The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,248

husband?” Alice asked.

“Hell, yes,” Letty said.

The woman’s face was so swollen and distorted that she could hardly blink, and yet she managed to show her disdain for Letty’s words.

“How could you?” she asked.

Letty stood up.

“It’s called self-defense.” Then she grabbed the woman and turned her toward the door and the mirror hanging on the wall. “Have you looked at yourself lately?”

Alice slumped as she laid the baby back on the bed.

“I should have been able to give George a son and it’s my fault that my milk is gone. As a woman, I’m a failure.”

“If you’re all set on being some kind of a martyr, then have at it, lady. But just because you’re stupid, doesn’t mean you have the right to let your baby die.”

Alice pressed a hand against her mouth.

“I don’t want my baby to die.”

Letty stomped to the door and yanked it open.

“Then get off your ass, pick up the kid, and come with me.”

Alice hesitated.

“It’s now or never,” Letty said.

Alice grabbed the baby, wrapped her up in a blanket, and stumbled out the door behind Letty.

“George will kill me if he sees us,” Alice muttered.

“No, he won’t, because I won’t let him,” Letty said.

Alice shuffled behind Letty as they moved toward the back stairs. The baby whimpered once. Letty prayed it wasn’t the baby’s dying breath.

By the time they got out on the streets, Alice was staggering.

“Give me the baby before you drop her,” Letty said, and then took the child before Alice could argue. “Lean on me,” she added, when Alice staggered again. So she did.

Men saw them coming down the sidewalk and stepped aside, unable to hide their shock. A woman and two little boys were coming out of the general store. When she saw Alice’s face, she let out a weak cry of disbelief, and then turned her children’s faces to her waist, unwilling for them to see such a sight. Another man, Henry Smith, who knew Letty by sight as the woman who’d struck it big, got off his horse and stepped up on the sidewalk as they passed by.

“Miz Potter?” he said.

“Mornin’ Henry.”

“Jesus, ma’am. What’s happened here?”

“Henry, if you’re not too busy, would you do me a favor?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Anything.”

“Eulis is up at the mine. I’m thinking there’s a good possibility that I might be needing him soon.”

“You want me to go get him?” Henry asked.

“Yes, please,” Letty said, and then kept on walking.

Henry Smith mounted his horse and headed out of town at a lope.

Alice was leaning against Letty harder now. Letty could hear her labored breathing and figured at the least, she had some broken ribs—maybe internal injuries as well. She didn’t give much hope for either one of them seeing next month, but she couldn’t live with herself without giving this a try.

“Just hang on a little bit longer,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

Thief

George Mellin had been hiding in the underbrush on the north side of Cherry Creek for the better part of two hours, watching Robert and Mary Whiteside working their claim. His latest had played out weeks ago, and his grubstake with it.

He’d heard all about the big Potter strike and knew that they were hiring, but he didn’t want to work someone else’s claim. Selfishly, he had no thought for his wife, or the baby’s wants and needs. He had gold fever and he had it bad—bad enough to do something desperate—even illegal.

Yesterday, he’d followed the Whitesides into the general store, subversively eyeing the nuggets Robert shook out onto the pay scale for the goods that they’d purchased. When he saw Mary pick out a pair of new boots and pay for them with no thought for the cost, he’d been struck with envy.

He had already hit up every one he knew for another grubstake, but with no success. His gut was burning. His head was throbbing with every beat of his heart. He needed a way out of the situation he was in, and had decided to just take what he needed.

These days, his wife, Alice, did nothing but whine, and that brat she’d whelped was no good to him. What was a man to do with another female to feed? A man needed sons. He was nothing without sons to continue his lineage.

He sat, watching the Whitesides work, while greed and envy ended the last of his good sense. Several times during the past hours he’d seen one or both of them stop and exclaim at a nugget they’d pull out