sent the necessary papers of approval and support to assist her in practicing law in Washington, D.C. for a time. Beth wasn’t willing to count on someone else’s guarantee, especially not on something as important as this was. She needed to put eyes on them herself.

Other matters, however, could easily be handled by Pa and the others while she went to check in at 21 Madison Place. Starting a search for a man who made moving pictures and locating a café near the White House able to take large orders to assist in feeding the Silent Sentinels were easy enough. Most importantly, it would be up to the Cartwright cavalry to sort out a schedule. Beth was just one person and her guards, as Pa saw them, numbered eight including him. Far too many people to be milling around her all at once. They’d be tripping over each other and start going crazy before long.

Last, but not least, Beth added ‘get suits pressed’ to the list. Were she not on her way to NWP Headquarters, which was something she’d handle on her own, whether it meant borrowing an iron from the hotel or inquiring if they offered the service. It was a simple enough task that she was certain Pa could sort it for her.

After all, he certainly enjoys managing things.

######

The energy in Beth’s step as she hurried to join her family didn’t go unnoticed by Adam. She’s keen to be off and running and already. The broad smile on her face made it clear she was delighted by something. Considering they had only just arrived, he had no clue what it could be.

“I need to go for a while. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.” The words flew from her mouth at speed without the most complete explanation. “I have the address of the hotel, and I’ll meet you there when I finish. In the meantime, can you do a few things for me?” Beth implored. “Once you’re settled in and rest a little. I made a list. I’d appreciate the help Pa.”

Adam accepted the list with some hesitation, feeling baffled. “Go? Go where? I’d appreciate a little more information.”

“Twenty-One Madison Place.”

He merely stared at her, watching a look of disbelief settle on her face. Admittedly that address sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Adam could tell Beth was reining in her impatience before elaborating further.

“NWP Headquarters.” She paused a beat and added. “National—”

“Woman’s Party,” Adam finished. He chuckled inwardly at the way her shoulders relaxed as she smiled softly.

Beth leaned forward and whispered, “Oh, good, you’ve not lost the plot just yet. I’ve got too many things for you to do before I can put you out to pasture.”

Sarcasm was a trait he could only blame himself for. Rather than scold her for what might be interpreted as disrespect, Adam merely chuckled. “We’ve got a few cabs waiting, given the number of us. Why don’t we at least head over to the hotel first and leave your things, then we—”

She shook her head firmly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. You’ll manage just fine without me in the meantime.” There was a finality to her tone and Beth promptly turned on her heel to walk away, as if she couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He opened his mouth to raise several objections. For one, she was a stranger to the city. If she had no idea what time her meeting might conclude, that might leave her walking alone in the dark. Beth needed a chaperone.

Brows drawn together, protest forming on his tongue, Adam lifted a hand slight as though he might be able to stop her before she could get any farther.

Before the words could form and be spoken, however, he watched her pause. Beth glanced back over her shoulder, a thoughtful expression crossing her face for no more than a heartbeat. Her eyes moved until they landed on the nearest cousin. Without a word, she reached out, caught him firmly by the sleeve just above the elbow, and gave it a tug.

The young man barely had time to look down at her small hand curled around his arm before Beth tugged again, more insistently this time.

“Come on.”

And just like that, she started pulling him along with her.

Adam’s raised hand slowly fell back to his side. His mouth remained slightly open, the objection he had been so prepared to deliver rendered entirely unnecessary. He watched Beth march off with her chosen escort in tow, her fingers still securely hooked around the man’s sleeve as though she had settled the matter herself.

There was something almost comically practical about her anticipating his argument and cutting him off at the knees before he could make it. It was so very Beth, to anticipate the problem, turn it over in that quick mind of hers, and find the simplest possible solution before allowing anyone to say a word. She had inherited that stubborn practicality from somewhere; Adam suspected he knew exactly where.

Beside him, Joe caught the entire exchange. His mouth twitched, and then a broad smirk spread across his face. He ducked his head, his attention drawn towards the porters, rather than risk letting Adam see just how amused he was.

 

Beth one, Adam nothing.

######

Beth and Ted stood together on the streetcar, half watching the city as they passed it and half listening for their stop. Exhilarating was the only way to describe being here and she could tell he felt the same, the two sharing wide grins as they took everything in the way each new arrival did. Neither had been East before and only had knowledge of it from newspapers and stories from Adam and Ben. Even Beth’s law school was in the West, in California.

Alighting at the appropriate stop, the two consulted a street map Beth had purchased on their way out of the train station before setting off on foot. Ted crooked his arm and Beth took it easily. “Should I be honored to have been chosen for your outing?” he asked. When her face turned beet red, Ted laughed good naturedly and teased, “I see how it is. All one and the same to you, ain’t we?”

Beth shook her head vehemently. “Of course not! Admittedly, I was going to take the person nearest to me, but I’m glad it was you. I know you have enough sense not to start flirting with every girl while I’m in my meeting.”

“I’d like to say you’re wrong about our cousins, but I know you aren’t. Probably best you don’t go clobbering anyone in the street just yet. Even if they would deserve it for doin’ something foolhardy as all that. I won’t embarrass ya Beth.”

The pair chatted together until they finally turned a corner, and the White House came into view. The building was beautiful, awe-inspiring, and slightly comical with the sheep grazing on the lawn. Beth wanted to feel a sense of great pride in what was supposed to be the People’s House. Knowing that ‘people’ did not mean ‘all’ put a stopper in that. Instead, she felt the greatest respect for the women in the distance, standing tall with their banners and flags in dignified, silent protest.

######

It wasn’t every day that a female lawyer showed up at 21 Madison Place. Oh, there were more women practicing law today than there used to be, some of them even right here in D.C. Most even supported woman suffrage but did so privately. Their hard-fought place at the bench was too precious to risk even for a cause as great as this. Yet here was a young woman, bright, talented, college trained (first in her mixed-sex class even), with two years of experience at a prominent law firm in Virginia City, Nevada, and recently elected to that state’s legislative body to boot.

Though young and seemingly fearless, there was a good head on Beth Cartwright’s shoulders, and her ideas were sound. Whether they might work was another story, but at the very least her mere presence could bring greater attention to the cause. Some of the tactics employed by the police and the court system may even be tempered by her position as an assemblywoman.

Alice Paul leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “May I be blunt?”

Beth nodded.

“Your strategies are imaginative and compelling. I’m not certain they’ll get us anywhere but that isn’t always the point,” she warned. “I want you to be here and work with us, try these ideas out, if you’re willing. But you need to understand the reality of what is happening daily. The odds of any of these succeeding are minimal, as is the potential for winning in court. You must not be discouraged by that, nor by the fact that you are likely to be fined, jailed, and worse. You’ll take your turn on the picket line with all of us when not engaged in legal work and be expected to assist however and wherever else you’re needed. Is all that clear to you?”

“It is. I’m here to rabble rouse, as my mother might say,” Beth answered, her voice sure. “Tell me where I can start making good trouble.”

The redheaded woman seated beside Alice pushed a stack of files towards her. “Can you be ready for trial tomorrow?”

Beth drew the files closer to her. “What time?”

“Nine. Dress modestly, somber even, and be early.” There was a hint of warning in Lucy’s tone. “And find a way to bring assault charges against the men harassing the sentinels. The police refuse to take reports.”

The dark-haired girl nodded. “False arrest charges as well?”

“One step at a time, Miss Cartwright.”

 

Chapter Five:

The courtroom was much bigger than the one in Virginia City. Beth sat at the defense table with her five clients that she met only that morning. Two of them were her age, the other three older, and all showed the strain of having spent several days in jail awaiting trial. She wasn’t sure what they thought of her, but they were certainly surprised to see her. Few attorneys, male or female, wished to be associated with the cases against the sentinels. Unless, that is, they were the prosecutors.

Though she was up half the night preparing for the trial, Beth was the very picture of calm, cool, and collected. Sitting in the middle of the gallery, surrounded by the rest of the family, Adam hoped she remained that way throughout the proceedings. Today was about making impressions and doing right by her clients. Losing her temper the way Alta sometimes did could cost Beth a great deal.

The courtroom was called to order as the judge entered and took his place on the bench. Judge Taylor looked down his long nose, glasses perched on the end of it, at the defense table, then at the clerk. “I appear to be missing a file. There’s only five and we have six defendants.” Wide-eyed, the clerk scrambled to search for the paperwork.

“If it may please the court,” Beth began, rising from her seat. “Elizabeth Cartwright for the defense, your honor.”

The room went still for several seconds that felt so long they might have been whole years. “It does not please the court, young woman. What foolishness is this? How dare you radicals try to mock me and the law!”

She bit her lip to keep back an angry retort at the judge’s clear prejudice against her clients. When Beth responded, she kept her voice soft and respectful. “If I may approach the bench with my paperwork, your honor? You’ll find it all in order, I assure you. There is no mockery being made of these hallowed halls of justice.” Her family in the gallery heard the slight edge of determination and pointed irony, even if the judge did not.

Beth caught the judge’s eye and held it as he considered her request. When he realized that he could not stare her down, Judge Taylor waved her forward where she handed her paperwork to the clerk who passed it to the judge. The courtroom was completely silent as he examined the documents. Some waited for her to be hauled away as a fraud, others were ready to capture a story for the newspaper, others still exchanged looks with those sitting nearby as though placing silent bets on the validity of her claims. All saw the elderly judge’s face grow purple before he threw the papers back at the clerk.

As Beth serenely accepted them from the clerk, a vein in the judge’s neck began throbbing. “Let the record show that one Elizabeth Cartwright is in attendance as counsel for the defendants,” Taylor growled. “How do they plead?”

Standing to give her answer, Beth took a deep breath. Here we go. “Your honor, at this time I’d like to submit a motion for a change of venue for all five of my clients.”

The roar that went up was unlike anything she might have imagined. Beyond some cheers, shocked gasps, and excited chatter, a large portion of those in the gallery reacted with rage. Words unspoken in polite society were hurled her way, several people were issuing threats of bodily harm, and a veritable chorus was being sung for her arrest. All she could do was breathe calmly and hope the judge brought the room to order.

In the gallery, all eight of the Cartwrights were tensely positioned at the edge of their seats and ready to spring into action at any second. They assessed the greatest threats, the quickest escape route, and watched with pride as Beth stood straight and tall in the face of the efforts to intimidate her.

At long last, with a combination of gavel banging and threats to clear the gallery, a semblance of order was restored. The judge was furious and made no efforts to hide it. “I begin to question the sincerity of your documents, young woman. Only a cheap imitation of a lawyer would make such a motion verbally when a true, professional, man knows they are made in writing.”

Silently, Beth opened a folder on the table, pulled out a written motion, and gestured for the clerk to take it. The papers were barely out of her hands before the judge shouted “DENIED! I find you all guilty of obstructing traffic and fine you $5 or five days in the workhouse. As for you, Miss Cartwright, I’m holding you in contempt. Bailiff!”

Fully prepared for the outcome, Beth appeared unperturbed as she gathered her things, but her heart raced wildly. A smile tugged at her lips as the sound of shouted protests, led by her father, followed her as the bailiff roughly pulled her from the courtroom.

Whatever Adam had expected out of Beth’s first court appearance, this was not it. The absolute rage of those in the gallery was not only audible, but palpable. Worse still was the judge, a man tasked with upholding the law who was swayed to disregard it by his own prejudices. Fear and anger gripped him by turn as the judge ordered Beth’s arrest for contempt. How she managed to look so poised was beyond him.

Before he thought it through, Adam was out of his seat and charging his way through the throng of people in the gallery, shouting after the judge. “You’re the one who ought to be held in contempt! Is this a court of law or a circus? How can you justify such blatant disregard for the law? How can you call yourself an officer of the court?” The riotous noise lessened suddenly, and Adam realized he had just chased the judge into his chambers and was still shouting at him.

“What are you blathering about man?” Judge Taylor asked. “Don’t you know my chambers are off limits to the public? File a grievance like everyone else.”

Adam leaned across the desk, eyes dark with anger. Rather than shout, his voice was low and dangerous. “You just arrested my daughter. That is a grievance I’ll take up with you in person.”

The elderly man’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Was that your daughter? I’ve done you a favor,” he rebutted. “You should’ve put her away years ago.”

#####

At the Washington Asylum and Jail, commonly referred to as the District Jail, Beth was processed the same way any other individual might be. She gave her full name and age then remained silent as an officer recorded her approximate height, weight, and eye color, and the charges, creating an arrest record. A photograph was taken to add to her file and then her belongings and person searched. Beth’s hat and its pin were confiscated, the pin identified as a potential weapon, and her shoes removed and checked for other dangerous items.

“We’ll return these to you when you leave,” an officer said, leaving with her hat, purse, and case files.

A second man returned her shoes before escorting her to a cell already holding a dozen people, male and female. There was a finality to the way he slammed and locked the door that made her shiver. With every place to sit already occupied, she eyed the floor warily, shrugged, and sat down to wait for her fine to be paid. In the meantime, Beth began to mentally map out her appeal of today’s verdicts.

Her efforts to focus on recalling case law best suited for the brief were short lived as a familiar voice drifted in from the adjoining office. Pa was here, but it felt too soon. Not that Beth had any idea how much time had passed; there was no clock near the cell, and she wasn’t wearing a watch. Still, it felt fast for the fine to be set and the money to pay it collected already.

The door between the cell area and the offices opened, revealing the same officer who created Beth’s arrest record earlier. He had Adam in tow and paid no attention to Beth while unlocking the cell. “In you go.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open. The officer wasn’t bringing Pa to collect her. He was jailing Pa!

Adam complied with the command, his eyes searching the crowd for Beth. Despite the location, his eyes lit up as he saw she was still in one piece. “If it isn’t my own Grace O’Malley.”[4]

As the key turned in the lock, the officer paused, casting a glance at Beth. “I thought your name was Cartwright? You’re supposed to give me all your aliases!”

Father and daughter exchanged a pained look before Beth responded. “It is. My father is trying to make a joke. Time and place, Pa,” she ground out. “Time and place.”

The officer merely shook his head and walked away, muttering the name to himself.

Beth scowled at Adam. “He’s going to put that on my record now!” she hissed. “And what are you doing here?”

The elder Cartwright took a seat beside her on the floor and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Taking in his sheepish look, Beth groaned. “Oh no, what did you do?”

Adam found himself unable to meet his daughter’s eyes. Jaw tightening briefly, he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I, uh, followed the judge into his chambers and rang a peal over his head about having you arrested. And then took a swing at him.”

She took a quick sharp breath, eyes widening in alarm. “Tell me you missed. Please tell me you missed.”

The urgency in her voice caught him off guard. Adam’s brows drew together, yet the look on her face caused the corners of his mouth to twitch despite himself. “There was a timely intervention, and now I’m here. Surprisingly only charged with contempt,” he confessed. He put an arm around Beth when she sagged against him in relief, letting out a shaky breath.

“Pa, you can’t do that.” Beth’s voice was quiet but firm. “I mean it. You aren’t any help to me if you do that and I’ll ask Uncle Hoss to take you back home if you can’t control yourself.”

Now she was the one averting her gaze, staring down at her hands. Yet there was nothing uncertain in her words, even if she found it difficult to look him in the eye.

“We share a name and what you do will reflect on me and my reputation here. I’m already on shaky ground as a lawyer associated with the suffrage cause, and a female one at that. Don’t make my work harder than it must be, as a lawyer or a suffragist.”

“We share a name, and what you do will reflect on me and my reputation here. I’m already on shaky ground as a lawyer associated with the suffrage cause, and a female one at that. Don’t make my work harder than it must be, as a lawyer or a suffragist.”

Gathering courage, she lifted her head.

Adam finally looked at her.

Beth could see the displeasure immediately. His dark eyes had hardened, and a muscle worked along his jaw. His brows were drawn low over them, giving his face the stern, familiar expression that had once been enough to make her reconsider any number of childhood misadventures; usually.

For half a second, she nearly lost her nerve.

She regretted seeing the anger there, because the last thing she wanted was to hurt him. But she held his gaze anyway, her chin lifting a fraction.

“We’re trying to do this peacefully, within the law. If we start striking out first, we not only sink to their level, but we also justify their beliefs about us. That women cannot be trusted with the vote because we are irrational and overwrought, our minds too delicate to handle the strain of political discourse, all of it.”

Her voice wavered only once. “Help me, Pa,” she pleaded. “Rather than work against me. There are enough people against us as it is. Please?”

Adam said nothing.

Beth watched his face carefully as his expression began shifting. The tightness around his eyes eased. His jaw unclenched. The stern lines of his face softened as understanding slowly replaced his indignation.

“If you heard what he said—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Beth interrupted.

Adam’s eyebrows rose.

“I can imagine it wasn’t pleasant, but he’s not the first, and he won’t be the last.” She gave a small, weary shrug. “There are far better uses of my time than worrying about what others think of me.”

Adam looked at his daughter for a long moment. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to let the slights, big and small, violent and not, against Beth go. Nothing with Beth ever was. His little girl had always possessed an uncanny talent for finding trouble, and now that she was grown, she seemed determined to confront it head-on rather than wait for it to find her. Still, she was worth every pound of trouble she ever caused, ended up in, or somehow found. This was no different.

Adam sighed, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders. His hand gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

“All right,” he agreed.

Beth blinked, plainly surprised that he had surrendered so easily.

His mouth curved into the faintest smile. “Now, what’s your next plan of attack?”

If they were going to sit in jail, they might as well put the time to good use!

A little forewarning of the chaos to come wouldn’t go amiss either.

 

Chapter Six:

Over the coming days, the group fell into an easy routine. They met each morning for breakfast in the hotel’s dining room where Beth handed out the day’s assignments. Adam might have summoned them, but the Cartwright men had quickly become hers to command. Research (namely identifying individuals), trips to the law library to exchange books, court appearances, dealing with the photographer and moving picture operator, meetings at Madison Place, filing paperwork, serving summonses, and making efforts to lodge complaints was all more than one person could do. Beth was thankful for the help of her family and, to show her appreciation, not a grumble of displeasure at being escorted nearly everywhere she went passed her lips.

Until now, at this very moment, when Beth wanted nothing more than to scream across the street at the gathering assemblage of Cartwrights to go away. Only she couldn’t because shouting would greatly undercut her position as a silent sentinel standing in protest in front of the White House. Besides, they wouldn’t listen to her anyway, and merely continue to congregate, stare, and wave as if she were a small child about to give a recital.

What I wouldn’t give to be verbally sparring with a judge or insisting a district attorney press assault charges just now.

Almost at once, the tips of her ears turned pink, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air. Mentally, Beth gave herself a little shake.

This is what you came here to do, remember?

Eying her male relations across the street once more, she bit back a groan as people struck up conversations with them, and Rob pointed in her direction.

Across the street, Rob took off his hat and shook his head. “No ma’am,” he answered patiently. “That’s my cousin and her Pa is worried about her. We don’t intend to start any trouble.”

The woman nodded curtly. “We have too much of that as it is. Gets so noisy and creates such a filthy mess in the street. You ought to tell your cousin to go home like a good girl. Politics is no place for women.”

Rob wisely held his tongue and simply inclined his head. He wasn’t going to talk back to her, even if he had a mind to. Besides, Beth was the one that never turned down an invitation to argument, not him. He tipped his hat at the woman as she went on her way, then looked towards Beth and made an exaggerated face. Rob swore she rolled her eyes at him.

Looking heavenward, Beth could only shake her head. Somehow, despite her best efforts to the contrary, this appeared to be turning into a circus sideshow.

If Uncle Joe waves at me one more time today, I might not be able to restrain myself from crossing the street and hitting him with the banner.

The thought brought a small smile to her face. Not hitting her uncle, who was likely to find it hysterical, but for that to be the reason she made the papers this time? Much funnier than being physically removed from the district attorney’s offices.

Not helpful for the cause though.

Having no appointment at court that day, Beth readily agreed to take the spot when asked this morning, and she set out with the other women at the scheduled time. Teddy followed, taking up a position across the street to keep an eye on things. One by one, she watched her cousins arrive, then Joe and Hoss together. In just two hours, everyone but Adam had taken a place across the street. A part of her was furious, but an equally large part loved them for it. They didn’t have to support her. Many families were not sympathetic and some even cut ties with their suffragist daughters entirely. And here were the Cartwrights, out in full force, just for her.

As the day wore on the traffic around the White House grew heavier, obstructing the view of Beth and the other sentinels. The amount of gawkers, unfriendly ones in contrast to themselves, and overall poor behavior started to mount. Mouths hung open as men deliberately crossed the street and began spitting at Beth and the others.

Fists clenched, Hoss moved towards the street, only for Joe to put a hand on his chest.

“Not yet. Beth warned us about this, remember? We don’t want to start a brawl and have her group get blamed for it.”

Joe kept a wary eye on things, as uncomfortable with not interfering as Hoss was. As they all were. Every Cartwright face was grim, jaws clenched, bodies rigid with tension as they waited for the riff raff to pass.

Head held high, Beth kept her eyes straight ahead. Her prior complaints about the entourage were forgotten now, instead giving her something to focus on as the vilest words were hurled towards her and the other women. Not that her uncles and cousins were looking happy anymore, but their proximity helped her remain calm and silent.

Right up until the moment a man tried to take her banner.

Holding on to it tightly, Beth slammed her body against the man to throw him off balance. When he stumbled, she regained control of the pennant. Rotten food suddenly appeared almost out of the sky and men swarmed the sidewalks, forcing Beth to turn her banner into a weapon of war.[5] The sound of fists connecting hard with flesh met her ears, alerting her that the family had joined what was fast becoming a melee. Signs and clothing were torn, fists and feet struck out, and little of it was coming from the women; virtually all of it was directed in anger towards them.

Thrown into the middle of the street, Beth tried fighting her way back towards the sidewalk. When her sign was torn from its handle, she in turn brandished it like a club. She aimed for knees and stomachs as men tore off her National Woman’s Party sash, seeing it as a license to do whatever they wanted. Beth’s world shrank to a small circle with herself in the center, fighting desperately in self-defense. Familiar voices shouted her name, but there was no sparing even half a glance to locate help.

Bizarrely, cars continued to flow down the street, edging their way past the violence, pausing now and again for drivers to peer at the spectacle. Some shouted support for the men, only a few condemning them—namely for blocking the street. The sounds of beeping horns only added to the confusion. One blasted loudly beside Beth, distracting her just long enough for a fist to connect with her jaw.

The blow sent her to the ground, where she received a vicious kick to the stomach. Moaning, Beth curled up into a ball as darkness began closing in. The last thing she heard was the sound of police sirens.

#####

Every Cartwright enjoyed a good fight and didn’t hesitate to put their fists to use when words failed, or someone else threw the first punch. Those gathered in front of the White House that day were no exception. The confrontation between angry men and the silent sentinels turned violent so quickly that there was no time for rationalizations. Nor was there a chance to get close to Beth as fast as things took off. All they could do was jump in and defend the ladies as best they could.

Throwing punches, shoving men aside, head-butting others in the gut, the Cartwrights gave as good as they got. Unfortunately, there were more angry men than Cartwrights, and mob mentality prevailed. Yet there was no denying the bit of a thrill it gave the older and younger generations alike to be in right in the thick of things and holding their own.

Rose-tinted illusions of rescuing damsels and proving how tough Western men were compared to city slickers were shattered in an instant when Beth was struck in the jaw. One second, she was scrapping for all she was worth; the next, she was gone.

Hoss’s youngest son watched it happen almost in slow motion, his height enabling him to look across the sea of brawlers. “BETH’S DOWN!” Teddy grabbed the man before him, lifted him by the shirt front, and tossed him aside. The next person was body-checked as he made his way towards where he last saw his cousin, yelling her name. “BETH! BETH!”

Had anyone believed the brouhaha intense before, there was no comparison to the way the Cartwright men turned and moved en masse to follow Teddy’s lead.  No dance routine nor group of soldiers falling in line could match the coordinated precision, speed, and all-out fury of those six men.

The arrival of the police meant little to Beth’s kin but quelled much of the violence wrought by others. The individual responsible for her injuries melted into the crowd while the officers concentrated their attention on the suffragists. The Cartwrights’ focal point was Beth and nothing else. As they reached her, Joe crouched beside his niece’s head while the others formed a protective circle.

While he was no doctor, Joe still tried to assess her injuries from what he could see. The curled position of her body, arms wrapped around her middle, indicated one problem. A deep red mark on her jaw, roughly the size of a fist, was rapidly becoming a bruise, and streaks of blood on her face and in her hair were yet more issues.

“Honey, can you hear me?” Joe asked, gently stroking her cheek. They needed to move her, not just out of the street, but away from the police. He’d feel better about it if she could tell him what hurt.

Moaning, Beth’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of her uncle’s voice. She blinked a few times as the world came back into focus, and along with it, pain that knifed through her abdomen.

“Ribs or your stomach sweetheart?”

Joe’s voice brought her awareness away from the hurt and back towards him. “Not sure. Both?”

“Hoss? We need to move her and get out of here.” As Joe glanced towards his brother, he realized there was a new complication on the horizon. A persistent police officer was attempting to get past the brigade.

“Sir, stand aside.” A young officer with a baton took up a position in front of what was now a wall of Cartwrights, with Joe and Beth shielded behind them. Not even one of them looked impressed and the baton was waved to motion another officer to join him. “Stand aside, all of you,” he repeated. “She’s under arrest.”[6]

Hoss slowly shook his head. “Not today she ain’t. She’s injured and goin’ to a doctor.” Arms crossed, the big man looked down at the slighter, shorter pair of officers and dared them to say otherwise.

While the standoff continued, Joe gathered Beth in his arms as carefully as possible. As gentle as he tried to make his touch and however slow they were, any movement was agonizing. Beth bravely tried not to shout, even going so far as to bite her lower lip, hard. Unless she wished to remove it entirely, that wasn’t going to be enough. Pressing her face to Joe’s chest, she gave in to her tears, even as that, too, caused her pain.

Only after he was certain that Joe and Beth had time to slip away did Hoss step aside and allow two very disappointed police officers to see that the suffragist in question had escaped. Given the size of the men and their number, the two uniformed men silently conferred on the matter of charging them for obstruction and dismissed it. They left the encounter with their sense of manliness considerably dented.

Hoss turned to his oldest nephew with an appraising look. “All right, yer the one that gathered us all. Good thing you did, too,” he praised Rob. “Cain’t help but notice Adam never showed and that’s not like him. Where’s he at?” When Rob only shrugged, the older man frowned. “That’s not an answer. He’s gonna want to know and Beth’s gonna want her pa.”

“I can’t give you an answer. I sent messages where I knew everyone was. At breakfast, Beth sent him to the library, right?” Rob watched his uncle nod in confirmation. “Well, I asked at Madison Place where the library was so I could get a messenger there. Turns out there’s not just one. Nobody said more ‘n ‘library’ this morning, so I didn’t send a message to him like I did the rest of you.”

Of course there ain’t just one library. That’d be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“Then I guess you’re each goin’ to one lookin’ for him,” Hoss decided. “We can’t sit and wait for him to come back to the hotel and find out that way. Never hear the end of it. Probably won’t as it is,” he grimaced. “Go on now. Find out the names and get going. Winner gets to come back with Adam.”

 

Chapter Seven:

Benjie ‘won’ the unfortunate prize of locating Adam at the vast expanses of the Library of Congress after what felt like an interminable length of time passed. The search may have been quicker had the library not been quite so large, or if the rancher hadn’t felt quite so out of place within its hallowed halls. Dressed as he would be on the Ponderosa, Benjie contrasted sharply with the employees, scholars, and others who looked smart and tidy.

His size didn’t make matters any easier and despite having his father’s gentle manner about him, the Nevadan was conspicuous enough to inspire awe and concern alike. Doffing his hat while addressing every woman politely as ma’am in the soft tones such a place demanded didn’t make Benjie any less intimidating while inquiring after his uncle.

The whole place reminded him of church, with its enforced quiet and reverence. Only nobody was giving little ones warning looks for squirming in their seats too much. Unlike children forced to go with their family to service, everyone here came freely with some purpose in mind. He couldn’t recall what Adam was meant to be doing today, and Benjie was annoyed by that fact.

Sure would be faster if I could think of it!

Instead, he wandered, offering the man’s description at every reference desk he came across in the hopes that someone remembered seeing Adam.

Finally, the details sounded familiar to a staff member. He followed the librarian through another long room that led off into smaller spaces for study, wondering not for the first time how anyone ever found their way around here. Stopping at a door, the woman knocked lightly and paused briefly before opening.

Adam glanced up from the stacks of books and papers with yellowing edges. “Have I stayed too long again?” The question was posed with a chagrined look, as time often ran away from him here.

“No, sir, pardon the intrusion,” she responded. “But I believe this young man is urgently seeking you.” The librarian opened the door wider, revealing Benjie beside her.

The sight of his nephew, fidgeting with his hat brim and unable to meet his eyes, made the color drain from Adam’s face. “Something’s happened.” His voice was flat. “How bad?”

Benjie hesitated, uncertain how much to tell, particularly since he knew so little.

Rising to his feet, Adam leaned across the table, spilling loose sheeves of paper onto the floor. “How. Bad.” His eyes bore into his nephew, demanding an answer.

“A mob attacked all the gals and Beth got hurt. Uncle Joe had her and Pa was getting a doctor while we all went lookin’…” The younger man’s words trailed off as Adam bolted from the room with a speed completely at odds with the dignified surroundings of the Library of Congress.

Benjie made no effort to hurry and follow him. Instead, he turned to the librarian and offered an apologetic smile. “Can I help you at all with this, ma’am?” He waved his hat in the direction of the research materials.

The woman shook her head. “I’ll lock the door for the day. Perhaps he’ll be back tomorrow to continue where he left off. It’ll save us the trouble of pulling all those items again.” She paused a beat, then added kindly, “I hope the young lady is all right.”

“If she ain’t, Uncle Adam won’t ever be. That’s a fact.”

#####

The traditional Cartwright vigil was underway by the time Adam was finally located elsewhere in Washington, D.C. Hoss and Joe had settled themselves on either side of their niece’s bed, where Beth lay beneath the covers, resting, but pale and exhausted.

One hand rested in Hoss’s broad palm, his thumb moving slowly over her knuckles in a steady, absent-minded rhythm. Joe gently smoothed her hair away from her forehead.

“Close call today,” Joe murmured. His voice was low, pitched for Hoss’s ears alone. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” The curly head shook slowly, still trying to understand it all. “What kind of man acts that way?”

Beth hadn’t been the only woman injured, and the entire situation was appalling.

“No men that I know of,” Hoss responded quietly. He glanced down at Beth, his expression tightening. “No man that’s been raised right.”

Joe nodded.

“Even if they do think they’re traitors—and they ain’t,” Hoss continued, his voice dropping further, as if afraid Beth might hear him and be troubled by his words. “That’s no excuse.”

His big hand closed gently around hers.

“If somebody listened to ’em, nobody’d need to be out there. In a war or otherwise.”

Joe looked toward the window. Evening had begun to settle over Washington, turning the glass dark. Somewhere beyond it, the city continued as though nothing extraordinary had happened.

Hoss stared at the fading light for a long moment. “The shame’s on them,” he said at last, “not these gals.”

His eyes returned to Beth. “They’re the men Beth keeps trying to charge.”

Police and district attorneys alike had been reluctant, if not hostile, to those attempts. Yet Beth persisted, and they’d all bailed her out of local lock-up more than once over it.

After today, Joe could see why she kept at it. He had thought it was stubbornness, at least in part. Maybe a little of the same recklessness that had gotten him into trouble more times than he cared to remember.

But after today, Joe understood better. She couldn’t simply stand by.

“Can you imagine how Pa would react to all this?”

Hoss’s mouth curved into a grin, though his eyes remained thoughtful. “Oh, I can imagine it.”

He settled deeper into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “He’d get on the first train and come on out here to bring Beth straight home. Right after he had a word with the President and every other politician he ever knew.”

Joe chuckled softly. “That sounds about right.”

“Wouldn’t matter who they were or how important they thought they were.” Hoss’s grin widened. “Pa’d look ’em straight in the eye and tell ’em exactly what he thought of ’em.”

Joe could almost picture it. Their father had possessed a particular talent for making a man feel thoroughly ashamed without ever needing to raise his voice. It had been one of the things the boys had feared most as children and admired most as adults.

“Nobody could shame a man for actin’ like less of one the way Pa could,” Hoss continued. “And nothin’ would’ve riled him more ’n this.”

His gaze dropped to Beth. “He’d be proud of her, though.”

Joe nodded slowly. “Yeah. He would.”

For a moment, neither brother spoke.

“Think Adam’s gonna take her back?”

Joe’s eyebrows lifted. “He’ll be really tempted.”

There was no judgment in his voice. After what had happened, Joe couldn’t blame his oldest brother for wanting to put as much distance as possible between Beth and the danger she’d chosen to stand in.

“If it was my Marie,” Joe continued, “I’d toss her over my shoulder and walk the whole way home if that’s what it took.”

Hoss gave a quiet laugh. “Only difference is, Marie’d stay once you got there.”

“That’s true. She’s not a rascal like I was,” the younger of the two grinned mischievously.

Hoss snorted. “That’s one way of puttin’ it.”

“Beth, though?” Joe shook his head. “She’ll sit there and listen to every word Adam says. She’ll probably agree with most of it. She’ll tell him she understands why he’s worried, promise she won’t do anything foolish again—and then she’ll get on the next train by whatever means necessary and be back here without him.”

Hoss’s grin spread slowly. “Yep.”

“Probably sooner than the train.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.”

They both looked down at their niece.

Beth had fallen quiet again, her breathing slow and even. She looked younger asleep. Much younger than she had seemed earlier that day when she’d been determined to stand her ground in the middle of a crowd that had suddenly become dangerous.

Hoss watched her for several seconds.

Stubborn as the day is long, this one.

His expression softened.

Nothin’ seems ta keep her down for long.

He raised his eyes to Joe and gave his brother a questioning look. “We try to talk ol’ Adam outta that if he suggests it, then?”

Joe didn’t answer immediately. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think we do.”

Hoss nodded. “Thought so.”

“But gently.”

Hoss raised an eyebrow. “Gently?”

Joe’s grin returned.  “Might surprise him for once. At the very least, one of us two comes back with her.”

He could only hope the battle Beth was waging didn’t go on forever; for her sake, as much as Adam’s.

######

Beth picked up the sounds of her father’s arrival long before she saw him, his voice carrying loudly from outside their suite. He was arguing with people, and not just her uncles that swiftly left her side at first hearing him.

No doubt to cool him down and prepare him for how colorful I look.

The longer she listened, the more convinced she became that he was fighting with everyone, quite possibly even the attendant bringing the light meal intended for her. Beth might have laughed at the absurdity of it, only anger wasn’t fueling the outburst; fear was.

That’s my fault.

Her heart twisted painfully with that knowledge and the silent self-recrimination, along with tears that she didn’t give permission to fall, began.

 

Chapter Eight:

Hearing Adam bellowing in the hallway, sounding far too much like Pa for anyone’s good, Hoss and Joe abandoned their niece’s side to go intercept him. Nothing productive would come of their elder brother’s fear-fueled temper going unrestrained. That was doubly true if he got to Beth before they had a chance to calm him down. She was in no shape for a shouting match.

The door of the suite flew open, bouncing off the wall with a bang that rattled the framed art. Adam barely appeared to notice. His hat was askew and his pallor several shades too light. His eyes swept frantically across the sitting room for Beth.

She wasn’t there.

His heart seemed to drop straight through the floor. In bed? In the hospital? For one terrible instant, every possibility his frightened mind could conjure seemed plausible.

Joe exchanged a look with Hoss, eyebrows raised, then cleared his throat. “Adam?”

Only now did the worried father truly notice his brothers, standing partway between the coffee table and the closed door of Beth’s room.

“Where is she?” The words were ground out through teeth clenched so hard it made his jaw ache.

“Restin’ in bed.” Hoss stepped in front of him as Adam moved quickly in that direction. He lifted one hand, palm out. “Hold on, you cain’t go in there like this. You’ll just go upsettin’ her.”

Adam’s eyes snapped toward the bedroom door. “I need to see her.”

“And you will,” Hoss assured him soothingly. “Just not lookin’ and soundin’ like you’re about to tear the place apart.”

The eldest brother moved to step around the beefy younger one, only to find Hoss moved with him. Adam tried the other direction, and Hoss shifted again, quietly but firmly blocking the path.

The bigger of the two brothers wasn’t surprised when Adam made to go around him and simply moved in time with the other man, blocking each attempt.

“Move, Hoss.”

“No.”

The single word hung heavily in the room.

For a moment, the two brothers simply stared at one another. Adam’s chest rose and fell beneath his shirt in quick, shallow breaths. His hands had curled into fists at his sides, and there was a restless twitch in one of them, as though his body had not yet caught up with the fact that he had finally found her.

Even while filled with fear, Adam knew any efforts to physically remove his brother from the path to the door were futile. And somewhere beneath the panic, he knew Hoss was right. He couldn’t go barging into Beth’s room like this.

Instead, he turned sharply away and began pacing the room.

His steps were not slow and contemplative, but fast and frenzied. His boots struck the polished floor in a relentless rhythm, heel and toe, heel and toe, carrying him from the fireplace to the window and back again. He dragged one hand through his hair, leaving it even more disheveled, then dropped it only to clench it into a fist once more.

Joe watched him carefully. He had seen Adam angry before, everyone had. No one, not even Hoss, had been spared from a touch of the Cartwright temper. It just manifested differently in each of them or took a considerable effort to bring to the surface in Hoss’ face. And this wasn’t anger, not really. The shouting, the sharp movements, the fury in his eyes—it all looked like wrath on the surface.

But Joe knew his brother; Adam was scared. And fear, when it came to his children, had always been the one thing Adam Cartwright had never learned how to wear gracefully.

“Adam,” Joe said quietly.

He stopped short, fixing his youngest brother with a piercing look he knew all too well. A hard, unwavering stare that could quiet a room without Adam ever having to raise his voice, while signaling an end to his patience and a desire for the truth. “Tell me.”

Once more, the younger brothers glanced at one another and silently conferred on what details they’d share.

Just the injuries, not the rest.

Chances were he’d find out soon enough from the papers, Beth herself, or one of their sons. There was no pointing in adding fuel to the fire just yet.

“Tell me!” Adam’s voice snapped like a whip in the otherwise silent room. “Or I’ll go find out for myself.”

“A small cut on her head. It didn’t need any stitches,” Joe began. He watched his oldest brother’s face as he spoke for signs of pending eruption.

Hoss picked up the recitation. “Face looks worse than it is. Scratched a bit, bruised up and her lip split. Doc said there’s no serious damage, she’s just gonna be colorful a while.”

Adam’s jaw tightened.

Joe nodded, confirming the doctor’s assessment. “Her ribs are bruised but he bound them for her. Left something for the pain and said she ought to rest for at least a week.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as he recalled Beth’s response to that directive.

I don’t have time for that. Resting’s for the dead.

The memory was almost enough to crack the tension in the room, but one look at Adam’s face stopped him from adding that.

Adam wasn’t a fool. He knew what was happening to the women daring to ask for a voice in their government. Not only had it been in the papers before they came to D.C. but he saw the evidence firsthand as Beth defended women battered and bruised in court and tried in vain to bring charges against the individuals who assaulted them.

He’d listened to her explain, with that same stubborn determination she’d possessed since childhood, why she couldn’t simply look away. Knowing there was no changing her, he had come with.

Hell, he’d planned for this. That was why they were here with Beth, to protect her. And they had failed.

The realization seemed to hollow Adam out from the inside. His knees suddenly gave way beneath him, and he dropped into the nearest chair so hard the legs scraped loudly across the floorboards. The sound was unnaturally harsh in the otherwise still, quiet room.

His hands went immediately to his face.

For several seconds he simply sat there, palms pressed hard against his closed eyes. His shoulders rose and fell beneath his coat. Then, slowly, he dragged his hands downward, fingertips traveling across his brow, the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones before stopping at his mouth.

His hands lingered there.

As though he could somehow hold back everything threatening to spill out of him.

At last, Adam lowered his arms and rested his elbows on his thighs. He fisted his hands together and set his chin against them, staring down at the floor.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. That somehow made it worse.

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

Joe’s expression tightened.

“How could you let her stand there as all hell broke loose?”

Though he stayed seated, Adam effectively pinned his brothers to the wall with the intensity in his eyes. There was accusation there, but beneath it lay something far more painful; terror.

Joe’s eyebrows went up, his mouth puckering briefly as he searched for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse.

“Has anybody ever really figured out a good way to stop Beth when she wants to do something?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed.

Joe lifted both hands slightly. “It’s not like she asked for permission either.”

“Not that she should,” Hoss added.

He leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms folded loosely across his chest, though his expression remained solemn. “She’s a grown woman. She don’t need a nursemaid. You know she’ll be there, one way or another, no matter what any of us say about it anyhow.”

Adam looked away, but Hoss continued. “She’s your daughter, and you raised her this way. To be independent. Think on her own. Stand up for things. To act when acting’s needed.”

“I didn’t raise her to get herself killed!”

The words tore out of Adam before he could stop them, his voice cracking on the last word.

Silence followed.

Joe’s face softened. Hoss’s arms dropped slowly to his sides. The desperation in Adam’s voice hit his brothers harder than the shouting had. They knew how much Beth meant to him.

Adam loved all his daughters. He had never played favorites, never measured one child’s worth against another’s. But Beth was so much like her late mother—stubborn, compassionate, fiercely intelligent, possessed of an almost maddening refusal to stand aside when someone else was being wronged.

That resemblance made her particularly precious to him and the possibility of losing her all the more terrifying.

Joe pushed away from the wall. “She’s not some fragile piece of art you can put in glass and never has been.”

Adam’s eyes lifted to him.

“Beth’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

Joe’s voice softened. “She needs us, but not quite in the way you might think. We can’t stop her from being involved. Not now. Not after what we saw today. And we can’t guarantee she won’t be hurt.”

Adam’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“Things happened too quickly,” Joe continued. “One minute everything was peaceful, and the next there was shouting and people pushing and everybody trying to figure out what was happening.”

He paused. “We couldn’t get to her fast enough.”

The admission sat heavily between them.

“But we can make sure it doesn’t turn out any worse.”

Joe held his brother’s gaze. “We can be there when she needs us. We can make sure she gets home safe. We can stand beside her when she insists on standing in the middle of something bigger than herself.”

“Maybe, that’s what protecting her looks like now,” Hoss added quietly.

The door between the bedroom and the sitting area suddenly swung open. The sound of it striking the wall made all three men turn.

Beth stood in the doorway, one hang gripping the frame for support. She leaned heavily against it, her shoulders drawn tight and one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs. The lamplight caught her full in the face, throwing every bruise and scrape into sharp relief. A darkening mark spread across one cheek and her split lip stood out starkly against skin gone unnaturally pale.

She looked exhausted. The short walk from the bed had apparently cost her what little strength remained. Each breath came shallowly, carefully measured around the pain in her ribs. For several seconds she simply stood there, gathering enough breath to speak.

“Will all of you stop shouting and arguing?” Her voice was weak, but there was enough of the familiar Beth in it that a sense of relief pulsed through all three men.

Adam was on his feet immediately, as Beth’s gaze moved from him, to Joe, then to Hoss.

“Stop coddling me,” she directed. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe. “Help me. When I need it, how I need it.”

She took another breath. It caught halfway in as a fresh wave of pain rolled through her, wiping any remaining color from her face in an instant. Her knees softened beneath her.

“Now.” The world came out little more than a gasp. “Right now, please.”

All three men moved at once.

Joe pushed away from the wall. Hoss lunged forward from beside the table. Adam started toward her from the opposite side of the room.

Despite being the furthest away, Adam reached her first.

He cleared the coffee table in one startling leap that left both his brothers staring after him for half a heartbeat. Apparently, fear had restored several years of youthful agility that neither Joe nor Hoss had known he still possessed.

Adam caught Beth just as her knees gave way. She sagged against him, her forehead briefly coming to rest against his shoulder while he tightened his arms around her.

“Easy,” he murmured.

Beth lifted her head. Her eyes met his, bright with pain but carrying a familiar spark of mischief.

“Bit dramatic, that.” A crooked smile tugged at her lips.

Adam stared at her. Then, despite everything, a breath that was almost a laugh escaped him.

“You exaggerate. Never been dramatic a day in my life.” He shifted his grip carefully, one arm supporting her back and the other beneath her knees.

“You and your sisters get that from your mother alone.”

The teasing words were undermined by the fear still evident in his voice. His eyes moved over her face, searching for anything he hadn’t already been told about. Every bruise seemed to register separately in his mind. Every careful breath. Every tiny wince she tried to hide.

There was no denying she could have been much worse.

To Adam, that did very little to make her condition look better. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You, young lady, are far too old to be playing Queen of the Dune,” he murmured.

That earned him the faintest widening of her smile.

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

Now the grin spread properly across Beth’s face. She hadn’t thought about those days in years.

For just a moment, the room seemed to slip backward through time—to scraped knees, dusty clothes, childhood adventures. The smile dimmed when she looked toward the bed. Another trek across the room suddenly seemed like an impossible undertaking.

“Neither option will be enjoyable,” she admitted. Her voice was breathless. “The latter will likely be faster, at least.”

Adam didn’t hesitate. “All right.”

Beth pressed her face against his shoulder, bracing herself.

“On three.”

He barely got the first number out before she whispered, “Just do it.”

Adam carefully lifted her.

Beth’s breath broke in a sharp gasp, and her fingers immediately caught in the fabric at his shoulder. She buried her face against him, trying to muffle the sound that threatened to escape.

Adam’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing and simply carried her.

Joe moved ahead to pull back the blankets while Hoss cleared the way, both men watching with tense expressions as Adam lowered his daughter onto the mattress with painstaking care.

Even after she was settled, he kept one hand behind her shoulders until he was certain she was comfortable.

“You know,” Hoss said quietly, once Beth had managed to settle against the pillows, “this ain’t exactly the way you go about provin’ that you don’t need a nursemaid.”

Beth gave a breathy laugh.

The laugh immediately turned into a wince. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her hand instinctively returned to her ribs.

Hoss’s expression fell. “Sorry.”

She waved him off weakly. “It was worth it.”

But it wasn’t really a laughing matter, not anymore. Beth had seen the fear on her father’s face when she’d opened the door. Heard it beneath his anger. She had known him too long to mistake one for the other.

She looked toward him.

Adam had taken one of the chairs beside the bed. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his hands loosely clasped, his attention fixed entirely upon her. He looked as though he hadn’t quite decided whether he wanted to scold her, hug her, or simply sit there and make certain she continued breathing.

“I’m fine,” Beth rasped.

Adam’s eyebrows rose.

Despite the agony written plainly across her face, her voice remained steady. “It’s temporary, and I’ll recover.”

She shifted slightly against the pillows and immediately thought better of it. “I’m not made of porcelain, or I’d be shattered all over Pennsylvania Avenue.”

A beat.

“Along with the men I’d broken first.”

Joe’s mouth twitched and Hoss actually snorted a laugh.

Adam merely stared at her, then sat back heavily in the chair, rubbing one hand across his jaw. “I don’t know whether to be amazed by you or infuriated with you,” he groaned.

“Story of my entire life right there.” Beth’s smile returned. “Just trying to keep you guessing.”

Adam shook his head, but the corner of his mouth threatened to betray him.

“How can you possibly lie there, ribs bound, almost breathless with pain, and still manage to sound that defiant?” There was no rancor in his voice, only pride.

Beth raised her eyebrows at him, her expression unmistakable.

You really have to ask?

“I’m a Cartwright,” she replied.

She settled her head more comfortably against the pillow, then added with quiet certainty, “That’s how.”

 

Chapter Nine:

Sleep came in fits and starts, based on doses of medication to manage the pain. With no position comfortable, and anything more than shallow breaths agonizing, it was with some relief that Beth woke to the morning light flooding through the East facing windows. Even though her head throbbed and her ribs protested every movement, at least if awake there were things Beth could do rather than lie dozing in a haze of pain and drugs. And she did not intend to continue to merely lie in misery. Not when her attention and presence were required somewhere else.

Like attending a hearing today.

Belatedly, Beth realized her father was still in the room, slumped awkwardly in the chair beside the bed. Still asleep, legs and neck at uncomfortable angles he would surely regret later, the evening edition of the paper near his feet. The sight made her smile and feel cherished, rather than coddled. It also explained how he had managed to be there so quickly each time she cried out or needed anything, and that she had not just dreamt of him holding her hand and talking softly during the night.

Biting her lip, face hardened with resolve, she slowly sat up in bed. Accomplishing that task, Beth glanced over at Adam and was pleased to find he hadn’t moved. Good. Let him sleep while I get my things and dress in the sitting room. No need to bother him at all.

That plan lasted for as long as it took her to carefully turn and swing her legs over the side of the bed. The stabbing pain made her nauseous, so Beth sat still as a statue for a moment, regaining her equilibrium while watching her father out of the corner of her eye. When the wave of nausea passed, Beth put both feet on the floor and carefully rose from the bed.

Adam was awake instantly, as if the movement had triggered some kind of alarm inside of him. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he spotted his daughter standing unsteadily, bracing herself on the headboard. Shooting to his feet, he reached out to steady her, cursing under his breath.

The cursing made Beth giggle, then wince almost immediately.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Adam demanded.

Gritting her teeth, she responded calmly, “Getting ready for court.”

Adam’s eyes widened, his mouth forming an ‘o’ in genuine shock. He recovered quickly, shouting, “Absolutely not! Get back in that bed right now young lady! The doctor said—”

“With all due respect, hang the doctor,” Beth snapped, cutting him off. The sharpness of her voice made it clear she was abandoning all pretense at cooperation or even negotiation. “There are things bigger than my physical comfort, like the fate of my clients.”

Adam’s face went through a rapid succession of expressions: horror, disbelief, fury. His mouth opened and closed several times, he muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, before finally managing to bark out a response. “Beth! You will not—”

“I will,” she interrupted again. The exertion of arguing was wearing, and she leaned against the bed a bit more for support. “Yes, I am hurting. I won’t lie and say otherwise. Quite honestly, I’m in a lot of pain right now,” Beth conceded. “But I’m not incapacitated and there aren’t exactly a bevy of lawyers waiting to step in for me. I at least must show up and ask for a continuance. There’s no option to just not go.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “You’re being reckless! You might injure yourself further or even collapse! And I could—”

“No, you couldn’t!” Immediately, she regretted shouting, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Adam looked like he wanted to strangle her. Closing her eyes, Beth tried to breathe slowly, shallowly, and ride out the sudden intensity to the pain. Her legs wobbled, knees threatening to buckle, but she held on to the headboard with an iron grip.

“You can’t,” she managed to continue at last. “This isn’t Virginia City and the time when anyone could step in and be defense counsel—like you and Grandpa and Uncle Hoss did—is gone. I’m who they have; just me. Help me or get out of the way, Pa, please.”

For a long moment, the only sound was Beth’s shallow, uneven breathing as the pair faced off. The choice was impossible for Adam, for the sole reason there was no choice. He’d never break that iron will of hers, nor did he want to, even for something as important as her health. Neither could he stand by, letting her make her bed and lie in it; not when the cause was just and others were, in fact, depending on her. At last, he shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered. “This is what you’re going to be like the entire time, isn’t it?”

Beth paused, biting her lip for a few seconds. “Truthfully? Yes.”

“If you survive this, I swear…”

She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “You’ll drag me back to the Ponderosa by my ear; you’ll build an ivory tower and put me in it; you’ll—”

“Something like that,” Adam muttered. “All right. I’ll find a maid to come help you dress so you don’t show up to court looking like a bedraggled ghost.” His eyes softened, but the worry never left them. “Sit down already, will you? You’re wobbling and you need to save your strength for later.” He was more than a little surprised when Beth obeyed without protesting. “We’ll make this work, but you will not push yourself too far. Court and back here to rest.”

#####

Beth scowled, first at her stocking covered feet, then at the boots on the floor. How had she managed to forget to ask the maid to assist her with them? She was dressed, her hair was done, hat was on, but no shoes. In ordinary circumstances, a growl of frustration would be in order. Now, however, that required too much of her energy, not to mention air supply, and was likely to bother her ribs. At this point, there were precious few things that didn’t. Still, she couldn’t leave without shoes!

“Well, you’re just going to have to put them on yourself,” Beth said aloud. “You’re not dying. You can do this.” Carefully, she bent over and reached for one of the boots. Moving with infinite slowness to offset the strain on her ribs, she just managed to slip it onto her foot when she began to feel lightheaded. Grasping the arms of the chair tightly, Beth squeezed her eyelids shut, both to combat the dizziness and to keep her tears in check.

Distantly, she heard her name being called but didn’t dare to open her eyes at first. Only when she felt less shaky did Beth do so and found bright blue gaze worriedly fixed on her.

Kneeling in front of the chair in case Beth fell out of it, Teddy asked, “You’re really going to court?”

“Don’t fight with me too,” Beth whispered, her expression pleading. “I’m already fighting enough. With my own shoes, even.”

Teddy hesitated; uncertain he’d heard her correctly. “Your shoes?” His tone was one of bafflement. “How’re your shoes fightin’ ya?”

Beth gave a choked, desperate laugh. “I can’t get them on. I tried. I can’t go to court without shoes!”

Seeing her this way, vulnerable and in pain, was a rare thing for Teddy or any of the cousins. He knew Beth’s pride was taking a beating if getting her shoes on was a struggle. Knowing that, he didn’t offer his assistance immediately even if that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Instead, he let her try it again, wincing as she grimaced in pain, her hands trembling, and watched as she got her foot inside. The exercise left her gasping in pain, bent double in the chair.

“How ‘bout we split the load?” he finally suggested. “You get ‘em on, and I’ll do ‘em up. They’re not the fussy kind.”

“You mean—” Beth paused, struggling to get a decent amount of air in her lungs without causing herself more agony. “You’d let me suffer—” She gasped again. “If they needed a shoe hook?” The corners of her lips lifted with amusement.

Teddy nodded, though the bright grin on his face gave him away. “Sure would. Lean on my shoulder, get that other one on and I’ll lace ‘em up,” he offered.

Pride warred with practicality, causing Beth to hesitate in accepting that plan and its need for reliance on him. In the end, remembering her goal was to make it to court helped her to agree. She allowed Teddy to support her while she struggled once more to put her other foot into the second boot. Though dizzy once more, Beth felt strangely accomplished as she sagged back against the chair while Teddy began to do the laces.

“You’re like the soldiers they talk about in the papers,” Teddy murmured. He glanced up briefly from her right boot, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Going to war, shoes and all.”

“That will be a comforting thought if I collapse before I make it to court,” Beth mused. “At least I’ll know I had the bravest boots ever worn by a woman. Right?”

Teddy guffawed and reached for her other shoe. “Let’s make sure you survive yer case first. Then we’ll immortalize them boots. Put ‘em in bronze, maybe?”

The image of her boots, bronzed and adorned with a plaque extolling the virtues of them in the crusade for woman suffrage, was too much to take. “No, don’t make me laugh,” Beth begged. For just a moment, the pain and exhaustion subsided as she worked to contain her giggles. Once she managed to do so, she sobered and slowly got to her feet, allowing Teddy to get her coat while she did so.

“By the time we get your coat on ya, Uncle Adam will have one o’them cabs ready.” With great gentleness, Teddy helped Beth into her coat, allowing her to button it while he held her briefcase.

“We make a good team,” she decided. “Will you do me a favor?” The way he agreed as soon as she asked made her reach out and squeeze his arm. “Come with and sit right behind me in the gallery.” Beth’s tone was quiet, but intense, and she looked him directly in the eye. “Hold me up if it comes to it; I can’t fall on the floor. And don’t tell Papa I asked you to do that. Please?”

Teddy’s lips pressed into a thin line as he briefly considered her request and whether he ought to agree. She’ll do it with me or without me; I’d rather it be with me. At last, he gave a firm nod, his gaze steady. “I’ll keep you upright,” Teddy promised. He offered his arm to her with quiet certainty and steadied Beth when she took it. Together, they left the suite and made their way outside to Adam and the waiting cab.

---

The crush outside the courtroom was enormous and slightly terrifying. “What are they all doing here?” Beth wondered aloud. She could see fellow suffragists, reporters, police, and spectators assembled and knew that inside the building it had to be even worse.

The driver glanced back at her briefly. “They’re probably waiting for you, miss. I saw your picture in the papers. Evening edition last night, plus this morning’s,” he explained.

Wrapped in blankets to cushion her during the ride, Beth already appeared smaller and less forceful than usual. Hearing that the crowd was likely in attendance for her made the young woman shrink back and what little rosiness she had in her cheeks disappear. Any other day, Beth would not hesitate to shout for them to move and push her way through if need be. Injured, that was impossible.

Heart squeezing painfully as he watched her react, Adam wished he could wrap his arms around her and promise it would be all right. Rarely did Beth ever look anything close to intimidated and right now, she looked frightened. He couldn’t even reach out to hold her hand with her cocooned in the blankets. What he could do, however, was rally her. The best way to do that was with a challenge.

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Teddy and I will handle any questions.” Adam’s tone was deliberately patronizing, and he bit back a smile at the immediate look of fury on Beth’s face in response to it.

“You? You’ll handle any questions?” Eyebrows raised, tone incredulous, Beth fixed him with a menacing glare. “Absolutely not. And I am not afraid of them! Not their presence, not their questions. I just don’t want to be jostled and end up in the paper for collapsing on the steps of the courthouse.” Only then did she notice Adam’s eyes twinkling and simply rolled her eyes.

“That’s my girl.” There was no small amount of pride in his voice. Adam turned to pay the driver as Teddy opened the door and put himself bodily between Beth and the crowd. Seemingly out of nowhere, the rest of the Cartwrights appeared and formed a circle, allowing Teddy to step back and take one arm while Adam took the other.

Climbing the steps was a slow process as Beth tried not to exacerbate her injuries and the crowd, on occasion, needed encouragement to get out of the way. More than once, an uncooperative individual was simply picked up by his shirt and bodily moved to the side.

Once inside the building, there was more order and structure to the madness, making it easier for her enter the courtroom, head held high, trying to breathe evenly to control the pain. People gaped at her bruised face, but Beth didn’t care, couldn’t care. She remained dignified and poised, while struggling to breathe. Taking her place at the front of the room, her family slipped into the gallery where they could fit in, with Teddy forcing his way into the seat right behind her.

When the judge entered the courtroom, Beth’s knees trembled as she stood respectfully, hands gripping the edge of the table for stability. Wearing the usual expression of perpetual disapproval, the judge surveyed her appearance. “What is the meaning of this? Showing up in my courtroom looking like you’ve been brawling in the streets?”

Beth took a deep breath. “I apologize, your honor, but my clients have no other representation. I appear to ask for a continuance so I may recover from being assaulted. I do intend to identify my attackers and press charges.”

A dismissive noise was the judge’s only response as his eyes slid to opposing counsel. “Thoughts, Mr. District Attorney?”

“We object to defense’s delay tactics that only cost time and taxpayer money. We are ready to proceed here and now.”

In the gallery, Hoss and Joe put a hand on each shoulder and forced Adam to sit back down. Whether he intended to have words with the district attorney, or Beth, they weren’t sure; only that they wouldn’t let him do either.

Unable to physically do anything, Adam tried desperately to send a mental message to his daughter, who didn’t even glance in his direction. Don’t do it, don’t do it!

Beth’s head snapped towards the table across from her own. “Defense withdraws its request,” she ground out.

Behind her, Adam put his head in his hands. Of all the stubborn, mule-headed…

“Then make your opening statement, counselor,” the judge directed.

Forcing herself to ignore the pain that lanced through her body, Beth remained standing and began to speak. “These women stood before the White House, silent, undisruptive, peaceful, holding signs that read words. Words that were not inflammatory. They carried no weapons, made no threat, did not riot, nor create a disturbance. Violence, disturbance, chaos, and disruption of traffic were forced upon them, not of their making. These women are victims, brutalized while protesting as our forefathers did in founding this nation.”

Her voice never wavered, even as the toll it was taking on her to be there became increasingly evident. Beth went pale, her grip on the table grew so hard her knuckles went white, and Teddy could see a slight trembling of her shoulders. “And now they are the ones on trial. I ask Your Honor to compel the district attorney to provide proof of the charges or to dismiss them.”

“They were given a lawful order to disperse and disobeyed it,” the judge pointed out.

“They were not.” Beth countered, her voice rising. “I was there and no such order was given.”

Gasps rang out through the courtroom, and the judge banged his gavel several times. “You would take the witness stand if called?”

Beth nodded. “I would.”

The judge shifted his attention to the district attorney. “Well?”

“I have several police officers willing to testify to the contrary. The ones who gave that order only to see it ignored. That makes their assembly unlawful, Your Honor,” opposing counsel argued.

Beth’s eyes flashed and she stood up even straighter, the sharp pain of doing so making her feel lightheaded. Still, she fought on. “And those officers are here today, willing to testify to this under oath? Are they aware of the penalty for perjury? Not to mention its moral repugnance and the shame it brings to their position within society?”

“Miss Cartwright, that is unnecessary. You will not besmirch the reputations of the officers in question with such implications,” the judge shouted. “Ten dollar fine for contempt.”

“Contempt is certainly what I feel,” Beth muttered under her breath.

The judge leaned over the bench as far as he could, thundering, “What was that?!”

She looked him directly in the eye, standing her ground without intimidation. “I said contempt is certainly what I feel.” Beth could hear her father groan in the otherwise quiet courtroom.

“Another ten dollars! Anymore disrespect and you’ll spend a night in jail.” The only response he received was a curt nod.

“In light of the evidence these officers would present, I find the defendants guilty and assess a five dollar fine to each of them,” the judge decided. He banged his gavel and made to rise, only to stop at the sound of Beth’s voice rising over the din of the crowd.

“Your Honor, my clients refuse to pay any fines for the right to stand where the law already laws them to do so.”

“Five dollars or five days in jail.” With another bang of the gavel, he was gone.

Allowing her posture to relax, Beth’s vision began to swim. She turned and reached for her chair, missed, and fell back against the table as her knees went weak. In seconds, Teddy was at her side, guiding her into the chair.

“I’m fine,” she protested automatically. “Just a little dizzy. It hurts a little.”

“A little?” Teddy chuckled. “I imagine it’s more than that. You don’t look so good just now. But you looked mighty powerful when you were speaking. Don’t know how you did it, half-broken. Regular Missouri mule.”

She managed to offer him a faint smile as he started gathering her papers. “I didn’t fall.”

Coming up beside her, Adam gave his eldest a wry grin. “I’m not sure if that was determination or luck.” As he took in how weary she appeared, the lines of pain etched on her face, the strain and trembling she tried to hide, his expression softened. “Your mother would be so proud of you,” he whispered.

Beth’s eyes began to well up and she hastily blinked back the tears. Not here in the courtroom or with who knows how many people outside waiting with cameras and questions. “You think so?”

Adam reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know so. Just like I am.” He paused, really taking a good, long look at Beth. You’re so much like Alta it’s almost painful. “Let’s get you back to the hotel, preferably before you drop when you try to stand. Can’t let your next front page be a picture of me carrying you out of here.”

When her eyes widened in alarm and her brows rose high on her forehead as she envisioned that, Adam chuckled. The laughter abruptly halted when Beth shot out of the chair, nearly going to the floor in the process.

He and Teddy caught her before she smacked into the wooden boards beneath their feet, but only just. “That wasn’t a challenge, Elizabeth Frances,” Adam ground out tersely. He noted the way she leaned heavily against him and the sweat dotting her brow.

Maybe this time she’ll stay put and rest. Rest like a rattlesnake most likely, ready to strike anyone who tells her to lie still and stop working! The sound of her voice caught his attention once more.

“But you’re still proud of me.” It was a statement, not a question. The normal pattern of speaking shifted somewhat to accommodate her attempts to breath and minimize pain but couldn’t conceal the sass behind the words.

“More than you’ll ever know,” Adam promised.

 

Chapter Ten:

Beth’s bruised ribs healed, and the fight went on, shifting in different directions. Rumors spread about new charges and tactics, and the fines assessed in court rose sharply. Strategy meetings, researching case law, seeing clients, and attending court took up much of her time. Congress began paying attention to the suffragists, but not in the way they hoped.

#####

Adam leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, a familiar look of pride mixed with exasperation, or bewilderment perhaps, on his face. “They really picked you,” he murmured.

Pausing, a hat in one hand and a pin in the other, Beth turned away from the mirror and glared. “Yes, they did. I do wish you’d stop saying that.” Her chin thrust out stubbornly, she resumed her efforts to put her hat on.

“Do you want me to come with?” he asked for the third time.

“No, I do not.” Beth ground out her answer through clenched teeth. “Papa, I’m meeting with a senator, not…” She paused to place the pin just so. “Riding into a bandit’s camp. There’s no need to be so dramatic.”

His eyebrows rose. “That remains to be seen,” Adam muttered.

Still looking in the mirror, Beth gave him as scathing a look as she could manage out of the side of her eye. “Please, don’t start.”

Barely suppressing a long-suffering sigh, he picked her coat up from the chair and held it out for her. “I’m not starting anything.” Adam kept his tone even as he attempted to provide some fatherly wisdom. “I’d simply like to offer you some advice before you go marching into the lion’s den. The outcome of your meeting may have dire consequences.”

Lips thinned in annoyance, Beth slipped her arms into the coat and turned to face him. “Consider it noted.”

This time, Adam did sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose as well. “But not listened to.”

“I know exactly what you want to tell me. Be polite; be respectful. Don’t push too hard. Let him talk first so he feels important,” Beth recited, rolling her eyes.

It was an efficient summary of what he’d intended to say, Adam had to admit. Still, an eyebrow quirked at the eye rolling. “You might try practicing being respectful in advance,” he suggested wryly. “Beth, you must keep in mind, men like Senator Myers are not used to being challenged. Especially not by young women well versed on the law. If you want him to take you seriously—”

“I am serious,” Beth cut him off sharply. “And he’ll hear that clearly enough.” She reached for her gloves, slipping her left hand into one.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “That’s rather what I’m afraid of.”

The genuine concern in his voice caused her to pause. “Papa, I know how to speak to powerful men,” she reassured him. “I intend this to be a friendly conversation concerning the law with the sponsor of a bill that is an affront to the Constitution.”

“You know how to argue. I’m not entirely sure you’re prepared to be diplomatic and convince the man it’s his idea to give up on the bill. That’s the way you need to play this,” Adam warned.

Beth pulled the glove onto her right hand with a snap. “You think I’m going to march in there and pick a fight. Set the curtains on fire.”

The analogy made him wince, but he nodded slowly.

“I know I’m talented at provoking strong reactions in people. Some situations call for it,” she reminded him. “But I intend to be diplomatic today, start to finish; promise.”

#####

As expected, Beth met resistance from the outset. The receptionist tried to pass her calling card back as though it was too hot to touch. “Senator Myers does not take private appointments of this sort.”

She allowed the card to hang awkwardly in the receptionist’s hand, refusing to take it back. Instead, Beth pulled a letter from her reticule with a flourish and opened it, revealing the Senator’s stationery. “His clerk confirmed the appointment.” An eyebrow rose, issuing a silent challenge.

I dare you to deny the authenticity of this.

Reluctantly, Beth was shown into the Senator’s office to wait. Taking a seat in front of his desk, a part of her marveled at being here, in this place of power. How long after the vote will it take for a woman to sit here? Already there was one woman representative, but that was not enough. That was a problem to take on at another time. Today, she was here to discuss the legislation Senator Myers was drafting to make demonstrating at the White House illegal.

After women had already done it and been sentenced for it. A justification for those arrests after the fact, and to create a means for harsher punishments in the future.

When the door opened, Beth rose to greet the Senator. Myers extended his hand and welcomed her with a tone that belied the sincerity of his words.

“Have a seat,” he indicated. “I understand you wished to speak about the bill.” Myers leaned back in his chair, attempting to appear casual and comfortable, rather than leery of the woman who sat across from him.

Wasting no time, Beth came straight to the point. “Senator, what concerns me most is not the clash with the First Amendment rights of peaceful assembly, but that it is being drafted because arrests have already been made. Arrests of my clients, for which no existing statute provides legitimate grounds.”

She leaned forward slightly, catching and holding his gaze. “This bill will create a justification for past punishments, taking actions legal at that time and making them illegal afterward. It is simply a means to defend what has already been done.”

Myers stiffened in his chair, his jaw working. But Beth wasn’t finished.

“As I’m sure you are aware, that is perilously close to an ex post facto law, which the Constitution forbids Congress from enacting. Quite explicitly, in fact.” Though he opened his mouth to reply, Beth didn’t stop. “You cannot pass a law today to justify imprisoning women yesterday. Nor create a crime after it’s supposed commission. That is not governance. It is…” She grappled for a few seconds for the right phrasing. “Retaliation wrapped in legislative paper.”

Sitting up straight, Myers was incensed, his eyes cold and hard. “We are attempting to maintain public order, and you are grossly oversimplifying the matter.”

Chin raised, Beth refused to back down. “I am merely stating a Constitutional reality, Senator. You cannot invent a crime merely to sanitize the government’s actions and spare the President embarrassment. The courts will see this for exactly what it is and strike the bill down the moment it reaches them. And what will your constituents think?”

The change in tactics sent his mind reeling. “My constituents?” Myers slowly repeated.

Pasting an innocent look on her face, she nodded and began to explain. “Montana passed equal suffrage in 1914. How will your constituents respond to you proposing a bill that silences women asking for rights that Montanans already enjoy?” Beth queried. “One has to wonder how such a decision might impact the next election cycle.” She bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling as the man’s jaw dropped.

“Are you threatening me, Miss Cartwright?” he ground out.

“Heavens no! I am a practical woman, Mr. Myers, speaking to you about practical matters of law. Having been recently elected, I am familiar with the feelings of my constituents, and they would not vote for me again should I abandon the values they hold dear. One of which is equal suffrage.” Now she smiled, sweetly.

Scowling, Myers considered the entire conversation for a moment. Begrudgingly he admitted, “You argue well for a woman so young.”

“I am a fully qualified attorney, Senator,” she reminded him. “Youth and sex do not make the Constitution difficult to understand. Improper interpretations of it do.”

Myers rose, signaling the meeting was over. He had taken about as much of her as he could stand.

Beth stood and inclined her head, wished him a good afternoon, and left the office with her head held high. Though the door slammed behind her, the muffled sound of Myers shouting could still be heard. Beth grinned and walked with a spring in her step.

The sounds of good trouble.

#####

Two weeks later, after an extensive consultation with the judiciary committee, Myers withdrew the bill from consideration.[7] His staff were treated to a long-winded rant about that “insufferable, sharp-tongued, over-educated Cartwright girl from Nevada.”

Elsewhere in Washington, D.C., the Cartwright girl from Nevada celebrated the triumph with her fellow suffragists at their Madison Place headquarters, unaware that the battle was about to take a dark turn.

Chapter Eleven

Frantic, uneven pounding rattled the door. The sound was sharp enough to cut through the heavy veil of sleep, rousing Beth and Adam from their beds. Hastily tossing on robes, bare feet skittered across cold floors as they each raced for the door. As Beth reached towards the lock, Adam blocked the action with his arm, giving her a stern look.

“Get behind me,” he hissed.

Rather than argue, Beth did as she was told, stepping back and behind her father. He clearly expected trouble and, given the incessant pounding in the middle of the night, perhaps he wasn’t wrong to. Still, she hovered as close as possible, intent on seeing who was so eager to find them.

Preparing himself for whatever may be on the other side, Adam unlocked the door and threw it open. A young woman Beth’s age stumbled in, eyes wide with fright, hair escaping its pins in wild wisps. She came through the door so quickly she lost her footing and nearly fell to the floor. He managed to catch her in time and help her stay on her feet.

Given the whirlwind of an entrance, and the fact that she was still shaking off sleep, it took Beth a moment to recognize her compatriot. “Gertrude! What are you doing here?”

Across the hall, Joe and Hoss stuck their heads out of the room they shared. The younger men had recently, reluctantly, returned to the Ponderosa. Some work wouldn’t wait, even for suffrage.

“Everything alright, older brother?” Joe asked, suppressing a yawn. When Adam waved dismissively at him, the pair ducked back inside and closed the door.

“Quiet down now,” Adam admonished the women. “Let’s not make a scene and wake up the rest of the guests on this floor.” He shut the door softly and walked to the settee, dropping onto it wearily.

While Gertrude lowered the volume of her voice, alarm was still evident when she reached for Beth and spoke urgently to her. “Please, dress and come quickly. It’s an emergency.”

The fear she heard in Gertrude’s voice sent a chill down Beth’s spine. She gave a firm nod and returned to her room to dress.

Adam frowned as he watched her close the door. “Exactly what problems do suffragists have at…” He paused to glance at the clock. “Two-thirty in the morning?”

She could sense his disquiet. Or perhaps that was merely her own doubts and fears that were clogging her mind. “Plenty, Mr. Cartwright.”

The sincerity of her tone, coupled with the rigidity in her stance, gave Adam considerable pause. He nodded once, then rose from the settee with a heavy sigh. “Wait for me; both of you.”

Gertrude regarded him quizzically. “Wait for you?”

His eyebrows drew downward in a frown. “You did hear me say it’s two-thirty in the morning? It’s not safe for any woman to be out at this time of night unescorted. Especially not when one of them is my daughter.” Adam’s face softened slightly. “I’ll even help if I can. I might as well be useful once we get wherever it is we’re going.”

The corners of Gertrude’s mouth tipped with the start of a smile. “Can you make coffee?”

Chuckling, Adam nodded. “As much as you can drink and as strong as you like it.”

---

The two women alighted from the conveyance before it came to a full stop and rushed into the NWP Headquarters. Beth didn’t bother to pause and take off her coat, as her chest pounded and body hummed with the feeling that every second counted. She burst into the ‘war room’ where the air crackled with tension. “What’s happened?”

“The sentinels that were arrested today?” Lucy began. When Beth nodded, she continued.

“We got word—unofficial, but credible—they’ve been removed from the jail and taken to the Occoquan workhouse about an hour ago. Under the cover of darkness in the hopes that no one would see.”

A knot formed in her stomach, heavy and painful, as a sensation of dread swept over her. Beth’s brow furrowed as she tried to distill what it meant, not just for those individual women, but for those who would hold banners on the sidewalk tomorrow, and the day after that. All at once, realization dawned and her face clouded with anger. “They planned this.”

The room went silent with alarm, fear, and rage pulsing through each of them. No one wanted to believe it, but they could not say with certainty it was untrue.

“That’s why I wasn’t allowed in today,” Beth surmised. “A deliberate effort to deprive them of counsel and begin a sentence before they’ve even been tried. If the Administration is aware of this…” She swallowed hard, then continued in a voice thick with emotion. “They’re abandoning legalities entirely and setting the Constitution on fire.”

The fight between the suffragists, local authorities, and the Wilson administration had turned in the past few weeks from flirtation with First Amendment violations towards something much darker. Fines were being abandoned in favor of ever-increasing sentences at Occoquan, where worm-infested food was regularly served and the suffragists were treated to humiliating indignities that other prisoners did not face; lack of clean clothing, dirty linens, a single pail to relieve themselves.[8]

Even petty acts like refusal to provide their mail or allow them visitors, and making it almost impossible for Beth, and a male attorney now working with the NWP, Dudley Field Malone[9], to see their clients.

Secreting prisoners awaiting trial out of jail and to Occoquan in the dead of night was a serious escalation. One that did not bode well for the women currently under arrest or those that would be in the future.

“We need to formulate a plan, quickly,” Lucy told the group. “Part of which must involve a push for an investigation of the removal of the women to Occoquan and the conditions there.”

“Ms. Rankin[10],” someone said. “She is a great ally to us. We must bring this to her attention. She can at least raise the issue among her colleagues, if not on the floor of the House.”

“There are three women due to be released from the workhouse tomorrow,” Beth recalled suddenly. “We’ll get affidavits from them, and from any of the other women who have been there. We can bring those to Ms. Rankin and perhaps to the papers and put pressure on the Administration. If nothing else, it will be something that has to be explained, why women are being held in those conditions.”

A murmur of approval went up among the women.

“And we need the witness. The one who gave unofficial but credible information,” she continued. “If we’re going to get anywhere proving the unlawful actions that someone sanctioned—and finding out who exactly that was—we need an affidavit and a promise to testify. And proof that the women are no longer there.”

“Which you will obtain how?”

Beth’s chin rose as she placed her hands on her hips almost belligerently. Every curve of her body seemed to scream defiance, and anger. “Court orders, if necessary,” she replied. “For their documents; to allow me to see my clients; subpoenas for testimony even.” A slight smile pulled at her lips as Beth anticipated the battle ahead; the challenge of it, and its righteousness. “But the soonest I can get into the jail, someone is going to explain to me why I cannot see my clients. And they’ll do so in front of witnesses.”

#####

Though she was stonewalled at the jail the next morning, Beth came away with affidavits from fellow attorney Dudley Malone, her father, and her uncles as to what was—or rather, wasn’t—said. The day didn’t end there, with statements from women previously held at Occoquan and those being released yet to be obtained.

With a million and one things to do, and just she and Malone to do the legal work, Beth recruited her family wherever and however she could. A part of her knew that she’d never be able to thank them enough for all the times they silently appeared with fresh coffee, food from a nearby café or hotel, answered a phone, or simply sat at a typewriter.

That was an image that would stay with her for a long time—Uncle Hoss, tapping out a letter with just his index fingers, slow and careful to be sure it perfectly matched the handwritten copy, the tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated. The surest sign of welcome at Madison Place was being put to work and any who supported the cause could join the fight, regardless of sex. The Cartwrights were welcome additions.

 

Chapter Twelve:

“Perhaps you might take statements from those unable to read and write?” Beth murmured to Adam as they waited for the women due to be released. “Some of them may be leery, given the way things have been of late and the way men have treated them. I’ll introduce you and be sure they are comfortable first. These women and others at headquarters. There will be many of them.”

Falling silent for a moment, she looped her arm around his. “Have I said thank you lately?”

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze, looking down at her with eyes full of affection. “There isn’t much in this world I wouldn’t do for you, moonbeam,” he whispered. “No thanks needed. It’s part of being your father.”

The use of her nickname, so rare these days, filled her with a warm glow. “What is it you wouldn’t do for me? Where is your line?” Beth’s eyes were full of mirth, though she kept her expression serious.

“I’ll let you know when I find it,” he shrugged, offering her a smile.

A smile broke through just briefly, despite the bleak weather and even bleaker surroundings outside the Occoquan workhouse. “Not everyone’s family feels the same,” Beth acknowledged, her voice tinged with sadness. “Some of the girls, they’ve been completely cut off. Some from their own children.”[11] She bit her lip and looked up at her father, seeing his jaw tighten.

Before Adam could expound on the inadequacies of families whose love was so fickle, the workhouse gates opened, and three figures slowly emerged. Beth gasped at the sight of them.

The severity of the situation grew increasingly apparent with each woman released. Each walked stiffly, their faces pale, one cradling an arm to her chest. Bruises, split lips, and welts from restraints were readily visible. Beth tried not to react with horror, refusing to allow anyone at the workhouse the gratification of seeing such a response. More than that, she could not bear to add to the women’s suffering in any way, and gaping at them with alarm could only do so.

She and Adam took them away from the Occoquan as quickly as possible and proceeded directly to the hospital. Adam intended to follow them inside but was stopped on the threshold by his daughter, who whirled around to face him, using her entire body to stop him from gaining entry. Beth’s movement was so fast and unexpected, only the timely grasping of the railing on the stairs stopped him from colliding with her.

“I don’t know what happened to them. Whatever it is, they won’t want to share it in front of you,” Beth murmured.

Maybe not anyone, ever.

Discomfort crossed her face, causing her to look away. Knowing that what she saw could be the very least of their injuries caused bile to rise in her throat.

“Find me a female photographer. Explain where these women came from and the injuries you saw. If that fails, find a camera and bring it to headquarters. Tell them what you saw and where we are.”

Realizing that no words could suffice in this moment, Adam simply put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. Briefly, Beth raised her eyes, clouded with worry, to meet his own, then turned to hurry inside.

#####

The lamplight in the war room was low, casting shadows on the papers spread over the table. Beth read every one as they came in, but tonight, her examination of them shifted. Sorted by date of sentencing and location where their time was served, she combed each document for the most minute details. The food that was served; sanitary conditions; use of restraints; the need for and receiving of medical treatment; so-called corrective measures taken against the women; and reports of physical violence.

Correlating these details, a disturbing pattern slowly emerged from the stories these women told. Sustained, systematic efforts to bring the suffragists to heel. To ensure they submitted and ended their protests. Beth couldn’t get a clear picture of coordination between the district jail and Occoquan workhouse, whether the wardens were collaborating. Yet the tactics they used were similar enough to make one wonder.

What was clear as glass was that the use of violence and neglect were on the rise and someone, somewhere within the government, was not only aware of it, but allowing it to happen. Every woman who raised a banner understood that she was risking far more than the hostility of the mob. She faced police brutality at the moment of arrest and, once behind the closed doors of the jail or workhouse, the threat of further abuse and mistreatment. Beth gaped in horror at the figures, the data, which confirmed the growing danger. How can our own government hate our cause, hate us, so much?

That was where Alice Paul found her, at midnight.

Beth sat with a hand covering her mouth, lost in the horror the simple statements represented. She didn’t hear anyone come up behind her or even realize that a few tears were trickling down her cheeks.

The NWP leader nudged Beth’s shoulder gently, offering her a handkerchief and a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re here. Though I think your father is anxious to take you away for the night.”

Chuckling ruefully, the young lawyer’s face grew flushed as Beth accepted the handkerchief. “I’m sure he is. These aren’t quite ranchers’ hours, but they’re comparable to campaign hours in a lot of ways. Never mind him though.” A rebellious grin spread across her face, making her eyes sparkle. “I don’t imagine you came looking for me to talk about him.”

“No,” Alice agreed, taking a seat. “I believe it’s time for me to be arrested.”

In an instant, Beth’s expression shifted, first to astonishment, her eyes wide and confused, then sober and grave as she realized Alice meant that. “You cannot mean that. Have you seen—” She waved her hand over the statements covering the table.

“I have,” Alice confirmed.

“And you want to get arrested?” The words, uttered slowly, sounded ridiculous. “Do you know what they’ll do to you, as our leader?” There was no keeping the edge out of her voice as Beth conjured up images of Alice emerging from her sentence as the women had from Occoquan days earlier, or worse.

Or maybe not at all.

The woman sitting across from her nodded. “Yes, I do. I’ve been here before,” Alice reminded her gently. “In England. I know what I might be consigning myself to and it is worth it. To them, it will be a great coup; or so they may think. But what if it becomes their downfall instead?”*

One could only admire Alice’s determination, even while thinking she must be a little bit mad.

But perhaps madness is what it will take.

#####

Tension coiled through the suffrage community like a living being as they waited for what might be next and did their best to prepare for it. Roadblocks were thrown up in court time and again, keeping officials and documents out of Beth’s hands, and her visits to clients were growing more fraught. At times she was afraid they might not let her leave. Equally concerning was Alice courting arrest. Beth knew it was a matter of when it would happen, not if.

When the moment came, Beth stood bravely in the courtroom, offering a defense that experience told her it would be ignored, regardless of how sound its legal theory was. Her back ramrod straight, she refused to think of the consequences of that inevitability or offer a lesser defense simply because Alice wished to be arrest in furtherance of the movement.

The eyes of the gallery and the nation were upon her, and her conscience weighed heavy, with every word she spoke. Even knowing the outcome was predetermined could not soften the blow when it came.

“I sentence you, Alice Paul, to seven months in district jail.”[12]

Though the woman in question seemed to accept this serenely, Beth grasped the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. The longest sentence to date was to be expected, but given the growing violence, could Alice survive it? And could the movement go on without her for that long?

#####

The arrest of Alice Paul was only the beginning. When she asserted her rights as a political prisoner, the NWP leader began a hunger strike that resulted in her removal to a psychiatric ward. The news broke when Beth and Dudley Field Malone were finally able to track her down and managed to take out secret notes Alice hid in her sleeves, recording her ordeal. Her detailed accounts of being force fed were almost too shocking to print.[13]

Meanwhile, Beth furnished evidence to a House Committee investigating the abuse of suffragists in prison and the workhouse. Other Committees met, in the House and Senate both, discussing the wisdom of creating further Committees to consider passing an amendment for woman suffrage.

To the young Nevadan, the procedural moves felt more akin to delay tactics than anything else.

“They sprinkle crumbs at us, expecting us to be happy!” Beth shouted, tossing a newspaper across the sitting room. “Always more votes, more consideration. What does that even mean, a committee to consider a committee to consider an amendment?”[14] She threw her hands in the air and flopped onto the settee, promptly folding her arms across her chest. “A whole bunch of hogwash.”

As quickly as Beth sat, she was on her feet again to retrieve the paper. “And did you see the part where they trip over each other in reassurance that all these panels have nothing at all to do with us?”[15]

She thrust the paper at Adam but didn’t relinquish it. “They call us nags! Some dolt goes so far as to say our actions shouldn’t keep good women from the right to have this fool board formed.”[16] Now she slapped the paper with her free hand and pitched it on the floor near his feet.

Bemused, Adam brushed the paper aside with his boot. “You left out the best part.”

Hearing the laughter in his tone, Beth paused her angry pacing to look at him, quirking an eyebrow.

Trying mightily not to chuckle as he spoke, Adam’s lips still twitched. “The way all of you pose with your short skirts and short hair, where they can see you.”[17] His mouth settled into a sour grin, a part of him disbelieving an elected member of Congress could be quite so stupid. Yet, it was sadly all too true.

Beth’s lips thinned with anger, the tensing of her jaw only emphasizing the deep frustration she felt. Her face grew red and hot, fists clenched at her sides, as she charged across the room. Wrenching a pillow from the settee, she held it against her face and screamed.

#####

Though Beth feared for the movement without Alice Paul at its head, co-leader Lucy Burns stepped ably to the fore. As arrests continued in earnest, Beth was busier than ever, fighting against the illegal nature of the charges and the harsh sentences doled out for them. She was proud to see that the effort to crush their spirit through brutality and imprisonment was in vain, serving to embolden the women rather than deter them.

More came to take the place of their compatriots behind bars, hailing from New York, New Jersey, California, Minnesota, and across the union. Young and old, they flooded headquarters, allowing the number of sentinels posted at the White House each day to be doubled. Doing so made it harder to carry out arrests with the ease police were accustomed to, clogging courtroom traffic and creating trials of a dozen or more defendants at a time. Every move the women made garnered headlines, some quite sympathetic to their suffering.

Increasingly, Beth was accused of grandstanding in court, arguing with every fiber of her being against a government manipulating the law to serve its own purpose. She wrote appeals, filed complaints of misconduct against wardens and guards, and spoke passionately to the press.

“The government is using the law for political means. No actual laws are being broken,” Beth asserted. “These women are political prisoners, not criminals. They are targeted because they embarrass the President, who would rather ignore the fact half the population does not enjoy democracy. What is he afraid of? That we will vote against him? The President should be embarrassed; to make claims of freedoms in the United States that do not exist. With or without his support, we will have that amendment.”

 

Chapter Thirteen:

Headquarters was in chaos that morning when Beth arrived, with Dudley Field Malone on her heels. A day of writing briefs, taking statements from the latest batch of recently released women, and working with the notary that Adam had gone to collect awaited. Behind the two lawyers, Hoss and Joe appeared and were quickly pulled into work elsewhere: leaflets, calls, letters, checking on those still healing from imprisonment, and more needed to be done. Giving their niece a smile, they allowed themselves to be steered in whatever direction they could help most.

Beth liked Dudley Malone, and his wife, a fellow suffragist. The three got on well and it was a plus for Beth not to be shouldering the legal work entirely alone. They could use three more lawyers, at least, and Malone had a few ideas of some that might be willing to help. Though older and more experienced, he never treated her dismissively and Beth appreciated that immensely. Between her growing notoriety, and the additional attention he brought by resigning from the Wilson administration, they made a dynamic duo.

“You’ll take the statements as usual?” Malone asked as they divided up the day’s work. “The women prefer speaking with you and whatever we can do to make things easier for them is best in my book. I can get started on the briefs.”

Beth nodded in agreement. “I feel we should prioritize the appeal on jurisdiction. Occoquan is outside of D.C. and the more brutal of the two locations women are being held at. There’s no reason why women sentenced in D.C. should be serving time in a workhouse in Alexandria.”[18]

A knock interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention towards the door. Lucy Burns stood just in the frame, a brooding look on her face. “Beth, we need you.”

The younger woman smiled, uncertain what Lucy meant. “I’m right here.”

Lucy shook her head. “Out there. Today. Between the twenty arrested yesterday and the ones still recovering from being ill or force fed while inside, we’re short. We have no idea what condition the women due to be released from the district jail today will be in. I’m pulling people from everywhere and going out myself. I’d take Dudley even.” A weary smile crossed her lips.

“You know I would,” Dudley answered at once. “But I’m not what you need out there.”

“No, you aren’t,” she agreed. “With so many fresh faces, I need people that are recognizable leaders. Everyone knows you, Beth.”

The logic of it was sound, but she hadn’t needed it to convince her. Raised with a sense of strong moral conviction, Beth knew her decision the moment Lucy clarified her statement. Her words were only as good as her actions.

Nodding to Lucy, Beth turned back towards Dudley. “Have Ann or Dorothea help with the statements if they are here and strong enough. If not, we all know you’re one of us. Trust your instincts on how far to poke and prod,” she advised. “And do me a favor—let one of my uncles know about the change in plans.”

Envisioning the way her father would receive the news caused Beth to wince. “Maybe offer an apology on my behalf, too.”

They’ll know what for.

#####

Standing shoulder to shoulder with thirty other women, Beth’s heart beat wildly in her chest. Not from fear, but something stronger, fiercer: determination and a sense of conviction. As a Cartwright, she would not shrink from fighting for what was right; as her mother’s daughter, Beth put her whole soul into everything she did. Her work was motivated as much by honoring Alta as it was by personal fulfillment. There was no denying the thrill of being here, at this moment in time, being part of something meaningful.

Jaw set firmly, chin lifted, Beth felt the air crackled with anticipation. Each woman that morning knew arrest was likely, if not imminent, and what may lie ahead. Yet they refused to be intimidated, even as the police arrived in force, the sound of their boots like thunder on the street, batons at the ready, primed for violence.

“Disperse! Or you’ll be removed by force!”

Not a single woman responded to the order or even acknowledged the presence of law enforcement. Not a soul flinched and not one banner trembled.

When the order was repeated and the women still did not respond, the officers surged forward and attacked. Women were yanked, shoved, and thrown to the ground. Beth planted her feet, determined to stand as long as possible. As hands pulled at her and batons swung with force, Beth shoved the men away from her and kicked out with her feet.

Her banner was wrenched from her hands and snapped in half, freeing her hands to throw punches. In the melee, her hat was dislodged and lost in the crowd, her coat torn, her nose bloodied.

Ultimately, she knew that the police were going to put her into the wagon and take her away, but Beth refused to make it easy for them and fought every step, every inch of ground along the way. Clawing, kicking, punching, and spitting, she made her contempt for their part in the government’s tyranny known until the very second the door of the wagon slammed shut with her inside.

As the police left with the suffragists stuffed into their wagons, Adam Cartwright nearly dashed right in front of them in his haste to reach Beth and the other sentinels. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he arrived, he simply needed to be there. Only as the conveyances passed him did Adam realize what they were. A feeling of dread washed over him so powerful it almost took him to his knees.

“BETH! BETH!”

No response came and Adam allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe she’s still there! Holding on tightly to that thought, he rushed towards the spot the sentinels always used.

The street was littered with broken banners, shreds of clothing, and crumpled, discarded hats. The only people in sight were city workers arriving to clear it all away. Heart plummeting into his stomach, Adam’s eyes swept over the chaos and came to rest on gray wide brimmed hat, adorned with a simple royal blue silk ribbon.

Beth’s hat.

#####

Holding her head high, Beth sat at the defendant’s table in the courtroom and scanned the gallery for her family. Finding them in crowd, her heart constricted at the fear written on their faces. She never meant to hurt them with her actions, yet sometimes, that was just what she did.

A brief smile played at her lips as her father began pushing his way through the crowd to move closer to her, a look of determination on his face that boded ill for anyone that might try to stop him.

Adam shoved his way into the row behind the defendants and over to where she sat. Beth rose to greet him, but he pulled her into his arms before she could get a word out. The embrace was fierce and almost desperate, one hand cupped behind her head, the other around her waist, holding her to him tightly as though she might vanish if he didn’t.

Beth clung on just as tightly, resting her face against his chest as she drew comfort from the strength of his hold and the familiar scent of his shaving soap. The fingers of her right hand curled into the fabric of his coat, unconsciously tugging at it the way she had as a child.

Neither spoke for a long moment, but Beth finally broke the silence. “Jail really isn’t that bad so far,” she murmured. “You know I won’t be paying a fine, don’t you?”

He did, and the exasperation in Adam’s sigh of acknowledgement was enormous. “Why didn’t I have boring little girls who just wanted to knit and sew?” The common complaint by the beleaguered father was never uttered with an iota of sincerity.

Now she laughed, pulling away so she could look up into his face. “You know precisely why,” Beth challenged. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Adam agreed. He wouldn’t trade his late wife or the daughters she gave him for anything. He would, however, change this exact situation if given the ability to do so. Fear for her safety gnawed at him, like a black living thing inside him that Adam had to fight moment by moment to control. He didn’t want to frighten Beth, who was aware of all she was risking, and he didn’t want to make her situation worse by letting panic propel his actions.

Before anything further could be said, court was called to order and the trial began and at its end, the inevitable conclusion. “Elizabeth Cartwright, guilty. Six dollars or six days in district jail. Mary Nolan…” As the judge’s voice droned on, Adam surreptitiously reached out and squeezed Beth’s shoulder.

She tried to remember that feeling of love and strength as the police wagon left the courthouse and proceeded right past the district jail, continuing onward. To Occoquan.

 

Chapter Fourteen:

The wagons arrived at Occoquan just before dark, the early evening shadows providing an eerie look to an already intimidating place.

That is what they want, for us to be frightened.

Resolving not to show any fear, Beth walked with dignity, shoulders squared, chin high, into the superintendent’s office with her fellow suffragists. The women glanced at one another, offering encouraging and spirited looks, filling the room with hope and defiance in equal measure.

The door burst open and men in uniform filed in, and with them a menacing energy. A tremor ran through the women, but Beth stood up to address the superintendent. “We are political prisoners and demand to be treated as such.” Her voice was strong and sure, even as she trembled on the inside.

“You shut up! I have men here to handle you.” Superintendent Whittaker turned to the other men assembled. “Seize her! Seize them all!”[19]

In an instant, the room became chaos. Officers grabbed at Beth, Lucy, and the others, who resisted and shouted in defiance. Furniture was knocked over, people darted here and there, pushing and clutching, but there were more uniformed men than suffragists. Each of the women was dragged from the office and out into the yard, arms carelessly yanked. Screams of anger and pain rang through the air as the guards took them across the way to the men’s prison building, where more joined in the effort to subdue the women.

Unwilling to go quietly down a long, dark corridor in the men’s prison, Beth kicked and squirmed, grabbing at the face of the man who was half-dragging, half-carrying her. She aimed a kick at his groin and could feel it hit home before being dropped to the floor. Another guard grabbed her by the arms and slammed her into the wall. Her nose began bleeding profusely but it was the screams of pain she heard ahead of her from the others that drew her attention. Women were being dragged by their hair, bodily thrown into cells, slammed against the bars.

A sickening crack was heard; someone’s head hitting metal. Lucy Burns called out for each of the women, even as she was being pulled, her arms twisted behind her back, by two guards.

Beth heard another scream; this time, her own, as her left arm was wrenched out of its socket. She tried to dodge a flurry of baton strikes, the ones she couldn’t avoid leaving welts and bruises behind. Still struggling, she was finally thrown into a cell with two other women and the door slammed shut. Nearby, she could see Lucy’s arms twisted up and handcuffed over her head, leaving the woman barely on her tip toes.

And then, it was over. The guards left them battered, broken, Lucy hanging from the bars still. Slumped over, dazed, crying, despair came in a crashing wave as the sound of boots echoed down the corridor and a door slammed shut, leaving them in the darkness.

At the sound of the door closing, Beth moved towards her cell mates to check on them, using the little bit of moonlight coming through the window to guide her. Another had the same idea and the two met in the middle.

“I’m Margery,” the woman said. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Beth.” She paused to take stock of her injuries. “Nothing they’ll be proud of.” She tried to shrug her shoulders, but stopped, wincing in pain. “I’ve done worse on the ranch.”

Margery answered with a half-laugh. “I think my scalp took the worst of it.”

Slowly, each woman began to help the other as best they could. With no supplies, not even water, all they could offer was strips of their clothing as bandages and words of encouragement. All eyes turned to Lucy, panting and in pain, and not a thing they could do for her.

As the women settled, Beth tried to think of what to do. For a moment, she reflected on what her mother might do, as she often did. Yet almost immediately she realized the foolishness of that. There was nothing in her mother’s lived experience—not during Beth’s lifetime, nor Alta’s legal career, or even stories Beth heard about her—that could compare to this. No wisdom was going to be found looking at her mother’s example; not this time.

There was no blueprint, no lesson to be followed here. Beth had to make her own way.

All at once, it came to her. They might lock us away, but they can’t lock up our voice. Slowly, voice trembling and weary, she began to sing The Women’s Battle Song.

“Forward sister women! Onward ever more. Bondage is behind you, freedom is before…”

Others joined loudly, some whispered, but soon every woman save Lucy was singing.

“Raise the standard boldly; in the morning sun; ‘Gainst a great injustice, see the fight begun!”[20]

#####

Dudley Malone stood in the hallway of the hotel making an awful racket. His fist banged on the door of Adam’s suite several times, then repeated the gesture to get the attention of Hoss and Joe in their room directly across the hall. His fist returned to the opposite door again, nearly clobbering a half-dressed Adam in the face when it burst open.

Initially believing it to be Hoss trying to rouse him for a later than usual breakfast, the brotherly snark was cut off before it even left Adam’s lips at the sight of the lawyer. The fist he nearly took to the face helped with that, forcing his reflexes to work fast enough to move him back a few paces.

Both men flushed with embarrassment, which only doubled when Hoss stuck his head out in the hall. The middle brother’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Adam shirtless in the doorway, shaving soap covering half his face still. “Ain’t you ready for breakfast, yet?” came the predictable complaint, followed by a belated, “Oh, hi Dudley. Wanna join us? Hurry up Adam, will ya? I’m gonna waste away with as long as yer takin’.”

Adam watched uncertainty creep into the lawyer’s expression as Malone cleared his throat uncomfortably. Dear God…  “Out with it,” he ordered.

Recognizing that bark, Joe appeared beside Hoss, brow furrowed with worry.

“I went to talk to Beth this morning about getting a court order for her release. She’s on the docket for so many cases; it’s worth a try. I wanted her permission first,” Malone began. “They wouldn’t let me see her, which isn’t all that unusual, but something felt off.”

A shadow of alarm fell over Adam’s face. Malone might be taking the long way to get there, but he could sense where the younger man’s recitation of the facts was headed. “Where is she?” The words were forced out past clenched teeth. “Where’s my daughter?”

Malone met his eyes for a brief second before looking away. “They’re all gone. They never returned after court yesterday.”

Adam had survived outlaws, cattle stampedes, been shot multiple times, even mentally and physically tortured to the point of breaking out in the desert. Yet not a single one came close to the sheer terror that came with the realization that there was only one other place Beth could be. Images of the women he’d seen emerging from Occoquan flashed through his mind, the statements he took and read rang in his ears at a deafening volume.

No; not his Beth. Not his baby in that hell hole. Certainly not while he was alive to do something about it!

 

Chapter Fifteen:

The effort to free Beth (regardless of whether she wanted to be freed or not) began at once. Malone went to court, Joe began making calls to anyone they’d ever done business with that might have influence, and Hoss was sent to alert their senators and representatives from Nevada.

Adam stormed the Capital, moving like a man possessed. His boots echoed in the marble halls, ringing through the corridors lined with flags and portraits of history’s great lawmakers. He demanded entry at every door, let in simply out of politeness or curiosity by some, but by and large was turned away. Those who did allow him in regretted it immediately. Clerks cowered under his thundering rage while the elected officials they worked for looked increasingly uncomfortable with the platitudes they offered.

“It’s a federal directive—”

“You do understand there is a war on?”

“The President is under great strain…”

“Their actions are disgraceful!”

“It’s become a matter of national security. We’re at war!”

Adam took a step forward, putting his face in the senator’s. “If you think unarmed women holding banners are a threat to the government, then perhaps the government needs less cowardly men running it. Or better yet, women.”

Unsurprisingly, that comment ended that meeting and Adam was summarily kicked out of the senator’s office. Undeterred, he simply continued to raise hell at every door through every hallway, confronting committee heads, representatives, and senators until his voice grew hoarse and people spoke of bringing in the police.

#####

When dusk fell, Hoss and Joe found their elder brother standing outside the White House. Adam’s knuckles were white, he gripped the wrought iron fencing so tightly, hoarsely arguing with a guard. He didn’t even notice them until Hoss put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. The agony carved into his brother’s face brought tears to the big man’s eyes.

All he wants is his little girl and ain’t nobody gonna help him.

It took fifteen minutes to convince Adam that continuing to shout in the direction of the White House wasn’t going to bring the President out to see him.

The effort to try and get Adam to rest once they got him back to the hotel failed completely. Determined to do something, he scribbled out telegrams to be sent to Nevada’s governor, state attorney general, every judge he could name, and the attorney general of the United States. Any businessman with influence that they knew, anyone who ever owed a Cartwright a favor, and the last frail, aging political allies of his late father, all received a plea for assistance.

#####

Three days later, Dudley Malone was given a court order to see his clients. Not included in that court order was Adam Cartwright. The lawyer broke the news to Hoss and Joe first, knowing the anxious father wasn’t going to be thrilled at still being barred from visitation. Just the day before he’d been bodily removed from Occoquan and only a timely intervention from Malone kept Adam out of jail.

With the younger brothers flanking him, Malone approached Adam carefully. The man paced with a level of energy and fury that someone his age, and having not slept for days, shouldn’t possess. As the trio entered the sitting room, Hoss and Joe surreptitiously moved away from Malone and nearer to Adam.

“I have a court order, they’ll have to allow me in,” he explained. “But only me.”

Joe placed a restraining hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Now Adam, just keep calm,” he counseled. He felt the tremor run through Adam’s arm as his brother fought to keep control of himself. Reason and emotion raged a brutal war, and Joe wasn’t entirely sure which was winning. At last, the tension eased. Joe and Hoss exchanged looks and stepped away, letting Adam drop forcefully into the nearest chair.

Together, they waited for news about Beth.

#####

Beth arrived for her meeting with Malone dressed in filthy prison garb with her arm in a sling fashioned from what appeared to be fabric torn from a petticoat. Unwashed, hair a mess, limping, her face scratched and bloody from several forcible run-ins with the walls of the building, she held her head high and took her seat with as much grace as her aching body allowed.

The last visit of the day, Malone had grown increasingly disturbed by the condition he found the women in. Now that he saw Beth, he had no idea what he might tell her family. Yet while he gaped at her, she somehow managed to give him a smile.

“Good lord,” he breathed.

“The Lord has nothing to do with it,” Beth quipped. “Provided you’re referring to the deplorable state of my appearance. Some of it I’m quite proud of though.” She showed him the knuckles of her right hand, swollen, bruised, and split from repeated forceful use. “I try to give as good as I get.”

He noted the skin under her nails, too, and his jaw dropped; in awe or in horror, he couldn’t be sure.

Beth glanced towards the guard at the door, then leaned forward, hiding a wince at the movement. “A few of them won’t come near me. I keep telling them I’ve been in worse saloon brawls. Maybe leave that part out when you report back to my father.” She grinned, dimples and all, as she slowly sat back down and became all business again. Weakened, beaten, in pain from assaults and hunger alike, Beth wasn’t broken.

“You need to get a writ of habeas corpus for Mrs. Cosu. I’m sure she had a heart attack, or something like it, and needs medical care,”[21] Beth stated. “And push on with the initiative we discussed about sentences being served here instead of D.C. I guarantee you there was no written authorization for this, and someone’s head will roll for it once that’s exposed in court.”[22]

Malone’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “They said she was indisposed! How is she faring?”

The young lawyer looked grim, her mouth set firmly. “Well enough, considering the circumstances, I suppose. But none of us have medical training and even if we did, there’s nothing to treat her with. We at least talked her out joining the hunger strike, though the food is rotten.”

He flinched at the mention of a hunger strike. “You know what they’ll do, don’t you?” Malone watched as genuine fear crept into her eyes, swallowing the usual sparkle that was there, even amid the pain she felt.

Slowly, Beth nodded. “They took Lucy this morning,” she whispered. “I heard everything. We all did.” The sound of the woman being force fed was terrifying. Lucy’s condition when she was returned to the cells—bleeding, vomiting, trembling—only emphasized the brutality that accompanied the sounds.

“Give me a pile of papers to look at,” she murmured. Beth cast a look out of the side of her eye at the guard, then back at Malone.

Frowning, he pulled several documents from his briefcase and slid them across the table towards her. “You’ll see I’ve continued what we were working on. Since you initiated the processes, its best you look them over before I file them with the court.” Malone watched with interest as Beth leaned close to the paperwork with her whole upper body, pressing her arm and its sling against the table.

She moved her index finger across the page, lifted it, and continued to peruse the next one. As Beth moved to turn another page, she quickly dipped her hand into her sling, drew out tiny scraps of paper, and slid them between the pages.

Carrying on as if that never happened, Beth examined everything before sliding the stack back towards Malone. “It all appears in order. File it right away.” Looking into his eyes, she added. “Tell the world.”

Only when Malone left Occoquan and was safely on his way to headquarters did he carefully examine those scraps of paper. Reading each one, detailing the women’s experiences since their arrival at the workhouse, he sucked in a breath at the realization that this could change everything.

#####

There was no way to sugar coat Beth’s condition, and Malone owed it to the Cartwrights to be truthful. He couldn’t do otherwise when he was making calls to every major newspaper in D.C. and beyond to print the women’s accounts of what was happening behind closed doors.

“I wish I could give you better news,” he lamented. “Though I think I may have something for you. There was an item among all the scraps she passed along that I couldn’t quite make heads or tails of.” Malone handed a small note to Adam and watched as Hoss and Joe squeezed close to him, looking over the man’s shoulder.

There in Beth’s familiar hand were the words: Still Queen of the Dunes.[23]

 

Chapter Sixteen:

They marched her out of the men’s prison building at Occoquan and into the November air with nothing more on than her thin prison garb. Marched was too generous a word, as Beth moved with agonizing slowness. Weakened, pale, shivering, limping, she was determined to move on her own power as much as she could. She heard the gates opening, an ominous, heavy sound, and knew without any doubt that standing beyond them was her family.

The three figures she could just make out some yards away didn’t give Beth the chance to walk bravely to them. The moment they saw her, the brothers surged forward, prompting panic among the guards.

“Get back! Outside the gates! Someone stop them!”

Ignoring the shouts of the guards completely, they ran faster than men their age had any business moving. The closer they got to Beth, the worse she looked, and the angrier they became. In the space of a single moment, Adam reached for his daughter and lifted her into his arms in a swift motion while his brothers dealt with the guards at her sides.

Joe grabbed the collar of the one on her right. He drew back his fist and hit the guard square across the jaw with a crack that echoed in the air. Hoss took the man on Beth’s left, growling as he lifted the man clean off the ground, letting him thrash futility in the air for several long seconds before putting him down. The guard had just half a second to enjoy being back on terra firma before Hoss’s fist sent him to meet it with a sounding thud.

Leaving the guards where they fell, the brothers returned to Adam’s side. Hoss stripped off his coat and draped it carefully over his niece, almost afraid to even touch her as he tucked it around her shivering body. “They’re lucky we don’t tear them limb from limb and take that whole place apart,” he muttered darkly.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Beth’s face. “I think we’ve managed to make a lasting impression,” she rasped.

#####

“On three. You’re certain you’ve got a good hold on her?” Dr. Wilson gave Adam a stern look. “I don’t want to do this again. It’ll be painful enough as it is.”

Sitting on the bed against the headboard, Adam held Beth tightly to his chest with one arm, another wrapped around her waist. He gave the doctor a curt nod, then whispered reassuringly to Beth, “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

“One—two—”

Beth screamed in pain, her entire body jerking against Adam’s hold as the doctor reset her arm. Once it was completed, she whimpered softly while her whole body sagged and trembled.

“I know, I know, I know.” Adam’s voice was choked with emotion as he tried to soothe her. “Brave girl, my brave girl, papa’s here.” The words that came so easy in the past seemed to stick in his throat now, completely deficient for the situation at hand. This wasn’t a childhood accident or ailment that he could soothe. Still, Adam waited impatiently for the doctor to finish the examination so he could gather her close and rock her gently. Though woefully inadequate, it was all he could offer her.

“Keep her arm immobilized,” Dr. Wilson instructed when he finished. “She’s severely dehydrated. Start with good broth and don’t be surprised if it takes a bit of time for her to work her way back up to food.” He paused as Beth managed to find the energy to scowl at him. He couldn’t help noting the contrast as Adam rocked her gently, his face full of worry, and she, looking as though an automobile had run her down, glowered.

Dr. Wilson offered an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean to speak as if you aren’t here, young woman. I’m just not certain how much of this you’ll remember later. Don’t rush back to eating, you’ll regret it if you do. That throat…” Doctor and patient locked eyes for a moment before Beth looked away.

“Keep all those wounds clean. I can see a defiant streak in you.”

Beth attempted a smile at the doctor’s observation while her family allowed themselves a little rueful chuckle.

“So, I’m making it doctor’s orders that you allow others to help you and that you rest properly. Thoroughly rest, mind and body.”

Adam’s heart constricted when his normally obstinate and argumentative daughter, who was never still or restful for a single moment in her life, merely nodded. Oh, my moonbeam.

#####

Over the next twenty-four hours, Beth mostly slept. When she was awake, she sipped broth carefully, letting the warm, nourishing liquid heal her. Adam rarely left her side. Even in sleep, she snuggled against him, her hand clutching his shirt while he kept an arm around her protectively.

Much of that time, Adam slept, too. Having gone days without any rest, his body forced it upon him whether he wanted it or not. The times he didn’t sleep, he watched Beth with a sort of wonder in his eyes. Amazement that she came out of that place and would, in time, recover completely.

“You are too much like me. And like your mother,” he murmured, brushing a curl away from her forehead. “All courage and fire. And stubbornness.” A smile played on Adam’s lips. “You’re the greatest, most terrifying blessing.”

A smile bloomed across her battered face. Eyes still closed, Beth started to speak softly. “Terrifying? That feels unkind, and untrue. Go back to the part where I’m the greatest.” She opened her eyes now, full of an impish sparkle, albeit edged by pain. “I want to hear more about that.”

For the first time since he saw her at Occoquan, Adam knew, deep in his soul, that Beth was truly going to be all right. “That lasted only as long as you were sleeping,” he teased. “Now that you’re awake and sassing me…” He paused to kiss her head. “I know you’re feeling better.”

Beth chuckled; and though it sounded rough and raspy, it was healing for them both.

#####

By the time Beth, Mrs. Cosu, and a handful of others were released, thirty others remained in Occoquan. Though the dates of arrest varied, the means of protest the suffragists utilized were not. The news of their treatment at the Workhouse spread like wildfire across the country, prompting outrage at the brutality and force feeding. Demonstrations grew nation-wide, the halls of Congress were flooded with deputations of influential women, agitating for a change in policy towards the suffragists. The blame for the abuse was laid directly at the feet of Wilson’s administration and his own Secretary of War confessed that the suffragists were imprisoned for political means.[24]

The political and social fallout quickly spiraled. The end of the month brought judicial intervention, with every woman unconditionally released, their sentences commutated. The move was hailed as a victory, an acknowledgement of the unjust and arbitrary nature of both the charges and the trials. Arrests stopped for a time and donations to support the cause poured in.

Every Cartwright came to D.C. for Christmas, leaving the Ponderosa in the hands of trusted foremen and neighbors. Still on the mend, being surrounded by every member of her family was a healing balm for Beth’s heart and soul.

Just after the New Year, Wilson finally spoke in support of the suffrage amendment. Beth heard the news while traveling back to Nevada to take her place in the State Assembly. Knowing Wilson’s speech was only a part of the battle, she continued to campaign for suffrage with interviews, speeches, and travelled during the next campaign season, urging people not to elect or re-elect anyone opposed to the amendment. The effort to build a pro-suffrage Congress succeeded, and the in-coming House and Senate passed what became the 19^th Amendment.[25]

All that was needed was for thirty-six states to ratify it.

#####

Chores finished, Georgie raced into the house, throwing the door open with so much force it slammed into the credenza with a crack. The man sitting at the desk flinched.

“Is someone bleeding?” Adam didn’t turn his head in that direction, let alone raise his eyes from the ledger.

His youngest daughter skidded to a stop halfway across the room and winced. “Noooo….”

“Then nooooo thank you,” Adam responded. “Out.”

“Oh, Papa!” she whined, adding a stomp for emphasis.

Now the man lifted his head, barely resisting an eyeroll. “You can go back outside and come into the house properly. Or you can practice opening and closing the door quietly until I say you can stop.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Which might be a few hours.”

“Hours?!”

The drama behind that gasp almost made him chuckle with amusement. Instead, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Hours,” Adam confirmed. “That mutinous look on your face isn’t helping your case. Make a choice, before I do it for you.” He quirked an eyebrow in warning and seconds later Georgie dashed back outside.

And this is the one that wants me to let her go away to college in a few short years.

An entire minute passed before she tried again, this time using greater care to open the door slowly. And close it at an excruciatingly sluggish pace. And tip toe in his direction with the teeniest, tiniest, itty-bitty steps.

“Is this better Papa?”

He didn’t look up, but he was certain Georgie’s emerald eyes were sparkling with joy at her ability to both comply with his directions and thoroughly annoy him at the same time.

If sarcasm was a person… Alta, our youngest and your doppelganger would be it.

“Yes, Georgiana, it is.” Adam set the ledger aside and gave her his full attention.

The blonde-haired girl offered her most winning smile in the hopes that he couldn’t say no to such a sweet, angelic face as hers. “Beth’s going on a prison train![26] Can I go with her?” Georgie clasped her hands together and bounced on her toes a bit. “Oh, please say yes!”

‘Yes,’ was the furthest thing from Adam’s mind. Rising from the chair, he bellowed, “ELIZABETH!”

Georgie tried to smother her giggles, failing miserably as she doubled over with glee. Through her laughter, she said, “You sounded just like Grandpa!”

Now, Adam did roll his eyes. He could hear Beth as she hurried down the hall and came to a stop at the top of the stairs. When she went no further and merely gave him a quizzical look, he waved at her to come down, his patience slowly ebbing away.

And here I thought it was nice having her home while the State Assembly was in recess.

Sighing as she came down the stairs, Beth’s brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything.”

“Fascinating,” Adam replied dryly. “So, you’re not going on a prison train then? Whatever that is.”

She winced. “Hmm. Well, yes, so, I did do one thing. I can explain!”

Resuming his seat behind the desk, Adam crossed his arms and gave her a dark look.

“It’s not at all what it sounds like. It’s simply a tour, on a train, to help ratify the amendment. Those of us who were arrested are going to give speeches and talks about our experiences,” Beth outlined. “I said I’d go along on some of the stops in Texas and other southern states, perhaps California. I wasn’t going to up and leave without telling you.” She cast a scathing look at her baby sister for blabbing the news before she had a chance to bring it up herself.

Undeterred, Georgie was all energy and excitement. “Can I go? I’ll help pass out pamphlets! Or carry Beth’s bag! Or any little—”

“No.”

Whether Adam’s or Beth’s denial was faster or firmer was up for debate but mattered little to Georgie, whose face fell. Every inch the tragic heroine, she shouted dramatically, “You never let me do anything brave!”

More than done with her contributions to the conversation, Adam pointed at the stairs. “Up. Now.”

Letting out a gasp worthy of the stage, Georgie pressed a hand to her chest as if trying to staunch the blood from a mortal wound. “Banished to my tower! Like Rapunzel!”

“Up,” Adam repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.

With a huff, she began flouncing up the staircase. “Just so you know, Papa—”

He cut off her declaration with a warning, “Georgiana…” and shook his head at the sudden speed she seemed to gain. Only when her bedroom door closed did Adam return his attention to Beth.

“One last push, Papa. It isn’t even a protest,” she continued. “The same thing I do at the State Assembly, or in court. Meet people, talk to them, give speeches, share my experiences. I need to do this.” Beth paused a beat then added, “Alone.”

Adam sucked in a breath and held her gaze for a long moment.

She stays alone in Carson City while the legislature is in session. She went to college alone. She can do this… but can I let her? 

Finally, he sighed deeply, knowing he must.

“I want all the details you have. All the information about your stops, where you’re staying, and I want to hear from you regularly. I’ll come looking for you if I don’t—and you know I will,” Adam finished, the warning in his voice softened only by the fear he couldn’t quite hide.

A hand went to her mouth as she tried to hide the smile on her face. “Yes, sir. I’ll stay in contact and expect you to show up madder than a wet hen ready to drag me home by my ear if I don’t.”

The look that he gave her was half-exasperation, half-affection. “I mean it, Beth. More than a day and I’m on the next train. Don’t test me.” Beckoning her closer, Adam stood and pulled her into his arms, in an embrace filled with love and trepidation in equal measures. “Just come home again, moonbeam.”

Returning his hug just as fiercely, the fingers of Beth’s right hand curled into the familiar fabric of his black shirt and gently tugged. “I will. Promise.”

THE END

[1] Nevada’s first Assemblywoman was Sadie Dotson Hurst, elected in 1918. Nevada passed woman suffrage in 1914.

[2] Some film footage of the women picketing the White House exists. It was not made, nor used for, this purpose.

[3] The women who picketed at the White House were known as Silent Sentinels. The women stood silently, holding banners with messages.

[4] A fearless Irish clan leader and pirate queen, famous for her courage, who led her own fleet and commanded hundreds of men.

[5] The women picketing the White House were often attacked after the U.S. entered World War I, their decision to continue protesting during wartime casting them as traitors in the eyes of many.

[6] Police made no effort to defend the women, and often joined in the violence.

[7] Senator Myers from Montana did in fact sponsor such a bill, but it failed to get the support necessary to bring it to the floor for a vote. There are no records of suffragists having confronted him about the dubious legality of it as Beth did.

[8] Doris Stevens, Jailed for Freedom and numerous statements given by suffragists.

[9] Dudley Field Malone was an attorney that worked within the Wilson administration but resigned over the issue of suffrage. He worked with the National Women’s Party, securing the release of many suffragists and successfully appealing their convictions. His wife, May, was also one of the many women arrested and jailed, as was his second wife, Doris Stevens. Significant stonewalling of Malone and others to gain access to their clients was noted in multiple sources.

[10] Jeannette Rankin was the first female Representative in the House of Representatives, elected by the state of Montana. She did call for an investigation of the conditions the suffragists were kept in.

[11] Unfortunately, accurate.

[12] Alice Paul did court arrest in the U.S., hoping for a long sentence. Her actions were meant to galvanize women across the country, bring even further attention to the cause, and push for suffragists to be treated as the political prisoners they were. She also fought for suffrage in England and was jailed there for doing so, alongside Lucy Burns.

[13] Alice Paul was put in a psychiatric ward when she went on hunger strike and force fed, a common tactic against suffragists on hunger strikes. She also recorded her experiences in secret writings, as did others.

[14] An actual move on the part of Congress.

[15] Commentary from the discussion of the committee to form a committee.

[16] Same.

[17] Same. Photographs of the silent sentinels on picket at the White House dispute the idea that they had short skirts/short hair, which some in Congress clearly tried to equate with ‘shorter’ or lesser morals.

[18] Dudley Field Malone successfully made this argument in court.

[19] The account of the Night of Terror at Occoquan that Beth endures comes from Jailed for Freedom by Doris Stevens, the affidavit of Mary Nolan, and notes kept by Lucy Burns.

[20] The Women’s Battle Song by Theodora Mills, sung to the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers

[21] Alice Cosu did have a heart attack on the Night of Terror in Occoquan and was denied medical care for twelve hours after the fact.

[22] Suffragists were in fact removed from district jail and taken to Occoquan on a mere say-so, with no written authorization. That action, coupled with the revelations of the brutality, cost superintendents, including Whittaker, their jobs.

[23] Reference to the story Queen of the Dunes, posted elsewhere in the library.

[24] As recorded in Jailed for Freedom.

[25] All actual actions taken by suffragists, who also continued to picket the White House and, at once point, began burning banners (and even an effigy of Wilson) as part of their protests.

[26] Suffragists did organize a Prison Train where women like Beth who had been arrested and mistreated travelled to various states to tell their story and gain support for ratifying the amendment, particularly in the southern states. These presentations often included the women wearing their prison uniforms to emphasize the injustices they had suffered.