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DA TOOK FOUR OR five steps beyond the sign hanging outside the courthouse in Fort Smith, dragged her feet to a halt, and turned on the heel of her muddy boot to read it. SIGNING UP US DEPUTY MARSHALS SEE CLERK INSIDE Could it really be? Excitement swelled in her chest. She put her nose on the glass. Only a table and a few chairs sat in the lobby where men meandered around, some of them seated with pencil to paper. No women, but she would change that. The century would turn in a few years. Women ought to be prepared to turn with it. At least this woman planned to be ready. In her head she carried a list of things she didn’t plan to do in the next century. Laundry, cooking, mopping floors, looking after someone’s children, and, oh yes, teaching, which had gotten to be a popular way for women to escape household duties. She moved through a clutch of young men studying written efforts. Some shuffled away from her like she had a disease, others tried not to notice her pres-
ence. Treating her as invisible. She ignored them and stepped up to the table. One gentleman of an older persuasion sat there as if he had some notion what was going on. He spotted her and smiled. Hmm. A nice face. We’ll see how long that lasts. No women applying for the clerical job. Odd. “Looking for someone, dear?” He had a pleasant voice to go with the face. She grinned and ran a gloved finger over a stack of applications, information penciled in. “Do you have a blank one? These all seem to be completed.” For a moment her question brought a silent look, then the earlier smile widened. “If you have someone who wants to apply, he’ll have to come in himself. We like to interview briefly on first meeting.” “Ah, no. You misunderstood. It’s for me if you’d be so kind.” She spread her hands. “And here I am.” For a long moment he looked like someone had told an off-color joke in public. He took a second or two to collect himself. “But… but you’re a woman. I mean—”
