Chapter Twenty-Nine

“I defy the tyranny of precedent. I go for anything new that might improve the past.”

~Clara Barton

MONDAY, AUGUST 5

Annamae waited three full days before she went in search of Clara. She wanted to make certain of her decision first. With each day that passed, she grew more confident of her choice. She couldn’t face Monty right now. Not when they were both right and wrong. Not when insecurity wrapped around her like an invasive vine. She needed clarity, and she wasn’t going to find it in Johnstown.

She stepped into the Red Cross headquarters, which had moved from the tent to a simple building erected from spare lumber. The building was more efficient, protecting the paperwork and the bookkeepers from the wind and rain. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease the heat. A bead of sweat dropped between her shoulder blades and raced down her spine.

Clara was bent over the desk, flipping through a stack of papers in disarray.

“Miss Barton—Clara—I’d like to speak with you about something if you can spare a moment.”

“Have a seat.” Clara didn’t stutter in her task. She must have found what she was looking for, because she yanked a paper from the stack, sending the ones on top of it knocking into her bosom. Clara caught them and huffed. Her stern expression fixed on Annamae.

The chair creaked as Annamae perched on the edge. Folding her nervous hands in her lap, she said, “After much consideration, I’ve come to ask you to relieve me of my Red Cross duties so I may return to the hospital in Washington.”

Clara frowned. “We are always the last to leave the field, Miss Worthington.”

Using her surname meant Clara was displeased. “Indeed, but the residents of Johnstown need our services less every day. The county commissioners, as well as the town board, have declared that most Johnstown residents are now self-sufficient, both physically and financially. With other Red Cross committees from other cities volunteering and donations still pouring in, I thought perhaps you could spare me.”

Clara tipped her head to the side. “For what purpose, Miss Worthington?”

Against her will, Annamae broke eye contact to study her fidgeting fingers. “I’ve been gone from my position for over two months now. When Doctor Martin came to volunteer, he mentioned the strain on the hospital staff because of my absence. I thought—”

“Does this have anything to do with spoon-feeding confidential information to a Mr. Colt White at the Pittsburgh Post?”

Annamae’s face flamed like a lightning strike on parched prairie grass.

Clara reached into her desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. “It is convenient for me that you asked for your release. I’d planned to seek you out later today to dismiss you myself. Effective immediately.”

She was being fired?

Annamae opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to say.

“Why are you shocked, Miss Worthington? This is what you wanted when you came here.”

“Yes, but I didn’t expect that you’d already planned to let me go.”

Clara sat back in her chair. “Miss Worthington, you are one of the most skilled and dedicated nurses I’ve ever known besides myself. Your addition to the Red Cross was refreshing and most welcome. But ever since our arrival, I’ve noticed traits that are hindering you from blossoming into the skilled professional you’re capable of being.”

Everywhere Annamae turned, she felt as if someone told her to act differently. She licked her lips. “Can you be more specific, please?”

“You’ve always closed yourself off from others. Risen in defense of your actions. Then when we arrived in Johnstown, something swept over you. An unstoppable energy. A bursting from your shell. A force to be reckoned with. You opened your heart to others and found a purpose to fight for. But even good qualities need to be kept under control. You failed to maintain composure and professionalism the day you spoke with that reporter.”

“I’ve lived by your example, Miss Barton. The crusader, the woman who defied all odds and infiltrated a man’s world to make it a better place than she found it. Your work has not only saved lives but has given them purpose. Your work may very well change the medical field for future generations.”

“Yes, Miss Worthington, but there also needs to be a balance. Crusading isn’t just about invoking emotions in others. It’s about rallying a response from them to support your cause. Not exhibiting your emotions to reach a desired end.”

“I don’t understand the difference.”

“I know. That’s why I’m letting you go. That and because I had a visit from Mr. Henry Clay Frick before he left Johnstown yesterday. He told me of your aggressive behavior regarding his reputation and made it clear in no uncertain terms that if I allowed you to continue your work here, he would file a complaint with every politician in the country. I’ve worked hard for many years to keep a stellar reputation. I cannot allow your actions to sully it or the organization I fought so hard to establish.”

So this was how Mr. Frick planned to destroy her. Instead of commanding one of his goons to make her disappear, he’d wielded his power to inflict a wound deep enough to make her bleed out. He’d likely file those complaints with his lawyer to see she lost her position at Jericho Square Hospital too. Without the affection of his nephew, her work with the Red Cross, and her position in Washington, she had nothing. No one.

How Annamae’s tear ducts continued to produce liquid after already crying enough tears over Monty to refill Lake Conemaugh, she didn’t know. She stood, but Clara reseated her with a raised finger.

“Miss Worthington, when I saw a desperate need for nurses on the battlefield, I didn’t convince the men of Washington to allow me the privilege of first passage using threats and shaking my fists. I kept control of my emotions and presented facts and statistics in a way they themselves would do in my position. Men have no patience for a simpering female. You must think like them. Act like them. While still being a lady, of course.

“You see, the crusade itself and the changes that can result from it have always been more important to me than my feelings about the men making the rules.”

Clara handed Annamae the envelope. “Your work here is appreciated and commendable. So is your desire to see the members of the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club held responsible for their actions. It’s despicable how they let their negligence steal the lives of over two thousand people. I told Mr. Frick as much.”

Annamae swallowed. “If you approve, then why are you angry with me?”

“I’m not angry with you, dear. I’m angry with the way you chose to fight. It compromised our work here. I’m forced to let you go.”

Pressure built in Annamae’s chest. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to work beside you, Miss Barton. I’ll clear out my things and return to Washington posthaste.”

She rose, and her skirt sent the chair teetering as she brushed against it. The legs steadied with a loud thwack.

“Miss Worthington?”

Annamae froze, unable to turn and face Clara again.

“According to the papers, Mr. Andrew Carnegie has returned from Scotland and will visit Johnstown to see the damage for himself and assess how he can help. If he dares say anything about your behavior, I will tell him the same thing I told his business partner, Mr. Frick. Reporting the truth in a newspaper isn’t defaming anyone’s reputation, and I don’t appreciate threats wrapped in polite niceties.

“Annamae, I’m only giving you time to consider what I’ve said, to get yourself in the proper order, and allow enough time for this to blow over. Then I expect your return to the Red Cross posthaste.”

How Annamae would have loved to see the little warrior stand up to the Coke King. She pivoted enough to look her in the eyes. “Thank you, Clara.”

Annamae went to her tent and packed her meager belongings, all the while grateful for the mercy shown to her by Miss Barton. She scribbled a quick note to Monty, paid a courier boy to deliver it to the church, and headed for the train station without informing anyone at the Red Cross of her leaving. At five o’clock that evening, she’d travel east, away from the town—and the man—who had changed the course of her life.