His heartbeat skittered before resuming its normal rhythm. Miss Bishop marched up the stairs and exchanged a few words with the woman who’d made the introduction, then faced her audience.
“I am here as a person whose opinions, according to the laws of this nation, are of no merit to my community. I am here as a soldier in a great Civil War to amend this gross injustice,” she declared, her lyrical voice pulsating with each word.
As she detailed the importance of the amendment, her eyes flashed, and the passion in her voice swelled. “We live in a country founded on the right of revolution and rebellion on the part of those suffering from intolerable injustice. We cannot fail to recognize the injustices heaped on one half of the population simply because that half is female. The Fifteenth Amendment was progress, but there is more to be done. If the question of race has been removed as a restriction, must the question of gender stand between us and the vote?”
Caleb forgot the crowds, he forgot the little girl standing beside him. He forgot everything but the woman on the stage. She was captivating. Her passion infectious, her furor beguiling.
He leaned forward, his grip on the barricade painful. Loosening his hold, he studied the rapt audience. He wasn’t the only person riveted. Jo appeared equally enthralled by the charismatic speaker, as did most of the folks standing near the front. With each subsequent declaration, Miss Bishop’s enthusiasm held the audience in captivated silence.
Caleb exhaled a heavy breath and shook his head.
Just his luck. The one woman who’d caught his attention in the time since his childish infatuation with Mary Louise was a suffragist. A woman who, according to the newspaper clippings Jo collected, considered men an unnecessary nuisance and marriage a legalized form of bondage. If Jo hadn’t been standing beside him, he’d have hightailed it out of there. The last time he’d noticed a girl, he’d wound up with his heart broken and a whole passel of trouble besides.
“Go home to your mother,” a hoarse voice near his left shouted, jarring Caleb from his glum ponderings.
“I think her mother is here!” Another jeered.
“Yeah,” a third man bellowed. “How about you do something useful? Find yourself a husband.”
A chorus of titters followed.
Caleb yanked upright, blinking as though he’d been awakened from a dream. The growing hostility in the crowd sent a slither of apprehension up spine.
The dissenters remained buried in the confusion of people. Anonymous in their enmity. Cowards.
He glanced at the little girl in the yellow dress, then leaned down. “Where are your parents?”
She pointed at the Savoy Hotel across the crowded square.
Caleb tugged on Jo’s sleeves and nodded toward the girl. “She shouldn’t be here.”
Jo’s eyes widened, clearly noticing Miss Bishop’s young admirer for the first time. “Is she all alone?”
“Near as I can tell.”
His sister tightened her bonnet over her dark hair, tossed a wistful glance at the podium, then sighed. “The atmosphere here is growing hostile. We should take her home.”
He stepped back and let Jo pass before him.
A gunshot sounded.
Someone screamed.
Miss Bishop’s brilliant turquoise skirts disappeared behind the podium. In an instant the scene descended into chaos. A man tripped and slammed into his back, shoving Caleb forward, and he careened into Jo. They crashed over the barrier. He angled his body and took the brunt of her weight, knocking the wind from his lungs. His ears rang, and he shielded Jo with his arm, searching for the girl in yellow.
She stood in the midst of the stampede, her eyes wide, her hands covering her face. The crowd parted around her like water skirting a boulder.
Caleb pushed off and forced his way through the fleeing mob. A sharp heel dug into his foot. A shoulder knocked him off balance. With a burst of strength, he lifted the girl into his arms, turned and leaped back over the toppled barricade.
The mob pushed and shoved, scattering like buckshot away from the podium. A cacophony of deafening voices shouted as people were separated in the confusion. While disorder ruled, Caleb crouched behind the limited protection of the barricade with his sister and the girl, shielding them as best he could with his outstretched arms. He’d rather take his chances with a stray bullet than risk getting trampled beneath the fleeing spectators.
After several tense minutes that seemed to last an eternity, the ground ceased vibrating. The noise lessened. A gentle breeze stirred the hair at the nape of his neck.
He chanced lifting his head, astonished by the sudden silence. In an instant the square had cleared. Only a few people remained, looking dazed but uninjured.
Jo shoved her bonnet from her face. “Is everyone all right?”
The little girl nodded. She straightened and brushed at her yellow skirts, appearing no worse for wear.
A panicked voice shouted behind him. “We need a doctor!”
Caleb searched for the source of the frantic call. The dispersing crowd had all but emptied the grassy square, taking cover in the nearby hotels and businesses, leaving a mess of blankets and overturned baskets in their wake. Caleb pushed himself upright and reached for Jo.
She yanked her hand from his protective grasp. “Find out who needs a doctor, and I’ll take care of this little sprite.”
“I’m a veterinarian.”
“You’re better than nothing,” Jo declared with her usual blunt edge. “Can you see Anna? Is she all right?”
“She took cover as soon as the pandemonium started. I’m sure she’s fine.”
His answer was mostly truthful. While his attention had been focused on Jo and the young girl, he’d caught a glimpse of Anna’s turquoise blue dress near the podium.
“Help,” the frenzied voice called. “We need help.”
Though reluctant to lose sight of his sister, Caleb knew Jo better than most anyone. She wouldn’t put herself in unnecessary danger. She was smart and resourceful. They had to separate.
He touched her sleeve. “Whatever happens, meet me in the lobby of the Savoy at noon. That’s twenty minutes.”
At his easy capitulation, Jo’s expression lost its stubborn set. “Noon.” She reached for the girl’s hand. “We’re going to find your parents. What’s your name?”
The girl pressed her lips together, as though holding back her answer.
She shook her head, and her two long braids whipped around her neck. “I’m not s’posed to tell strangers.”
Jo shrugged. “That’s all right. You don’t have to tell me. My name is Jo. Can I least walk you back to the hotel?”
The girl screwed up her face in concentration. “To mama?”
“Yes, to your mother.”
The girl nodded.
Satisfied Jo had control of the situation, Caleb spun around and pushed his way through the knot of people toward the frantic voice. He broke through to the center, and his stomach dropped.
Anna Bishop lay sprawled on her back, a growing pool of blood seeping from beneath her body. Though ashen, she blinked and took a shuddering breath. The white banner across her chest was stained crimson near the point where the chevron ends met at her hip. The gray-haired woman kneeling beside her clutched Anna’s limp hand in both of hers.
Caleb swallowed around the lump in his throat. “She needs a surgeon.”
The