bit firmer on his head. “Then let’s go. I’m a man who likes to keep promises.”
The wind tore through the dust, lifting it into the air in a yellow-brown spiral. Eulis held onto his hat and Letty reached for her skirts.
It was going to be another hot day.
Epilogue
“Reverend Howe! I say… Reverend Howe!”
Eulis wiggled on the seat of the stagecoach and shifted his gaze from the bouncing bosom of Leticia Murphy, the sleeping whore turned preacher’s helper, to the liquor salesman who was accompanying them in the coach.
“Yes?”
The salesman opened his case and offered Eulis one of the sample bottles. “It’s a right dusty ride. If it isn’t against your religion, I’d be proud to offer you a sample of my wares.”
Eulis shook his head. “No, but thank you, my son. We’ll be arriving at the next stop before long and I need to be at my best.”
The salesman nodded and closed his case.
It has to be said that Eulis did consider it. But several things prompted him to refuse.
One being the sharp kick on his shins from the dainty toe of Sister Murphy, who obviously wasn’t as sleepy as he’d assumed. Another was the slack-jawed expression of the little man who’d offered the drink. He looked as if he imbibed a bit too freely in what he sold, and to Eulis, it was like looking at a reflection of his old self—a reminder he didn’t need. He was a man of the cloth now. Worldly pleasures were a part of his past.
But the benevolent smile stayed square on Eulis’s face as the stagecoach continued to roll. Eulis was getting real good at those fatherly smiles. He practiced on a daily basis.
Sister Leticia Murphy was fond of saying that practice makes perfect. Eulis figured she should know. She’d been the best whore in the Kansas territory until a dead preacher had changed her fate.
While Eulis had a firmer grip on his life, he didn’t know that last night Letty Murphy had backslid and had a secret rendezvous with her past—or that she’d stood at her window until long after most of the town had gone to sleep, listening for the call of a small, brown bird.
It had been close to morning when she’d finally heard it—off in the distance and almost too faint to be sure. At that moment, something happened that had never happened before. Right above her head, she’d heard an answering call. Startled, she had leaned so far out of the window that she’d almost fallen as she’d searched the night sky for a glimpse of the mate.
For a few moments, she’d seen nothing but the outline of rooftops and the faint glow of a lantern in the sheriff’s office down the street. Then the call had come again, and this time when the second bird answered, she saw it take flight.
In that moment, her vision blurred and her voice started to shake.
“Oh, mamma, I should have known you were right. It just took time and patience for me to understand.”
Her hands were shaking as she went back to her bed, but her heart was light and ready for what lay ahead. Even before daybreak, she was up and packed, waiting for the new day. Now her life had purpose and her future was bright. Maybe one day she would find someone who would love her for who she was and not who she’d been, but until that day came, she was satisfied with what she’d become.
If she was ever blessed with children of her own, she was going to teach them what her mama had taught her—how to listen for the whippoorwill. She could picture it all now, cradled by darkness and safe within the shelter of her arms, they would sit on the front steps of their home and feel the warmth of the dirt between their toes, maybe even smell the dampness as dew settled on the grass.
And maybe—just maybe—while they were waiting for the bird to call, if they were quiet long enough and old enough to know the difference—they would be able to hear their own heartbeats and know the truth of their own minds before it was too late.
The Amen Trail
I dedicated this book to my Auntie, Lorraine Stone, who, like the heroine in my book, didn’t accept the word no.
When I first wrote this book in 2004, she had just finished chemotherapy for her third bout of cancer. At the age of 79, and with nothing but faith and persistence