Legacy by James A. Michener Page A

question that they wanted him to consider an alli- ance with Emily. He accepted their invitation so graciously that Malcolm informed the General that night: 'I think we've solved Lady Emily's problem.' And they might have, had not a tempestuous woman stormed into Washington at that moment. She was Kate Kedzie, widow of a Wyoming cattleman and the first woman in America to have voted in a general election. She had waited in a snowstorm to cast her ballot under the Territory of Wyoming's revolutionary law of 1869 granting women suffrage. She was short, dynamic and darkened by the western sun, but she was also intellectually mature, for she had attended col- lege at Oberlin in Ohio, where she had developed her talents in music, physical education and ora- tory. Upon graduating, she did not return to her Indiana home to marry and raise children; she went instead to Chicago, where she found a job with a publisher and married his son, who had attended Yale. Together they moved west into Wyoming Territory, where they gambled their mutual savings on an enormous spread of almost barren land at six cents an acre. They thrived under frontier conditions, and when she surprised him by saying 'I think women should be allowed to vote,' he said 'Why not?' and the two formed the team which initiated and passed the legislation. Having conquered the prejudices of her own
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    area, Kate, as a widow, branched out into Colorado, where the miners rebuffed her with obscenities, and then into Kansas, where she was well received. Before she was fully aware of the transition, she had become a woman suffragist, working with great leaders like Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton in the apparently fruitless drive to alter the Constitution so that women could vote throughout the nation. In frantic pursuit of that goal, she had come to Washington to persuade a reluctant Congress that an amendment was necessary, and at one of her first public meetings she made a soul-searing impression on Emily. Using every oratorical trick she had acquired at Oberlin, she finished in a low, pulsating voice: We are the forgotten people. We are the abused, the trampled upon, the ridiculed, because we are powerless. But, my friends, a storm is rising, and above it our voices will be heard. Justice, we cry! We demand justice! And . . we shall ... attain ... it!'
    Emily did not move forward to speak to her that night, nor on the two nights that followed, but Kate Kedzie was a clever woman. She li~d spotted reluctant converts before, so at the conclusion of her fourth stormy lecture she reached out, caught Emily by the wrist, and asked: 'Who are you, young woman?' 'I live here. Emily Starr.' 'Are you of my persuasionT 'I think so.' And from that hesitant beginning, Emily became a suffragist who suspected that she might be entering upon a battle that could last the rest of her life. The Constitution must be changed
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    so that all women could enjoy the political and property rights that Kate Kedzie had won for Wyoming in 1869. Emily's introduction to the fray was dramatic, for on a June morning in 1886 her father choked on his breakfast eggs, and roared: 'Emily, what's this in the paperT and there it was:
    Among the speakers on behalf- of what she claimed were 'long-delayed women's rights' was the daughter of General Hugh Starr, who said in a voice that could scarcely be heard: 'We shall fight for the ballot in every known venue until Congress offers the states a chance to vote on an amendment.' Loud boos greeted the challenge, but Miss Starr held her own.
    The General was a formidable man, fifty-three years old and in full possession of his considerable force. Should a new war erupt on Monday, he would be ready to ride forth on Tuesday, so he was more than ready to punish his daughter's assault on decency: 'Did you parade yourself in publicT ,Yes,' spoken firmly. 'And you presumed to advise Congress?' 'I did.' A torrent of abuse followed, scathing in its denunciation of