THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (23 page)

Opening the folder, he saw it held newspaper clippings. He picked the first one
up.

THE ANTI-CHINESE LEAGUE
was the headline. So the league was still
at it. Why wasn't he surprised? He'd seen several articles in the Denver paper that made
him even more aware that what was happening in Hailey was just one instance of
widespread anti-Chinese sentiment. He glanced through the article, seeing that the league
had given the local Celestials until the end of May to get out of town.

Or what? Will there be lynchings, burnings? Killings?

He'd experienced a small sample of what could happen to his people when
anti-Chinese mobs formed.

His people?
Where did that come from? They're not my people. Even Soomey
admits that I've become more American than Chinese.

He forced the questions to the back of his mind and read on, skimming each of
the cut-out articles. One, dated last week, ended with the statement that the Chinese in
Hailey had said they would not go. Tony wondered if they knew what they were letting
themselves in for.

On the other hand, he realized as he glanced down the article from the following
day's paper, they might just win this particular battle. Someone at the last meeting had
pointed out that running the Chinese out of town would leave their wives without servants.
Chuckling, he laid it aside. No wonder the League wanted to enlist the town's women to
their cause. He'd have to share this with Lulu...

Lulu...
She has to marry me. There's no other choice. But will she see it that
way?

The next article spoke of enlisting 'good Mormon girls' as servants and assured
the readers that said young women would be more than happy to work for less than what
folks were now paying the yellow heathens.

Tony wondered if the gentleman who'd made that promise had tried to hire a
household servant lately. In Denver he'd heard some of the men complaining because the
Irish girls who worked for them were now demanding eight and even ten dollars a week,
and all day Sunday off.

The front door opened, closed. He stuffed the clippings back into the folder and
went into the front office. Mr. Eagleton was there, just taking off his overcoat.

"So you made it back. I was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get the line
open."

"I thought about trying to get here on snowshoes, but after the surface
froze--"

Eagleton waved his apology aside. "Never mind. Business is slow this time of
year. You get those letters written?"

"On your desk."

"Well, what do you think of the typewriting machine? Clever ain't it?" He hung
his suit coat on the hook behind the door.

"I think it'll take some getting used to. I wasted a lot of paper."

"So did I, when it first came. But I'm getting pretty good now." He mimed pecking
at the keyboard with two fingers. "Now, then, tell me about your meetings in Denver."

Tony spent an impatient half an hour relating the gist of what he'd learned at the
telephone engineering meeting he'd attended. "Compared to some of the companies, we've
had relatively little trouble with line breakage and vandalism. One fellow, from somewhere
back in Ohio, I think, told about finding the line cut between two poles. He looked around,
trying to find a clue to who did it, and saw it in a nearby yard, strung for clothesline. The
woman of the house swore it had been there for years." He went on to relate other
anecdotes, knowing that Eagleton was far more interested in them than in the technical
information he'd picked up.

"Well, then, it sounds as if your time was well spent," Eagleton said when Tony
fell silent. "What's on your schedule this week?"

Hesitating, Tony wondered if he might be stepping out of line. "I was going to ask
you if I could have the rest of the week off, sir. Without pay, of course. I've got
some...some personal business to take care of."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No, but thanks." For a moment he considered telling Eagleton everything, then
common sense prevailed. The man was generous and kindly, but he was, after all, Tony's
boss, not his friend.

* * * *

Once she was alone, Lulu sank into her rocker and stared into space. Her mind
spun with thoughts strange and new.

She didn't want to get married. She hadn't wanted to get married since she was too
young to know better. All her plans for her future had been destroyed by one careless
action. How could she have been so heedless? So lacking in foresight?

Yet her hands could still recall the hard strength of him. She tasted him again, rich
and hot, on her tongue. What would it be like, to share a bed with him forevermore, to go
to sleep in his arms and wake next to him?

Don't be ridiculous! You have a career. What would he do the first time you
went haring off to the other side of the country, just to make a speech?

As if in answer, she heard his words on the Fourth of July, "I was so proud of
you, up there on that podium. What you had to say was worth listening to. And I wanted to
yell to the crowd to shut up, so they could hear you."

Of course, then he'd yelled at her for endangering herself. So she'd yelled back,
and they'd gone at it hammer and tongs, as they always seemed to do, anymore.

She didn't know how to be a mother. How could she possibly be trusted with
something so precious as a baby? She had dim, faraway memories of holding Iris Lachlan,
who'd been a sickly child and not often given into the care of older siblings or cousins.
There had been no more babies in the families until Katie's, but Lulu had been away while
most of them were infants.

How would she cope with a child? Her writing and speaking paid enough to keep
her, as long as she lived frugally, but those small sums would never stretch for a
nursemaid. And without someone to help care for her child, she would have little time to
write, would not be able to travel to speaking engagements. She would be ethically
constrained to give up the small allowance her mother sent her for clothing. "You can't
appear in public looking shabby. People will listen to your message as long as you appear
respectable, with no hint of the revolutionary about you," Mamma had told her. After
seeing the reception given some of the more radical suffrage campaigners, Lulu knew
Mamma had been right.

She was still sitting in the rocker when Tony returned a little before noon. He
walked through her front door as if he had a right to. "I'm glad you're back," she said. "Sit
down. We need to talk."

"You're not even dressed yet."

"I've been thinking."

"The time for thinking is past. Are you packed?"

"No, and I'm not going to unless we can come to some sort of an agreement."

"Agreement, hell! You'll marry me, Lulu. My son will not be born a bastard." He
loomed over her, his hands on the rocker's arms. "If you want to run off afterwards, that'll
be your choice. Until then, you'll be my wife. But you'll leave the baby with me."

She shrank back, seeing a Tony she'd never seen before, one whose will was as
strong as her father's. "No, I--"

"Yes! Now will you dress yourself, or will I?"

There would be no reasoning with him in this mood. Her brothers had taught her
that. Men! They made up their minds and no amount of rational argument would sway
them. "Oh, very well, but once I'm dressed, we're going to have a calm, sensible
conversation."

"I'll start packing. How much of this folderol belongs to you?" His arm made a
broad sweep, the gesture taking in the entire parlor.

"Start with the books. I won't be long." She reckoned he could do little damage by
packing her small library. Some of her keepsakes were fragile, and she would pack them
herself. If she decided to go with him.

Years of living out of a travel case had taught Lulu to dress quickly. She chose a
walking suit of gray faille, one of the two she'd purchased second-hand just before leaving
Portland. Its velvet trim showed a little wear, but not enough that she'd look shabby. The
jacket was long and loose and concealed the gap at the back where she could no longer
fasten the skirt or the lower buttons of the blouse. When she returned to the parlor, Tony
was just putting the last books into a box.

Although her deliberations of the morning had brought her to an inescapable
conclusion, she believed there were considerations to be addressed before she yielded to
Tony's demands. "Come into the kitchen," she told him. "I'd like some tea while we make
our plans."

He stood, dusting his hands. "There's no need because there's nothing to discuss.
Are you ready?"

She ignored him and went into the kitchen. Steam from the teakettle's spout
showed that the water was hot enough for tea, so she warmed the pot. When she heard his
footsteps behind her, she said, not turning around, "There certainly is something to discuss.
Supposing I was to agree to marry you--"

At his exclamation, she faced him. "I said
supposing
, Tony. I haven't
agreed to anything yet." His face was set in stubborn lines, but she wasn't about to give in
to him.
Begin as you mean to go on
, her mother had said to her, more than once.
Letting him have his own way now would set an undesirable precedent.

"If we marry, I don't want to do it here in Hailey," she said. "We're going to cause
enough talk as it is, and getting our names in the paper will only make it worse."

He opened his mouth, but shut it again when she held up a hand.

"Let me go on, please. You'll have your opportunity for rebuttal when I'm done."
Who'd have thought her public speaking experience would be so handy under these
circumstances? "Secondly, I will not promise to obey you, so unless you'll agree to the
deletion of that word from the marriage vows, there's no need for further discussion."

"You've never obeyed me yet," he muttered, "so why would I think you'd start
now?"

Lulu stifled a grin. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. He hadn't entirely lost
his sense of humor. "Third, while I will restrict my more controversial activities until our
daughter is older, I will not give up working toward equal rights and universal suffrage. I
will simply remain more in the background, because it wouldn't be fair for me to put
myself at risk as long as I am responsible for a small child." What she wasn't admitting was
how the thought of leaving her daughter motherless had chilled her to the bone.

She could see he was all but bursting with the effort to keep silent. "And last, I am
marrying you with the expectation it is forever. I do not believe in divorce, and will never
agree to it. If you decide you no longer wish to live with me, you are free to leave--as will I
be, should I come to that conclusion--but we will remain man and wife." She stared up at
him, trying to read his thoughts in his face, to see into his heart. "Do you agree?"

Tony bit back the angry words that threatened to spill from his mouth. Her
demands, her
outrageous
demands, infuriated him, even as a small, rational part
of his mind told him they weren't all that unreasonable. He'd done some thinking of his
own, through a night that had seemed a century long. This morning he'd come here in a
mood to accept just about any conditions she set, as long as she agreed to marry him. But
she hadn't. Instead she'd said they had to talk. To talk, for God's sake, when there was
nothing more to be said.

She was going to have his baby. Of course she'd marry him. In his mind there was
no question, no argument. Nothing to talk about.

He accepted the cup of tea she handed him. He set it on the table, then held her
chair. Her quick glance showed she hadn't expected such a common courtesy from him.
When he'd seated himself opposite her, he said, "Before I say what I think of your
conditions, I'd like to say something." This time it was he who held up a hand to stop her
interruption.

"I love you, Lulu. God only knows why, because I can't figure it. You're
contentious, independent, and stubborn. You think men are your enemy--"

She shook her head vigorously.

"Yes, you do. Some men, at least. And you're probably right." Chuckling at the
astonishment in her face, he went on, "Some men are your enemies, the petty ones, the
power-hungry ones, the ones who are convinced women are less intelligent, weaker, and
fated to be their slaves."

"But...but..."

"Did you think I hadn't realized that? I'm not stupid, Lulu, nor do I believe I'm any
smarter than you are. I am a realist, though, and I accept we're living in a world filled with
inequities. I'm proud of you for working to change what you can. I don't believe you'll live
to see the changes you seek, but I'd never try to stop you from working toward your goal.
As long as you do so without risk to yourself." He spoke the last words slowly and with
emphasis. "I felt that way before, and nothing's happened to change my mind. So I'm glad
you accept that you'll need to act with discretion while our son needs you."

"Daughter," she murmured.

"Whatever." He held back the grin that made his lips twitch. "As for your other
demands--"

"Conditions," she corrected.

"Demands, whatever fancy words you want to use. As for them, I've got a few of
my own." He held up one finger. "You'll act in a way that will convince people we're
happily married, as long as we live here in Hailey."

"Of course. I have to live here too."

Another finger lifted. "You'll let our parents assume we simply jumped the gun a
bit, and circumstances kept us from marrying as soon as we were aware of the baby."

"Katie knows different," she reminded him.

"Katie will go along," he said. "She won't want them to be disappointed in us any
more than I do." He tapped a third finger on the table. "You will work as hard at this
marriage as you have at saving the world. I promise you I'll do the same. If we can't make
it work, it won't be for lack of trying."