Storing Up Trouble, стр. 79
Beatrix squared her shoulders. “That’s barbaric.” With that, she strode forward, slipping past Agent Cochran when he tried to snag hold of her arm. “I’ll be fine,” she said, which earned her a scowl from Agent Cochran as he fell into step beside her.
“Mr. Nesbit’s not going to be pleased with either of us if we get arrested,” Agent Cochran muttered right as Beatrix stepped in front of the four men, blocking their way.
“Officers,” she began, “a moment of your time, if you please.”
All four of the officers scowled at her, impatience oozing from their every pore.
“Step aside, ma’am,” one of the officers said. “You’re interrupting official business.”
Beatrix lifted her chin. “Too right I am, although if what I’ve learned is true, and that you’re about to force women to break their hunger strike, I’m interrupting a torture session, not official business.”
One of the officers scratched his nose and shrugged. “We don’t have any other choice in the matter. Can’t very well let those women die. Wouldn’t look good on the department, would it?”
“There is another choice,” Beatrix returned. “You could release them.”
“They can’t post bail,” another officer said. “Their husbands are refusing to do that, and if we were to let them loose without paying, it would send a bad message to other women looking to break the law.”
“We didn’t break any laws,” a woman said, moving to the front of a cell and peering through the bars. “We were only protesting the conditions at the slaughterhouse after one of our co-workers got fired because she got sliced up by a machine that broke.”
The officer behind the cart released a grunt. “All of you were blocking the entrance to the slaughterhouse, encouraging other workers to join you. It was disrupting production and the owners demanded we act, which we did.” He nodded to Beatrix. “If you don’t want to join them in this cell, I suggest you move aside and let us get on with this.”
Right there, in the middle of her mean surroundings, understanding struck.
She’d been placed on an unexpected path that had started with her banishment from New York, which had then given her the unexpected opportunity of taking up a position where she’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be a working woman.
The thought had struck her more than once that her unexpected path had been God’s way of opening her eyes to the daily injustices working women faced, and now, what with how she’d ended up in this dismal place at exactly this specific time, after experiencing a surprising dismissal from her job, it was clear she was facing a new fork in the road, one where she might very well find that purpose Aunt Gladys had been talking about.
Unlike the women who were currently behind bars, she was not as helpless as she’d thought.
She was an American heiress—a grand heiress, at that—and it was past time she put that status to work for something other than securing the latest fashions or traveling the world on her family yacht.
Squaring her shoulders, she regarded the four officers in front of her and then sent them a nod. “There’ll be no need for your barbaric action today, officers. You’ve stated that these women are still here because they can’t make bail, but I’m here to tell you I’ll pay their bail. That means you can set them free—immediately.”
To her surprise, one of the officers shook his head. “It’s too late for that. We have orders to see this through. The warden wants to make an example of these women to discourage disorderly conduct from any women who consider protesting their employment conditions.”
Beatrix crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t ignore my offer to pay their bail. That’s against the law. But speaking of the law, now that I think about it, were these women not offered an opportunity to seek an attorney’s counsel?”
“They couldn’t pay their bail, so they wouldn’t have been able to afford any counsel.”
“But were they given the opportunity to even seek out counsel? Surely there must be resources in this fine city of yours that offer representation for the poor.”
When none of the officers answered, Beatrix turned her attention to the woman standing directly behind the bars of her cell. “You weren’t offered any counsel?”
The woman shook her head. “They let us send notes to our husbands, but that was all we were offered.” She shook her head again. “Me and the other women have been thinking that Mr. Tripp, he’s the main owner of the slaughterhouse, paid off people to make sure all of us suffer as much as possible. He wants to make sure no other workers give him any trouble.”
Beatrix rounded on the officers, all of whom were now shifting around on their feet.
“Is this true?” she demanded, her demand ignored as one of the men began jangling his keys before he fit one into the lock.
Beatrix moved to block the door. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to proceed with your plans because, you see, I’m determined to pay the bail for all of these women, and you are then going to release them.” She glanced at the gaunt-looking women, all of whom were now pressed against the bars of the three cells they were held in, taking a moment to do a quick count.
“There are ten women from the slaughterhouse, plus Colette and her sister?” she asked.
“That seems right,” Agent Cochran answered when none of the officers did.
She reached into an inside pocket sewn into her skirt, pulling out a roll of bills. She then counted out the bills, finding she was twenty dollars short. She lifted her head. “I only have one