The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,112

“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