The Whippoorwill Trilogy

by Sharon Sala

  “Hey, Letty. I saved you some meat and johnnycake. Reckon you’re up to eatin’ a bite before we set out?”

  Letty’s stomach rumbled. She was hungry and she thought the worst of her nausea had passed.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” she said.

  He set aside the leftover meat and johnnycake, and then began packing up the bits and pieces of their camping gear. A few minutes later, Letty came out from behind the bushes wearing a wrinkled, but clean, skirt and shirtwaist. Her hair was still wet, so she’d left it down to dry, but had put some hair combs in her pocket for later.

  “Where are my shoes?”

  Eulis pointed toward her saddlebag. “In there.”

  She took them out and then held her breath as she put them on. They smelled to high heaven and so did she. Still, she couldn’t go all day on an empty stomach or she’d be puking again before night. She picked up the sandwich he’d made of the meat and corn cake, and took a big bite. It had a faint taste of skunk, but she figured that was a lingering taste in her mouth, not on the food.

  “It’s good, Eulis. Thank you for fixing it.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry I still smell,” she added.

  “Ain’t your fault.”

  “I know, but still…”

  “You’re gonna be downwind of me today anyway, so I reckon it won’t matter.”

  Letty nodded as she took another bite, although that came close to being an insult. However, the lingering stench of skunk was a brutal reminder of how she’d been humbled. She wasn’t in any mood to chastise Eulis for the remark for fear of what might happen to her next.

  A few minutes later, they mounted up, set their direction by the position of the sun, and rode out of camp toward Dripping Springs.

  It was mid-afternoon when Eulis and Letty got the first glimpse of their destination. It was out in the middle of a wide, flat valley, which, if they hadn’t been so travel-weary, would have made them wonder where the isolated little town had gotten its name.

  There was a mountain range far, far to the west, and a large herd of cattle barely visible in the south. The obligatory saloon sat squarely in the middle of town. Letty could read the sign from here.

  Griggs Saloon.

  It crossed her mind that there might be women working in there who she knew, then discarded the notion. There was no reason to assume they would even cross paths. Letty’s recent conversion to the Lord had automatically moved her to socially acceptable, especially if no one knew her from before.

  She looked at Eulis. There was a strange, faraway expression on his face.

  “Eulis?”

  “What?”

  “What are you thinking?” Letty asked.

  Eulis looked at her and then sighed. “I reckon I was wonderin’ who it was I was gonna lie to this time.”

  Letty frowned. She didn’t know how to deal with Eulis’s conscience.

  “There’s no call to look at it like that,” she said.

  Eulis shrugged. “Then how do you look at it? I’m gonna go down into that town and pretend I have the legal right to marry two perfectly decent people. Those people will then live the rest of their lives believing they are legally wed, and their children and grandchildren, and all who come after them will have been born from bastards. That’s how I look at it and it’s startin’ to bother me some.”

  Letty’s frown deepened. She’d had no idea that Eulis was capable of such deep thinking.

  “So, what are you saying? Are you blaming me for getting you into this?”

  “No… I don’t know… maybe.”

  Letty felt the weight of the world settling on her shoulders. Through sheer terror and no small amount of determination, she’d kept the people in Lizard Flats from finding out that the real preacher they’d been expecting had died in her bed. She’d dragged Eulis out of his normal drunken stupor, cleaned him up and passed him off as the preacher because it had suited her purposes, not his. She’d pushed and prodded him every step of the way, and not once had she thought about what they were doing. It had been all about what she wanted. She’d had a change of heart and quit a life of sin, and she wondered now whether it had been a real change of heart, or from fear and guilt. She couldn’t say she was sorry she was no longer letting men have their way with her body, but she was sorry she’d used Eulis.

  “What do you want to do?” she asked.

  He glanced at her then looked away.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sorry you’re not still in Lizard Flats?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No. No, not that. I won’t ever be sorry about that and I got you to thank for helpin’ get me outa’ that. I reckon I woulda’ just drunk myself to death if you hadn’t… if we didn’t, uh… well, you know.”

  “Look, Eulis, don’t think I need you to take care of me,” she said. “If you want to strike out on your own then don’t let me stop you.” She pointed to the little town nestled down in the wide valley. “There’s a saloon down there and I’ve still got a few good years left in me. I might not like it, but it won’t kill me, and I won’t starve to death.”

  Eulis saw the bravado on her face, but he also heard the desperation in her voice. Even though he wasn’t sure about pretending to be someone he was not, he knew he couldn’t let Letty slide back into her life of sin. Not when he’d preached her right out of that life and baptized her into redemption. It might have been in a horse trough, but it was a sincere baptism just the same.

  “That ain’t gonna happen,” he said. “And I don’t want to stop preachin’ either. I reckon I was just a little bit nervous, but I’m feelin’ fine now. Besides, I’m sure ready for a bath of my own.”

  The mule he was riding suddenly lifted its head and brayed.

  He grinned.

  “See. Even this old mule is ready for a little rest, so let’s go see what there is to see.”

  The relief Letty felt was so startling that she had to look away to keep from letting him see her tears. She swiped a hand beneath her nose in lieu of a handkerchief, and got a strong whiff of herself all over again.

  “Lead the way,” she said. “Me and this old hay burner won’t be far behind. Oh… and Eulis…”

  “What?”

  “Maybe it would be best if, when we get into town, you go on ahead into the hotel and get us some rooms. They might not let me in if they smelled me beforehand.”

  Eulis grinned. “Good thinkin’, Sister Leticia.”

  “Yep, that’s me. Always thinking ahead,” Letty muttered, and urged her blind mare forward as they began their descent into Dripping Springs.

  Vinegar, Vanity, And Visions

  It was Orville Smithson who first saw the strangers riding into town. One man on a mule. A woman on a blind mare. He knew the mare was blind because he could see the white film over the mare’s eyes from inside his shop. He frowned, wondering how that worked—riding into a strange place on a horse that couldn’t see?

  The man was dusty and trail-weary, but the cut of his suit was fine, and the hat on his head was a Bowler, a style men out West didn’t much cotton to. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray and hung a few inches past the collar of his shirt. His face was ordinary, with less than a week’s worth of whiskers waiting to be shorn. The woman was some younger than the man. Her clothes were nothing to write home about, but she had a nice face, a voluptuous body, and a fine head of brown hair.

  He laid down the straight-razor he’d been sharpening and walked out onto the sidewalk. He caught the scent of polecat as the couple passed by and wrinkled his nose as they rode straight to the rooming house. A cowboy ambled out of Grigg’s Saloon, mounted his horse and rode out of town as Henrietta Lewis walked out of the mercantile.

  Orville waited for her to look his way so that he could wave, but she, too, had seen the strangers and was curiously watching as the man dismounted.

  “Hey, Orville, I need a haircut.”

  Orville turned around to see who
had hailed him, then frowned. Harley Charles was coming up the sidewalk. It was the first time he’d seen him since Fannie had run him out of their house on all fours. He wasn’t certain how to behave toward a man who’d been humiliated in this respect, especially since it was his daughter who’d done the deed. But Harley didn’t seem all that bothered about their face-to-face, so Orville took his cue from Harley and waved him into the shop and set him down in the barber chair.

  “Want a shave with that, too?” Orville asked, as he fastened the barber cape around Harley’s neck and tried not to look at the man’s swollen nose and black eyes.

  Harley rubbed a hand on his jaw, testing it for soreness, and nodded an okay.

  “Yeah, sure. My face isn’t as tender as it had been.”

  “That’s good,” Orville said, tilted the chair back enough to get a good angle for a shave, and then poured some hot water in a basin.

  He dipped a clean towel in the water, wrung it loosely, and then wrapped it onto Harley’s face, making sure to leave his nose free to breathe.

  “Damn, Orville, that’s hot,” Harley said.

  Orville knew it, but pretended innocence as he worked up a lather in the shaving mug.

  “Sorry,” Orville said. “Softens up the whiskers good, don’t you know.”

  Harley grunted, and crossed his hands across his belly, unaware that Orville had walked back to the door.

  “Got a couple of strangers in town,” Orville said.

  Harley could have cared less and let it be known.

  “So what? Hurry up with my shave and haircut. I got business later.”

  Orville figured Harley’s business was monkey business and took his own sweet time getting back to the job at hand. Finally, he removed the towel, slathered on a good dose of lather, and began to give Harley his shave.

  He had finished the shave and was working on the haircut when, to his surprise, the stranger appeared in the doorway.

  “Sir, I am Reverend Randall Howe. I understand you are needing the services of a preacher.”

  Orville’s mouth dropped. It was the same man who’d ridden in on the mule. He would never have guessed the man to be a preacher.

  “Yes, yes I am.”

  “My name is Reverend Randall Ward Howe, and I am at your service. I can see that you are busy. I am at the boarding house and will await your pleasure.”

  Eulis bowed, then left the barber shop as abruptly as he’d entered.

  Harley froze, gave Orville a nervous glance, as if he feared Orville was going to try and hold him to his original promise, then started to undo the cape.

  “Sit still, damn it,” Orville said. “I only cut one side of your hair.”

  “Then hurry up,” Harley said. “Lola’s waiting on me.”

  Orville frowned. None of this mess would have happened if Harley had been able to keep his prick in his pants. Then Fannie wouldn’t have gone all crazy and gotten herself engaged to Myron Griggs. How was it going to look to the decent folks with his daughter married to the man who sold women and booze on a daily basis?

  “Orville? Did you hear me? I got business.”

  Orville glared at the back of Harley’s head and then started to snip.

  At first it was just one angry snip, but then another followed, and then another, and the first thing Orville knew, he had one side of Harley’s hair at good two inches shorter than the other. He turned the chair toward the windows so Harley couldn’t see himself in the mirror and began working on the long side, trying to even it up. He was doing all right until he saw that woman who’d ridden in on the mare walking past his shop. She walked like a warrior, with her chin up and her shoulders straight and proud. Her stride was long and purposeful and that long, brown hair was still flying out behind her like a sail. He got another whiff of polecat and frowned. It was strange that every time he saw the woman he smelled skunk, then discarded the notion.

  “Are you done?” Harley asked.

  Orville looked down at Harley’s hair. There was a big hunk out of the crown that shouldn’t be there and what had been the short side of Harley’s hair was now the long side again, which also meant that he’d royally messed up this haircut.

  “Pretty much,” Orville said, whipped off the cape and gave Harley a push. “This one’s on me.”

  Harley stood up and grinned, revealing a three tooth gap in his once perfect smile as he set his hat back on his head without bothering to look.

  “Well, thanks, Orville.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Orville muttered, then stepped out to the sidewalk again, looking for the strange woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  Fannie was hanging laundry out on the clothesline in back of the house when she heard someone calling her name. She dropped the piece of wet clothing back in the basket and then moved toward the fence.

  “I’m out here,” she called.

  Moments later, Myron came running around the corner of the house. He vaulted the fence and swooped her up into his arms.

  “He’s come, Fannie Mae! He’s come. It’s a sign from God, himself that this marriage is right!”

  Fannie was laughing before she even knew what Myron was talking about. She was laughing because someone loved her. She was laughing to keep from crying because someone cared.

  “Myron! Myron! You have to put me down,” she finally said, and thumped him on the arm. “What will people think?”

  Myron laughed, but he stole a kiss on her cheek as he set her back on her feet.

  “I suppose they’ll think I’m in love with my girl,” he said.

  Fannie blushed, but her heart was singing.

  “What brought on all this fuss?”

  Myron clapped his hands. “The preacher. He’s here.”

  Fannie’s eyes widened. Even when Myron had said he’d find one, she hadn’t really believed it would happen.

  “Are you sure… I mean, are you sure he’s a preacher?”

  “Yes, your father just told me. He showed up about an hour ago riding a mule. Said someone at Ft. Mays told him a preacher was needed in Dripping Springs. That had to be Murphy. He was in the saloon the night I proposed to you. I told all the customers that night to spread the word that a preacher was needed and Murphy was on his way to Ft. Mays.”

  “Oh my!” Fannie murmured. It was going to take a bit of getting used to, to accept that her husband sold liquor and women, but then she laughed. So what. He’d kept his word, which was more than her father or Harley had even pretended to do.

  “I’ve already talked to him,” Myron said. “He’s not going to be in town for long, so I thought maybe tomorrow…”

  Fannie smiled, and laid her palm against the side of his face. His skin was smooth and he smelled of witch hazel. She could feel the pulse of his lifeblood beneath her skin and it was the closest she’d ever been to a man in her life. And if she married him as she’d promised to do, she was going to give herself to this man in the most intimate of ways. Could she do it? Myron smiled at her then and her heart fluttered. She put her hands over her heart to still the nervousness and nodded.

  “Tomorrow would be fine.”

  He whooped again and kissed her soundly.

  “I’ll be back tonight. We can finish making plans together, okay?”

  Fannie’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Mrs. Bartlett brought us some fresh pork this morning. I was going to fry it up tonight. How does that sound?”

  “Like heaven,” Myron said, kissed her once more for good measure, and then vaulted back over the fence and took off down the street.

  Fannie turned to the clothesline and began hanging up the rest of the laundry. Nothing seemed any different than it had been five minutes earlier. The laundry was still wet. The sun was still shining. She hung her father’s shirt on the line and then bent down to pick up another article of clothing. Instead, she stopped, ran her fingers along the surface of her lips and smiled. Her lips were still tingling. Her heart was threatening to leap out of her c
hest. Tomorrow night she would be a married woman and all that implied. At the thought, she felt a moment of panic, and then remembered the gentleness in Myron’s touch. She might not know much of what was expected of her, but she wasn’t going to deny herself the opportunity to learn.

  She could sew and cook and clean house better than most. She knew how to take good care of a man in every way but one. If only her mother was still alive. She very badly needed a woman to talk to, but there was no one in Dripping Springs with whom she was close enough to get so familiar.

  Never one to dwell on what was missing in her life, Fannie threw the rest of the wet clothes across the line without care for how they were hanging and headed for the house. If she was going to get married tomorrow, there were some things she needed to buy.

  Mercer’s Mercantile was empty, except for one woman at the back of the room, as Fannie entered the store. Lucy Mercer stepped out of the storage room long enough to see who’d come in, and called out.

  “Fannie, dear, I’m in the back,” Lucy said. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes if that’s all right.”

  “Take your time,” Fannie said.

  Lucy waved merrily and went back to counting out the eggs she was buying from a local farmer, leaving Fannie to stew in her pre-marital woes a little longer.

  Fannie moved toward a table where several bolts of fabric were stacked and fingered the textures, wishing she had time to send off for something suitable for a veil. There were a couple of bolts of something sheer near the bottom of the stack, and she started shifting them to get a better look. As she was struggling with a rather large bolt of calico, she smelled skunk. Before she had time to consider the oddity of the scent with where she was standing, the woman who’d been in the back of the store spoke to her.

  “Need some help?”

  Fannie turned, and then wrinkled her nose as the skunk scent grew even stronger.

  Letty sighed. She could tell by the look on the woman’s face that she’d gotten a whiff.