Grace and the Guiltless

Chapter 4

Grace threaded her way through the crowd, her body pressed close to Bullet's quivering side to calm him. The palomino tossed his mane and snorted, but he didn't buck. Knots of people drew back as they passed, many casting wary looks at the horse and disapproving glances at Grace. Whispers whooshed past her like tumbleweed blowing in the hot desert air. Grace straightened her spine and met everyone's stares boldly, but bitterness burned in her gut like lye. Not one of these strangers had come to her rescue.

And now that she had nowhere to stay, no family . . . Grace blinked hard to stop her eyes from tearing up. No one would take her in. Her family had no real friends in these parts. Shoulders slumped, Grace leaned her head against Bullet's neck while fingering the pouch the stranger had given her. At least someone had cared. But Grace didn't want charity. If she had been thinking more quickly, she would have thrown it back to him.

But now she had it and had no way to return it. She pulled the drawstring open, and silver nuggets spilled into her palm. She had no idea what they were worth. Pa had always bartered horses for food and supplies. She had heard of prospectors killing each other for silver, so it must be valuable. But the young man had said to get food and a bath, so maybe what he had given her wasn't worth much.

Grace hated being indebted to anyone. She tipped her hand and poured the nuggets back into the pouch, sighing deeply. Exhaustion and hunger swept over her in a dizzying wave. This pouch could buy her a meal and perhaps a place to sleep for the night. She had little choice unless she wanted to sleep in the street or out in the desert. And Bullet needed food and water. Grace clutched the lumpy pouch in her fist. She would have to use the stranger's silver, but as soon as she could, she would find out who he was and pay him back.

Down the street from the Bird Cage, Grace hitched Bullet to a post and entered a slightly more respectable-looking building.

A woman, tightly corseted to emphasize the voluptuous curves spilling from her low-cut purple bodice, leaned one elbow on the counter and eyed Grace with suspicion. "A little young, ain't you?"

Grace clenched her teeth. "I want to pay for a room." She clinked the pouch against the wood and untied the rawhide string. Silver nuggets spilled onto the wood.

A greedy gleam shined in the woman's eyes. "Most share a room, but for this," she said as she slid her predatory fingers over the pile of silver, "I'll give you a room of your own. Private."

"My horse —"

"Stable's included. Go around back to the alley. And you look like you could use some cleaning up. For a bit more, I'll throw in a tub of hot water."

Grace shook the leather pouch. Empty.

"Too bad. Although . . ." The woman paused, her gaze skimming Grace's body in the tight-fitting, outgrown clothing. "You could pay for the bath in trade," she said with a smirk.

Grace couldn't keep the tremor of anger from her voice. "No, thank you."

A grizzled old man a few stools away slapped a coin onto the bar and stood. "Aw, Lil, lighten up. That poor girl's exhausted. Let her clean up and rest. Seems to me she more than paid for a room in this joint."

He settled his hat on his head, then tipped the brim in Grace's direction. "Don't let Lil cheat you. You deserve a meal and bath for what you paid. And a lot more." He raised a warning eyebrow in Lil's direction.

Lil tossed her head back, making the feather in her hair jiggle. She dropped the silver into the silken pouch she had strung around her waist. "Keep your nose outta my business, Tex." She turned to Grace. "You can use the tub my gals share. Down the hall from your room. Hot water's on the house."