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"You'll tell Jim to come in to speak to me before he goes to bed," Jack called back over her shoulder, as she and Jimmie started off together. "I must send word in the morning what my decision is and so I must see Jim first."
After a day in the woods Jack was undressing for bed, having decided that it was too late to expect Jim Colter, so she must try to get hold of him before he left home next morning, when she heard a familiar whistle.
"I'll be down in a minute, Jim," she called, thrusting her head out the open window. "Will you come in? The door is open."
"No, I'll wait out here," came the answer back. "Don't dress, I shall only stay a moment. Some business detained me."
A little later, with her hair in two gold braids and holding a violet dressing gown close about her, Jack faced the real test of the long day.
"May I, or may I not, Jim?" she demanded.
Jim Colter shook his head.
"You are a full grown woman, Jacqueline Kent, not a child, not even a very young girl. Not that I remember having reached decisions for you even in those days."
"Which means I was always obstinate, Jim."
"Always a bit obstinate, Jack."
"But I am not obstinate to-night, Jim Colter, and I won't if you say no."
Jim shook his iron-gray head.
"I shall not say no, Jack; you must decide as you think best."
"And if I go wrong you'll help me meet the consequences, even though you would rather I chose the other way?"
"So help me, yes, Jack Kent."
"All right, Jim, unless you forbid me, I have decided. If I am elected, and in ninety-nine chances in a hundred I won't be, do you suppose I will have to spend the greater part of my time away from the old ranch?"
CHAPTER XIII
THE CAMPAIGN
A few weeks later, had Jacqueline Kent been altogether outspoken, there were many hours when she would have confessed her regret at not having obeyed her sister Frieda's command. One could hardly describe Frieda's attitude otherwise.
Certainly Jack had not been able to imagine the degree of excitement and controversy aroused by the simple fact that a comparatively unknown young woman had been nominated for membership in the Congress of the United States. If it were in her power and the power of the men and women voters supporting her she intended to be elected. Nevertheless, Jack had not understood either the amount or the character of work that would be required of her personally to accomplish this result.
In the past electioneering had appeared as a fairly amusing pastime. Living in England, she had often seen Englishwomen engaged in it. They had not at that time been electioneering for themselves, but for their husbands or brothers, fathers or friends. Their method had been to drive about from one village to another talking to the village people and asking their support, or else stopping to argue or plead with the passers-by along the country roads. At big political meetings, which men and women attended together, speeches were made and questions put to the speakers. In the past Jack had frequently accompanied her husband to these gatherings, where she had been greatly entertained. Then she had been a spectator with no personal rôle to fill. Now the situation was wholly changed.
A curious fact, but in the United States, supposedly less conservative a country than England, the nomination of a woman for a high public office was creating a greater storm of protest and of indignation than had been aroused in England by the same act. True, Jack was not the first woman chosen for this same office in a western state. But the fact that the number should increase, many persons in Wyoming declared to be alarming.
Now when Jack went to political gatherings, she found herself not only a center of attention and of controversy, but more often than not was compelled to make a speech. Never regarding herself as a good speaker, and always frightened, she never learned to enjoy the opportunity.
Moreover, as Frieda had warned her and as she had not fully appreciated, there was hardly an issue of the daily papers in which some information or misinformation concerning her personal history did not appear.
At first Jack refused to allow her photograph to be reproduced, insisting that people might wish to know what she thought and why she thought it, but certainly could have no interest in her appearance. Yet this was so absurd a position, as her friends and acquaintances agreed, that Jack was obliged to surrender. Afterwards she was forced to see photographs of herself, or at least what claimed to be photographs, in papers and magazines throughout the entire country, so that if ever she had possessed any personal vanity Jack considered that it would have been hopelessly lost. Now and then she used to carry the newspapers containing her pictures to members of her family, asking them if it were really true that she looked as the pictures indicated? Sometimes the family cruelly said the likeness was perfect and at others they were as annoyed as Jack herself.
But she really did not enjoy the political meetings as she had expected, or the notoriety, or the personal enmity oftentimes directed toward her.
Since the afternoon of her meeting with Peter Stevens by the Rainbow creek he had declined to do more than bow to her in public. The reason Jack did not fully comprehend. She had not intended to be frivolous or ungrateful concerning his proposal. She had not believed for a moment that he really cared for her. Peter was a confirmed old bachelor and always freely expressed himself as disapproving of her from the afternoon of their first re-meeting after many years. At the time she had been engaged in an escapade which had annoyed Peter Stevens almost as much as her present one.
Peter had not resigned as her political opponent. The only remark he had made to Jack which was at all friendly was to say to her one day when they were passing each other on the street in Laramie, that the greatest kindness he could pay her was to defeat her in the present election.
Yet notwithstanding all the worry and the work, Jack did not agree with him. She did not intend to be defeated. She meant to win, else why the struggle and the fatigue and, more often than she confessed, the heartache?
Frieda had never forgiven her. This Jack had not at first believed possible, yet as the days passed Frieda did not relent. Instead she appeared more annoyed and more unyielding, continuing to insist Jack was disgracing not alone herself but her family by running for a political office as if she were a man.
In fact, had it not been for her little girl, Jack feared that Frieda would have declined speaking to her. But Peace continued to adore her and Frieda would do nothing to frighten or grieve the child. The year or more spent at the ranch for the sake of the little girl's health had not been successful. Peace seemed to grow more ethereal, more fairylike with each passing day. She was like a spring flower, so fragile and delicate one feared the first harsh wind would destroy her. Yet if she were at all seriously ill, it was Jack she wanted, Jack who seemed able to give a part of her vitality to the child, when Frieda was oftentimes too frightened to be helpful.
Therefore during the spring and summer of Jack's political campaign, if Frieda was not entirely estranged from her sister, it was only because Peace was occasionally ill and needed her.
Moreover, Jack had to endure Jim Colter's regret. Little as Jack had known what experiences she would be forced to pass through in a political campaign, Jim apparently had known even less. Now, although he was not given to looking backward when no good could come of it, more than once he had been driven to confess to Jack that he wished to heaven he had opposed her acceptance of the political nomination with every bit of influence he possessed.
Jack could see that it was agony to Jim to hear her name and character discussed as it had to be discussed were she to win enough popularity to elect her to office.
Not that he talked to her upon the subject during the few evenings when they were at home and saw each other a short time alone.
"You need a rest from the plagued thing, Jack, and so do I. To think that I actually agreed to allow one of my little Rainbow ranch girls to enter a campaign for office in Washington, D. C!" If Jim Colter had been speaking of a much worse place his tone could not have been drearier.
However, what worried Jack even more was that Jim insisted upon accompanying her wherever and whenever she was forced to attend any kind of political meeting. For this purpose he was neglecting his own work on the two ranches, and growing older and more haggard, chiefly, Jack thought, through boredom and the effort to hold his temper.
He did not always manage to keep his temper, however; on several occasions, although Jim never reported the fact, he came to blows over remarks he overheard. When Jack asked questions he simply declined to answer, and as Jim Colter was the one person in the world of whom Jacqueline Kent was afraid, she did not dare press the matter.
Naturally Jack made enemies, as every human being does who enters political life, and she was unusually frank and outspoken with regard both to her principles and ideas. But there was one enemy she made whom both she and Jim Colter especially disliked and distrusted. He was a young man who had been employed as a private secretary by Senator Marshall and was helping to manage Peter Stevens' election to Congress.
Senator Marshall had made a friendly call upon Jacqueline Kent at the time of her nomination, protesting in a fatherly fashion against her permitting herself to be put up as a candidate.
Afterwards he declared he had the right to oppose her election in favor of Peter Stevens. This right Jack never disputed. Mrs. Marshall led the opposition against Jacqueline Kent among the conservative women in Wyoming.
In fact, among her own family and her more intimate friends and acquaintances Jack possessed only three staunch and always enthusiastic supporters, her own small son, Jimmie Kent, who accompanied her to most of the day-time political meetings, Billy Preston, the young Kentucky mountaineer who after soldiering in France had decided to try his fate as a cowboy in Wyoming, and John Marshall, Senator Marshall's son.
Billy Preston assured Jack that he was making it his business to see that every cowboy in Wyoming voted for her. John Marshall declared that he proposed showing his father who had the greater influence in the state. He protested that his father had lost all chivalry by assisting a man when a woman was his opponent. If he would not descend to the tactics employed by Alec Robertson, his father's secretary and Peter Stevens' campaign manager, nevertheless, he was backing Mrs. Kent to win against all odds.
"The boy is falling in love with Jacqueline Kent, I am afraid, my dear, as he has never showed the slightest interest in politics in his entire life until recently," Senator Marshall confided to his wife toward the latter part of the summer.
"Nonsense, Mrs. Kent is older than John, and is not an especially attractive woman!"
And although Senator Marshall did not agree with his wife, he pretended to accept her opinion.
CHAPTER XIV
IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT
"But I do think it would be wiser of you not to be present, not this afternoon. I could take a message saying you were not well."
Jack laughed.
"Yet the fact is I am perfectly well, John Marshall, and besides I am not a coward, or at least if I am a coward there are other things of which I am more afraid."
Jacqueline Kent and her neighbor, John Marshall, were having an early luncheon on the front porch of the Rainbow Lodge upon a fairly warm day. Jack, however, appeared to be dressed for a journey. She was wearing a seal brown tailored suit and a light chiffon blouse. Her hat and gloves were lying on the railing of the veranda.
"Besides," she added lightly, "I do not believe anything uncomfortable will happen. The story has been spread abroad merely because I am a woman and am supposed to be easily frightened."
As luncheon was over, with a little nod for permission, John Marshall arose and began walking up and down the porch.
"You may be right, of course, and yet I confess I feel nervous. It is nonsensical that so much excitement has been aroused by this campaign, makes one think perhaps we are less civilized than we thought we were! I myself believe there won't be any actual rumpus. But I would not be surprised if a few ruffians, hired for the occasion, do try to interrupt your speech by making a lot of noise. I must say I am surprised that Peter Stevens allows such tactics to be employed against an opponent, especially a girl who had been his friend."
Jack shook her head.
"Peter Stevens says that the kindest thing he can do for me is to defeat me, and sometimes I think perhaps he is right. So from that viewpoint he does not consider it makes any difference what methods he uses. However, I am not so sure Peter himself knows everything that is going on. He may or he may not. He does not come to the meetings of my supporters and friends and I suppose his manager, Mr. Robertson, does not tell him everything that takes place. But please do not confide to any member of my family, if you should see one of them before we leave, what you have just told to me. You probably won't see any one. They are too worn out and bored to pay attention these days to my goings out or my comings in. My sister scarcely speaks to me and the remainder of the family are busy with their own affairs. Fortunately for me, Mr. Colter is away for several days on business. But to show you I really don't think there is going to be any disturbance this afternoon, I am going to take Jimmie along with me to the meeting as usual. Poor Jimmie, he is dreadfully tired hearing me talk, and yet seems to have an instinctive feeling that he has to stay by and look after me. You have pretty much the same feeling, haven't you, and I want you to know I am extremely grateful," Jack added. "I'll go now and find Jimmie, as we ought to start in a few moments if we are to be on time."
"Very well," John Marshall returned. "But if you don't mind I'll ride down to the ranch house first. I want to speak to Billy Preston. He telephoned I would find him at about lunch time."
Jack frowned for an instant and then nodded agreement.
She guessed that her two young men friends were to discuss the self-same news that John Marshall had just repeated to her. It seemed unnecessary, still she did not feel that she had the right to object.
The word John Marshall had brought was that an effort was to be made to break up the meeting at which she was to speak during the afternoon. The meeting was to occur in a fairly large sized village not far away in which she was supposed to have but few friends. The village was one of the manufacturing towns in the state, and her friends were among the ranchmen.
But Jack honestly did not believe any serious outbreak would occur. She was not always foolhardy, although this was occasionally one of her weaknesses of character; she simply thought this afternoon that an effort was being made to frighten her away. Afterwards it would be easy to say that a woman candidate to an important political office who could be so easily frightened should hardly be entrusted with the service of the state.
Within half an hour, John Marshall having returned, he and Jack and Jimmie and the chauffeur were motoring toward the desired destination.
"Billy Preston will be at the meeting with a few of the cowboys from the Rainbow ranch and from a few of the other ranches in this neighborhood, so if there is trouble there will be some people on our side," John Marshall insisted with boyish satisfaction when the car had taken them several miles from the lodge.
"What?"
Jack clutched her companion's sleeve for an instant, her voice and manner for the first time revealing alarm. "You don't mean you and Billy Preston have actually made arrangements for a difficulty. I did not think there could be one simply because an effort might be made to make me stop talking. I can do that readily enough and I intend to stop if any trouble begins. Now I think I had better give up after all and go back home. John, you were foolish."
"You can't go back now, it is too late," the young man argued. "The crowd will already have started to the meeting and if you don't turn up and they are disappointed it may lose you heaps of votes. And it is going to be pretty close if you do win. Everybody says it depends upon your personality and good sense and your magnetism. You have got to win people over and to make them forget the prejudice against you. You have got to show them that you have been studying this whole question of government and really know a thing or two. Funny to be calling yourself an 'Independent' and belonging to no old-time political party. I don't know whether the idea is a good one or a bad one. But don't be worried about Billy Preston and his little party. There won't be more than a dozen in all and Billy has promised they won't make as much noise as a whisper if things go well and the game is a straight one."
Shaking her head, Jack glanced nervously at Jimmie.
"But suppose they don't go well? I shan't even begin to make a speech, John Marshall, until you promise me on your word of honor that you will see Billy Preston and tell him from me that he and my other friends are to say nothing and do nothing, whatever takes place. If there is any difficulty Jimmie and I will quietly come out and climb into our car and start back to the ranch. And if my speech is no better than they usually are, I cannot feel that the audience will be deeply disappointed."
"Very well, I promise," the young man answered.
The frame building where she was to speak, a rough one-story shack, sometimes employed for revivals, was larger than any hall in which Jacqueline Kent had ever attempted talking before.
As she stepped up on the platform she found that her audience was also larger than the ones to which she had tried to grow accustomed in these last few months.
But the people were quietly seated and there appeared no unusual excitement or confusion.
Gratefully Jack observed that the larger number were women. The men were at the back toward the rear of the hall.
There were to be no other speakers during the afternoon, so as soon as she had been introduced Jack began her speech.
From the beginning she was fearful that she was going to interest this audience even less than she believed she interested most audiences. And in her heart of hearts Jack was always puzzled why anyone should be influenced by what she had to say.
Her causes were to increase the size and number of the ranches in Wyoming, increase the number of the livestock, and bring the producers of food and the consumers closer together. She frankly stated at all times that she was not interested in politics. She simply wanted the chance to make human beings happier by giving them the kind of government they desired and ought to have.
"I am afraid you will have some difficulty in hearing me," Jack stated, "but that need not trouble you as much as it does me, because after all you will not have lost a great deal. There are a good many reasons why it is harder for a woman to be a candidate for an office than a man, and I suppose having to make speeches is one of the hardest."
"Louder!" some one shouted at the back of the building.
Jack tried again.
"Louder!" the voice repeated. "How do you think you are going to make yourself heard in Washington if you can't be heard here?"
The joke was at her expense and Jack laughed good-naturedly.
"Ain't going to make any difference, she ain't never going to get there," another man shouted.
"Perhaps not, but I am going to try," Jack answered, still with entire good nature.
But she flinched unconsciously at this instant and stepped backward. A large bouquet had been thrown directly at her, not a bouquet of flowers, but of ugly, evil-smelling weeds and tied with a rag instead of a ribbon.
As it fell several feet away from her, Jack soon continued her speech as if she had not noticed what had occurred.
"Shame! Put him out!" some one interrupted.
"Please don't. It is not important," Jack replied.
Yet if her manner failed to reveal the fact, she was nervous. By turning her head she could see Jimmie seated upon the platform beside the principal of the public school, who had just introduced her to the audience.
Jimmie had jumped up indignantly when the bunch of weeds fell beside her, but had been persuaded to sit down again.
The persons in the rear of the building were undoubtedly becoming noisier.
Jack flushed so hotly that the tears came into her eyes and her cheeks were flaming.
Never had she been treated with anything like this discourtesy before. Evidently she was not to be allowed to make a speech, scarcely to begin one.
Swiftly Jack thought of Jim Colter, of his anger and disgust should he behold her in such a plight. She had not expected this nor anything like it.
There was scuffling now in the rear of the building, as well as shouting among her audience.
Jack suffered a feminine desire to weep over the unkindness and the humiliation of her present situation, yet she was not in the least afraid. At no time in her life was Jack ever a physical coward.
The uproar continued, growing greater. Women were crying out in terror.
Yet Jack Kent stood her ground. Quietly, as if nothing were happening and in spite of her humiliation, knowing that no one could hear, she went on with her speech. Jimmie had come and was now standing beside her, holding tightly to her hand.
"It's a shame! She is so young and pretty and is not half the coward any man is who doesn't give her a fair show!" a woman shouted in a voice which chanced to be heard.
The next moment Jack felt a hand placed on her elbow.
"Please come away. It is as I feared; they don't mean to hear you," John Marshall urged.
Jack shook her head.
"No, I'll stay till I finish."
It was an autumn afternoon and unexpectedly a storm had broken. Outside were flashes of lightning and the rain beating against the small windows. In the building some one suddenly switched off the electric lights, and before they were switched on again there was an uproar that was deafening.
"For Jimmie's sake you must get away," John Marshall insisted.
"Very well, for Jimmie's sake I do give up," Jack returned, "but for goodness' sake don't think either of us is afraid."
Drawing back from her companions Jack again went to the edge of the platform.
"You won't listen to me this afternoon, and I don't want to make anybody uncomfortable or frightened by going on with my speech in the midst of so much noise, nevertheless I am coming back some other afternoon to try again, so good-by to my friends, and I trust my enemies may have better manners next time."
There was a little burst of applause from the spectators who could hear, and immediately after Jack, Jimmie and John Marshall slipped away.
The car was waiting at the back of the building with the starter already in action. Before Jack was able to realize exactly what was taking place she was several miles on the journey home toward the Rainbow ranch.
"Do you suppose things quieted down as soon as I disappeared?" Jack inquired. "You were right, I should not have gone. I wish I were not one of the most hard-headed people in the world. After all, I don't suppose women do belong in political life. I hope there may not be any serious trouble over me."
"But you were awfully game, Mrs. Kent," John Marshall replied, "and I'm not so sure women don't belong in politics to keep things like this afternoon's proceedings from happening."
It was not six o'clock when Jack and her companions arrived safely at the Rainbow lodge. John Marshall had too much good sense to come in, in answer to Jack's invitation.
Personally, as soon as she got indoors Jack felt she never had been so tired in her life.
After undressing and putting on a house dress she lay down in the hammock and remained there, eating her dinner on a small table with Jimmie seated beside her. When Jimmie had gone to bed, still she did not stir.
At about eight o'clock, however, she arose and picked up a white crêpe shawl, winding it about her, as it was growing cooler. She intended walking over to the big house before she finally went to bed.
No member of her family had been near her all day and it was strange that she had seen and heard nothing of Olive or Jean.
Frieda never came down to the Rainbow lodge any more unless she were obliged to come.
Yet the family must know of her intended speech that afternoon, although they discussed her affairs as little as possible. At least she could hope they would never hear of the scene that afternoon in which she had been obliged to appear as a central figure. Especially she hoped Jim Colter would never hear.
In fact, Jack wanted to see her family before trying to sleep that night. She believed she was still both too excited and too tired to sleep for several hours. Moreover, she wanted to find out if Jim had returned home and if not when he might be expected.
She must see Billy Preston the first thing in the morning and beg him to use his influence with the other cowboys never to mention to Jim what had occurred during the afternoon.
