Texas Rain

CHAPTER 10

Rainey Adams thought long and hard about selling the horse she borrowed from the McMurray ranch, but when life comes down to whether to eat or not, rationalizing is often served as a side dish. She reasoned that if she starved, she'd never be able to pay Travis and his brothers back for the horse, and if she didn't sell the animal, it would have nothing to eat and would die, providing no help at all to anyone.

So, three days after she reached Austin, Rainey walked down the dusty streets to a livery and sold the horse for what she hoped would be enough for a month's room and board and clothes suitable for job hunting.

Rainey had circled the town for two days and found Austin busy and overrun with visitors. Traders, soldiers, families moving in, all crowded the walks and cafes. Most looked as if they'd gone longer than Rainey had without a bath. She moved among them as invisible as the occasional rat she noticed darting from alleyway to alleyway.

Though this town was rough and smelled of campfires and unwashed bodies, it had a liveliness she'd never noticed in Washington. Here the people seemed more real, as if layers had been washed away. There were no family names. No assumed respect given because of a man's dress or even occupation. If Austin were a painting, the artist would have used only primary colors, no subtle shades. The very town seemed so alive she swore she could hear a heartbeat pounding beneath the muddy streets. Building seemed to be going on everywhere with wagon loads of lumber log piling at almost every intersection.

After Rainey collected the money for the horse and saddle, she went to a small mercantile she'd noticed the day before. Though off the main path on a side street, the place had a sunny look, as if whoever owned the store cared about first impressions.

Her choices were few here, but the clothes seemed well made, and, most important to Rainey, the place had few customers. No one would question or notice why a ragged boy bought a dress. She'd thought of changing into her one dress. Though it hadn't been washed properly or mended in weeks, it would pass if she wore her blue cap over it. But she felt somehow safer, more invisible, in the trousers and baggy shirt.

Plus, something about her wanted to be presentable when she did switch into her real clothes. Many books commented that a women not properly careful of her dress must be not only an embarrassment to her family, but mentally impaired. So Rainey walked into the store in her boy's rags thinking she'd change all at once back into a proper lady.

The woman who ran the place had warm honey-colored skin and apple cheeks. Her kind eyes were framed with laugh lines. She seemed a bit overwhelmed as she tried to watch the store and take care of a child just learning to walk. She barely glanced up when Rainey entered.

"Let me know if I can help you!" she yelled from near the back.

"Thanks," Rainey answered. "I'll manage."

Rainey made sure she was the only customer in the store, then bought a rose-colored dress, shoes, and a proper bonnet. At the last minute she added undergarments, a nightgown, and a small handbag. They were the first things she'd bought new for herself in years. At the school, without an allowance or wages, she'd always made do with hand-me-downs from graduating students.

The blue wool cape with its wide hood was an exception. Her mother made it for her last year, telling Rainey that her father had noticed her shivering and ordered the cape made so she wouldn't become ill and neglect her duties. Rainey loved the cape. Though it looked serviceable and nothing special, her mother had put extra care into it. Double stitching on the border and two small hidden pockets inside the lining.

Her one dress and the cape were now packed into her traveling bag she'd left by the mercantile door.

As Rainey paid for her things, the woman smiled. "You'll want to wash before you put these on, dear?"

Rainey panicked for a moment, realizing her disguise hadn't fooled the store owner any more than it had fooled Martha at the ranch.

She glanced up into a face that looked almost too old to have a toddler.

The woman winked. "Don't worry; I thought you were a boy until I saw how you touched the fabric. Boys don't feel cloth the way women do." She laughed, enjoying talking to someone. "My ma used to say that I was a watcher in a world full of the blind. I seem to always see things that are right there for the seeing, but no one else notices."

Rainey didn't know what to say. Though she'd tried not to get close to anyone, she'd been careful when she'd had to, knowing her safety depended on her being able to play a part, and now she'd shown herself up so easily. A mother wrestling a baby hadn't been fooled.

"I'm Pearl Langland," the owner said. "My husband is delivering supplies to a farm halfway to San Antonio today. He won't be back until late. If you like, you could wash up in our room in the back. There's even a hip tub if you want to haul water from the well for a bath. I don't mind at all, dear. It'll be nice to have the company."

"Thank you." Rainey couldn't believe the woman's kindness. "I'd be eternally grateful."

"You're from up north, I'm guessing." Pearl led her to the back room. Their quarters couldn't have been more than ten feet wide and maybe fifteen feet long, but in one room the Langlands had made a home.

Rainey frowned again. She'd worked on erasing any hint of her accent. The lack of food lately must be making her mind turn to mush.

When Pearl glanced back, she laughed a deep laugh that filled the small room. "I told you I was good at guessing. It's a game I've played all my life. Most folks listen for clues, but I watch. It's the little things that give secrets away. You wouldn't believe what I've guessed about some of the people in this town. I swear they wear their lies like ribbons on their chests for anyone who has a mind to look."

"What gave me away?" Rainey asked, feeling safer with this woman than she had since she'd boarded the train just outside of Washington.

Pearl shrugged as if her talent were nothing. "It was the way you counted out the money. Most men, even boys, just hand you a handful and don't bother to count out the amount to the penny. Women usually are more accurate."

Rainey wanted to hear more, but Pearl pulled the tub from the wall behind the back door and suddenly Rainey had other priorities. The mercantile owner also produced a clean bath sheet and tiny samples of soap that peddlers must have left at the store.

"Take your time." Pearl picked up her toddler and moved back toward the store. "I'll be out front if you need anything. I'll stand guard and no one will bother you, I promise."

For a moment Rainey couldn't believe Pearl had left her alone in her home, trusting that she wouldn't steal something. Then Rainey looked around. There was nothing worth the taking-a few old clothes on pegs. Several bowls of peaches on the table. A toy horse with a broken leg.

She relaxed, glad that she'd given Pearl her business and thankful to have a priceless bit of privacy. Rainey followed the woman's advice and did take her time. While the water heated, she laid out her new belongings as if they were priceless and on display. She soaked until the water became cold and scrubbed her hair twice. Then she climbed out, dried off, and put on her new under things. The soft cotton felt wonderful against her skin. It had been weeks since she'd felt truly clean.

Wearing only her undergarments, she washed her old clothes in the bathwater and scrubbed them as best she could. She left them in a bucket while she scrubbed the rags piled in one corner that Pearl must use for the baby. They were smelly and stained. Finally, she cleaned up her mess and slipped into the first new dress she'd worn in years.

After hanging the clothes to dry on the back porch railing, Rainey smiled up into the sun, feeling better than she had in months. Her short hair dried naturally into curls, and for once she couldn't feel fleas.

Pearl tapped on the door just as Rainey pulled her new comb through her hair.

"Mind if I interrupt? Jason's hungry."

"No. Please come in. I'm all dressed." Rainey turned as Pearl walked in and caught the surprise in the older woman's glance.

"My, my. I knew you were a woman, but I never dreamed there was such a pretty one beneath all that dirt."

Rainey blushed. "Thank you kindly, but I've never been anything but plain. I came to terms with it years ago." She did feel pretty, though, in a dress that had never belonged to anyone else.

She remembered when she'd been little and attended the school her father ran. As the schoolmaster's daughter, she never had fine dresses like all her classmates. Her father thought brown or black would be proper for his daughter. Even if she had talked her parents into allowing her to have a new dress for parties, Rainey was smart enough to realize that she'd still be the last one asked to dance. No young man had ever called on her. Not even one. When she'd moved from student to teacher, it had been a blessing, for she felt like she no longer had to compete with the others. Her dresses became plainer, dulling into grays, until she sometimes felt as though she'd faded into the very walls of the school.

"I like that rose color." Pearl tugged Rainey back from the past.

"Me, too," she said, thinking that as soon as she got a job, she'd buy the green one she'd seen in the store. She swore she'd never wear gray again.

Pearl pulled a meat pie from the cool box. "And you are pretty in it," she said. "But I warn you that a girl thinking herself plain can sometimes make it so." She winked at Rainey. "So take my compliment. Carry it in that imaginary pocket in your mind. Pull it out now and then and remember that at least one person noticed how pretty you are. Couldn't hurt."

Laughing, Rainey promised. She didn't know if she'd be able to think herself pretty, but she could see kindness in this tall woman and she would remember that.

Rainey must have been staring at the pie, for Pearl added, "I'd be honored to have you join me for lunch."

Rainey shook her head without taking her gaze off the pie. "I couldn't. You've been so kind already."

"Of course you can, dear. I hate eating alone, and the pie will be spoiled soon if we don't have it all. While we eat you can tell me how you happened to end up in these parts. I've no one but boring men to talk to most of the time, so it will be nice to have a visit."

Rainey began talking as she helped clear the peaches from the table. Pearl sat down with the baby in her lap and listened. By the time they'd finished the pie, Rainey had told Pearl all about her travels. Even including her short life as a horse borrower. It felt grand to tell the truth to someone. As she ended her tale, Rainey smiled, thinking that for the first time she had something to talk about besides what she'd read in books. She had lived an adventure.

Pearl leaned forward and covered Rainey's hand with hers. "You had good reason to leave home," she said. "Don't ever look back. It may have been the first time you chose a path for yourself, but you done right. You'll be safe here in Austin, I can feel it."

Staring at Pearl's hand, Rainey understood. She hadn't said much about her father, only that he tried to make her marry a man she didn't know, but Pearl had picked up on how it had been for her.

They spent the afternoon talking. Rainey held the baby while Pearl waited on customers and helped her stock while little Jason slept. Rainey insisted on making a peach pie to pay Pearl back in a small way for having eaten half her lunch. The smell of baking peaches filled the kitchen and drifted into the store. Pearl swore she sold three bags of peaches that afternoon because of the smell customers enjoyed while in the store.

"I wish we had the money to hire you," Pearl said as Rainey organized the spices. "The place looks better today than it has since the baby came. I don't seem to be able to do as much out here with him holding on to my skirts, but my Owen never complains." She laughed. "In fact, he told me yesterday that he wouldn't mind if our little Jason had a brother or sister." She blushed.

"I'll find something." Rainey tried to sound hopeful. "But first I'd better be off to find a place to board for the night. In this dress I could never go down to the creek to sleep tonight."

She'd just walked through the door when she noticed a tired man climb from his wagon and walk toward the store. He was stout, and balding, with a mustache that seemed to run from ear to ear. "Pearl!" he yelled as he neared the door. "Are you in there, or did you finally get an ounce of wisdom and leave me?"

Rainey heard Pearl's laughter. She rushed into his arms a moment later, and they hugged wildly, as if it had been days not hours since they'd seen each other. Rainey smiled as she walked away. She'd made a friend today. And to know her new friend was loved made Rainey feel good, even hopeful.

The good hotels all had Full signs swinging above their doors. A few places said they took men travelers only. She'd asked a man at one of the hotel desks, who looked like he might have been in Austin a while, if he knew of a place where respectable young women boarded. He said there was one fine women's boardinghouse and one not so grand on opposite ends of a street called Congress Avenue. One stranger asked if she might be the new schoolmarm, and Rainey realized she looked exactly like what she'd always been, an old maid schoolteacher. She'd been thirteen when students first called her Miss Adams, and she felt she'd aged a decade for each of the eight years she taught.

She didn't want to go back to teaching, but at present it seemed her best option. Jobs for women were few in this part of the world, and respectable jobs were almost nonexistent. She walked the busy streets reading posted notices in windows. A cook needed at one place, but offering less money than a boardinghouse would charge each week. Several notices were posted for house servants, promising room and board and a half-day off each week, but little pay. She found two ads for clerks, but one business wanted a man, and the other position had been filled before Rainey could find the address.

By dusk she decided to drop her bag off at the less expensive boardinghouse and make sure she had a bed for the night.

When she first saw the rooming house, she thought it looked respectable enough, only it was gray, the one color Rainey decided she hated. The old woman who ran the Askew House said she only had one room, a small third-floor space with a tiny window overlooking the alley.

"I'll take it," Rainey said and followed the rail of a woman up the carpeted stairs.

"I'm Mrs. Vivian. My husband and I came here with Mr. Stephen F," the owner said.

"Stephen F," Rainey repeated as she followed.

Mrs. Vivian stopped and turned around. "Stephen F Austin." She raised her chin. "We were part of the original three hundred."

Rainey wasn't about to repeat anything else. Whatever Mrs. Vivian thought she was because she and her husband arrived first seemed to be very important. "Yes, ma'am," Rainey whispered.

"I run a respectable house." The landlord continued up the steps.

"I understand," Rainey said without having a clear idea what the woman meant but guessed if she asked for a list of what wasn't respectable, horse borrowing would probably be on it. So she followed up to the second flight of stairs.

When Mrs. Vivian learned Rainey was looking for work, she insisted on collecting the entire first week's rent in advance. It was twice what Rainey hoped it would be.

"Don't know if you'll find work." The old woman pulled her mouth into a bow of wrinkles. "Most places don't pay women enough to live on." She raised one rather bushy eyebrow. "I guess they figure any proper woman would find a husband to provide for her." The landlord looked her up and down. "You're not very big, but you should have no problem finding a man to marry you if that's what you came to Texas looking for."

"No." The last thing Rainey wanted was Mrs. Vivian trying to match her up with a man. "I came to work and make my own way."

The old woman raised her nose. "It's not easy. Leastwise if you plan to make an honest living, and I don't rent rooms to those of them that don't."

Rainey touched the top button of her blouse, making sure she looked totally respectable. "My parents died of fever on the boat from New Orleans," she lied. "We'd planned to start a girls' school in this area." It was the only thing she knew, she realized, and she'd never be able to start a school without a great deal of money.

Mrs. Vivian shook her head. "I wish you luck, but staying alive seems more important than reading and writing in this part of the world." She appeared to have lost interest in the conversation. "The room comes with supper at seven each night and breakfast the next morning also at seven. If you miss either serving, I don't keep a plate warm for you, and I don't refund any part of your board." She handed Rainey a key, pointed to the door, then headed back down the stairs mumbling rules she'd memorized years ago. "Male visitors are not allowed past the parlor, and there are no exceptions or refunds if I ask you to leave for breaking that rule. You'll use the bathroom on the second floor, but you'll have to carry your own water up from the pump in the kitchen. If you ask Mamie, my slave, to tote or wash clothes for you, I expect you to pay me a quarter a bundle. The first outhouse in back is for my ladies, but after dark I recommend you use the chamber pot. My house backs up to Saloon Row. I won't be responsible for your safety after dark."

"I can take care of myself," Rainey said.

The landlord glanced back over her shoulder. "I hope you carry a loaded pistol with you, 'cause someone your size wouldn't have a chance against a man."

Rainey nodded, not wanting to admit she carried nothing for protection.

Mrs. Vivian left without another word. Rainey unlocked the only door on the third floor and looked around her new home. The room reminded her of a cabin on a ship. It could not have been a smaller space and been called a room. But on the bright side, it was clean. She leaned across the bed and opened the window. If she looked up, she could see the sky, but if she looked down, she not only could see but smell the filth of the alley below. Heaven and Hell. She had her own little slice of each.

While unpacking her few belongings, she listened to bits of conversation drift up from below her window. Two women on the porch behind the saloon were complaining about their late night as they smoked thin cigars. Parts of a song reached her window from the kitchen below, and one man, already drunk for the evening, talked to himself as he found his way to the privy.

Rainey looked out and decided the buildings along the alley must act as a chimney, for sound carried everything said, even softly, to her window. She smiled, remembering a place in the great hall of the school. One spot in the entire room where a person could stand and hear everything said within those walls. She used to love standing in that spot and feeling a part of all around her.

She almost laughed. This window could work to her advantage. If she listened closely, she might be able to pick up the accents that seemed to have blended into a way of talking that sounded slightly different from any dialect she'd ever heard. Then, alone in her room, she could practice until she sounded like a Texan. She'd be safest if she blended in here.

A few minutes later, when she walked into the dining room at exactly seven o'clock, Rainey found the other seven residents of the house.

A stout woman named Margaret Ann Mathis stood and introduced everyone.

One mother and her grown daughter from Germany spoke little English. Margaret Ann explained that they were waiting for the woman's husband to finish with the fall crop so he would have time to come and get them.

Three sisters had been in Austin two months waiting for their supplies to arrive so that they could open a dress shop. Though they smiled at Rainey, they were boredom in triplicate with dull eyes and hair in different stages of graying.

The last woman was in her late thirties and introduced herself as Mrs. Dottie Davis. She wore widow's black and nibbled at her food while the others were being introduced.

As soon as Margaret Ann finished her duty of introducing everyone, she sat down and, like the others, began eating. Rainey followed suit, noticing the food, though simple, was well prepared. Compared to the meals on the train and the ship, this looked like a feast.

After a few minutes Widow Davis broke the silence by asking if Rainey knew the history of the Askew House.

"No," Rainey answered. This entire town seemed far too new to have much history.

"Then I must tell you," the widow whispered.

"Not the murder of Lora again," Margaret Ann protested. "How can you keep telling that story when we don't know what really happened?"

Widow Davis pouted. "Lora was too young to be traveling alone, if you ask me. That was her first mistake"-she raised one eyebrow and stared at Rainey-"and maybe her last."

The closest of the three sisters agreed, then poked Rainey and added, "About your age. We heard the story from a woman who lived here the night it happened. Miss Lora was young with doe eyes and hair so blond it looked almost silver."

Widow Davis interrupted. "She came to marry a Frenchman back in forty-nine just before half the men in America went crazy over the gold rush. Poor child barely spoke English and didn't know enough to come in out of the rain. They say the man she was to have married still paces in front of the Askew House some nights as if hoping for an answer to exactly what happened to his bride even though it's been years."

Mrs. Vivian was busy serving dinner to her guests and showed no interest in the story. Maybe she'd heard it one too many times.

The widow talked on while she chewed. "A few of us remember like it was yesterday and not five years ago. Mrs. Vivian had just started the place and my Henry was still alive. We had a restaurant down a few blocks." The chubby woman lowered her voice as the landlord left the room. "Seems like I remember Mrs. Vivian's husband and only son went missing down near Galveston a few months before. She had to make a living somehow, so she opened the house to women only."

Rainey smiled at the phrase. "Did they ever come back from missing?"

Everyone who understood English at the table shook their head, but one of the three sisters answered, "Not yet. We heard the husband died. If you talk to Mrs. Vivian, her son is due back any minute. Some say he just went to California and will never came back."

The widow agreed. "My Henry used to say both Miss Vivian's husband and her grown son were meaner than skunks. Never worked at nothing but being no good."

"What happened to the French girl?" Rainey pulled the conversation back on track. "How was she murdered?"

Grace, the oldest of the sisters, answered, "I've asked around and no one seems to know. All they found was her ivory dressing gown, hanging neatly on the back porch."

"Then how do you know she was murdered?" If all the women hadn't looked so pale, she would have thought they were kidding her.

"Blood," the widow said. "There was blood trailing all along one side of the alley. Lots of blood, running from building to building, as if someone had dipped a wide paintbrush in a tub of crimson." Everyone except the two German women leaned closer as she continued. "They said all her things, her clothes, her shoes, even her brush and comb were still in her room looking as if she might have just stepped out for a moment. The only thing missing was a small chest of valuables she'd brought as a wedding gift from her parents."

The talkative sister picked up the story. "They never found so much as a lock of her hair. No one reported seeing or hearing anything that night, but that little bedroom on the third floor has been hard to rent ever since."

"My room," Rainey whispered, but no one seemed to hear.

The widow shook her head at one of the old maid sisters. "How could she have been killed and no one hear? It gives me chills in the night, it does. People die in this town sometimes, but not like that. Not with their blood marking the alley."

They finished the meal and all said their good nights. Rainey climbed to her room and watched from her window. The three sisters made a trip to the privy together, with two standing guard while one went inside.

For them the alley was an evil place to be feared, but Rainey couldn't help but wonder how much of the story was true. A young woman going out back at night-maybe. Folding up her dressing gown and placing it on the porch while she crossed to the privy-very unlikely. Someone killing her and dragging her bloody body down the alley without anyone seeing or hearing anything-impossible.

Judging from the noise, the alley was almost as busy as the street.

She leaned out the window. A drunk was settling down in the corner of the saloon's porch. Two girls with feathers in their hair were smoking and complaining. It was too dark to tell if they were the same two she'd seen earlier. A few houses down, a man with a wagon appeared to be unloading barrels. He swore each time he strained.

At nine she heard the doors to the boardinghouse being locked. Not wanting to waste the one candle, Rainey dressed for bed in her new nightgown and settled in, listening to the voices below. As she drifted into sleep, she thought of Travis McMurray and wondered how he was doing.

Sometimes, when she thought of him, she decided he seemed the only real thing in her make-believe world. He'd been so solid. For the short time she'd been with him, she felt as if she wasn't invisible.

She wished she'd stayed a little longer by his side that last time. His arm had felt so good around her shoulder. She wouldn't have bothered him, but she might have spread her hand out on his chest just to make sure he was breathing normally and not in too much pain.

Her last thought was that she must be crazy to dream of a man she barely knew. But she couldn't help wishing she'd touched him, or that he'd touched her.

At dawn Rainey began her search for employment. After wearing trousers for weeks, she found that her skirt seemed heavy and cumbersome. The heat of the day made her feel like she was melting inside all the layers of material. By midafternoon she decided to abandon her quest early and return to her small room on the third floor of the Askew House.

She found the three sisters in the drawing room planning their store. Mrs. Vivian sat in the office working on her books. When Rainey said hello, the landlord looked surprised that anyone would bother greeting her.

"Mrs. Vivian, I was wondering why you named this place the Askew House?" she asked just to make conversation.

Mrs. Vivian looked pleased. "My maiden name was Askew. When my husband returns, I plan to change the name." The thin woman straightened and held her head high. Loneliness surrounded her, and Rainey guessed that she knew her man would never return but chose to live the lie.

Rainey didn't dare ask how long he'd been gone. The son also seemed a topic no one addressed to Mrs. Vivian.

Once in her room, Rainey cried into her pillow, feeling as if she'd spent a lifetime alone. When she'd been a child her mother had never had time to talk to her, her father never bothered unless he was angry, and the other girls at school considered her beneath their station so never offered friendship. Now it seemed she'd made it all the way to Texas and found only lonely people populated the state.

She tried to see one good thing. At least on the third floor she couldn't hear the clock that chimed in the foyer every hour. If she had her way she'd never live by the sound of a clock again. For as long as she could remember, her father had insisted every detail follow a schedule.

Rainey let her mind drift back to her life before. The order to it all, the boredom. Now she couldn't believe she'd let it go on for so long without saying or doing something, but she'd been afraid of what might happen with change. Boredom had been bearable, change frightening.

Finally, exhausted, she drifted off to sleep and almost missed dinner. She ran down the stairs not realizing until she stepped into the dining room that she'd forgotten her shoes. She slowed, moving in small steps so that no one would notice.

Tonight, since she was no longer new, no one bothered to speak to her. The meal was eaten totally in silence except for the German mother and daughter, who whispered to each other with words no one else understood.

The widow, Dottie Davis, looked tired and Rainey couldn't help but wonder what they all did during the day.

Rainey almost ran back upstairs. Somehow the others made her feel even more alone. She told herself she simply needed sleep. But after dark she couldn't force herself to close the window. She found the conversations she could overhear far too interesting.

Slowly, hour after hour, she began to recognize the voices and give each one a name. This was her world, she reasoned. She was a watcher, a listener, but never a part of all that went on around her. It had been that way all her life. Most of the girls in her class in school never bothered to learn her name. She'd been a shadow as a student and as a teacher. Why should anything be different here?

The sadness of it might have smothered her, but in the corners of her mind Rainey remembered the Ranger who'd danced with her… who'd kissed her… who'd told her he'd find her.

She'd heard once that somewhere in the world everyone has someone thinking about them. If that were true she could only hope that someone would be Travis McMurray.