The Whippoorwill Trilogy

by Sharon Sala

  “Bunny, ju owd coot. Bunny. Wun towsend dowwers. Webember?”

  Myron stared at Orville as if he’d suddenly grown horns.

  “You paid this slimy bastard money to humiliate your daughter?”

  Orville moaned. “It wasn’t like that,” he mumbled. “I only wanted what was best for—”

  Suddenly a shot rang out, then bits of plaster from the ceiling began falling down upon their faces.

  Harley dropped to his knees and began praying for mercy while Orville stared at Fannie as if she’d just lost her mind.

  “Daughter! Put that shotgun down before—”

  She aimed it in Harley’s face. “Get out.”

  He started to get to his feet when she shoved the gun barrel up against his nose.

  “No,” she muttered. “Crawl.”

  Harley couldn’t believe this was happening. Only an hour ago he’d been thinking about bedding sweet Lola, and now he might never be able to get it up again. Not only that, but his looks had definitely been damaged. He didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

  “Now!” Fannie suddenly screamed, and cocked the hammer back on the shotgun.

  “Doh, pease,” Harley begged, and began crawling out of the kitchen on all fours.

  Fannie turned the gun on Orville.

  “Daughter! Put that down this—”

  She shot, missing his head by mere inches. The buckshot hit the wall to Orville’s right, blasting a hole clear through into the next room.

  Orville watched in horror as Fannie reached into the cupboard for more ammunition, at which time, he bolted and ran.

  Fannie was so angry she was shaking. There was plaster in her chicken and a piece of wood in what was left of her cobbler. The hole in the wall was about the same size as the one she’d put in the ceiling, and she wondered who she could hire to fix it then wondered why she cared. She’d just alienated her father, kicked her fiancé out of her life, and humiliated herself in front of the only man who’d shown true interest in her life.

  “Have mercy,” she said.

  “Fannie… give me the gun.”

  Fannie jumped. She’d forgotten that Myron was still here.

  “Are you still here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you going to run away, too?”

  Myron grinned. “Not unless you shoot at me, too.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Myron took a slow step toward her and when she didn’t turn the shotgun on him, he carefully removed it from her hands.

  “Well now, Miss Fannie, I have to say that this was probably the most memorable evening I’ve ever spent in my life.”

  She moaned and covered her face.

  “I’m so ashamed.”

  “Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Myron said. “You have one hell of a father. But you know you’re going to have to learn to forgive him one of these days.”

  “Why?” Fannie said.

  Myron set the gun aside and then took her by the shoulders.

  “Because we can’t have our children’s grandfather barred from our door just because he is an ass.”

  Fannie gasped. “What?”

  Myron felt his apple cobbler churning low in his gut. He knew this was fast, but something told him that Fannie Smithson was too precious to let go.

  “I know this is hasty, but I truly admire you, Fannie, and I would be honored if you would consider being my wife.”

  Fannie gawked. “Have you lost your mind? Today was the first time we’ve ever spoken to each other and you think I’m so desperate that I’ll agree to something so outrageous?”

  Myron sighed. “I suppose I have lost my mind, but it’s all your fault for being so audacious. I think it was right about the time you mentioned wanting to work in the saloon playing poker, that I fell for you.”

  Fannie blushed. “I am a fool.”

  Myron cupped her cheek.

  “No. The fools are Harley Charles and your father for not seeing what a handsome woman you really are. And just for the record, I don’t want your damned dowry. I don’t need your father’s money. I have plenty of my own. What I don’t have is you. I’ll wait for as long as you wish, but please, Fannie dear, please consider being my wife.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “As a man can be.”

  “You truly consider me handsome?”

  “Truly.”

  “I swear if you’re making jest of me in any way and I find out about it later, I will shoot you dead.”

  He started to grin. “I believe you and I swear that I’m true.”

  Fannie put her fingers against her lips, trying to stifle the urge to cry.

  Myron lifted her hands away from her mouth and clutched them against his chest.

  “So… Fannie… what do you say?”

  “I say we’re both crazy,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “Two of a kind. Perfect match, wouldn’t you say?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I say, yes.”

  His fingers tightened as his heart leaped.

  “Are you saying that you’ll be mine?”

  “Yes, but just remember…”

  He swooped her up into his arms and swung her off her feet.

  “I know, I know,” he said, as he started to laugh. “If I’m lying, you’ll shoot me dead.”

  “Where you stand.”

  “Right,” Myron said. “Now all we need to do is find a preacher.”

  Fannie frowned. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “I’ll find one before the week is out,” Myron promised. “So you’d better start sewing your wedding dress. I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary.”

  “Truly?” Fannie asked.

  “Yes, Fannie, dear. Truly. And if I can’t find a preacher, I’ll scare the hell out of your father, and have him marry us himself.”

  Fannie started to grin. She would never have imagined when she woke up this morning that, by night she would have ended her betrothal to Harley, pointed a gun at her father, and promised to marry the man who ran the saloon.

  All in all, it had been a very good day.

  The Fragility Of Woman

  They’d been riding in the stagecoach for hours and the dust boiling into the coach beneath the limp green curtains was thick in the air. Every breath Letty took smelled of dirt, and when she gritted her teeth, which was often, she could feel the fine grind of it between her teeth. Added to that, she needed to pee worse than she’d ever needed to go in her life—even worse than she’d needed to go at Forney’s way station. Being the only female on board made it difficult to ask for consideration. Determined to bear up and not call attention to herself, her intentions were changed when the front and back wheel on the right side of the coach abruptly rolled in and out of a hub-deep rut. It threw her up into the air and then back down so hard that she physically moaned from the pain. It was all she could do not to wet her bloomers. She had to speak up. Desperate, she grabbed Eulis by the arm.

  “Tell the driver to stop.”

  Eulis had been dozing when the stagecoach rolled in and out of the rut, and he was still rubbing the side of his head from the impact of hitting it against the door when Letty grabbed him.

  Boston Jones was still riding up top with Shorty and Big Will, and Morris Field, the salesman, had been asleep on the opposite seat when they’d hit the big rut, at which point, he had fallen into the floor. Disoriented by waking up face down with a bloody nose, he reacted instinctively and grabbed onto the first thing he could feel. Unfortunately, it was Letty’s leg—middle-way between her ankle and knee—and with a grip that was both unexpected and painful.

  Startled, Letty screeched and kicked out in reflex. It was unfortunate that the first thing she connected with was the salesman’s already bloody nose.

  His scream overpowered her weak shriek as he rolled over onto his back with both hands clasped to his face.

  “God… Goddab it woban!”

 
; To her credit, Letty felt awful. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Lord knew it wasn’t as if she’d never had a man’s hand on her leg before. She pulled a handkerchief out of her bosom and stuffed it up against the salesman’s nose.

  “Here,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you startled me.”

  “Bercy,” he moaned, and stuffed two ends of the handkerchief up his nostrils in an effort to cease the flow of blood.

  Eulis was still focused on what Letty had asked, and without knowing why she needed to stop, he sensed her anxiety. He side-stepped the bloody salesman as he stood, then grabbed onto the side of the door, bracing himself as he started to lean out the window. Before he could yell at Shorty, the coach lurched again. To everyone’s horror, including Eulis’s, the door swung open, taking him with it.

  Letty couldn’t believe it. The horses were still running at full speed. Shorty showed no signs of slowing down, and Eulis was gone. Horrified by what might have happened to him, Letty ripped back the curtains and leaned out the window, for the moment, her need to relieve her bladder forgotten.

  “Stop! Stop!” she screamed. “Please! Please! You have to stop!”

  Almost instantly, Shorty could be heard shouting to the horses. To Letty’s relief, the coach began to slow down. The dust they’d been trying to outrun suddenly boiled inside the coach, adding insult to the multitude of injuries.

  “Whud’s habbening?” Morris mumbled.

  Ignoring his question, Letty climbing over him and jumped out before the coach stopped moving.

  She staggered as she hit the ground, and then stood for a moment, looking back to where they’d been. About a hundred yards back she could see a dust-covered pile of what looked like discarded clothing. Terrified for Eulis, she yanked up her skirt and started to run.

  “What the hell’s happening?” Shorty hollered.

  Boston Jones had been riding backward and had seen it all.

  “Someone fell out of the coach,” he said, and started climbing down from the top just as Morris started to crawl out. Inadvertently, Boston’s foot stomped directly on top of Morris’s head causing Morris to lose his balance. Instead of stepping out of the coach, he fell, face first into the dirt.

  His scream was a high-pitched wail of unbelievable pain, and then fearful his travail was not yet over, he scrambled to his knees and crawled under the stagecoach. With the horses still stomping and the coach rocking slightly from the weight of their movements, the chance of being run over seemed far less painful than facing the people with whom he’d been traveling.

  “You said someone fell out? How the hell did that happen?” Shorty asked.

  When no one answered, he tied off the reins, and got down to see for himself. The woman who’d been a plague to them all was running hell bent for leather away and he wished her a fine trip. However, Boston seemed to be following her exit, and Morris was under the coach.

  He frowned. Someone was missing. He looked again, and then realized it was Reverend Howe who was gone.

  “Where’s the preacher?” he asked.

  Big Will pointed behind them.

  “I reckon that’s him lying back yonder in the dirt.”

  “The hell you say!” Shorty muttered, reached up into the seat where he’d been sitting, and came away with a gun.

  “What you reckon to do with that?” Big Will asked, as Shorty started down the road after the rest of his passengers.

  “Might have broke his leg,” Shorty said.

  Big Will frowned. “Hell, Shorty, he ain’t no horse. You cain’t just shoot him cause he’s crippled up some.”

  Shorty stopped, looked down at the rifle then shrugged.

  “Reckon you’re right,” he said, and kept walking.

  “So what you gonna do with that gun?” Big Will asked, as he fell into step beside Shorty.

  Shorty glared, then spit. “If that woman pitches herself another fit, I might just shoot myself so’s I don’t have to listen.”

  Big Will laughed. “She is a pistol, ain’t she?”

  “It is women like her that makes me glad I’m a single man,” Shorty muttered.

  “I wonder how come the preacher fell outa’ the stage?”

  “Who the hell knows,” Shorty said, then pointed at Letty, who was now crouching over the downed man. “For all we know, she pushed him out and beat us all there to finish him off.”

  “Why would you go and say that?” Big Will asked. “They act like they like each other just fine.”

  Shorty shrugged then spit again. “Maybe he went and farted.”

  Eulis came to with a finger up his nose. Startled, he gasped and sat up just as Letty rocked back on her heels.

  “What the hell was you doin?” Eulis asked.

  Letty frowned. “Your nose was all full of dirt. I thought you couldn’t breathe.”

  Eulis groaned and then sneezed. Something that looked like mud flew out of his nose and landed on Letty’s skirt.

  “Oh that’s just fine!” she said, and got to her feet.

  The shift in her posture also shifted her bladder, reminding her of her urge. Without a word to Eulis, she turned and dashed off toward a grove of trees at the side of the road.

  “Where you goin’?” Eulis called.

  Letty stopped, then turned and glared at him while lowering her voice to a hiss.

  “I need to pee,” she said, and then headed for the trees.

  Eulis’s eyes widened. “Is that why you wanted me to stop the stage?”

  She kept running without looking back.

  Eulis staggered to his feet. The horizon was floating about a foot off plumb, and he could only see from one eye, but it didn’t stop his indignation.

  “Damn it to hell, Letty… did I just fall out of that coach on my head because you needed to pee?”

  Letty’s face was flaming. If she’d had a gun she would have shot Eulis where he stood. As it was, she didn’t have time to commit murder because pee was running down her leg. She was pulling up her skirts even before she reached the trees.

  Boston Jones got a real good view of her bare legs and backside before she disappeared into the brush.

  “Where’s she going?” Boston asked, and then wondered why the preacher was picking his nose.

  Eulis snorted as a tiny pebble fell out in his hand, after which he started to sneeze.

  “You okay, Preacher?” Boston asked.

  Eulis wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve then looked up. He forgot about being gentle and turning the other cheek. It never occurred to him that a preacher probably wouldn’t be cursing, no matter what pain he’d be in.

  “Hell no, I’m not okay. I can’t see outa’ one eye. I mighta’ busted my head. I got rocks up my nose, I can’t feel my lips, and all because she needed to pee.”

  He started limping toward the stage when he saw Shorty and Big Will coming toward him.

  “What happened?” Shorty yelled.

  Still pissed at what happened, Eulis opened his mouth and shouted, even though the sound made his head feel as if it was splitting in two.

  “She had to pee!” He pointed toward the trees. “Sister Leticia had to pee!”

  In the trees, Letty was still squatting to relieve herself when she heard Eulis shouting. Then she heard what he was saying and cursed beneath her breath. Traveling was hell on women and that was a fact. A goat had tipped her over in Forney’s outhouse and all because she needed to go. Now she was forced to endure more public humiliation because of a perfectly natural bodily function. It just wasn’t fair. Men didn’t have to hitch up a bundle of clothes, or find a place to hide their bare butts while squatting to relieve themselves. For just a moment, she almost wished she was still back in Lizard Flats at the White Dove Saloon. At least there she’d had her own clean bed and a bath every night. Then she reminded herself that she’d gotten salvation and left the sinful part of her life behind. However, she couldn’t help but wonder what her decision might have been if she’d k
nown how difficult it was to be a moral woman.

  As soon as she was finished, she stomped out of the trees and strode toward the road. The men were straggling back to the stage; every now and then giving an assist to Eulis, who seemed unsteady on his feet. She knew that he was hurt and she was sorry, but it wasn’t her fault Shorty hadn’t missed even one hole in the road all day.

  By the time she got back to the stage, Shorty and Big Will were up top. Eulis and Morris were inside and Boston Jones was standing by the door, holding it ajar for her. His lanky build and his greasy black hair made her think of a snake. Still, she’d seen worse and was inclined to withhold judgment until someone proved to be false. After that, God help them, because she would not.

  She had one foot on the step when Boston suddenly leaned down near her ear.

  “Feeling better now, are you?”

  Letty stopped. Her gaze landed on Eulis, who was already regretting his rash behavior.

  He’d heard Boston’s question, and he knew Letty in a way that the rest of the men did not. To begin with, she was no fragile shade of femininity, and right now she looked as if she was coming out of hell with her tail on fire.

  Letty glanced toward Morris, who was cowering in the corner with his hands splayed across his face, then took a deep breath and backed down off the step. Once she and Boston were on firm ground, she looked at him and smiled.

  “Why yes, I am. How about you?” she asked, then grabbed the gambler by his dingus and gave it a hard yank. To add insult to injury, she added a short twist before turning loose and climbing up into the coach.

  Stifled by both shock and pain, the blood immediately rushed to Boston’s face, and then flowed out as quickly as he grabbed his crotch and dropped to his knees.

  “Ever’body inside?” Shorty hollered.

  “Aagghh,” Boston said, and threw up.

  Shorty leaned over and looked down.

  “What in hell is wrong now?”

  Boston rolled over onto his side, drew his knees up to his chin and started talking in a tongue Shorty didn’t understand.

  “Hey, Will, somethin’s wrong with the gambler. Throw him in the coach and let’s get movin’. I got me some time to make up.”