The Whippoorwill Trilogy

by Sharon Sala

  A young girl about the age of ten was huddled on the seat. Her stringy blonde hair was plastered against her head and face, and her sodden clothes clung to her frail, little body.

  “Lord have mercy!” Letty squealed. “Where did you come from?”

  The little girl started to cry.

  “Oh, well, for pity’s sake, don’t cry,” Letty muttered, then pointed at the two-holer seat. “Scoot over. We’ll talk about all of this later.”

  The little girl stood abruptly and started to run out.

  Letty grabbed her arm.

  “Wait, honey, wait. I just gotta use the facilities. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  The little girl turned her face to the wall, giving Letty the privacy she needed.

  “Dang it,” she muttered, as she undid her belt to lower her pants. “I could’a just stood outside in the yard and peed my pants and gotten the same results,” she muttered, as she tried to peel down the wet clothes from her skin.

  The wooden seat was cold against her bare backside as she sat. The raindrops echoed inside the small outhouse like bullets against the wood. The scent of human waste, green wood, and nearly a week’s worth of rain was an overwhelming smell. She wondered how long the little girl had been in here, and figured she must have been bad off to choose the outhouse instead of coming to the house.

  Letty eyed the little girl’s thin body as well as the scratches and bruises visible on the back of her neck. She did her business, and then pulled up her pants. The child appeared to be in pretty sad shape.

  “You okay?” she asked, and laid her hand on the little girl’s shoulder.

  The child flinched, and then cowered.

  “Not another one,” Letty muttered, thinking of Alice. She patted the child gently on the back and took her by the hand. “Are you hungry?”

  She nodded without looking up.

  “So, let’s go find us some breakfast, what do you say? We won’t hurt you,” Letty added, then led the child out of the outhouse into the rain. “Let’s run,” she said, but soon found out that wasn’t feasible. One of the child’s ankles was bruised and swollen. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were hurt. Here. Put your arms around my neck and I’ll carry you.”

  Ignoring the rain running down the back of her shirt, Letty bent down and picked her up. When the little girl’s arms curled around her neck, an odd, almost comforting feeling swept through her. Except for carrying Alice’s baby, she’d never been around kids in her life, and yet this felt so right.

  Conscious of the shivering child and the continuing downpour, she hurried as fast as she could toward the house. Halfway there, she looked up to see Eulis coming out the back door. He bolted off the porch and into the rain, coming toward them on the run.

  “For the love of God, Leticia, what’s happened here?”

  “She was in the outhouse. Her ankle is hurt.”

  “Here, give her to me,” Eulis said, and took the child out of Letty’s arms before either one could argue. “Get on inside out of the rain,” he ordered. “We’re right behind you.”

  Letty could tell the little girl was beyond caring who had her, just as long as she didn’t have to walk. Satisfied that something constructive was being done, she made a run for the porch, then inside the house. She pulled off her muddy boots at the door and then ran to the parlor where Alice was cooking breakfast.

  “Alice! Alice! Go get some dry rags and a quilt and hurry!”

  Alice looked wild-eyed, but did as she was told, running upstairs as quickly as she could manage to move. By the time she got back, Eulis was there and kneeling by the fire. At first, she didn’t see the child, and then when she did, was horrified by her condition.

  “Oh lordy! What’s happened here?” she asked, as she began helping Letty strip the child of her sodden clothes.

  Eulis turned away, removed the food from the fireplace, and added another log. The women spread the child’s clothes out to dry, then dried her off and wrapped her in the quilt.

  “What’s her name?” Alice asked.

  Letty shrugged. “She won’t talk to me.”

  Alice sat down flat on the floor, then pulled the little girl into her lap and began to rock her in a gentle, comforting way.

  “You must be freezing,” she said softly, as she pulled the girl close. “I’ll bet your Mama and Papa are near out of their mind, wondering where you’ve gone. Did you get lost?”

  “No.”

  It was the first word to come out of her mouth, and it startled them all.

  “So… what’s your name, darling,” Alice asked.

  The little girl didn’t answer, but looked at the healing wounds on Alice’s face instead.

  “Did you fall in the water, too?” she asked.

  Letty stifled a gasp. This didn’t sound good.

  “No, honey, but is that what happened to you?” Alice asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did your Mama and Daddy fall in the water, too?” Letty asked.

  “Unh huh… and my big brother, Dave.”

  Eulis squatted down in front of Alice and the child.

  “How did you get out of the water?” he asked.

  “Dave pushed me onto a log. When the log got caught in some rocks, I climbed off.”

  “Good girl,” Letty muttered.

  “Did Dave get out of the water?” Eulis asked.

  The little girl hid her face.

  “The water swallowed them,” she said softly. “It swallowed them all.”

  “Oh dear,” Alice whispered, and rocked a little faster.

  Letty put her hand on the child. “My name is Letty. What’s yours?”

  “Katie. My name is Katie Samuels.”

  Eulis sighed.

  “Was your Papa’s name, James?”

  The answer was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “Well. Well then,” Eulis said, and got up and walked out of the room.

  Letty followed.

  “Eulis… did you know the family?”

  “Yes. They had a claim just below the Cherry Creek crossing. You remember… they had a wagon that they slept in instead of tents like most of the others.”

  “Oh lord,” Letty said, and then shivered suddenly.

  Eulis frowned. “Go change your clothes before you get sick.”

  “Does she have any other family?” Letty asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Eulis said.

  Letty straightened her shoulders and set her jaw.

  “You need to go tell those men who are building our cots to build another one and make it quick. We can’t have that child sleeping on the floor. And if there are any more blankets to be had at the general store, get some.”

  Eulis arched an eyebrow.

  “Reckon we oughta put out the word that we’re takin’ in strays?”

  Letty turned on him then, her eyes flashing angrily.

  “What would you have me do… turn her back out in the rain?”

  Eulis sighed. “Course not. I was just tryin’ to make a joke that wasn’t all that funny. Sorry.”

  “Have Alice cook up some more food. I’ll be down as soon as I change.”

  She strode out of the room with her head high and leading with her chin.

  Eulis shook his head as he watched her go. There was one thing for sure—living with Letty kept life interesting.

  Merchant

  Milton Feasley had measured up the last of his coffee and flour into one pound sacks, and was stacking them on the shelves. A pound of coffee could last a family a good while if they used the grounds more than once, which most of them did. But a pound of flour could be used up in one baking. Still, it was the only way he knew how to fairly distribute the stores he had left. Once these sold, he and everyone else in Denver City would be doing without until the next freight wagon got through. If this infernal rain didn’t stop, the citizens of Denver City were going to be giving him a hard time.

  He picked up a feath
er duster for something to do, although dust on his goods was the last of his worries. What with the rain they’d been having, it would more likely be mold and not dust gathering on his shelves.

  The bell jingled over the door, signaling the arrival of a customer. Milton laid the feather duster aside as he recognized the man coming in the door, but it was what he saw through the window that brightened his day.

  The stagecoach was pulling into town, which meant that if it could get through, then so would the freight wagons. One was due in tomorrow. It seemed he had worried all for nothing. However, the customer who’d come in was obviously nervous. When Milton saw him take off his hat and then shuffle his feet, he knew what was coming. Carl was probably going to ask for credit. These days, it seemed he took in far less money for the goods that went out.

  “Howdy, Carl, what can I do for you, today?”

  Carl Mithers was a small man with thin hair and dark hollow eyes. Like most of the other residents of Denver City, he’d come hoping to find his fortune. Instead, he’d found hardship and hunger more severe than what had driven him out of Ireland.

  “I’ll be needin’ a few things today.”

  “Yeah, like what?” Milton asked.

  “Some coffee and some flour… and maybe some of yer fine beans.”

  “Got any color?” Milton asked.

  Carl ducked his head again. “I lost me poke in the flood, I did, and was hopin’ ye’d stand me for some credit… just ’til the rains be lettin’ up, ye understand.”

  “Your claim is washed out and you know it,” Milton said.

  Carl shook his head. “No, no, t’isn’t true. I’m not one of those pannin’ fer color. It’s just that me claim is on t’other side of the creek.”

  This was news to Milton. It changed his attitude enough to give Carl a chance.

  “I see. Well then, I reckon we’ll give it a try. Just don’t let your debt get bigger than you can handle.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m thankin’ you kindly, sir,” Carl said.

  Milton went about filling the man’s order, while the occupants of the stagecoach were unloading. One in particular, a dandy by the name of Judge Joshua Dean, stepped out of the coach to find himself instantly ankle deep in the mud of Denver City’s main street.

  The stench of fresh horse manure wafted up Judge Dean’s nostrils as his first foot sank into the mud. He cursed beneath his breath as his other foot sank even deeper.

  “Hey, mister, here’s your bag!”

  He looked up just as the driver tossed his satchel down from the top of the coach, then staggered as he was forced to catch it, himself.

  Muttering beneath his breath about the lack of class and social niceties in this godforsaken place, he made his way to the uneven planks of the wooden sidewalk, trying not to think of the elegance of the life he’d left behind. He had to keep reminding himself of his moral views, and why he was now living in such a fashion.

  He was deep in thought when a man walked out of the doorway in front of him. The man showed no signs of moving, so Dean stepped aside, and as he did, noted the sign on the door, Hair Cuts Here.

  Don’t these barbarians know that’s called a Barber Shop?

  He sighed. There were days when he wondered if he’d ever be able to feel comfortable in such a low-class, plebeian life.

  “I say, sir… where might I find the sheriff’s office?”

  His soft, southern drawl belied the steel of his will and manner.

  The freshly shorn man pointed across the street—across fifty yards of mud and ruts.

  “Of course,” Dean drawled, and looked down at his shoes. They were already ruined. He supposed it hardly mattered that he must tread in that disgusting mess again. “Oh… one more thing, my good man!”

  The man stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

  “I assume there’s a hotel in this place?”

  “Yep.”

  When the man wasn’t forthcoming with anything more, Joshua Dean was forced to continue their conversation.

  “And where might this hotel be?” he asked.

  The man pointed. “Down yonder on the other side of the gamblin’ parlor.”

  “Thank you,” Joshua said, and shifted his satchel to his other hand before turning in that direction. He’d taken a half-dozen steps when the man from the barber shop called out to him.

  “It won’t do no good to walk all that way down there,” he said.

  Dean frowned as he turned around.

  “And why, pray tell, would that be?”

  “Cause there ain’t no empty rooms. The flood displaced a whole bunch of people. There ain’t no rooms to be had anywhere in town.”

  Joshua Dean arched an eyebrow. It was the only outward sign he gave of his dismay. He eyed the stagecoach and its driver and then made a quick decision and waved him down.

  “I say… when are you leaving Denver City?” he asked.

  “Just as soon as we can get some food and a fresh team.”

  Dean handed him his satchel.

  “Put this back on the coach. I’ll be traveling on with you.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said.

  Joshua dug a dollar out of his pocket and handed it to the driver.

  “Do not leave without me.”

  The driver pocketed the money. “Yes sir.”

  Having satisfied that concern, the judge eyed the street and the mud. Stifling his dismay, he stepped off the sidewalk and headed toward the sheriff’s office. A few minutes later, and all the muddier for the trip, he was at the door.

  Sheriff Rodney Ham looked up as the door opened.

  “Howdy. How can I help you?”

  Joshua Dean took off his hat.

  “I’m Judge Dean.”

  Rodney Ham stood up.

  “Well now… didn’t think you’d make it in this fast.”

  “Where’s the man who’s waiting to stand trial?”

  “In there,” Ham said, and pointed toward a door behind his desk.

  “What did he do?” Dean asked.

  “Uh… beat up his wife, I reckon.”

  Dean frowned. “Is she dead?”

  “No, but—”

  The judge’s nostrils flared. He looked down at his shoes and the legs of his pants, then back up at the sheriff.

  “Do you mean to tell me that I was summoned all the way out here just because a man and his wife had a fight?”

  “Well, yeah, but you should have seen his—”

  “Sir! It is not against the law for a man to lay hand on his wife. In fact, I believe that it is no one’s business how a man and woman conduct their personal lives within the bonds of matrimony.”

  “Well now… their baby died, too,” the sheriff said.

  Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Did he kill the child?”

  “No, but the doctor reckoned it starved to death.”

  “That is hardly the duty of a husband,” Dean snapped. “It is the mother who’s business it is to suckle her child. If this is all you have to say for this man, then I’m telling you to release him at once.”

  Sheriff Ham frowned. “The people ain’t gonna like it none that—”

  “I don’t care what the people in this godforsaken place think,” Joshua Dean snapped. “I’ve given you my decision. Let him go!”

  The sheriff shook his head as he reached for the cell key.

  “All I got to say to you is, it’s a damn good thing you’re leavin’ because when people find out what you’ve done, they’d most likely be hankerin’ to string you up, instead of old George.”

  Judge Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He’d witnessed the brutality of this country and its people more than once. He had no intention of staying around to witness this outcome.

  “Are you threatening me?” he asked.

  The sheriff frowned. “I reckon you’ve talked enough for both of us. I ain’t got nothin’ more to say to you.”

  He turned his back on the judge and headed for the jail cell.


  George Mellin was lying on his cot. When the door opened, he sat up. But when the sheriff unlocked the cell and swung the door wide, he stood abruptly.

  “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked.

  Sheriff Ham pointed to the dandy in the other room.

  “That there’s the judge. He said to let you go, so I’m lettin’ you go.”

  George grinned. It seemed his world had taken a turn for the better. He grabbed his hat and bolted, afraid that someone would change their mind before he got to the door.

  “Thank you, sir,” George said, as he moved past the judge.

  Joshua Dean nodded once without ever looking at the man, settled his hat a little firmer on his head, and walked out as abruptly as he’d entered.

  The stage driver was loading a trunk onto the top of the coach when he arrived. Without comment, he climbed up into the coach, chose a seat by the window, and then leaned back and closed his eyes.

  The sooner he left this place, the better.

  The next morning, and unaware of her husband’s release, Alice was cooking breakfast, while keeping an eye on the child who sat quietly in a corner with the quilt pulled tight beneath her chin. Katie answered when questioned, and ate when food was put in front of her, but as yet, had to respond normally.

  Even so, her appearance into the household had brightened Alice Mellin’s outlook on life. She had latched onto the little girl with a ferocity that would have made a mama bear proud, even taking her to her bed last night in case she might awaken in the night with nightmares.

  Alice hadn’t thought once of George, who, she believed, was still sitting in jail awaiting the arrival of a judge. The only thing that was really wrong in her life at the moment was that Baby Mary had yet to be buried. She fretted constantly about the Denver City cemetery, and the fact that it was so close to the rising flood waters.

  Later that day, when Letty made an offhand suggestion to Alice that she might prefer to choose a burial site up on their mountain, somewhere near the trees beyond the house, Alice had jumped on the offer. The flood problems regarding the cemetery did not apply this high up the mountain. Drainage was good, and no longer than the grave would be opened, accumulating water was not a problem.