Whippoorwill

by Sharon Sala

  “I don’t know as how I was so far off. It seemed to do you a world of good,” Eulis said, and tried not to frown. He didn’t suppose preachers were supposed to glare.

  She snorted. It was an unladylike noise from a woman who called herself Leticia, but it got his attention, nevertheless.

  “One for the money, two for the show, my ass,” Letty grumbled, then leaned across the table. “It goes… I baptize you in the name of the Father, and… uh… the Holy Ghost, and stuff like that.”

  Eulis leaned back in his chair and nervously slicked down the part in his hair. “I’ll practice on it some.”

  “Not on me, you won’t,” Letty warned. “And not in no more horse troughs, neither. I was still blowing moss out of my nose this morning. I’ll probably come down sick.”

  This time Eulis glared. Hard.

  “You shoulda kept your mouth shut and your dress buttoned, and you wouldna’ had no moss gettin’ where it didn’t belong. Besides, you was plumb out of your head. I asked you twice last night if you knowed what you was doin’, and all you could say was you wanted to be saved. It wasn’t me that was had by the Devil.” He tried not to grin. “By the way, how are your legs?”

  When her eyes narrowed at the mention of body parts Eulis got the message real fast. She’d become a proper lady, all right. In the old days when he helped his daddy farming and before he’d been a soldier and then a drunk, he seemed to remember that it wasn’t seemly to mention limbs and such to a lady. He felt obliged to correct himself by adding.

  “The scratches! I meant, how are the scratches?”

  She relaxed. “Oh! They’re healing up just fine.”

  Something about the smirk on his face made her ask. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make the Devil scratch at me.”

  His eyes widened. She still didn’t know. And something told him that the less she knew, the better off he was. After all, a man needed all the power he could get to save himself from a reformed whore.

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I was as surprised as the next man to see you yank up your skirt tail and show them marks on your legs.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Not really. He hadn’t expected her to believe the Devil was up her dress. If she hadn’t had such a guilty conscience, she would have known for certain that it had been a critter and not a demon that had taken refuge under her skirt.

  A long moment of silence passed between them. Letty could still remember yesterday’s panic and the knowledge that she’d committed an unforgivable sin. Somewhere between then and now she’d been given an unexpected opportunity.

  While she suspected that Eulis wasn’t telling her all that he knew, she didn’t care enough to press the issue. She wasn’t about to mess up her last chance to change her life.

  Eulis dropped his napkin at his plate and stood. “The wagon leaves in an hour, my dear.”

  Letty frowned. “I’m packed. And maybe you’d best not call me, ‘dear’. People might get the wrong impression.”

  She flitted away to get her bag, leaving Eulis with a sinking feeling that while he was going to be in the company of a once-willing woman, she’d given up “willing” for “willful” and was going to conveniently forget about all those free pokes.

  He went to get his bag and tried not to dwell on his disappointment regarding Miss Leticia Murphy, late of the White Dove Saloon, and now the new “assistant” to one traveling preacher on the amen trail.

  A short while later, he stood outside, waiting for the Hollis Freight wagon to show up. “Get over it, Eulis,” he muttered. “You been on dry tit before. Just because you lost a woman you never had and gave up sex you didn’t get, don’t mean you got to bawl about it.”

  Letty walked up behind him. “What was that you were saying?”

  Eulis squinted against the glare of sun and the blast of dust that careened down the middle of the street.

  “I was givin’ myself a sermon.”

  Leticia grinned, and for a minute Eulis saw past her new facade to the old Letty beneath.

  “Did it take?”

  “I don’t know,” Eulis answered. “Only time will tell.”

  They smiled at each other and then turned to look at the freight wagon that was pulling into town. The first step to Dodge City. It was time to lay the past to rest.

  REST IN PEACE, YOU DIRTY BASTARD

  Dodge City was everything Eulis had imagined and more. He’d never seen so many people in one place in his entire life and it occurred to him as the stagecoach pulled to a halt in front of a grand hotel that he might have been able to fool people back home, but these were of a different breed. They had culture and class and fine clothes and money. What if they saw through his act? Worse yet, what if somebody here knew the real Randall Howe? His gut drew as the passengers began to disembark.

  Letty was as wide-eyed and anxious as Eulis, but not from anxiety. No one here knew her, except for Miles and Truly, who’d mentioned they might come this way. If she saw them, she’d take care to stay out of their sight because today was the first day of the rest of her life. She got up from her seat. Her foot was on the top step when the driver ran to give her a hand.

  “Watch your step, there ma’am,” he said lightly, and doffed his hat as her skirts hit the ground.

  Letty blinked. So this was what propriety was like. She smoothed a hand down the front of her dress, taking pride in its plain color and simple style, and turned to wait for Eulis. Then she amended her thought. He wasn’t Eulis anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Randall, or Reverend Howe, because that one had died in her bed. So she’d settled for Preacher, instead. It seemed to suit them both.

  Eulis came out of the coach with less vigor than Letty. Fear had a good hold on him now and his need for a drink outweighed his desire to continue this mad escapade. And then he saw the expectation and the excitement on Letty’s face and sighed. No drinks—at least not today.

  “Right here’s your bags, Reverend Howe, and those of your sister.”

  Sister? Eulis turned. The driver was smiling at Letty. Eulis’s mind shifted gears. The deception had taken on new depths.

  “Yes, thank you,” he said absently, and then pointed at the town. “Is it always this busy?”

  The driver grinned. “Sometimes, like when the trail herds come through, or like now, when they’re gonna have a hanging.”

  Eulis’s heart skipped a beat. “Indeed?”

  The driver nodded. “Yep. Tomorrow, I think. Ever hear of Kiowa Bill?”

  The scent of smoke was suddenly up his nose.

  The thunder of hooves beat loud in his ear.

  The sound of screams was haunting—but not as much as the silence afterward.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of Kiowa Bill.”

  “They’re hanging him at dawn tomorrow.” He eyed Eulis curiously. “Say, I heard they were looking for a preacher to take the walk with him, if you’re interested that is.”

  Eulis’s panic subsided. He’d come to watch a hanging. Being a part of the ceremony was more than he’d hoped for.

  “Who might I see about such matters?” Eulis asked.

  The driver pointed. “Sheriff’s office is across the street and around the corner. I reckon you’d take it up with him.”

  Eulis nodded. “I thank you sir, for bringing my… uh, sister and I safely to our destination, and for your information as well.”

  Pleased by the preacher’s praise, the driver beamed as he hurried away.

  Eulis offered Letty his arm. “Sister Murphy, let’s go get our rooms. I’m sure you would like to rest before supper.”

  Letty beamed. Respect was a wonderful thing. “Why yes, Preacher, I believe that I would.”

  A short while later, secure in the knowledge that Letty was napping, Eulis locked the door to his room and headed downstairs. Five minutes later he was standing in the sheriff’s office with his hat in hand.

  The sheriff was writing at h
is desk. Eulis waited. There was plenty to occupy his mind, like that closed door behind the sheriff’s desk that led to the jail.

  He took a deep breath and then shivered. This was the closest he’d been to Kiowa Bill in more than twenty-five years. A part of him wanted to cry like that twelve-year old boy had done on the day everything died, then the sheriff looked up and Eulis made himself focus on the business at hand.

  “Sheriff, my name is Reverend Randall Howe. I’m just passing through.”

  The sheriff stood. “Nice to meet you, Reverend. Name’s Wade Wells. What can I do for you?”

  Eulis took a deep breath. Everything he was, hinged upon getting this right.

  “I understand you are in need of a minister for the hanging tomorrow morning.”

  A smile shifted the spare contours of the sheriff’s lips. “Would you be offering yourself for the job? It don’t pay anything, you know.”

  Eulis waved away the idea of money as if it were filth. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I couldn’t take money for this.”

  Sheriff Wells nodded. “I understand. Hangin’ is a dirty business.”

  “But sometimes necessary,” Eulis added.

  Surprise showed on Wade Wells’s face. Most preachers he’d known spouted that ‘turn the other cheek’ pap. Out here, if you didn’t fight back, you were dead.

  “You’re right about that. Old Kiowa Bill has needed killin’ for years. He has torn up his share of the territory for far too long. It was only luck that we got him when we did.”

  Eulis added. “And maybe some of God’s blessing.”

  Sheriff Wells grinned. “I reckon you can give God some of the credit at that, although the Marshall who brought him in might argue the point.”

  Eulis felt giddy. It was going to work after all. “So, I will see you here at first light.”

  Wade Wells shook Eulis’s hand. “That’s right. And thanks a lot, preacher. Kiowa Bill has been a devil on earth, but I reckon he deserves his chance at redemption like everyone else.”

  Eulis made it outside without laughing, then all the way through supper without crying. By the time he’d seen Sister Murphy to her door and gone to his own room, he was shaking. He came close to going after a bottle twice, but both times the image of his mother’s face had stopped him at the door. Finally, he lay down on his bed and stared out the window. He’d been waiting for this moment most of his life, and now that it was imminent, he didn’t know how he felt other than hanging the man would be too swift for the justice he craved.

  He never closed his eyes.

  When shades of gray began to appear on the horizon, he got out of his bed, put on a fresh shirt, washed his face and combed his hair, taking care to get the part in the middle just right. His hands were shaking as he fastened the clerical collar around his neck and put on his coat. With the bible in hand, he started out the door and then stopped, moved by the need to say more than a prayer.

  He stood there in the silence of the room, remembering his mother’s face and his father’s laugh and that his little brother had not learned to walk before he’d been murdered. He remembered fear and then anger and the sound of the axe upon flesh. He reached for his hat and walked out the door.

  ***

  “I don’t want no damned preacher at my heels,” Kiowa Bill yelled, and threw his coffee cup. Coffee splattered against the wall. The tin cup rattled to the floor.

  Sheriff Wells shrugged. “It ain’t about what you want any more.”

  The outlaw was still cursing as Sheriff Wells closed the door between the jail and his office. To his surprise, the preacher was standing by his desk.

  “You’re early,” he said.

  Eulis clutched the bible close to his chest and nodded.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” the sheriff asked.

  Eulis’s jaw clenched. He made himself relax. “I don’t mind if I do,” he said.

  The sheriff poured, then handed Eulis the cup. “It’s black as hell and twice as strong.” When he realized what he’d said, he grinned. “Sorry, preacher. Didn’t mean to say anything out of order.”

  Eulis shook his head. “It’s nothing.” Then he took a sip. “And I would say you were right.”

  Sheriff Wells grinned as he glanced at his watch. “Another five minutes and we’re out of here.”

  Eulis turned to the window, gazing across the way to the scaffold that had been built, and then to the hanging noose. A ripple of satisfaction shifted some of his nervousness aside. Not a lot, but enough that he could finish his coffee without throwing up.

  “People are gathering,” he commented.

  Sheriff Wells nodded. “Yeah. When it’s over, they’ll have themselves a party. See there.” He pointed out the window. “Someone is already selling food in the street.”

  Eulis nodded. They were celebrating death in the same way that Kiowa Bill had taken lives—without guilt or thought for how his family might feel.

  “It’s time,” Sheriff Wells said.

  The empty coffee cup slipped from Eulis’s fingers and onto the floor.

  “Sorry,” he said, and bent to pick it up.

  Wells’s gaze narrowed. So the man wasn’t as cool as he seemed. That was understandable.

  “Wait here,” he said shortly. “I’ll be right back. When we walk out the door, you’ll walk in front of us all the way up the steps. If old Bill asks for some particular scripture to be read, then you’ll do it. You can pray over him if you’re a mind to, as well, although I’ll tell you now that he ain’t too happy you’re here.”

  It was that bit of information that gave Eulis the strength he needed.

  “That’s all right,” Eulis said. “He doesn’t have all that much time left to be pissed off about anything.”

  Sheriff Wells grinned. Damned if he didn’t like this preacher more with every minute. He disappeared into the back.

  Eulis was shaking. His belly was rolling and he needed to throw up. But he wouldn’t let himself or his family down. And when the door opened a few minutes later, he came face to face with the man who’d changed his world.

  Kiowa Bill took one look at the man in the suit, and then the book he was holding, and spit.

  “I told you I didn’t want no goddamned preacher,” he muttered, and gave Eulis a hard, angry stare.

  Eulis looked at the handcuffs on his wrists and the leg irons on his ankles, then straight at the scar. It separated one side of his face from the other in a long, puckering line. It was obvious to Eulis that he’d done Kiowa Bill great harm. If only he’d stayed and finished the job, a lot of people would still be alive today. Then he reminded himself that he’d only been twelve.

  “What the hell are you starin’ at?” Kiowa Bill asked.

  Eulis heard the echo of his own childish voice. I’ll make you pay. I’ll make you pay. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he opened his bible and started out the door with the lawman and the outlaw at his heels.

  The sun was warm upon Eulis’s face. Off to his left he heard a horse whinny. Somewhere in the crowd that had gathered, a baby cried. The sound carried over the chatter of voices, chilling Eulis’s soul. His little brother had died crying. He wanted Kiowa Bill to die scared. He started to pray, loudly, fervently.

  “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

  Kiowa Bill cursed. “Damn it, Sheriff, shut him up. Ain’t I got any say in the way that I die?”

  Wells gave the outlaw a hard look. “I reckon you’ve got about as much say so comin’ as what you gave to the people you murdered.”

  Kiowa Bill hunched his shoulders and kept on walking. No need to look up. There was nothing to see but the waiting noose.

  Eulis’s voice soared above the quieting crowd.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

  For the first time in his adult life, Kiowa Bill Handlin was helpless. The preacher’s words rang loudly in his ears. Everything was suddenly acute.

  The
warmth of the sun upon his face.

  The sound of his footsteps as he moved along the ground.

  The jingle of the chains that bound his hands and feet.

  The scent of his own sweat.

  It smelled of salt and of fear.

  “Watch your step,” the sheriff said, and tightened his grip on the outlaw’s arm as they started up the steps to the waiting noose.

  Eulis’s voice droned on. Persistently pushing every nerve Bill Handlin had.

  “I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me…”

  Kiowa Bill’s eyes narrowed angrily. Fear no evil? Hell, he’d done evil all his life. He wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t a damn thing on this earth that could give him comfort. They were going to stretch a rope around his neck and then drop the floor from beneath his feet. He was going to kick and sway until his face turned purple and his neck finally broke.

  Comfort? Hell. He needed a gun and a fast horse.

  Up two steps. Then three, then another and another until they were standing on the platform.

  Eulis’s voice rolled out across the crowd. The only passage he’d ever memorized from the bible was standing him in good stead.

  “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…”

  Kiowa Bill glared at the preacher. “Shut up,” he muttered. “Shut the hell up.”

  Eulis turned. His face was pale. His eyes were red-rimmed and blazing with a fire that made the outlaw step back.

  “Thou anointest my head with oil, my cup runneth over…”

  Kiowa Bill suddenly shuddered. Something was wrong here.

  Eulis’s nostrils flared as he met the outlaw’s hard gaze without flinching.

  “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…”

  “I don’t want no more prayin’,” he muttered.

  Eulis’s head was pounding. The rage in him was so strong he could taste it.

  “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

  Suddenly it was silent. Kiowa Bill flinched as if he’d been slapped. He looked to his right. A hangman stood—waiting. The black hood over his face was an ominous sign of what was to come.