Hanna hurried up the street to its north end and crossed to the other side. The hotel’s owner, Mrs. Blake, directed her to the kitchen, where she collected the cans from Ellie, the hired girl. Ellie was a few years older than Hanna. Her family lived on a homestead several miles out of town; she boarded at the hotel and worked long hours cooking and cleaning for the hotel guests.

“I’d like to come to the opening, but I wouldn’t be able to buy anything,” Ellie said wistfully.

“Of course you must come,” Hanna said. “You can look all you want, and we’ll be serving refreshments. And there will be a raffle.”

As Hanna left the hotel, the screen door of the next building banged open, and two men lurched out of the saloon. Both were obviously drunk. Hanna recognized one of them, to her dismay: It was Dolly’s father, Mr. Swenson. She felt a stroke of sympathy for Dolly.

At his side was a man Hanna did not know. He had a broad florid face and was dressed like a homesteader in boots, trousers, a dirty plaid shirt. He held a bottle of liquor in one hand.

The stranger caught sight of Hanna. “Well, looka here,” he said. “It’s a li’l Injun girl.”

Swenson looked at Hanna. “It’s not,” he said, his voice slow and heavy with drink. “Not an Injun. That there is a Chinaman. Hello, Chinaman girl.”

“A Chinaman girl here? My, my.” The other man stared at Hanna with red-rimmed eyes. “You know what they say about Chinese girls, Swenson?”

His leer was repulsive.

“I surely do, Conners,” Swenson replied. He laughed heartily, stumbled, and had to grab hold of his friend to keep his balance. Then he snatched the bottle and swigged.

Quick, while they’re distracted . . .

Hanna tried to edge past the two men. Swenson abruptly lowered the bottle from his mouth and stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, Chinaman girl? I said hello. You got enough manners to say hello back?” His voice now held a note of threat.

Hanna wanted to breathe deeply, but her lungs were rigid. She could almost taste the evil in the air. Her thoughts fragmented in panic. People, not far away—just there, across the street—why did no one notice what was happening?

Both men advanced toward her; the wall of the saloon was at her back. Surely they wouldn’t do her harm here on the street, in full daylight? But if they dragged her into the alley behind the buildings . . .

She saw their faces animated by her fear, as if they were feeding on it.

“Aw, look. You done skeered her,” Conners said.