The Whippoorwill Trilogy

by Sharon Sala

  Bits of green moss scraped loose from the sides and floated to the top, sticking to her skin like a fungus. Her breasts, loose from their binding, moved with the ebb and flow of the water like two raw eggs in a pitcher of beer.

  The congregation was behind him—waiting. Eulis didn’t know what to do. He’d seen people baptized before. He knew—sort of—what was supposed to occur, but he’d never heard the proper words being said.

  “What the hell,” he mumbled beneath his breath. “I been playin’ by ear all day. What’s one more incident gonna hurt?”

  He grabbed Letty’s hair and pushed her under.

  “One for the money.”

  He yanked her up.

  “Two for the show.”

  When he sent her back, green slime slid between the fingers of his hand.

  “Three to make ready.”

  This time Letty was gasping for air as he shoved her back down in the trough.

  “And four to go!”

  Just before she passed out and drowned, he yanked her up the last time.

  “Hallelujah, she is saved!”

  Letty staggered to her feet, spitting moss and gasping for air while water ran out of her hair and into her eyes. Her clothes were plastered to her body like wet paper on a drinking glass, but there was a light in her eyes that had never been there before.

  The congregation seemed stunned by what he’d done, and for a moment Eulis feared the worst. It was Letty who saved the day.

  “I am a new woman,” she announced, then bowed her head and covered her nudity with her hands.

  A woman stepped out of the crowd and threw her shawl over Letty’s bosom. A sigh went up. The baptism might have been a little unorthodox, but the preacher was from back East. Maybe that’s the way they did it there. And the whore knew shame. That meant it took.

  Will the Bartender began singing again.

  Eulis wanted a drink.

  It was over.

  Jubilant, he turned to face the crowd, only vaguely aware that three people on horseback were coming toward the livery. If they’d come for the baptizing, they were too late. He waved to Will the Bartender.

  “Take them back to the hill,” he said. “I’ll be along as soon as I see to Miss Murphy’s welfare.”

  The congregation marched back toward the arbor with Will in the lead.

  Eulis turned back to Letty. She was shivering. “Maybe you should put on some dry clothes.”

  She stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Her chin was quivering, her eyes glassy with shock. Eulis couldn’t tell if it was from the chill, or from her emotional state.

  “I’m a new woman… ain’t I, Preacher?”

  Eulis rolled his eyes and then lowered his voice. “Snap out of it, Letty. I ain’t no preacher and you know it.”

  Letty blinked, then looked down at her dress—and the lack thereof.

  “What happened to my dress?”

  “You come out of it like a pit poppin’ out of a rotten peach. One minute you was all buttoned up and the next thing we knew, you was spillin’ out all over.”

  “Oh lord,” she groaned, and pulled the shawl tighter around her. “I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again.”

  Eulis snorted softly. “Hell, Letty, most of those men in that congregation has seen a whole lot more of you than your bare bosoms.”

  She frowned. “That was the old me. I’ve been born again and that’s a fact.”

  Eulis sighed. He didn’t know how to talk to this Letty. In fact, the longer he thought about, the more convinced he became that he had liked the old Letty better.

  They’d ridden at a gallop for miles. Their horses were lathered, their sides heaving, and Charity wondered if she’d ever walk normal again. The closer they’d come to Lizard Flats, the quieter they’d all become.

  All of a sudden, Charity felt her shame anew. She was anxious about facing Randall Howe again. Would he laugh at her? Would he deny what he’d done? So many questions were running through her mind that she was surprised when Beau James suddenly reined up.

  “I reckon that’ll be it,” he said, pointing to the small nest of buildings lit up in the distance.

  Her stomach knotted. “Should we wait until morning?”

  Mehitable snorted. “Not from where I’m sittin’,” she muttered. “He’s ruined plenty of my sleep. I vote for ruinin’ a little bit of his.”

  Beau James’s expression hardened. “He ain’t gonna have a need for sleep… or anything else.”

  Charity gave him a quick, nervous glance. “You have to promise me something, Beau James.”

  He turned then, his eyes piercing the darkness to gaze upon her face. “If I can,” he said softly.

  “Don’t do anything that will get you hung.”

  He turned away, staring at the sprinkling of lights in the distance.

  “Let’s ride,” he said suddenly, and nudged his horse in the flanks.

  The two women followed his descent. The fact was not lost upon either of them that Beau had promised Charity nothing.

  At the edge of town, they slowed down to a trot.

  “Something is going on at the other end of town,” Charity said. “I see lanterns and people… a whole lot of people.”

  Mehitable’s squint deepened. “Maybe we’re too late. Maybe they done hanged the bastard.”

  Charity gasped. As badly as she wanted him to pay, she didn’t think she could bear to see a man hanged.

  A hundred yards away, Beau suddenly stopped. “Wait here,” he said shortly, before riding on ahead.

  Charity frowned. “What’s he doing?” she asked.

  Mehitable sighed. Sometimes her sister could be terribly dense.

  “Just do what he says, Sister.”

  They sat silent in the saddle, watching Beau’s every move. A few moments later, the crowd at the livery began to disperse. Charity wished for more light. She needed to see. To make sure that Beau James didn’t get himself killed.

  Suddenly, Mehitable gasped. Charity looked at her sister.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look there!” Mehitable said, pointing to the tall, portly man in the dark dandy’s suit.

  In the darkness, in the distance, the small white band on the clerical collar of Randall Howe’s shirt shown like a star.

  “It’s him!” Mehitable hissed. Her hand automatically went to her gun.

  But Charity wasn’t as convinced. There was something different—something that didn’t ring true. The need to see his face moved her to ignore Beau James’s order. She urged her horse closer.

  Letty was thinking real hard on going to change her clothes when she happened to look up. A trio of riders was coming in. At first, she didn’t pay them much mind. But then one separated himself from the group, and as he came closer, the skin on the back of her neck began to crawl. It was something about the stiff way he was sitting in the saddle. She’d seen enough men bent on vengeance before to know when to duck. She pointed.

  “Uh… Preacher, I think…”

  Eulis turned. More strangers. He sighed. Would this day never end?

  The cowboy slid off his horse, letting the reins trail to the ground as he faced Eulis.

  Eulis pointed toward the livery. “Pete Samuels is the owner, but he’s up on the hill. Just put your horses inside for the night. He won’t mind.”

  The cowboy took another step forward.

  Letty took a step back.

  “I ain’t in need of a livery,” Beau James said. “I’m looking for a preacher by the name of Randall Howe.”

  Eulis smiled. “That would be me. How can I help you, my son?”

  Will James drew his gun. “By bleedin’ your sorry self out on this ground.”

  Eulis staggered backward, bumping into the lantern he’d hung earlier. It began to sway upon impact. The light pitched and rolled through the darkness like a ship on the seas.

  “You came to kill me? But why? I’ve done you no harm.”
<
br />   Beau took aim. “It weren’t me that you harmed. It was Charity Doone.”

  Letty screamed.

  Eulis wanted to throw up.

  Just when he thought his life was over, another rider suddenly came out of the darkness. A young woman leaped from her horse, shouting aloud as she ran.

  “No, Beau, don’t shoot! For God’s sake, don’t shoot! That’s not the right preacher! That’s not Randall Howe!”

  Eulis sagged against the fence. It was over. They’d been found out. He looked at Letty. She was down on her knees in prayer. He frowned. Praying was good and all, but there was a time and a place for everything and right now he needed a gun and a horse to get out of town a lot worse than he needed a prayer.

  Beau James froze, his finger just shy of pulling the trigger. Although Charity was tugging desperately on his arm, he wouldn’t budge.

  “What the hell do you mean, he ain’t the one? I just asked him his name. He said it was Randall Howe.”

  Charity swayed, near exhaustion from their frantic ride. She looked to her sister, Mehitable, who was in the act of dismounting.

  “Tell him, Hetty. Tell him it’s so. I don’t know who this man is, but he’s not the man who came to our home. He’s not the one who shamed me.”

  Eulis’s mouth dropped. If he was understanding this right, the preacher they’d buried hadn’t been that true blue. Somehow, just the knowing of that made their deception a little bit easier to bear.

  Mehitable got down from her horse. She was dusty and tired and wanted a bath. But she wanted justice more. She stepped closer to the light, peering at Eulis with cold-eyed intent. Finally, she shook her head and stepped back.

  “Sister’s right,” Mehitable said. “That ain’t Randall Howe.”

  The tension slid out of Beau in one breath. “Then who the hell are you, mister? And what’s yore game?”

  Eulis’s mouth was in gear, but his brain had yet to catch up. All he could manage was a flapping jaw.

  It was Letty who saved the day. She’d given too much of herself and come too far today to lose it all now. She pulled herself up, mindful to keep the shawl over her state of undress.

  “I don’t know what your trouble is, mister, but you need to back off.” Then she looked at Charity with a pitying gaze. “And I’m real sorry Miss, if you were lied to by some good-lookin’ man. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. But this man here is Reverend Randall Howe. Today he’s preached four weddings, had a burying, given a boy a Christian name, and baptized a whore. And the night isn’t over. Whoever did you wrong must have been an imposter.”

  Mehitable hissed through her teeth and threw her arms in the air. “I should’a knowed,” she snarled. “He was too damned pretty for a preacher.” When she realized what she’d just said, she added. “No offense, Reverend Howe.”

  Thinking how come he’d close to dying, Eulis shuddered. “None taken.”

  Beau went limp. All the fury he’d been saving had nowhere to go.

  “Then I’ll have to keep lookin’,” he said coldly, and holstered his pistol.

  Charity threw herself into his arms. “No, Beau, no,” she cried. “No more. Wherever that man is, he can’t hurt me anymore.”

  That’s for sure, Eulis thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Beau was torn between wanting to please Charity and the need for revenge. He wrapped his arms around her, his face bearing witness to his internal agony of having suffered a defeat.

  “I don’t know as how I can live with myself if I don’t make that man pay.”

  Eulis cleared his throat. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

  Mehitable’s eyes squinted even more than usual as she considered Eulis’s words.

  “He’s right, Beau. We’ve all done our share of takin’ Charity’s side. Leave the rest of it to the Lord.” She arched an eyebrow at the way Beau was holding her sister, and then back at the preacher. “From the looks of things, I’d say the trip wasn’t altogether wasted.”

  Charity hugged Beau even tighter. The thought of losing him was more than she could bear.

  Beau James crumbled. But it wasn’t so much what Eulis said that changed his mind, as it was the feel of Charity’s soft breasts pressed against his chest.

  “Then that’s that,” he said softly, and laid his cheek against the crown of her hair.

  Relieved that it was over, Mehitable shoved her hat to the back of her hair and frowned.

  “While I ain’t got no problem with you lovin’ my sister, I’m tellin’ you right now that I ain’t ridin’ all that way back with the two of you tryin’ to spoon behind my back. There’s a preacher. Get the words said now and ride back to the ranch man and wife.”

  Beau swallowed nervously as Charity smiled up at him. “I ain’t got anythin’ to offer her except me.”

  Mehitable butted in one last time. “It’s true you ain’t got much now, but marry my sister and I reckon you’ll be ownin’ the ranch one day.”

  Beau took a deep breath. “Then if you’ll have me, Charity Doone, I’d be honored.”

  Charity hesitated. Her girlish dreams of a fancy wedding and a party to boot had ended in Randall Howe’s bed. Mehitable was right. There was no time to waste. Not when a good-looking man like Beau James was willing to overlook what she’d done.

  “As would I, Beau James.” Then she whispered for his ears only. “You will always be my hero.”

  A sideways grin tilted the corner of his mouth. He nodded and turned to the man he’d almost killed.

  “Uh, say… preacher?”

  “Yes?” Eulis asked.

  “If there’s no hard feelin’s, I reckon I’ll be askin’ you to marry me and Charity, here.”

  Eulis managed a smile. “I’d be honored.”

  A short while later, the trio mounted up and rode away. Eulis was still shaking as he glanced toward the lantern-lit arbor. Faint strains of Onward Christian Soldiers drifted down the hill. Will the Bartender didn’t have much of a repertoire, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about that now. He shook his head and then sat down in the dirt with a thump.

  “You’ll get your good clothes mussed,” Letty muttered.

  Eulis dropped his head between his knees. “Dirt is the last thing I’ll be worryin’ about tonight.”

  Letty thought about it for a minute and then sat down beside him. Her clothes still dripped. Where she was sitting would make mud. But right now, she had to agree. Getting dirty was nothing compared to what they’d endured.

  Finally Eulis looked up. “I reckon I’d better get on up the hill and close out the service.”

  Letty gave him a hard look and decided she could trust him that far. “Considering my dress and all, I think I’ll go on to bed.”

  Eulis sighed. “That sounds good to me. I won’t be far behind.”

  Letty gave him a glare. “Just don’t go gettin’ yourself drunk ’fore this is over.”

  He studied her face, trying to absorb the fact that she was no longer the whore at the White Dove Saloon. He looked away. Leticia Murphy wasn’t the only one today who’d had a change of heart. He hadn’t told her yet, but he was thinking of giving up drink altogether.

  “Did you hear me?” she muttered.

  “Yes, ma’am. I heard you loud and clear.”

  She dragged herself up then. “Well, that’s that. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He got to his feet. “Bright and early.”

  She frowned. Bright and early? She didn’t know as how she could manage that. She hadn’t been up before daybreak in so long she wasn’t sure what a sunrise looked like. And then she smiled to herself as she walked away. It might be nice to see a sunrise again.

  A cock crowed, rudely calling Eulis from his sleep. He cracked an eyelid to test the air and groaned at the sight. Daylight. He rolled over and wiped at his face. His head hurt. His belly rolled. He wanted a drink and he needed to pee.

  And then he sat up on the side of the bed, saw the su
it of clothes and the bowler hat on the nearby chair and groaned. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Yesterday he and Letty had pulled the biggest scam in the Kansas territory and were still alive to tell the tale.

  He shuddered.

  Therein lay his fear. He didn’t want the tale told. He liked his new identity. He didn’t want to lose that acceptance. And with that thought, came another. The only person who could ruin it all was Letty, herself!

  He looked around the room, half expecting to see her standing in the corner, coated in green slime and pointing an accusing finger. Then he remembered she’d gone to bed in the room across the hall.

  Alone.

  Suddenly too pure to be in the presence of a man who was not her husband.

  He thought of the promise she’d made him of free pokes for the rest of his life and sighed. It was the story of his life. Too little, too late. At that point, he got out of bed as the chamber pot beckoned.

  Later, as he dug through the preacher’s bag for a clean shirt, he began planning his next move. When he was dressed, he strode to the mirror, turning first one way, then the other, looking at his own reflection with a judgmental eye. He thought of that wanted poster under his bed over at the White Dove Saloon.

  Dodge City wasn’t all that far. He looked at himself in the mirror again. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks were red. He needed a drink in the worst way, but his gaze slid back to his reflection. Baths and new clothes and another man’s name might give him a new start, but before he could begin a new life, he needed to put the old one to rest. He’d have a little whiskey in his coffee. That should perk him up some. And he’d be weaning himself off the drink a little bit every day.

  “I’ll have to learn to read some better,” he said aloud. “But it’s a powerful long way between some towns out here. I can practice on the way.”

  He began to pack. “And I know there’s a better way to baptize, but I’ll watch one done before I try another.”

  With that vow set firm in his memory, he checked Randall Howe’s ticket for his next destination.

  “I’ve always believed that a man should see what he can of the world a’fore he passes, but Sagebrush Pass will have to wait a bit until I get back from Dodge City.”