SHE IS GOING TO BE THE GREATEST ORATOR OF THE CIVIL WAR
Eighteen-year-old Anna Dickinson is nothing like the women around her, and she knows it. Gifted with a powerful voice, a razor-sharp wit, and unbounded energy, the diminutive curlyhead sets out to surpass the men of her day as she rails against slavery and pushes for women’s rights. Only two things can bring her downfall—the entangling love she has for her devoted companion, Julia, and an assassin’s bullet.
Forced to accompany the fiery young orator on her speaking tour of New England, Julia Pennington fights her growing attraction to the ever more popular celebrity. When a traitor sets out to assassinate Anna, Julia must risk her life to save her.
Loosely based on the life of forgotten orator, feminist, and lesbian, Anna Dickinson, That Dickinson Girl is the story of one woman’s rise to fame and fortune at the expense of love during the political and social turmoil of the American Civil War.
Julia eyed the intruder. Half a head shorter, more girl than woman, she wore a drab dress under a plain cloak. No ribbon or jewel relieved the narrow white collar. No ruffle or crinoline spoiled the fall of the skirt. Her upright stance and the quality of cloth reeked of the morality and righteousness Julia knew all too well. A Quaker, for sure.
Their eyes met. She glimpsed a smooth cheek and long, dark lashes, a wide, smiling mouth, and a square chin partially hidden beneath black curls cut so short that she could see the girl’s neck peeking above the stiff collar, pink as the dawn-tinted clouds. She wanted to rest her palm on that vulnerable bit of skin, pull her close, and steal her warmth.
Julia pressed the pendant she hid beneath her dress, the sting of cold metal against her racing heart suitable punishment for her wayward thoughts.
The stranger lifted her skirt and gave a sideways bow like an actress at the Arch Theater. “Anna Dickinson, at your service.” She swung her attention to Gracie. “And who is this who wants to become a doctor?”
Julia twisted her fingers in the faded ribbon of her bonnet and stifled the impulse to drag Gracie away. Her independent sister would hate that. Besides, it didn’t matter; Little Miss Quaker would be gone as soon as she heard their last name. Every member of the Society of Friends knew the sordid tale of the man who’d stolen money from Arch Street Meeting.
Her sister stuck out her hand. “Gracie Pennington.”
Julia waited for the girl’s smile to fade and that oh-so-respectable personage to flee.
Instead, the Quaker wrapped both hands around Gracie’s and smiled. A do-gooder then, set on some charitable work for a ragged schoolgirl with aspirations beyond her station in life. Julia knew where that would end.
She stepped closer. “And I’m Julia. Julia Pennington.”
“Ah yes, the vigilant older sister. Don’t worry; I won’t steal her.” She tapped Gracie on the nose. “So, what’s stopping you from pursuing an illustrious medical career?”
Gracie toyed with the unraveling fringe of the shawl. “We’ve no money—”
“Is that all?” the girl said. “A mere pebble in your road, my child. If you truly want something, you’ll find a way, no matter how many pebbles and rocks they throw at you. We make our own chances in life. Takes hard work, though. A medical degree requires a mind sharper than a milliner’s needle.”
Pebbles? Julia scrutinized the thick weave of the girl’s woolen cloak and the toe of the polished half-boot poking out from under her skirts. Little Miss Quaker had to be younger than Julia’s own nineteen years. What experience did this privileged girl have ducking pebbles or piercing cloth with a needle?
She yanked on the interloper’s sleeve. “Gracie’s top of her class. She doesn’t need a busy-body do-gooder sticking her nose into something she doesn’t know beans about. She’s not your child. She’s my sister. I take care of her.”
The girl ran a finger down the frayed collar of Gracie’s too-small coat. “Well then, that is a shame. Makes me want to weep, seeing ambition denied”—the corners of her mouth turned up—“by beans.”
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Meet Joan Koster
When she is not writing in her studio by the sea, Joan Koster lives with her historian husband and a coon cat named Cleo in an 1860s farmhouse stacked to the ceiling with books. In a life full of adventures, she has scaled mountains, chased sheep, and been abandoned on an island for longer than she wants to remember.
An award-winning author who loves mentoring writers, Joan blends her love of history, and romance, into historical novels about women who shouldn’t be forgotten and into romantic thrillers under the pen name, Zara West. She is the author of the award-winning romantic suspense series The Skin Quartet and the top-selling Write for Success series.
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