In less than a minute, she heard men shouting and the sound of many running feet. She also smelled smoke. Idelle waited patiently until everyone in the lobby, including the hotel’s bartender, the desk clerk, and several maids, as well as a number of guests, ran out through the front doors. One of the men was Burnell Shipley, who waddled from his office behind a mob of guests.

Once alone in the lobby, Idelle wasted no time. She went directly behind the bar and took two bottles of brown liquid labeled OLD CROW. From there, she slipped into the hotel kitchen and stuffed a slab of dried beef, and as many jars of fruit preserves as she could carry, into the basket. She exited the hotel through the rear kitchen door and snatched a white sheet off the clothesline as she passed.

Idelle took a moment to cover her plunder in the basket with the sheet and then removed her bonnet and placed it on top to conceal the booty. The basket was very heavy, but she carried it in the crook of her elbow and struggled to pretend it wasn’t. She steadily made her way around the hotel to the street.

When she reached the plank sidewalk and began walking rapidly toward the Nettleses’s place, she couldn’t resist looking behind her. Idelle saw a dozen men fighting the fire, which engulfed the wagon. Several of them were trying to unhitch the panicked team of horses, while others filled buckets of water from nearby troughs in an attempt to douse the flames. A large crowd of onlookers beheld the spectacle, and smoke filled the late-afternoon air.

“What’s in the basket, little girl?” a high, scratchy voice demanded. Idelle looked up to find her path on the sidewalk blocked by Eli Gaines. She had never met the deputy, but recognized him as one of Sheriff Foster’s minions. He was at least five years older than Samuel, and all she knew of him was that he had horrific teeth and was disliked by everyone who knew him. Gaines leered down at her, like a menacing scarecrow.

“Excuse me,” Idelle said, attempting to step around the skeletal figure. He sidestepped, blocking her path again.

“You’re young, all right,” he said, rubbing his scraggly chin whiskers, “but damn, if you ain’t got your mama’s looks already started. How old are you, anyways?”

“I’ll be ten in a month,” she declared indignantly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“How’s about I carry your basket for you?” He reached out a lanky arm. Idelle pulled the basket out of reach.

“My parents told me not to talk to strangers,” Idelle said.