Page 59 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Agnes sputtered, her face turning crimson.
“Oh, I think you do,” Janelle challenged. “Let this be a reminder, Mrs. Ledbetter, don’t throw stones from your glass house. Further, stop walking around town like you’re better than everyone with a stick up your—”
“Janelle!”
Distracted by the unfolding scandal, nobody saw the newcomer arrive. They all turned, at least a dozen spectators, unable to ignore the mettle in the deep, booming voice. Tall and broad-shouldered, with both fists resting on his hips above his holstered peacemakers, Aaron Jackson created a commanding presence. Even though his hat cast a shadow over his face, revealing only his clenched jaw, Charlotte could tell he was none too pleased.
The onlookers backed up a step. Not her unexpected champion, however. Janelle faced her husband, mimicking his hands-on-hips stance as she stared up at him. “Have I ever mentioned how incredibly annoying your timing is?”
Several of the women murmured in alarm, but Charlotte knew she had nothing to fear. Confident, capable, decent men like their father, the Jackson brothers had found spirited, compassionate women like their mother.
“Would you care to explain what’s going on here, Janelle?”
“Certainly,” she replied, throwing her hand in Agnes’ general direction. “I came across this woman pestering Charlotte who was quietly shopping. It was harassment, plain and simple.” She paused, frowning, then inquired, “Harassment and bullying are crimes in 1880, aren’t they? If not, they should be.”
He peered down at her, and Charlotte noticed an almost-imperceptible shake of his head to which Janelle shrugged, an impish smile on her pretty pink lips.
The mayor turned to her and asked, “Would you like to press charges, Miss Charlotte?”
“Charges!” Agnes shrieked in alarm. “Against me?”
“I don’t believe that’s necessary, Mayor Jackson. I’d prefer just to go about my business.”
Her rescuer protested. “But, Charlotte, you can’t let her get away with this—”
The mayor and former lawman responded with admirable patience. “She’s made her preference clear, Janelle.”
“I take it I’m free to go, then?” Agnes demanded sharply.
The mayor’s mouth compressed into a thin line, his jaw tight with displeasure as he turned toward the troublemaker. “You may go, but this is the second public altercation you’ve been involved in recently. You were the instigator both times. If there is a third, I’ll escort you to Sheriff Walker myself and see that you’re charged with disturbing the peace. Is that clear?”
The woman’s face turned sour, as though she’d been sucking on a lemon, but she still managed to reply, “Perfectly. Come along, Sarah.”
Agnes stalked off in a huff, while her friend glanced first at Charlotte then Janelle and the mayor with a fleeting expression of regret before she rushed after her.
“How can she be friends with such a spiteful, bitter woman?” Charlotte wondered aloud.
“Sarah is Agnes’ widowed cousin with few options. If I was her, I think I’d find one, somehow.”
“She’s gone, Janelle. Let it go,” her husband advised.
With nothing left to see, the crowd promptly scattered, leaving her standing there awkwardly listening to the Jacksons’ disagreement.
“Let it go! That woman makes me mad enough to spit,” Janelle muttered.
“I get that, but you’re going to have to find a different outlet because this isn’t what I had in mind when we discussed the proper image and decorum of a politician’s wife.”
“Surely one vote won’t matter so much. Especially from such a—” She halted. “I won’t say it because I’ll just get in trouble. But it starts withBand ends withitch.She makes those Meyers shrews look like angels. Everyone thinks so. Siding with me against her could very well build support for you—not that you need it.”
Shooting a small, grateful smile at her defender, Charlotte tried to return the favor. “Agnes’ contempt isn’t reserved just for me. Several of the ladies at the Red Eye have been on the receiving end of her animosity.If I tell them you threatened to arrest her, Mr. Jackson, no matter the charge, you’ll have their gratitude and their votes come election day.”
“How many are you talking about?” Janelle asked.
“Between the barmaids, the women in the kitchen, and the ladies who work above stairs?” Silently, she counted heads before announcing. “I havetwenty-six in my employ, and none are married, so you don’t have to worry about a husband convincing them otherwise.”
“There. You see, Aaron? No harm, no foul. I might have cost you one bi— Uh, witch’s vote, but I gained you over two dozen supporters.”
Janelle Jackson had a quick wit, unusual candor, and a zeal for life. It was impossible to remain dour around her. From the twitch of her stern husband’s lips, before he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side, he felt the same.
