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  Samuel O’Brien shook his head. “The women’s opinions don’t matter. They will obey their husbands.”

  Silence filled the room. Bernard Whitehouse laughed out loud. “Gentlemen, don’t fool yourselves. Women have a way of getting even. They will make our lives miserable if we put this burden on them.”

  “Maybe you just need to lay the law down to your wife,” Tim said. His great-grandfather was the one who’d put this ordinance on the books.

  Another older man, George Potter—someone Jack had always listened to because his counsel was more prudent than the others—spoke up. “The world is changing. On the East Coast, women are marching in the streets for more rights.”

  “Hell, they can vote in Wyoming,” Samuel said.

  Tim shook his head. “No decent, God-fearing woman would want equal rights. She is to obey her husband.”

  Jack could see this conversation was quickly deteriorating. “Back to the problem at hand. Do we shut down the mercantile and prepare for a fight or let things continue on as is?”

  Silence filled the room, and then George, the man with a logical brain said, “Let’s invite the other business owners in town to the next city council meeting. Let’s discuss this with them and see what their take is on the situation. We could boycott her, but once again, we’d have no store.”

  “Or someone else in town could open up a store and run her out of business.”

  Jack knew he would do whatever his council voted on, but part of him thought it was an archaic law. What did it matter? Shouldn’t women be allowed to own a business?

  The men started talking amongst themselves as to who had the most money and could open a competitive store.

  Rupert pounded the gavel. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Before we approach the next city council meeting, what if we sent Jack to talk to her one more time? We tell her, here are your choices. One sell the store, two get married and put the store in your husband’s name, or three take the city’s law on and find yourself facing competition. Your choice. Then we finalize our decision when we meet again.”

  The men around the table nodded their heads, all except Tim. And Jack knew he wouldn’t be happy until he’d closed Abigail down.

  “Most women when faced with a problem of this magnitude will just sell the store. Personally, I think she’s holding out for more money. No woman has the skill or the aptitude to run a mercantile,” Samuel said smugly.

  “Make a motion and we’ll vote on it,” Jack said, thinking that none of them knew Abigail like he did. The woman was intelligent and witty and more frustrating than a group of drunks on Saturday night, but he didn’t doubt for a moment she intended to continue operating the mercantile. “I just want to go on record and say Abigail Vanderhooten is a very smart woman and considers that store her birthright. I don’t think for a moment she’s afraid of us.”

  The table grew silent, except for a pencil being tapped against the wooden top. Then William Fitzgerald made the motion Jack knew would stir up more trouble than a family of skunks.

  Once the council meeting was over and the decision had been made, Jack walked back to his bar. He glanced around at the business.

  “Mrs. Fletcher came looking for you. She’s needing more of her arthritis medicine you give her,” one of his bartenders said. “She’ll be back later today.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said. He’d gone to college with the intention of becoming a doctor, and instead, he’d become a pharmacist without a place to practice. After his father passed away and left him the saloon, Jack had added a small pharmacy in the back. So far, he only sold the drugs and prescriptions over the counter of the bar, but someday, he hoped to open his own pharmaceutical shop.

  “How was the city council meeting?” his bartender asked.

  “The next time I let you talk me into running for mayor, I think I will pull out a gun and shoot you.”

  “Well, you didn’t want Tim Barton to take over the town, did you? We’d be shuttered before the ink was dry on the election results. That man is a religious zealot who thinks alcohol is the drink of the devil. He scares me.”

  “Well, he’s still sitting on the council, and we’re open.”

  “That’s only because he hasn’t gained control.”

  “Maybe so,” Jack said with a sigh, knowing he needed to talk to Abigail and bring her up-to-date before someone on the council let their plans be known. He dreaded this conversation; though, he didn’t mind gazing at the lovely young woman. She was a cute little pistol he feared would soon go off on him.

  ***

  Abigail glanced up when the bell over the door tinkled, announcing the arrival of a customer. Jack strolled in, and her heart gave a few extra thumps. She couldn’t deny the man was a looker, one every woman in town probably drooled over. She had to lick her lips to keep the spittle from appearing.

  Why did the man have the ability to make her notice the way his shirt clung to his muscled chest and his pants fit snug against his thighs? Why did his big hazel eyes twinkle like they held a surprise?

  “Good morning, Abigail,” he said, walking up to the counter.

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a shopping trip, but more of a social call?”

  He grinned. “I’m officially here on city business.”

  “Oh,” she said, gazing at him, wishing she didn’t feel this attraction, knowing it could only get in the way. “Is this my official ‘shut me down’ visit?”

  “The city council and I met yesterday. Here is the resolution we came up with for you to retain your father’s store: one sell the store, two get married and put the store in your husband’s name, three take the city’s law on and find yourself facing competition.”

  Abigail felt her blood begin a slow boil. So, they wanted a fight. Well, she would give them a battle they had never even imagined.

  Her lips felt almost brittle, as her smile turned cold. “That doesn’t sound like a resolution. That sounds like a threat. So, you guys aim to put me out of business if I don’t comply with your outdated archaic law?”

  A tense grin appeared on Jack’s face. She could see him struggling. “Let’s just say you will face competition.”

  Her stomach clenched at the realization they meant to run her out of business if she didn’t concede. Well, think again. There would be letters going out to her women’s sorority tomorrow, inviting them to come to New Hope and open up shops, especially because the small town needed the business. Somehow, she would find a way to bring this town’s codes into the nineteenth century, where women held jobs and earned a living without the aid of a man.

  “Are you giving me a date I need to comply by?” she asked.

  A sheepish expression crossed his face. “I need to let them know at the next city council meeting, which will be held next week.”

  “Where do they meet?” she asked, wondering if she had time to gather a group of women to back her.

  “This is a special meeting being held in the church,” he said. “But you can’t attend if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Why not? Their decision will affect my future. Why can’t I tell them in person how I intend to handle this situation?”

  Did they really think she would just take this sitting down? That she would give up her birthright just because some idiot law said only a man could own a business?

  “Because frankly, I don’t want to have to protect you from how these men will react with violence,” he said, his voice low and deep, sending a shiver down her spine. Was that shiver a result of fear or the way the she could get lost in his gaze?

  Never before had a man attracted her or affected her senses like this one. He was dangerous to both her independence and her libido, and she needed to put him off.

  “I think the next time you come into my store you should buy something or not come in at all,” she said, staring into those eyes she could get lost in. “This is a place of business.”

  He smiled. “I’ll take two peppermint sticks, pleas
e.”

  She pulled them out of the candy box and handed them to him. “That will be a quarter.”

  “Candy has certainly gone up in price,” he said, shaking his head.

  “The price goes up when there’s the threat of competition. I have to earn as much as I can before I’m run out of business. You must understand that feeling when the churches in town try to shut down the saloon.”

  There were women marching in towns across America trying to eradicate demon alcohol. All she wanted was the same rights and privileges men were afforded. She didn’t care if they wanted to take a drink or two. She just wanted to earn a living, have access to a bank loan, own her own business, and vote.

  He nodded. “Very much.”

  “You have a great day, Mayor,” she said sarcastically, dismissing him. He was now the enemy. She would have to find a lawyer before next week and not one from the town of New Hope.

  “You as well, Abigail.” He turned and walked out the door, and anxiety assaulted Abigail.

  What if she was run out of town or what if they brought in competition? She could lose the very thing she was trying so desperately to hang onto.

  Bella came around the corner and stared at Abigail. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to send our friends an invitation to open up a trade in this wretched town. I’ll tell them how the town has an ordinance that women cannot own a business and that if we have to, we’ll move just outside the city limits and set up shop.”

  Wrapping her arms around her middle, Bella considered her. “I get the feeling the mayor is just as confused as you are right now. He didn’t seem to really enjoy delivering this message. I think he might be a little sweet on you. And you, you’re glowing like a bride.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Well, there certainly is a glow about you.”

  Abigail glared at her friend. “It’s because I’m so mad I just want to march through town, shouting at the women to wake up.”

  With a laugh, Bella reached out and rubbed Abigail’s arm. “I think you’re going to need to wait on the others before you do something like that. It wouldn’t take much to throw two troublemaking girls in jail. But a group…that could draw unwanted attention to this small town. Don’t worry. We’ll get this changed.”

  “You’re right,” Abigail said with a sigh. She knew from past experience nothing changed overnight. Sometimes it took years, but eventually New Hope would have to recognize women had rights just like men, just like they’d had to eventually give the blacks their rights. This was no longer a white man’s society, but everyone’s.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Bella asked, glancing at Abigail worriedly.

  “Yes, rid me of this attraction I feel for the mayor and help me write letters to our friends. It’s time to bring this town into the nineteenth century.”

  Chapter Three

  On the return walk to the saloon, Mrs. Whitehouse, one of the councilmen’s wives, approached Jack. He tipped his hat in greeting and she stopped.

  Laying her hand on his arm, she gazed up at him. “Mr. Turner, my husband has told me about the council’s plans, and I’m on my way right now to purchase all of our groceries from Miss Vanderhooten. The young woman inherited her store, and what this town is doing is wrong.”

  Jack nodded. “Don’t tell me. Explain it to the men on the council. I agree with you.”

  “I told my husband he’s playing with dynamite if he thinks the women in this town are going to accept what the council is doing to Abigail. It’s time the women in our fair city were treated with respect, and this law is outdated. I intend to talk to the sewing club about this egregious law. Hopefully, I can convince them to support Abigail.”

  She frowned at Jack like he was the culprit behind the council’s behavior, and he knew Tim Barton would love how the women would blame him for the outcome of this situation if the council got their way. What would happen if they learned the council wanted to put in place competition to the young woman’s store?

  “Mrs. Whitehouse, I am doing what I can, but once the city council gets involved in running her out of town, then there’s not much I can do.”

  She smiled. “I’m going to call upon each one of the city councilman’s wives and just see about that. This is Walter Vanderhooten’s daughter, he was a respected member of our community, and we should defer to his wishes. He left the business to his daughter. Now the city council should leave her alone.”

  Jack smiled and knew the Whitehouse home would not be a pleasant house tonight. “Yes, ma’am. I don’t disagree, but I’m just the mayor, and it’s my job to carry out the law.”

  Lucy Whitehouse looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with concern. “You’re in a tough position, mayor. Maybe what should happen is for women to run for city council and take over this town?”

  Wouldn’t that put starch in Tim’s drawers to learn the women were considering taking over the city council? But since they couldn’t even vote in the city elections, they would be hard pressed to win.

  Sometimes you just had to let the other person feel they had the power. “Women governing our small town would be a great addition, but once again, that’s against the law,” he said. “At least for now.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got to run, but I wanted you to know not everyone in town is happy with the city council’s decision.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Whitehouse, for letting me know,” he said and tipped his hat to her as he continued down the sidewalk.

  He’d barely gone five steps when two other women halted him.

  “Mayor, a word with you, please.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

  “Is it true?” Mrs. Jackson asked.

  “What are you referring to?” he asked, knowing without her saying a word what she was going to say. They were going to make his life a living hell for the next week.

  “Is it true the city council is going to shut down the mercantile?”

  Jack took a deep breath and again recited his stand. “Our city has an ordinance in place that does not allow for women to own a business. You can put the business in your father’s or your husband’s name, but a woman cannot be the actual owner.”

  “That’s outlandish. She inherited this business,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said her hands on her hips. “Her father clearly wanted her to own the store.”

  “What’s wrong with a woman owning a business? Sometimes we need to work just like a man does to feed our families. Sometimes life doesn’t give us any choice but to take care of ourselves,” Mrs. Jackson said, her voice strong with indignation.

  Standing in the street as the wagons rolled by, Jack felt like people were frowning upon them as this woman gave him an ear full on why a woman needed to own a business.

  “I understand, Mrs. Jackson. I agree with you, but the city ordinance makes it impossible for her to keep her inheritance,” he said gently, knowing he was riling these women up with the word inheritance, hoping it would come back to haunt the city council. Knowing it would probably affect him as well. Tim would use this in next year’s reelection campaign.

  Jack really didn’t care if she kept the business. Women were not a threat to him, and he certainly had no desire to own her mercantile.

  “That’s right. Her father owned that store, and he left it to her. No, the city council should not be able to take away her birthright. That’s so wrong. Mrs. Jackson and I are on our way to our Bible study group. I’m going to tell the women there.”

  “If you feel strongly about this, you should attend the next city council meeting. That’s where the final decision will be made to shut her down,” Jack said, knowing if the place were packed with women, it would be hard for the council to ignore them.

  Mrs. Jackson smiled. “Women love a good fight, and you’re about to have one on your hands, Mayor.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t blame me. I just carry out the
council’s orders here in our little town. I’m the tiebreaker vote. The other six individuals create the laws I oversee.”

  The woman puffed up her chest. “When is that meeting?”

  “Next Wednesday at noon in the church.”

  “I can’t wait to see you and the city council men, Mayor.”

  “Good day, ladies,” Jack said as he tipped his hat and continued on down the street.

  This kind of fight was not good for the town or families or men. One way or another, he needed to bring this to an end right away or watch a division created with the men on one side and the ladies on the other.

  The two sexes battling each other was not good business for their small little village. In some way, he had to help resolve this conflict before it became an all out war.

  Maybe he should ask Abigail to dinner. Maybe over dinner they could have a logical discussion of why this fight needed to end.

  Later that afternoon, he sent one of his employees to her with a handwritten note, extending a dinner invitation that evening at the Fork and Spoon café. In the note, he said to let him know if she could make it.

  Thirty minutes later, he was doing inventory on the liquor when he heard the scrape of wood against wood, and the men in the bar sounded like they were almost choking. He turned around, and there was Abigail. She strolled into his saloon, wearing what he was certain was the latest fashion. The bodice of her dress fitted her upper torso, shaping her breasts and making her waist tiny. The skirt was pulled back and tucked into a bustle that moved when she walked. A parasol made her appear like a lady out for a stroll. The men all stood like soldiers at attention as she walked amongst them, heading for his bar.

  The woman had nerve. His saloon was exclusively for men. No women allowed. She’d just broken one of the biggest taboos in town for a lady, and she acted like she really didn’t care.

  The woman had guts and was brazen, yet looked so soft and vulnerable. And goodness, that dress hugged all her curves and made her look good enough to want to slowly unwrap each layer to reveal the hidden prize.