A Vote of Confidence (33 page)

He sprinted the rest of the way down the slope and crossed the creek in a few long jumps, water splashing up to dampen his
trouser legs.

Gwen felt something poke her back between the shoulder blades a second before a man said, “Hold it right there.”

She caught her breath.

“Lady, what’re you doing here?”

This couldn’t be one of Morgan’s men. Anyone in Morgan’s employ wouldn’t put a gun to a woman’s back. Heart racing, she said,
“I… I’m here for information.”

“What kind of information?”

“For the… for the story I’m writing for the newspaper.”

The man moved to stand before her, the gun now pointed at her chest. She didn’t know him, had never seen him before. He was
short in stature and looked more like a banker than someone who would blow up a building. But something in his eyes, even
through his spectacles, told her he would not hesitate to use the weapon if provoked.

Fear iced the blood in her veins.

He glanced down the trail in the direction she’d come. “You came here alone?”

“No,” she lied. But it wasn’t a lie. God was with her.
Help me
,
Lord.
She stood a bit straighter. “The dynamite isn’t there. Your plans have been found out. The authorities are right behind me.”

She’d hoped her words would make him retreat. Instead he moved closer, and his expression turned angry.

“Then I guess I’d better keep you close.” He pressed the barrel of the gun against her breastbone. “Hadn’t I?”

O God. Rescue me!

Morgan’s mouth felt dry, his breathing shallow. Nothing in his life had struck terror in him like the sight of Gwen held captive
at the point of a gun. He eased stealthily forward, circling off to the right, away from the trail he’d followed into the
forest.

“Let’s go,” the man with the gun said, motioning with it to let her know the direction they were to take.

“You cannot think you will succeed.” Gwen didn’t move other than to lift her chin in defiance. “Mr. Carter will see that all
the blame falls upon you.”

Morgan allowed himself a grim smile. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it.

“If you take me with you, I will only slow you down. You had best get away from here as quickly as you can.”

The man stepped so close to Gwen that their noses almost touched. “If you don’t move now, I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

Something in his voice told Morgan he might follow through with his threat. Time was running out.

Gwen’s captor spun her around and gave her a push. A soft cry of complaint escaped her, and Morgan’s response was quick and
involuntary. He hurtled forward, tackling the man from behind and sending them to the ground. The gun went off.

God
,
no!
But there was no time to see if the bullet had struck Gwen. First he had to make certain her attacker couldn’t fire again.

They rolled across the trail and slammed into the trunk of a tree, Morgan grasping the man’s right wrist with both hands,
pounding it against the ground time and again until, at last, the gun flew free. The smaller man fought hard, but he didn’t
have much of a chance against Morgan’s fury.

Morgan rose to his feet, dragging the smaller man up with him. Still holding the fellow’s shirt with his left hand, he brought
up his right fist, catching the assailant under the chin, knocking off his glasses at the same time. He let go of the shirt
and followed with two more punches, one to the jaw, the next to his midsection. The other man fell back, his head hitting
a tree on the way down. Morgan would have hauled him up again if not for Gwen.

“Stop, Morgan.”

Breathing hard, he turned to look at her. There she stood, the gun now held in her trembling hands. He glanced back at the
stranger. Out cold. Then he heard her small sob. In an instant he was beside her, taking the gun from her hands, drawing her
to him, holding her there, never wanting to release her again.

If he had lost her…

She’d thought the man would kill her. For all her bravado, she’d thought she would die. But her silent cry for God to rescue
her had been answered. God had sent Morgan. She’d thought she didn’t want or need his protection. She’d been wrong.

“Shh,” he whispered near her ear. “It’s all right. I’m here. The danger is past. The guards at New Hope will have heard the
shot. They’ll be here soon.”

His words proved prophetic almost at once. In the distance, she heard the sound of men’s voices and dogs barking.

“Over here!” Morgan called without loosening his tight embrace.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d released her. She would have stayed right where she was, her forehead pressed against his
collarbone, her hands clutching his shirtfront.

“Morgan?”

“We’re here, Fagan.”

Gwen rolled her head to the side, enough to see Fagan Doyle and three other men — two of them with dogs on leashes — appear
through the forest.

“Take this,” Morgan said, handing the gun to Fagan. “And our friend on the ground there. He tried to kidnap Gwen and almost
shot her. Tell Sheriff Winston that I think with the right incentive, he might tell us who hired him.”

“And Miss Arlington? Is she — ”

“She’s fine. Just scared.” Morgan’s right hand stroked her hair. “We’ll join you in town. My car’s back on the road a ways.
See that one of the men takes her horse and buggy back to town, will you?”

“Aye, I’ll see to it, Morgan.” Fagan’s voice softened. “Sure and it’s good you’re all right, miss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Doyle,” she whispered.

Morgan continued to stroke small circles on her back with the flat of his left hand while rubbing his cheek against the top
of her head until long after the other men had left the forest and silence had fallen over them like a comfortable blanket.

At long last Gwen pulled back far enough that she could look into Morgan’s eyes. “I was coming to find you to break our engagement.
I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do.”

“And I was looking for you to apologize for last night.” His smile was tender, his gaze understanding. “Forgive me.”

“When I faced that man and his gun, I asked God to rescue me, and He sent you.” She wondered if he understood the importance
of that admission. She wasn’t wholly self-sufficient. She needed others. She needed Morgan. And sometimes she even needed
to be rescued.

He kissed her, brief touches upon her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. “ ‘And if one prevail against him, two shall
withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.’ Me and you and God. The three of us together will be stronger,
no matter the circumstances.”

His image blurred as tears welled in her eyes.

“Gwen, I won’t ever ask you to change. I fell in love with a woman who had the courage to leave her home in the East and begin
a new life in Idaho. I fell in love with a woman who loves to teach music to children and who cares deeply about her neighbors.
I fell in love with a woman with enough confidence to become the first woman mayor in Idaho, maybe in the nation. Don’t break
our engagement. Don’t break my heart.”

She sniffed and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Say you’ll marry me.”

Although she wanted to respond, she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

He kissed her again, this time a languid caress that indicated he was willing to stay right there in the forest for as long
as it took her to believe him. And when their lips parted, he said, voice husky, “Madam Mayor, how about a vote of confidence
for the man who loves you.”

A cool breeze whispered through the trees and swirled around them, and as it moved on, she felt the last shred of uncertainty,
the last iota of insecurity blow away with it. She believed him. She believed him and she loved him.

She smiled, hoping it would tell him more than would her words. “Yes, my love. I vote yes.”

THE DAILY HERALD

Saturday, July 24, 1915

After a thorough investigation by the Crow County Sherriff, the
Daily Herald
has learned of the arrest of Mr. Harrison Carter, Esquire. He is charged with destruction of property and attempted kidnapping
as an accessory before the fact. We have also learned that the subject’s wife, Susannah Carter, has taken the couple’s children
and gone to stay with other members of her family in Illinois.

Prior to his arrest, Mr. Carter served on the Board of County Commissioners for four terms and was considered one of the leading
members of Bethlehem Springs society.

The trial of Mr. Carter — as well as that of his associate, one Elias Spade — is set to begin in September.

THE DAILY HERALD

Monday, August 16, 1915

On Saturday afternoon, August 14, 1915, Miss Guinevere Arlington, daughter of Mr. Griffin Arlington of Crow County and Mrs.
Elizabeth Arlington of New Jersey, was joined in marriage to Mr. Morgan McKinley. The ceremony was held in the Syringa Prayer Chapel on the grounds of the New Hope Health Spa, which is owned by the bridegroom.

The bride wore a delicate tea-length gown of ivory satin and sheer lace and a tulle veil crowned with roses and beads. Her
sister, Miss Cleopatra Arlington, attended the bride, and Mr. Fagan Doyle stood with the groom. Among the guests were the
bride’s parents; the groom’s sister, Miss Daphne McKinley of Massachusetts; and Idaho senator William Rudyard of Boise.

After a honeymoon trip to California where, among other sights, they will visit the Panama-California Exhibition in San Diego,
the couple will return to Bethlehem Springs, at which time the new Mrs. McKinley will resume her duties as the town’s mayor.

With much appreciation to all the people at Zondervan who work so hard to bring my books to readers. Without my publisher,
editors, designers, and marketing and publicity people, these stories would be nothing more than entertainment for myself.

Who says a woman can’t be a mayor?

Dear Friends:

I hope you enjoyed meeting Gwen, Morgan, and the other residents of Bethlehem Springs as much as I have and that you will
look forward, along with me, to returning to this small Idaho town again.

In
A Vote of Confidence,
Gwen becomes the mayor of Bethlehem Springs in 1915. The first woman mayor in America was, in fact, elected in Idaho, but
the year was 1918, three years after my story. The woman’s name was Laura Starcher, and she served as mayor of Parma, Idaho.

Here are two more facts that might interest you:

• In 1896, the woman’s suffrage amendment to the Idaho Constitution was adopted, giving Idaho women the right to vote.

• Two women ran for the office of president of the United States well before my fictional character ran for mayor. Victoria
Woodhull ran for the presidency in 1872 and Belva Lockwood in 1884, and again in 1888. Neither was permitted under the law
to vote, but nothing in the law prevented them from running for office. Ironic, isn’t it?

As I write this note to my readers, I am busy telling Cleo’s story (Who says a woman can’t be a wrangler?). Wait until you
see who wins her heart! Look for
Fit To Be Tied
in late 2009.

I invite you to drop by my website (
www.robinleehatcher.com) and my Write Thinking blog (robinlee.typepad.com) for the latest information available about me and my books.

Until the next time, “May the L
ORD
keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other” (Genesis 31:49
TNIV
).

In the grip of His grace,

Robin Lee Hatcher

B
Y
R
OBIN
L
EE
H
ATCHER

Cleopatra Arlington studied the horses in the corral. This bunch of mustangs had been captured off the range in the southwest
corner of the state. Wild didn’t begin to describe the look in their eyes. They were wary, some scared, a few mean, and none
of them wanted to be where they were now — walled in by fences.