The next morning found Jack in church once again, squeezed into a pew betwixt Christina and Corrie with a basket of pennyroyal and willow bark beneath her arm. Jack fidgeted, her behind sore from the wooden bench, and thought about anything she could as the organ played the final notes of the Doxology.

After the surprisingly personal conversation with Donovan the day before, Jack had thought of little else but the handsome stranger. While Reverend Smalley preached on the eminence of forgiveness in the Christian walk, Jack's mind lingered over Donovan's black eyes on hers and the aching vulnerability in his voice as he told her about the close relation he had lost in the war.

"Aunt Jack, stand!" Corrie hissed from beside her.

Everyone else in the small church had stood to receive the pastor's benediction. Jack scrambled to her feet, upsetting the basket of pennyroyal in her haste to rise. As soon as Reverend Smalley finished the benediction, Jack fell to her knees to gather the herbs, now scattered across the floor.

"Hurry up before Father notices," Christina whispered at her as Jack struggled to refill her basket, finally clambering to her feet to help her niece.

"That was close," Jack sighed in relief as Christina leaned on her, her face painted by the red hues of the Baby Jesus in the stained glass window.

"Hello, Jacqueline!" a warbled voice cooed from the pew behind them and Jack turned to find the renowned Matilda Tuttlebrook leering at Jack and her niece.

"Howdy, Matilda," Jack answered, grinning as the woman's wrinkles furrowed deeper.

"I've heard some rather remarkable tales of you lately," Matilda crooned, putting an icy hand on Jack's arm. "I understand you were with a rather unsavory fellow yesterday. Word of this gets around, my dear Miss Harrison. You must be careful."

Jack felt her skin prickle with resentment. How dare she insult a man she'd never met? But she was Matilda Tuttlebrook--she insulted practically everyone she had met as well as those she hadn't.

"Oh, I assure you, we were quite careful. I promise he is a most conscientious driver," Jack answered, a smile quirking at her lips.

"That's not--you should be more careful, Jacqueline," Matilda sputtered. "I'm not one to be trifled with." She flounced a way in a huff, leaving Jack to fall into a spasm of laughter as she escorted Christina from the church.

"Did you really go riding with that Indian fellow, Jack? Alone?" Christina asked in a hushed whisper as they limped out of the building.

"I did, and I'm not ashamed of it!" Jack cried. "We were on a mission for the doctor, and there's nothing untoward about riding in an automobile with a decent fellow."

Christina just shook her head. "Oh, Jack. I'm glad you don't care much about what people think."

And though her niece's words were meant to be a compliment, they stung for a moment. Is everything I do destined for disapprobation? Jack was accustomed to the censure of the town, but even when she tried to do right, was she still to receive judgment? Donovan was a good man--beloved by the Bookers and upstanding in Jack's esteem. What legitimate reason they could have for disapproval?

Jack and Christina bid a warm goodbye to Reverend Smalley and exited the church into the warm Sunday sunshine, following after Corrie and Dr. Benjamin, arm in arm, and Hannah and Titus Fletcher, walking closely behind them.

"If it ain't Jack Harrison." The coarse, embittered voice surprised both women as Jack spun around, nearly knocking Christina off her feet.

Margaret Hunt stood in the middle of the street, legs spread apart and arms crossed over her Sunday best, a dress several sizes too small and designed for a girl much her junior. She scowled at Jack, her eyebrows knitted together.

Jack sighed, wondering how many other battles she would have to fight today. "Good morning, Margaret."

"Is it? Is it good?" she asked, taking a menacing step forward.

Jack had nearly forgotten about the irate girl, embittered by Jack's rejection of her brother, and if it weren't for the fact that it was Sunday and she was supporting her paralyzed niece, Jack might have struck the girl a blow she would not forget.

"It's Sunday and we just attended church, so I'd say it's quite a good day."

Margaret snorted, throwing her hands in the air. Loud enough for half the town to hear, she said, "How can you act so high and mighty after what you've done to desecrate my brother's name?"
"What have I done now?" Jack asked, irony in her voice. It had been ten years since she and Roy had courted, yet it still hung like an ominous black cloud over the present.

"Running around with a no-good Indian's what you've done!"

Jack seethed, her empty hand balling into a fist. What gave anyone the right, especially a woman like Margaret Hunt, to judge her or Donovan?
"Well, at least I wasn't with a no-good Hun-"

"Aunt Jack, there you are!" Corrie suddenly cried, returning to Jack and Christina and interrupting the standoff in front of the church. "I'm afraid we must get going so I have time to prepare lunch. Miss Hunt, have a great day."

Corrie pressed her hand into the small of Jack's back and pushed her away from Margaret who still glared after Jack with unparalleled fury.

"What is wrong with her?" Jack grumbled as Corrie ushered Jack and Christina back to the doctor's home.

"What's wrong with you, causing such a scene!" Corrie reprimanding, sounding far beyond her twenty-some years. "In church of all places, Jack."

"She started it!"

"You're not a child," Corrie returned, her voice gentle in contradiction to Jack's feisty tone. "Come on, let's go home."

Jack followed her although anger burned in her chest at Matilda and Margaret and anyone else who chose to discriminate in their ignorance. As she fumed, she scarcely heard the friendly conversation amongst her friends--how could they tolerate such open animosity?

At the door of the doctor's house, they paused and Titus offered his regrets. "I'm sorry, I promised my sister I would visit her this afternoon, so I can't stay for lunch."

"Goodbye, Titus!" Corrie said and they left Hannah out of doors to bid goodbye to her beau.

Dr. Benjamin carried Christina up the stairs and set her at the dining room table, already set with plates, cups, and silverware for the Sunday meal tradition.

"So Aunt Jack, tell us about Donovan," Corrie said as she bustled in and out of the small kitchen, fetching bread and meat for sandwiches. "He seems an interesting fellow."

Jack felt rather than saw her friends' eyes turn sharply towards her and she recognized her chance to defend him. "He is. He's a friend of the Bookers, and a lawyer from Boston."

"And you rode into town together?" Corrie asked, pausing at the table to watch Jack with her pale green eyes.

"Well, I wanted to show him around, and we couldn't both ride my bicycle," Jack said, standing with her hands on her hips. "It wasn't improper, I assure you. He had not seen much of Irvington prior to yesterday."

"Jack, how do you know he can be trusted? Just because he's educated doesn't mean--"

Jack cut off Corrie before she could continue. "You're only saying this because he's an Indian!"

Corrie's face paled and she clenched the rag in her hand. "No, I'm not, Jack. I swear. I'm just worried about you."

"I'm an old spinster, Corrie," Jack said with a sigh. "You don't need to worry about me, and you certainly don't need to remind me that people won't approve of me 'fraternizing with such unsavory characters,'" she said in an imitation of Matilda Tuttlebrook.

"I know. I just...you only met the man a week ago, Jack. There's no way of knowing his history."

For just a moment, Jack let Corrie's words introduce doubt into her estimation of Donovan. She didn't know much about him--in fact, hardly anything--and she had trusted him without any proof of his reliability. Of course, the Bookers liked him and that said something about his character, and Jack herself had a good feeling about him, but was that enough?

"Oh, poppycocks!" Jack cried, pounding the table. "You wouldn't be saying this if he was a white lawyer from Boston. He's a good man, and I rather like him."

"You like him?" Christina asked with wide eyes. "You don't like many men, Aunt Jack."
"I like plenty of men--Reverend Smalley, Titus, Dr. B."

"I mean unmarried men to whom you're not tied by family relation," Christina said as Hannah slipped in the door, her face flushed.

"Speaking of unwed men, how's the sheriff?" Jack asked, giving Hannah a lascivious wink.

The flush on the girl's face deepened and she lifted her chin in attempt at regaining her dignity. Her dark curls fell down her back as she said, "He's well, of course. I was just saying goodbye."

"So that's what the youth call it these days," Jack said, and Dr. Benjamin's attention rose from the medical book he studied to his younger sister.

"Hannah? Should I be concerned?"

"Of course not!" she said, walking to her brother and resting her hands on his thin shoulders. "Actually, we were talking about the shortages of medicine and supply. I thought perhaps he could think of a way for us to raise money to purchase the supplies we need from Richmond."

Dr. Benjamin ran a hand through his permanently-mussed dark hair with a sigh as Corrie walked to the record player to turn on a record. "It's a challenge, that's for certain. We have used all the funds provided by the War Office, yet were in need of more medical supplies as well as more food. I'm afraid your father has no more money to offer us," he gestured to his wife. "And I'm quite out of options."

"Have things grown so bad already?" Jack asked, looking between her friends' faces. She knew they had been in dire straits at the medical practice for some time, but she didn't know they'd grown so desperate. "I have some many saved up--it's not a lot, just from my work at the factory, but you would be welcome to it."
Corrie leaned against the mahogany record player. "Jack, we can't take your money. Besides, we need more than that to purchase the supplies we need."

A paused moment let the jazzy ragtime music sweep through the room, the syncopated rhythm lulling them in as they pondered the obstacle before them. Where they could they possibly find so much money? Irvington was neither large nor wealthy, and those willing to donate to the cause had already given generously.

"I have an idea!" Hannah suddenly declared, rushing to join Corrie next to the twirling record player. "Ragtime."

"Ragtime?" the doctor asked. "What about it?"

"Well, you've heard of the new dance style--it's all the rage these days. What if we held our very own Ragtime dance, with live music, and charged an entrance fee?" Hannah said, the words rolling off her tongue.

"But Irvington's a poor town," Jack protested. "A good number of people wouldn't be able to come at all."

"Perhaps those who can't afford to pay in cash could pay in food or supplies," Christina suggested. "We are in need of food and fresh bedding and bandages as much as money, right? And folks could also purchase war bonds to gain entrance!"

"Indeed," Corrie jumped in. "I'm sure some of your connections in Richmond could help us find some musicians, Alex?"

He nodded and leaned back to observe the four women's plotting, his arms over his chest. "I suppose so."

"It's a splendid idea!" Jack declared. "I'm sure we could even hold the dances at the church. Reverend Smalley would certainly let us use it for a good cause."

"A splendid idea indeed," the doctor echoed.

For those of you wondering where the name "The Ragtime Girls" came from, now you're going to find out! Do you think Jack should listen to her family's caution about Donovan or follow her gut? Let me know in the comments and thanks for reading!

Don't forget that if you haven't already read it, Corrie's story is also available on my profile--Sharing Corrie. If you're enjoying Jack's story, check out Corrie's as well before the next update. Until then, thank you for reading!