A Promise to Believe in by Tracie Peterson

manner he suggested. After all, we’re just silly girls. We might not have understood exactly what he wanted.”
    Beth smiled. She glanced up to spy Rafe’s girls working behind the saloon to care for their own laundry. Beth’s first thoughts were of sympathy, even pity. She couldn’t begin to imagine what type of ordeals had brought these women to such an end.
    “Look,” she whispered to Lacy.
    Lacy’s gaze followed and she nodded. “I feel sorry for them and angry at them, all at the same time. Does that sound crazy?”
    “No, I feel the same way,” Beth admitted. “I can’t help but wonder if they understand that they’re living in sin. Surely they must. I’ve wanted to talk to them, but we hardly ever see them. I think Rafe keeps them locked up. See how pale they are?”
    She considered the three women. Marie was in her late twenties and had been a prostitute since she was a young girl. Hardened by years of dangerous living, the dark-eyed woman kept to herself, scrubbing what looked to be a blouse and saying nothing to the other two.
    In contrast, the younger women were chatting freely. Ellie, a petite blonde, had been in the business for only a short time, Beth had learned. She was a young widow whose husband had been gored to death by a bull. With no other family or friends to help her, Ellie eventually found herself forced into working at saloons in order to keep herself fed.
    Regina was the youngest, at seventeen. Rafe boasted that he’d won her in a poker game in Denver. Apparently, her father hadn’t counted on Rafe’s four of a kind. Regina was like a timid rabbit. She stuck close to Ellie and seemed shy of strangers.
    “I wish there were a way to help them,” Beth murmured.
    Her sister plopped the basket down beside the washtub. “I don’t know what we could ever do. I heard it said that they each owe Rafe a bunch of money. They can’t leave until they pay it off.”
    “Well, it sounds like slavery to me, and Mr. Lincoln, God rest his soul, put an end to that abomination. I can’t believe it’s legal for Rafe to simply own these women because of their previous debts.”
    “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Lacy replied, “but I don’t know what we can do about it. I suppose we could help them run away.”
    Beth considered the thought for a moment. “Rafe would only hunt them down. There has to be another way. I’m going to go talk with them.”
    “Suit yourself. I’m going to go check on the Lassiters’ mare.” Lacy headed off toward the front of the house.
    “See how Nick’s feeling, too,” Beth called. She deposited some extra clothespins in the basket and drew a deep breath.
    Walking with determination, Beth crossed the distance between Gallatin House and Rafe’s Saloon. She was grateful that it was still early. Perhaps Rafe and his assistant would still be sleeping off their late night.
    “Hello,” Beth called and gave a little wave.
    Marie looked up but said nothing. Ellie and Regina waved back rather hesitantly. “How are you . . . ladies . . . ah . . . doing?” Beth stammered.
    Ellie looked at Marie and then shrugged. “I guess we’re doing fine.”
    “I see it’s washday for you, as well.” Beth could think of nothing else to say. She stopped as she drew within five feet of Regina.
    The girl seemed very pale, and dark smudges seemed permanently marked beneath her sad eyes. Beth noted her skinny—even sickly looking—form and wondered if Rafe allowed them enough to eat.
    “What are you doing here?” Marie asked, coming to join them. She sounded hostile and crossed her arms against her low-cut chemise.
    Beth was rather startled at the way the woman’s breasts swelled against the fabric. She wore only this and a shortened skirt that revealed the calves of her legs. Did she not realize how much of herself she was exposing? Perhaps since she was just among women she didn’t care, but Beth found it offensive and looked away quickly.
    “I just thought