Whiny whispered, "You think we're close to being offered our last drink?"
"I think I am. You, honey, are still new at the game, but I don't want to think about what'll happen to you when I'm gone. You need someone to look out for you."
"Then we do it," Whiny whispered. "We have to. I might as well take my chances of hanging for murder as die by horses stomping me into the ground. I can't spend my whole life waiting for my man to break out of jail."
"That's the spirit," Snort said. "Look on the bright side. Hanging is better than trampling."
"When do you think we should do it?"
"I heard Haskell tell that Old Lady Vivian across the alley that he expects to have a sum of money coming in soon. He asked her if she'd consider selling her slave." Snort snorted. "You know that Mrs. Vivian don't give up anything. I heard she even goes through the rooms the minute one of her ladies leaves. If they accidentally forget something, they never see it again."
Whiny had no interest in anyone but herself. "So we club Haskell when he's flush."
"That's right, baby, but we don't leave him in any shape to run catch us. We have to…"
Someone hollered for them and Rainey didn't catch the last words Snort whispered. Leaning back in her bed, Rainey lay perfectly still, pacing her way back through the barmaids' conversation.
They were going to kill someone, or at least hurt him. A man named Haskell? It sounded like their plan was to rob Haskell when he came into cash. Robbery or murder. Either way, Rainey wasn't sure she wanted to warn him if he was as evil as they talked about him being. He seemed like one of those people no one would miss. But if they were going to kill an innocent person, she had to do something-but what? If she went to the sheriff, it would be her word against the two barmaids. The sheriff might even laugh at her for reporting a conversation she'd heard. She couldn't even tell him what the two women looked like.
She could go down and tell the women, or even Haskell, that she'd heard the robbery plans. Maybe that would stop them. Or maybe the barmaids would simply continue their planning inside so they wouldn't have her listening.
It crossed her mind that the French girl might have overheard the plotting of a crime in the alley just as she had. Maybe she'd gone down to stop it and ended up with her blood painting a streak along the buildings.
If the girls were already thinking of killing one person, a short busybody with big ears might not seem like much to add to the crime. And if they did the killing, then discovered she'd overheard them talking, they'd have to kill her. Even to Rainey, the prospective victim, it seemed only logical.
Rainey decided she had to tell someone. But who? Margaret Ann, the self-appointed leader of the boarders, was packing to leave. Mrs. Vivian wouldn't talk about anything that might hurt the reputation of the house. The German mother and daughter would never understand her. Besides, they were busy packing and getting ready to leave, too. The three boring old maid sisters were already frightened of their shadows. They'd probably start taking shotguns to the privy if they knew. That left Dottie Davis, who loved a story. If Rainey told her, the widow would probably repeat the barmaids' conversation a dozen times within an hour, and by the time she finished she'd have them planning to murder all of Austin. Or the widow might just listen to Rainey and help her, if she were awake. From what Rainey could tell, Dottie Davis ate breakfast every morning, then returned to her room to sleep most of the day away.
Rainey shivered, but didn't close the window. She had to find someone she could trust not to overreact, but who would act if necessary. Travis McMurray. He'd know what to do. He knew the law.
After lighting her only candle, Rainey pulled out a sheet of the cheap paper she'd bought and began to tell Travis every detail she'd overheard. If he got the letter, and if he wrote her back, she'd follow his instructions. She just prayed his answer would come before the barmaids took action.
When she finished the letter, she blew out the candle and curled into bed. The night was too cold to leave the window open, but she didn't want to take the chance of missing something said in the alley.
As the hours passed, all she heard were a few drunken conversations about fate and two cowhands complaining that they lost all their money to a gambler with a gold tooth.
Rainey comforted herself with the fact that the women had talked about killing "him," so they were not planning to do in anyone in the boardinghouse. She fell asleep thinking of Travis and wishing she could dance with him again.
In her dream he held her against him and twirled around a dance floor made of polished oak. His hand felt warm against the small of her back, and he didn't step on her toes once.
Rainey had danced very little in her life, except when her father had made her take lessons with the rest of the girls in her class at school. It had been one of the few times she'd interacted with the rich young ladies. She'd had so much fun she'd almost believed she belonged.
Once she'd been old enough to go to the school parties, none of the young men asked her for a dance. They probably would have been laughed at if they'd asked the schoolmaster's homely daughter. She'd watched from the shadows, practicing the steps in her mind so she'd be ready.
Now she danced only in her dreams.
While she slept, her fingers searched for Travis's letter beneath her pillow. Somehow, holding the letter made her feel less alone.
A drunk stumbling down the alley woke her late in the night. Hungry, she slipped out of her bedroom and tiptoed down the back stairs. She knew Mrs. Vivian didn't want the boarders in the back of the house, but surely she wouldn't mind if Rainey had a small glass of milk and a slice of bread. After all, she'd brought pies several times over the weeks.
Even before she reached the last step, Rainey noticed a warm glow of light coming from the kitchen. She stepped as soundlessly as she could onto the floor, but found Widow Davis and the slave called Mamie staring at her. They were sitting at a small table in the corner, both leaning into their mugs of coffee. A deck of cards cluttered the space between them.
"Evening," the widow whispered. "We didn't expect company, but you're welcome to a cup of coffee."
Dottie Davis straightened, her eyes showing a bit of challenge in them. Everyone knew the law. Folks were not allowed to socialize with slaves. Several people had already been kicked out of Austin for preaching freedom to slaves or for teaching them to read.
Rainey smiled and nodded slightly, hoping Dottie understood that she found nothing wrong with the scene she'd walked in on.
Mamie stood, nervous. "The little miss only drinks tea. I'll get you some, child."
Rainey guessed the slave couldn't be much older than she, but maybe she thought she'd lived longer. "I'd love tea," she whispered. "And a bit of bread." Rainey pulled up a stool, making it plain she had no intention of taking Mamie's chair.
Smiling, Mamie silently accepted the kindness. "With honey spread on it?"
"Yes, please. But I can get it myself."
Mamie shooed her to the table. "I'll get it. You sit."
"Supper didn't agree with you?" Widow Davis asked as she gathered the cards from the table.
Rainey didn't want to complain. The meals for the most part were plain, but good. She couldn't bring herself to say something in front of the cook. "I guess I wasn't hungry."
Mamie set a thick slice of bread and tea before her. "Until now."
Rainey smiled her thank-you. "Until now."
The widow laughed. "Mamie and I were just talking about where Mrs. Vivian found that meat tonight. She claimed it was cow, but I swear it was deer."