Words Spoken True by Ann H. Gabhart

Author:Ann H. Gabhart [Gabhart, Ann H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC042040, Christian Fiction, Louisville (Ky.)—History—Fiction, Historical, Women journalists, Man-Woman Relationships, Fiction, Kentucky, Women Journalists - Kentucky, Historical Fiction, Louisville (Ky.), FIC042030, Christian, Love Stories, Kentucky - History - 1792-1865, Journalists, FIC027050, Kentucky—History—1792–1865—Fiction, Romance, Louisville (Ky.) - History, Newspapers - Kentucky
ISBN: 9780800720452
Publisher: Revell
Published: 2012-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

As the days passed, the editorials of both the Tribune and the Herald became more and more heated until Beck sometimes shook his head as he set type. “I sure do hope the boss’s words don’t set the paper on fire.” His words were only partly in jest.

Coleman Jimson’s speeches that the Tribune published verbatim helped fan the flames. Jimson was working the crowds feverishly for votes, making promises that a Herald editorial claimed Jimson wouldn’t be able to keep even if he were—God forbid—elected president of the United States.

In spite of the Herald’s insistent opposition, Stan told Adriane he didn’t see any way his father could lose unless he dropped dead campaigning, and even then he’d probably still get the majority of the votes.

Stanley had reluctantly stayed in Louisville to help his father with the campaign instead of making the rounds of the resorts with his mother.

“It’s all terribly tedious,” Stan confided one afternoon when he came by to deliver a copy of his father’s speech for the next day’s Tribune. “I’ve heard all the speeches a hundred times, but Father wants me there to start the cheers if the crowd seems cold.”

As Adriane quickly scanned the speech, she said, “I thought the crowds were enthusiastic.”

“Oh, they are.” Stan brushed at a few specks of dust on his hat. “But Father isn’t one to leave anything to chance. He even makes sure he has a few men scattered through the crowd to handle any hecklers.”

“Handle them?” Adriane looked up at Stanley. “How?”

“Money. Whiskey. A swift kick or maybe a gun in their ribs. I’m sure I don’t know or care.” Stan looked bored. “The less we hear from those people, the better.”

“What people?”

“The Irish mostly. They’re trying to stir up trouble, and Father says, if it’s trouble they want, then it’s trouble they’ll get. And believe me, Father knows how to give people trouble.” Stanley’s lips turned up in a tight little smile as his eyes narrowed. “If you happen to see your friend at the Herald, you might do him a favor by telling him that.”

“If you’re referring to Mr. Garrett, I don’t expect to be seeing him.” Adriane kept her voice cool.

“I should think not, since as it is, you’ll barely allow me a few minutes of your time. When are you going to be through with this charade, Adriane? Ever since our summer gala, you’ve been acting as if you practically fear being alone with me. Even Mother is beginning to worry there might be some problem.”

Hope, you mean, Adriane thought, but she didn’t say the words aloud. “What could be wrong?” She widened her eyes with a pretense of innocence.

“You tell me, my dearest. There are times I can hardly sleep for worrying I might have done something that night to offend you.”

“I told you, Lucilla was feeling ill, and I thought it best if I accompanied her home.”

Adriane was sure Stan knew that was a lie, but she’d stuck with her story all these weeks.

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