The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,147

way station. Being the only female on board made it difficult to ask for consideration. Determined to bear up and not call attention to herself, her intentions were changed when the front and back wheel on the right side of the coach abruptly rolled in and out of a hub-deep rut. It threw her up into the air and then back down so hard that she physically moaned from the pain. It was all she could do not to wet her bloomers. She had to speak up. Desperate, she grabbed Eulis by the arm.

“Tell the driver to stop.”

Eulis had been dozing when the stagecoach rolled in and out of the rut, and he was still rubbing the side of his head from the impact of hitting it against the door when Letty grabbed him.

Boston Jones was still riding up top with Shorty and Big Will, and Morris Field, the salesman, had been asleep on the opposite seat when they’d hit the big rut, at which point, he had fallen into the floor. Disoriented by waking up face down with a bloody nose, he reacted instinctively and grabbed onto the first thing he could feel. Unfortunately, it was Letty’s leg—middle-way between her ankle and knee—and with a grip that was both unexpected and painful.

Startled, Letty screeched and kicked out in reflex. It was unfortunate that the first thing she connected with was the salesman’s already bloody nose.

His scream overpowered her weak shriek as he rolled over onto his back with both hands clasped to his face.

“God… Goddab it woban!”

To her credit, Letty felt awful. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Lord knew it wasn’t as if she’d never had a man’s hand on her leg before. She pulled a handkerchief out of her bosom and stuffed it up against the salesman’s nose.

“Here,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you startled me.”

“Bercy,” he moaned, and stuffed two ends of the handkerchief up his nostrils in an effort to cease the flow of blood.

Eulis was still focused on what Letty had asked, and without knowing why she needed to stop, he sensed her anxiety. He side-stepped the bloody salesman as he stood, then grabbed onto the side of the door, bracing himself as he started to lean out the window. Before he could yell at Shorty, the coach lurched again. To everyone’s horror, including Eulis’s, the door swung open, taking him with it.

Letty couldn’t believe it. The horses were still running at full speed. Shorty showed no signs of slowing down, and Eulis was gone. Horrified by what might have happened to him, Letty ripped back the curtains and leaned out the window, for the moment, her need to relieve her bladder forgotten.

“Stop! Stop!” she screamed. “Please! Please! You have to stop!”

Almost instantly, Shorty could be heard shouting to the horses. To Letty’s relief, the coach began to slow down. The dust they’d been trying to outrun suddenly boiled inside the coach, adding insult to the multitude of injuries.

“Whud’s habbening?” Morris mumbled.

Ignoring his question, Letty climbing over him and jumped out before the coach stopped moving.

She staggered as she hit the ground, and then stood for a moment, looking back to where they’d been. About a hundred yards back she could see a dust-covered pile of what looked like discarded clothing. Terrified for Eulis, she yanked up her skirt and started to run.

“What the hell’s happening?” Shorty hollered.

Boston Jones had been riding backward and had seen it all.

“Someone fell out of the coach,” he said, and started climbing down from the top just as Morris started to crawl out. Inadvertently, Boston’s foot stomped directly on top of Morris’s head causing Morris to lose his balance. Instead of stepping out of the coach, he fell, face first into the dirt.

His scream was a high-pitched wail of unbelievable pain, and then fearful his travail was not yet over, he scrambled to his knees and crawled under the stagecoach. With the horses still stomping and the coach rocking slightly from the weight of their movements, the chance of being run over seemed far less painful than facing the people with whom he’d been traveling.

“You said someone fell out? How the hell did that happen?” Shorty asked.

When no one answered, he tied off the reins, and got down to see for himself. The woman who’d been a plague to them all was running hell bent for leather away and he wished her a fine trip. However, Boston seemed to be following her