Texas Rain

by Jodi Thomas

  "But what about before you married?"

  Pearl's cheeks blushed. "I came as part of what Owen calls the Baptist Brides from North Carolina. Our little church had several old maids like myself, so our preacher wrote a preacher he knew here in Austin. The reverend here saw it as a way of increasing his congregation, so he agreed to welcome us. Seven of us want-to-be brides rolled into town in the worst storm you've ever seen and went to Sunday service with our hair wet and our skirts caked in mud. I swear the streets were rivers that morning, and I was asking myself just what had I gotten myself into. I was alone back in North Carolina, no family left, but starving back there looked better than drowning in mud here."

  She peeked around to see if Owen was coming, then added, "After the service the preacher asked all single men to stay for coffee. I was almost a head taller than all the other women and most of the men who stayed. The others were spoken for almost immediately, and I was still standing there by the preacher."

  Pearl lifted her chin, but Rainey could see in her eyes how frightened she must have been. "I was gripping the Bible my ma gave me the day I was washed-in-the-blood so hard, I broke the spine. I just knew I'd be walking back to the wagon alone and returning to North Carolina with my hope chest and no hope of ever marrying."

  Rainey remembered how she'd felt at the fancy dances when all the other girls in their pretty dresses danced and she sat, in her serviceable gray, watching. She wanted to hug Pearl.

  The tall woman smiled suddenly. "Owen pushed his way through the crowd of men. He walked right up to me. He was dripping wet and hadn't shaved in days. I found out later he'd ridden all the way from San Antonio in the storm to be there. He held out his hand all right and proper like. He says, 'I'm looking for a wife and would be honored if you'd consider pairing up with me for the rest of this life.'"

  "And you said yes?" Rainey found the story unbelievable. "But how did you know?"

  "I didn't. I straightened to my full height and looked him straight in the eye. I asked him right there in front of everyone why he was offering for me."

  Rainey walked with her to the open door. "What did he say?"

  Pearl lowered her voice. "He said because I was a true beauty, and if the others couldn't see it, that was their loss. I told him he was blind as a bat but that I had no objections to marrying a blind man." She blushed and smiled. "He wiggled his eyebrows and made me laugh. Then, like I'd done it all my life, I took his hand."

  Rainey watched the tall gangly woman hurry out the door as the wagon pulled around the corner. Pearl was right, Owen must have been blind, but after weeks of knowing Pearl, Rainey also knew that Owen had found the true beauty that night.

  He climbed down and helped her in the wagon as if she were a small dainty woman who might need his assistance.

  Closing the door, Rainey looked at all she had to do in the next hour. Her pots and pans were stacked in the kitchen, and she had to record all of the sales before she forgot. Tonight, if she was lucky, her books would show a profit. She glanced at the corner shelf Owen had built her. She had twenty pounds of flour and sugar paid for as well as pans enough to make new pies before she had to pick up the used pans. In the past two weeks she'd bought all her supplies in advance and a toy for Jason with money left after she'd paid Mrs. Vivian.

  Pearl told her the inventory was finally flush, and she'd see more money coming in from now on.

  Her business had been good for Owen as well. She not only was a steady customer, catering her cooking around what fruit he took in trade, but a few people were coming in to buy her pies who normally didn't shop at his store. She made the money on the pies, and he made it on all else they bought. He'd started a shelf on the counter to display the pies. It had glass around all sides so she didn't have to worry about flies.

  Halfway through her cleanup little Jason decided he had to be fed. He'd started eating soft foods, but most of it ended up on him or the floor. She couldn't help but laugh as she fed him. She'd never been around a baby, and he must have sensed her fear. For him mealtime was playtime, but she managed to get down half a cup of stew and crackers before he fell asleep still chewing.

  She washed his face and hands and put him in the box that was his crib. Rainey didn't allow herself time to dwell on the fact that most women her age had babies of their own to care about. She had work to finish and no time to dream of a life she'd never have. After an hour she lit a small lamp in the corner of the one-room apartment and went to work on her books. The letter in her coat pocket kept calling to her, but she wanted to read it when she could give it all her attention. For now, knowing he'd written was enough pleasure.

  She was almost asleep with the pen still in her hand when Pearl and Owen returned. They came in laughing softly and holding hands. Owen offered to walk her home, but Rainey could tell they wanted to be alone, so she grabbed her cape, put on her shoes, and hurried out saying she'd be fine.

  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.

  The only thing she missed about her home were the books. Not her mother, never her father, not even her room. Only the books. If she couldn't afford to buy anything to read, maybe she could write some interesting story that would make her Ranger laugh.

  Or maybe she'd write the truth about the way she felt about him. After all, he'd never find her. He didn't know her name or her whereabouts.

  Smiling, she wished she could see his face when he read her thoughts. Her true thoughts about him.

  Rolling over, Rainey lit her candle. Beneath her first words to her Ranger she added, The thing I remember most about our dance was the warmth of your hand on my back.

  Rainey smiled, wondering if she'd have the nerve to mail this letter. She tucked it under her pillow suddenly thinking of all the things she wished she could say to Travis McMurray.

  After pulling the window closed, she snuggled beneath the covers. As always, she rolled into a ball, hugging her legs tightly, and wished for the dawn.

  CHAPTER 14

  Travis knew it was too soon for the fairy woman to answer him back, but he still stood on the porch and waited for Teagen to return from the trading post. Because today was the first of the month, his brother had driven the wagon in for supplies. The hours since Teagen left passed slowly for Travis, yet he didn't go inside. He could feel himself growing stronger every day now. His leg no longer ached when he stood for more than a few minutes, and he trusted himself to walk around the house without the cane.

  At breakfast Teagen had suggested that Travis ride along with him, and in truth, Travis felt he might have been able to. Relying on his cane, he walked to the barn and back several times a day and even managed the wagon for short periods when needed. But Travis wasn't sure he felt ready to let anyone but family see him limp. His left leg was still stiff and sometimes wouldn't hold his weight. The fear that he might fall walking into Elmo's place kept him home.

  He rubbed the muscle of his left thigh, wondering if the ache he felt all the way to the bone would ever go away.

  And if it didn't, was he willing to stay here for the rest of his life? At some point he might have to decide whether to face the world with a limp or hide forever.

  "Looking for another letter?" Sage asked as she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and stepped onto the porch beside him. "You never did say who that letter was from."

  She'd hinted before, but never asked so directly. He knew he'd have to break down and lie. "Ranger, business," he said, then added, "about a horse thief who is north of Austin."

  Travis smiled. He hadn't lied and Sage looked like she'd lost interest. Over the weeks he'd talked enough about the law to bore everyone in the house. They'd even suggested he go down to Austin and stand before a judge for questioning. They all believed he knew enough for any judge to make him a lawyer.

  He moved the subject away from the letter. "If Teagen doesn't hurry, he'll be caught in the rain." The clouds were so low they seemed to be sitting on the top of Whispering Mountain. He realized he liked stormy days when thunder sounded so loud it shook the ground.

  "There he is now." Sage pointed as a wagon pulled out of the fog near the river.

  Travis studied his older brother as he neared. Teagen raced the storm as fast as he could with a loaded wagon. "Tell Tobin and Martha. Maybe we can get the supplies in before we all get wet."

  Sage didn't move. "What's that in the buckboard? It looks like he's
hauling a hog pin."

  Travis leaned on the railing. It was too early for the spring hogs or chickens, but his sister was right. Teagen hauled something in a cage big enough to hold a calf.

  The rain broke just as he pulled alongside the house. Tobin ran from the barn to help. Martha and Sage stood on the porch taking loads of supplies as Teagen and Tobin raced through the rain to empty the wagon.

  Travis leaned on his cane and tried to see what was in the cage. Nothing, as near as he could tell, but a pile of rags at the bottom. The cage was old and roughly made. It made no sense that his brother would bring such a thing home.

  "Help me get him off the wagon!" Teagen yelled at Tobin.

  As his brothers lowered the cage, Travis saw something move among the rags. A thin hand gripped the bars with tiny, dirty fingers.

  Without thought of the downpour, Travis grabbed his cane and limped into the rain. The ground shifted beneath him, but he didn't slow as he slung hair from his eyes and hurried forward.

  He reached the wagon as they set the cage in the mud. A frightened face peeked out from beneath the layers of rags.

  "Get him out!" Travis shouted as he recognized the child he'd seen at the outlaws' camp the day he'd been shot. "Unlock the door!" The sight of the boy brought back the horror of the day. Seeing the camp. Knowing the farmers were about to be raided. Realizing he'd be their only hope of surviving.

  Teagen pulled his hat off and let rain hit his face. "He came this way, Travis!" he yelled above the storm. "I didn't put him in there. The freighter who brought him to Elmo's said he bolts if you let him out."

  Teagen's words were jumbled in the storm.

  "Get him out!" Travis shouted as pale blue eyes stared up at him from behind the bars.

  "I can't." Teagen sounded as frustrated as Travis. "The Germans you helped didn't know what to do with him, so they shipped him to you. He wouldn't let them touch him without fighting, and they're afraid if they let him out, he'll run out in the wilderness and starve. He's wild as a jackrabbit."