Halfway home she reconsidered. She'd walked at dusk before, but never this late, not dressed as a woman. It crossed her mind that if she ever stayed so late again, she would be wise to change into her trousers for the journey home. No one would notice a boy running the streets, but a girl might not be so lucky.
Thank goodness her cape was so dark a blue. She'd blend into the shadows.
Rainey reminded herself she was no longer the frightened girl she'd been. She'd learned how to survive. Pulling the hood of her cape low so no one could see her face, she walked through the darkness. The urge to run pulsed in her veins, but she knew it would only draw attention.
Shoving her left hand into her pocket, she gripped the letter and somehow didn't feel so alone. She forced herself to think of what might be in it. The Ranger had written her back. No matter what the note held, it already proved one fact. He lived.
A drunk bumped into her, shoving her into a man sleeping in a chair. Both men mumbled oaths, but Rainey kept moving, pulling the wool tightly around her. She'd vanished into the shadows before either realized she was a woman.
When she reached the corner, she knew the quickest way to the Askew House was down the alley. Rainey paused. She swore she could feel the ghost of the Frenchwoman who'd disappeared years ago. What had they said-all they found was her dressing gown folded over the back steps and blood running along the side of the building.
Rainey closed her eyes and thought she smelled blood. She darted to the main walk and rushed around to the front of the house.
Mrs. Vivian was just locking up as she entered. "You almost got locked out, girl." Over the weeks the boarding-house owner's temperament hadn't changed.
"I'm sorry. I worked late." Rainey wondered if the old woman would let her in after hours even if she knocked. She had a feeling the answer would be no. The Widow Davis had whispered once that Mrs. Vivian wore a wig, and after she took it off, she never stepped from her room.
"You missed supper and I don't give refunds."
"I understand." Rainey hurried up the stairs not wanting the bitter woman's mood to touch her tonight. "I'll see you in the morning, Mrs. Vivian."
"Seven sharp," the landlady snapped and turned to her room on the first floor.
Rainey opened her tiny bedroom door surprised to find a meat pie, an apple, and a small glass of milk on her night-stand. She stepped out in the hallway and looked down the stairs. The three old maid sisters smiled and waved, then giggling, disappeared into their room.
Rainey laughed. They must have had great fun sneaking the food out of the dining room. When they opened their dress shop, she'd be their first customer if she had the money.
She pulled off her coat and set the letter across from her on the nightstand. While she ate, she stared at the handwriting and felt, in a strange way, as if she had company for dinner. Then, in the candlelight, she carefully opened Travis McMurray's letter.
He must have never had a penmanship class in his life. His words were done with a bold stroke that looked to be more printing than script.
Dear R.,
I cannot address you as sir, for, unless I had a very vivid dream, you are not a male and I do not know your name. It is not, I'm certain, any more Sam than it was Molly at the dance. So I can only trust that your name, whatever it may be, starts with an R.
Rainey laughed. For a man who didn't talk much in person, he sure chattered across a page.
I am recovering as well as can be expected, though the confines of this study may very likely drive me mad before I heal enough to ride. I hope this letter finds you well and safe. As far as I can see, however, in your current occupation of "horse borrower," you may not rate safety as a factor in your life.
Are you aware you can be hanged for taking a horse?
Rainey frowned. The man as much as called her a thief. She read on.
I thank you for letting me know what happened to the animal. I'm glad to know neither he, nor you, are starving. I spent several hours looking at law books determining your crime, but finally saw it as a moot point since I have no intention of filing charges. In fact, I fear my brain may have suffered along with my leg for I often think of you as more a figment of a dream than real.
We did dance? he wrote, then marked out the line and signed his name.
Rainey fought back tears. She could almost hear him asking the last question and then growing angry with himself for being so foolish. She pulled out a piece of paper and pen. We danced, she began and then could think of nothing else to say without saying too much.
How could she feel so close to someone she'd only met a few times? She had read once that there are people in everyone's life that they spend a few hours actually with and the rest of their days remembering. Would Travis be that person to her? Would she spend the years wondering where he was, what he was doing, how he was aging?
After a while she blew out the candle and curled into bed with Travis's letter tucked under her pillow. As she did every night, Rainey opened the window a little to listen to the voices below. Somehow, the stranger's whispers were company.
After a few minutes Whiny and Snort, the two barmaids from across the alley, came out to smoke.
The one Rainey called Whiny complained about how she was turning black-and-blue from being patted on the bottom.
"It's part of the job," Snort said. "I heard a fellow call it a thorn in the job once. Ever' job has a few." Snort snorted a laugh. "You wouldn't do so much hurting if you'd eat enough to keep some fat on that backside. Men like a woman to waddle and wiggle just a little; you bounce like a loose fiddle string."
Whiny sighed. "I've tried eating, but that stuff Haskell sells isn't worth chewing. I got to get me a better way to make money so I can eat something that didn't die of old age."
"Oh, yeah, what do you want to do? Scrub floors over at the hotel? You'd be cleaning up mud and tobacco spit all day. Or maybe you wanta marry some farmer from around here who'll keep you working in the fields all summer so you can starve and freeze all winter while you're cleaning up his mud and tobacco spit."
"I almost married me a real man once. He said we was gonna be rich and I would never have to do nothing but keep him happy."
Snort laughed. "Well, what ever happened to that prince?"
"He got caught and sent to prison, but he swears when he gets out, he'll come for me."
"When will that be?"
Whiny whimpered, "Ninety-nine to life."
Snort made a sound, then swore about life being unfair.
"If I was a man," she whined, "I'd be a bank robber. I'd get me a gun and be rich in no time."
"You'd be dead in no time," Snort corrected. "The problem with a life lived by the gun is that folks tend to shoot at you from time to time. You think a pat on the bottom hurts, just wait until you get lead in your backside."
"Well, you think of something, then." As always, Whiny's voice deteriorated into a sob. "I don't know how much longer I can do this. The thorns are getting to me. If I'm going to do this the rest of my life, I'm going to drink all I can so maybe death will come a little faster, or at least it'll seem faster."
Rainey rose to her elbow and watched the two shadows below hug.
"I'll think of something, baby," Snort promised. "I swear. My pa said I was the smart one in his litter. I'll come up with the answer."
Rainey heard the back door open and close. She rolled away from the window and touched the letter.
She would never see Travis McMurray again, but it wouldn't hurt to write him one more letter. Maybe she'd tell him about some of the things she heard. She'd call her stories Tales from the Alley.