The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,126

Indiana to live with her folks. He still had the itch from the damn fleas he’d gotten out of his impromptu bed of hay. He could appreciate Sister Leticia’s feelings, but she wasn’t looking realistically at the ways of men. She shouldn’t expect a man to mind his manners so close when it took everything he had just to survive from day to day.

Unfortunately, Shorty didn’t come by his name for no reason. Not only was he small in stature, but he was short-sighted as well. Being the man that he was, he completely ignored Leticia’s feelings and expectations as important. It was why he was no longer married and why he had to pay for female favors if he had any at all.

“Plum Creek, comin’ up!” he yelled, and whipped the horses into a faster gait because he liked to arrive at his destinations with a flourish.

Big Will knew Shorty’s predilection for speed and held his rifle a bit closer to his chest as the stagecoach started down the hill at a steadily increasing pace.

Inside the coach, Boston Jones pocketed the cards he’d been flipping, while Morris Field began a mental recital of the sales pitch he used to peddle his laces and ribbons.

Eulis dusted off the front of his frock coat as he clutched his bible close to his chest.

Letty felt a twinge of anxiety as they came closer and closer to Plum Creek. She’d never been here before, but she knew cowboys who had. Her worst fear was that in the middle of their new life, a ghost from her past would appear and blow it all to hell. It would be hard to maintain a pious appearance if there were men out in the Reverend’s congregation who’d seen her bare-assed and bouncing all over the place. A few minutes later, the first buildings of Plum Creek came into view.

Letty lifted her chin and steeled herself for whatever awaited.

Mary Farmer was wearing her favorite dress, a pale yellow cotton with tatting around the collar and the edges of her sleeves. The skirt belled around her legs, giving anyone who cared to look quick glimpses of her shiny brown shoes and trim ankles. She’d tied her long blond hair at the back of her neck with a wide yellow ribbon and pinched her cheeks until they stung. She wanted to appear in good health and color when she “fell” beneath the stagecoach wheels, that way her folks would believe that her death was a horrible accident, rather than a coward’s way out of a willful mistake.

The gallows was empty now, but its’ very presence was a bitter reminder of why she was here. A hot gust of wind caught her skirt as she moved past the alley between the saloon and the barber shop. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the dust and missed seeing Dooley Pilchard fall into step behind her.

Dooley had been momentarily blinded too, but from Mary Farmer’s beauty, not the hot wind and blowing dust. He’d watched Joseph Carver hang and at the same time, took note of Mary Farmer’s absence. Now here she was, walking the streets as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He was still trying to figure her out when he caught a glimpse of her face in the window glass of the barber shop. The pain on her face was so vivid he almost stumbled and fell.

He was still trying to right himself when he heard the stage approaching. He turned around just in time to see Shorty cracking his whip over the horses’ heads and whooping and yelling as they rolled into town. Dust boiled out from under the spinning wheels and he could smell the horses’ sweat and hear their wild, labored breathing as they neared the hotel. He turned his head sideways to shield himself from the worst of the dust and as he did, caught another glimpse of Mary Farmer. Then his blood ran cold.

Mary Farmer was still walking down the sidewalk, but with every step, she was moving closer and closer to the edge. One misstep and she’d be under the horses’ hooves before Shorty could stop.

“Miss Farmer! Miss Farmer!” he called.

To his dismay, she did not slow down or look back.

He started to move, lengthening his stride as he hurried to catch up.

“Miss Farmer!”

He could feel the sidewalk shaking as the horses thundered even closer. She had to know they were there but she just kept moving. Suddenly,