Hank knew he was being childish but he couldn’t contain his anger at Amanda. She’d always told him the truth, that she only wanted Taylor. She’d wanted to learn about sex so she could entice her fiancé. It was just that it had somehow not seemed real. He’d never actually believed she meant to marry that cold, sanctimonious bastard.
He was slamming papers on his desk and snapping at everyone when Reva glared at him. “What did you want?” she asked. “Did you want to marry Amanda? If so, why don’t you go ask her and stop making the rest of us miserable?”
“No, I don’t want to marry her,” he snapped. “She’s in love with that cold fish Driscoll and besides, she’s a little—” Prig? That was no prim and proper miss who danced with him last night. It was no prig who sat on his lap in the cleaning closet. And the woman who begged him to make love to her…
“Haven’t you got any work to do?” Hank snapped at Reva, then when she turned away he grabbed her arm. “Go to the carnival with me tonight?”
Reva rolled her eyes. “Amanda is going to the carnival with her fiancé, so you just happen to show up with another woman. Right?”
“You want to go or not?”
“Why not?” she said in disgust. “It can’t be worse than my other dates with you. Hank, when you leave, this town is gonna curl up and die from boredom.”
Amanda was glad for all the work Dr. Montgomery piled on her, and she was sure some of it was contrived, but at least it kept her from thinking. She went to lunch by herself, and for the first time since she’d met Hank, she wasn’t hungry.
When she got back to the Union Hall, two men had got into a fight over a very pretty young woman and one man had plunged a knife into the other one. There was an hour’s chaos while the doctor and the sheriff were summoned.
The sheriff wanted to put Hank in jail.
“He caused it and he’s gonna pay,” Sheriff Ramsey said, reaching for Hank’s arm.
“Unless you have some proof—” Hank began.
Amanda stepped between the two. The sheriff was a short, thick man with a neck as big around as his head and he’d had the nickname “Bulldog” since he was a child. Amanda had often seen him talking to her father. “Dr. Montgomery had nothing to do with the fight,” she said.
Sheriff Ramsey gave the utmost respect to Amanda because her father secretly paid him a monthly stipend for “extra” protection. “Miss Caulden, I don’t know what you’re doin’ here, but this man is a menace to our peaceful community. He wants to start a war between the pickers and the ranchers. I hear he’s givin’ out guns, and here’s proof he’s supplyin’ ’em with knives.”
Amanda was a bit bewildered at this, her first real taste of prejudice. “No one has supplied any guns or knives, and I can assure you that all we’re doing is telling people that they have a right to join a union.”
“Miss Caulden, if you’ll pardon me for contradictin’ you, all these people want is bloodshed.” He looked at Hank and pointed. “And yours’ll be the first blood that’s shed.” He looked back at Amanda. “I advise you to get out of here before somethin’ awful happens. I’m goin’ right now to speak to your daddy. I’m sure he don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into.” He turned and stomped out of the hall, two men carrying the wounded picker behind him.
Amanda turned to Hank. “What did he mean, bloodshed?”
“Some people believe that the only way to have a
union is with violence. They think no one in the world listens to problems until you first get their attention, and the best way to do that is with a little blood being spilled.”
He was watching her intently as he saw her digest this information. She’ll probably run back to her books and her safe little world now, he thought.
“But if we explain to these people about unions, we can form one without violence.”
“Forming a union is easy. It’s when the unionists present their grievances to the owners that the anger starts. How do you keep the owners from laughing at a petition?”
“Strike,” Amanda said.
Hank laughed at her. “Strike and they can have their maids serve their meals in their rooms for a few days?”
Amanda saw that Joe and Reva were smiling at her too, as were a family of workers who spoke English. Once again she was a freak and an outsider, someone who didn’t belong. She had begun to feel that she was part of something, that she was helping, but they’d never considered her one of them. They thought she was the rich Miss Caulden who didn’t understand that not everyone had servants and unlimited budgets.
“They really should have saved some of their money,” she said as haughtily as possible. Let them believe what they would. “Perhaps they waste it on drink and motion pictures. Perhaps I should translate the story of the grasshopper and the ant.” She flicked an imaginary speck off her silk dress. “Couldn’t we get one of these women to clean this place?” She sat down at her desk, her back to them.
No one said anything for a while, and Amanda was torn between rage and tears. All of them thought they were so enlightened, but they judged her by the circumstances of her birth, not by what they could see to be true about her.
Behind her, Hank was puzzled by her outburst. He had snapped at her because he’d disliked the way she’d stepped between the sheriff and him, and the sheriff’s attitude had reminded Hank that she was the daughter of the enemy. But her words were like nothing he’d heard from her before. She’d worked hard the last few days and she had never shown any distaste for the workers.
At six o’clock, Taylor Driscoll walked in, and Hank felt a surge of irrational hatred for the man. And as Taylor looked down at Amanda with soft, loving eyes, Hank broke a pencil in half.
“Are you ready?” Taylor asked quietly.