~ Doubt ~

by

Susan Newton Bennet

The group selected Laura to lead the parade mounted on a handsome Arabian stallion.

A great honor, Laura felt happy to emulate one of the heroines of the movement, Inez Milholland, who had led suffragist parades in New York and Washington D.C. in 1913 and 1916. Known as “the woman on the horse,” Milholland epitomized the devotion and zeal of the suffrage movement.

The day of the parade turned cool with a cloudy overcast sky. Laura, mounted on the handsome steed, wore a straw hat with a red, white and blue band. Across her chest a red sash with bold blue letters stated “The Vote for Women Now”.

Behind her, five ladies each wearing straw hats similar to Laura’s lined up hoisting a banner proclaiming “Women Are Citizens Too.” Behind these five individuals, more women carried placards or signs espousing their cause.

The parade moved sedately down Larimer Street. Most of the curious spectators gaped. One man yelled, “Stay home where you belong with your brats!”

Another piped up, “Better still, stay in bed.”

Guffaws and laughter trailed the marchers.

When the women turned towards the area of the smelters, they noticed first the odors and smoke. Trash and horse manure made walking the street difficult. Behind them a horde of urchin children followed, taken up with the excitement of something different in their mean lives. No encouraging women appeared at the windows of the shabby dwellings with trash-filled lawns pushed up against the smelters. Some of the women marchers looked fearful, glancing left and right. Laura looked in vain for a policeman. Groups of men shouted obscenities at them.

Laura decided to lead the group back to the better part of town and directed her horse up a side street. Suddenly, the women were surrounded by an angry mob of men yelling and cursing.

“Get the bitch on the horse!” one shouted.

A dirty-faced man in a long trench coat grabbed the bridle while two other men tried to pull her off her horse. Laura fought them, but she was soon overcome and thrown to the pavement. She heard a loud noise in her head, felt a sharp pain in her scalp, and then oblivion.

~ * ~

Ravannel saw it all happen. His car slowly followed the gaggle of urchins behind the women. As soon as Laura fell, he burst from the car and raced to her side. Chaos reigned. Men grabbed the placards and signs to destroy them. Women screamed. Ravannel pushed through the melee, picked up Laura, and carried her to his car.

Fifi opened the door to her garishly appointed apartment. She looked at Ravannel in amazement as he stood carrying an unconscious woman with blood coursing down her face.

Ravannel pushed Fifi aside and carried Laura to the red velvet couch, letting her down gently. He found a fringed pillow and placed it under her head. He collapsed in a chair breathing hard. No longer a young man, his burden became heavy and difficult for him to carry. Halfway up the steps to the apartment, he’d had to pause and rest.

Fifi stood open-mouthed.

“Get me some alcohol, a clean cloth and two handkerchiefs!” he barked at her.

“I don’t like you busting in here like this. Who is that lady?” Fifi stood with her hands on her hips.

“Shut up, woman. Do as I say!”

One look at his face and Fifi moved quickly.

Gently Ravannel wiped off the blood seeping from a wound on Laura’s forehead and cleansed her face. He then cleansed the wound with alcohol, took the handkerchiefs and pressed gently to try to stop the seepage.

“Look up the telephone number of a Dr. Willis Anderson,” he demanded.

Still smarting from Ravannel’s demands, Fifi nevertheless did as she was told. “I have it,” Fifi said, handing him a slip of paper.

“Come here and keep pressing at this wound while I make the call.”

After calling the doctor, Ravannel demanded Fifi get him flakes of ice in a clean cloth. In the kitchen, she stabbed the pick at the block of ice, muttering to herself of the terrible injustice thrust upon her. Ravannel took the cloth filled with ice and attempted to keep it on the wound. Laura moaned briefly but did not come to.

Satisfied he did all he could until the doctor arrived, Ravannel turned to Fifi.

“I want you to pack a suitcase and get out of here. I don’t want you here when the doctor comes. Take enough clothes to be gone a week. I’ll give you my card. In a week you can call me. I’ll let you know when you can come back.”

He took out his wallet and handed her two fifty dollar bills.

Her mouth dropped open. “Well, I never, I thought you was a gentlemen. That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“Fifi, you ain’t no lady. Now do as I say and be quick about it. Either you go or I’ll call the police to arrest you for trespassing.”

With no other choice, Fifi packed her suitcase and left in record time.

In the past few years numerous times Ravannel had attempted to contact Cal. Cal had refused to take the calls--probably because his mother told her boy to have no more contact with him. The central operator at the hotel got to know Ravannel’s voice and merely stated Mr. Prescott was not available. One time Ravannel resorted to having a confederate place the call. As soon as Cal heard Ravannel’s voice on the other end of the line, he slammed down the receiver.

This time when the operator answered Ravannel told her to get Cal, that it concerned his mother.

Immediately, Cal picked up the phone. “If this is some kind of trick--”

“No trick, your mother has been hurt.”

“My God, what happened?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard about it yet. Your mother’s suffragist group was attacked by a bunch of thugs. They pulled her from her horse, and she hit her head on the pavement. She’s out cold with a nasty cut on her forehead.”

“Where is she?”

“In my apartment at three hundred one Blake St, it’s over the Sam Howard Dry Goods Store. Come at once. I want you here when she comes to.”

“I don’t understand. Why is she at your apartment?”

Ravannel yelled into the phone, “Don’t argue with me--just come! I have a doctor on the way.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Wait!” he ordered. “I want just you here, Cal. Don’t tell that brother of yours.”

Cal paused a long moment. “All right, I won’t.”

Ravannel found a light blanket to cover Laura. He bent to gently kiss her forehead. She stirred but did not waken. He whispered, “You silly woman.”

A half hour later, he opened the door to an elderly doctor. The man, panting from the long walk up the stairs, carried his medical bag in one hand and mopped his bald pate with the other.

“That’s quite a climb, Mr. Ravennel. Where is the patient?” the doctor asked.

Ravannel took him to the prone Laura.

“My, my, we’ll have to attend to that,” he said, removing the makeshift bandage. He reached into his bag for an antiseptic to cleanse the area. The gap in her skull began a little above Laura’s hairline and descended at an angle toward her right eyebrow. The wound seeped blood.

“I’ll have to give her a few stitches, I’m afraid. With a head injury like this, I don’t think it wise to give her laudanum. I’m sorry to have to hurt her more.”

Laura heard someone screaming. Enclosed in a dark tunnel, an evil being poked her with sharp needles. She realized the scream came from within her head. Vaguely she saw a pair of glasses on the end of a veined nose, then merciful oblivion.

Ravannel sank into a chair.

Cal burst through the door and rushed to the couch. “My God, what happened?”

Ravannel stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Men pulled her off her horse when she was leading the parade. Her head hit the pavement.”

“You saw it?”

“Yes, some people I know told me there might be trouble. I followed the parade.”

Cal clinched his fist, anger reflected in his face. “And you didn’t bother to tell me!” he shouted.

Laura stirred but did not wake.

“Be quiet, Cal,” Ravannel soothed him. “I tried to warn you, but that operator at the hotel refused to let me speak to you. I didn’t have time to come to the hotel.”

Cal sat down and put his head in his hands. “I promised Ma I wouldn’t speak to you.”

Suddenly aware the doctor was listening to them, Ravannel took out his wallet and turned to him.

“Thank you for coming, doctor. Is there something more we should do?”

“Let her rest for a while. When she seems to be coming out of it, get her up and try to walk her around a little. Give her a little tea. Then she must be quiet for a few days. Observe the wound for any sign of infection. Each day cleanse it with the antiseptic I’ll leave with you. I should be able to remove the stitches in my office in about a week.”

Ravannel took the Doctor’s arm and guided him toward the door. Cal pulled a chair close to the couch and took his mother’s hand.

“Thank you, Ransom. I’m so grateful you were there,”

“Forget it. Come, let’s have a drink. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Ravannel took an ice pick from the drawer and slashed at the cake of ice in the icebox to fill an ice bucket. He got out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey and sat down at the kitchen table. Cal joined him. For a moment they sipped their whiskey in silence.

“I hope saving your mother will allow us to renew our friendship. I’ve missed you these past years.” He took a long sip and then lowered his eyes. “Do you think your mother can ever forgive me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She told me you raped her.”

Ravannel hung his head and whispered. “Yes. I was obsessed with her. It was too much of a blow to my ego not to have her.”

“How can I forgive a man who raped my mother?”

“Because we may well be father and son, that’s a pretty good reason. Will you spend some time with me, Cal?”