Excerpt of Catching Katie by Robin Lee Hatcher

The Homestead Weekly Herald, Homestead, Idaho Friday Morning, May 19, 1916 LOCAL WOMAN RETURNS TO HOMESTEAD

The Homestead Herald has recently learned that Miss
Katherine L. Jones, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Yancy Jones
of the Lazy L Ranch, is returning to Homestead next week
after residing in the East for several years. Miss Jones
was born and raised in Long Bow Valley and is a 1913
graduate of Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York.

The wind tugged at Katie’s hat, and mud splattered her
duster as the motorcar bumped and rocked its way toward
Homestead. Katie had driven on more than a few bad roads
in recent weeks, but none so deplorable as this one
between Idaho’s capital city and Katie’s hometown.

Not that she hadn’t been warned.

“You ain’t meanin’ t’ take that ’mobile up thataway, are
you?” the old man at the Boise hotel had asked her last
night. “That road’s not fit for those confounded
contraptions. If’n you had a lick o’ sense, you’d wait and
take the train, young lady.”

It certainly would have been easier to heed the man’s
advice, but she hadn’t wanted to wait until Friday. The
Susan B, as Katie fondly called the intrepid—and often
cantankerous—Model T Ford, had come too far, had climbed
too many hills in reverse, to be left behind now. The
motorcar wasn’t about to be undone by a few more deep ruts
or other adverse road conditions.

Nor was Katie herself.

She thought of her father as she tightened her grip on the
steering wheel. Yancy Jones wasn’t going to be any too
pleased when he learned his daughter had motored,
unaccompanied by a male escort, across the country in her
own automobile. Her father was old-fashioned in many ways.
Although she knew he loved her and tried to be tolerant of
his free-thinking daughter, he didn’t care for many of
Katie’s newfangled notions.

That’s why she hadn’t told her parents in her most recent
letter, which informed them of her upcoming visit to
Homestead, that for the past several weeks she’d been a
participant in the “Suffrage Special,” as it was known in
the newspapers. Touring the West by motorcar, the gifted
speakers and leaders of the suffrage movement calling upon
women voters to help form a new political party dedicated
to the passage of a national woman’s suffrage amendment.
Katie had felt privileged to be a part of the entourage,
for she was an impassioned supporter of the movement.

Suffrage would give women full rights of citizenship. It
would give them access to better educational
opportunities. It would open doors to their ability to
serve in professions such as medicine and the law. It
would help women campaign for social purity and for
adequate housing. It would help win the fight against
permissive work laws. Suffrage would offer protection for
women who were abused or abandoned. It would give them
more autonomy in matters related to property rights and
child custody.

Katie couldn’t understand why there was any resistance at
all, especially among Christian women, to the passage of
suffrage. Evangelical Christianity, which had spread with
the Second Great Awakening in America, emphasized the
moral and religious autonomy of women and established
women’s moral authority in the priesthood of all
believers. Many of the leaders in both the National Woman
Suffrage Association and in the Woman’s Christian
Temperance Union were women of strong faith as well as
strong convictions.

The front tire hit a large hole, sending the Susan B
jouncing toward the edge of the road and the sharp drop-
off to the river below. Katie felt her hair slipping free
of its pins as her hat slid sideways on her head. The end
of her scarf flew up into her face, blinding her. Quickly
she braked, bringing the motorcar to an abrupt halt. She
let out an exasperated sigh as she tried to right her
touring hat, but all she succeeded in doing was loosening
the remainder of her hairpins, causing her hair to tumble
into her face.

“Oh, bother,” she muttered in frustration. She removed the
straw bonnet and shoved back the mass of hair. “I’ve a
good mind to cut it all off.” Men wore their hair short so
they didn’t have to be concerned with such nonsense. Maybe
she would cut it once she got to Homestead. Nothing like a
fast hairstyle to get folks talking.

With a quick twist and the jab of a few hairpins, Katie
secured her hair atop her head once more, then set her hat
back in place. A glance at the sun hovering above the
canyon rim told her she’d best hurry if she wanted to
reach town before dark. Although the Susan B was equipped
with headlamps, it would be hazardous to negotiate this
winding river canyon after nightfall. Katie certainly
didn’t warm to the idea of spending the night on the road,
sleeping in the motorcar.

Besides, she was excited about getting home. It had been
three years since her parents came back East for her
graduation from Vassar College, and she hadn’t seen her
brothers, Sammy and Ricky, in seven years. They were young
men now instead of the boys of ten and nine she’d left
behind.

Then there was Ben Rafferty. Dearest, best, beloved
Benjie. It would be grand to see him again. He was the
only one who hadn’t tried to dissuade her from remaining
in the East, working for the NAWSA. His letters while she
was at school and then in Washington had been filled with
encouragement. He’d always told her to pursue her calling,
no matter what stood in the way.

That was exactly what she’d done.

She’d had dreams for Ben, too, and she wondered why he’d
returned to Homestead after his graduation from college.
He could have had a marvelous career in any number of
cities around the country. He could have made a name for
himself, become a famous man of letters. Instead he’d gone
to work for the Homestead Herald and then purchased the
newspaper when Mr. Bonnell, the owner, died.

But wasn’t it lucky for me that he did?

She accelerated, her mind churning as fast as the tires on
the bumpy road. She had much to accomplish now that she
was coming home.

Home. She was surprised how good the word made her feel.
Of course, it wouldn’t be the same town she’d left behind.
So much must have changed. Some of the older folks had
died. Some of the younger people had moved away. Most of
her schoolmates were married and had children.

What will they think of me?

She knew the answer to that question. They would think her
as strange as they always had.

“Too headstrong for your own good,” her father had told
her more than once.

“Just like me,” her mother had countered every time. “I
knew what I wanted and went after it. That’s how I got
your father to marry me.”

Katie grinned at the memory. Yes, it was good to be coming
home. Until recently she hadn’t realized how much she was
needed in Idaho. Not until Inez Milholland, the spirited
suffragette lawyer, had explained to Katie the good she
could do.

“Miss Jones,” Inez had said a few months ago, “you come
from one of the few enfranchised states in our Union. But
are the women of Idaho exercising their right to
participate in their government? I fear not in the numbers
they should. We must find a way to see they do so, for all
our sakes. It is women for women now and shall be until
the fight is won. We shall stand shoulder to shoulder for
the greatest principle the world has known, the right of
self-government. Victory is in sight, Miss Jones. We must
not let it slip away for lack of attention.”

Katie felt a shiver of excitement roll up her spine as she
recalled Milholland’s words. She must not fail the women
who were working so tirelessly in support of a federal
suffrage amendment. She must do her part. She would do her
part.

Her attention returned to the road as the mountains
suddenly parted and she beheld her first glimpse in seven
years of Long Bow Valley and, in the distance, Homestead.

Katie was home.