The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,257

the tin in which he’d put the salve. “Don’t forget to doctor her. Three times a day.”

“Yes, sir,” Vera said, then took Charity into her arms, and started out the door.

Homer Talmadge followed without comment.

Mildred rolled her eyes as she fanned the air with her apron.

“Such a stench,” she muttered.

“Poor child,” Angus said.

Mildred looked at Angus and grinned.

“They may not bathe themselves, but I warrant they’ll bathe the child. It was real obvious that they don’t want to be stuck with an old maid.”

Angus grunted as he went back into his office to clean up, while Mildred went to check on Alice.

At the same time, Eulis and Letty were pulling into the yard of their new home, while T-Bone did a quick reconnoiter in the woods, barking happily to be out of town.

George Mellin was lying on his cot in the jail, bemoaning his condition and his fate which had yet to be decided by a judge, who would not arrive for at least another month. He was a miserable two hundred and seventy-five pounds of man, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong.

Alice Mellin chose to remain in the shadow land of opiate sleep, and had turned her face to the wall.

Paddy O’Brien, down at the livery stable, was sawing up green lumber for baby Mary’s final bed, while a young man of sixteen had volunteered to dig the grave in return for a meal.

Within an hour, the sun would set and a good portion of the citizens of Denver City would go to bed. What had happened today would soon be nothing but gossip to be told and forgotten.

As night drew near, the sky darkened and the stars disappeared. By midnight it had begun to rain.

The roof on the new Potter home was solid. If it was going to leak, they would have known it by now. When it began to rain, they’d moved their bedrolls from beneath the wagon to inside the house, and had settled in the middle of the big room, thankful to be dry.

T-Bone had, as usual, chosen a corner of the room in which to sleep.

Letty lay on her side with her face to the windows. The dampness in the air was chilling, as was the constant clash of rolling thunder and lightning flashing through the sky. As storms go, it was magnificent, but not one to be caught out in.

Eulis had thrown his arm across Letty’s waist as he slept, and was snoring lightly near the back of her head, but she didn’t mind. Despite their discomfort and lack of amenities, this felt right. It was their first night in their new home. The first, she hoped, of many.

The rhythm of the raindrops falling on the roof above their heads finally lulled her to a deep, dreamless sleep, while down in Denver City, Cherry Creek, fed from numerous mountain streams above the town, continued to rise.

Robert and Mary Whiteside had cooked salt pork and johnnycake for their evening meal. Mary washed up their tin plates and spoons near the spot where they’d been panning only hours before. Then she’d taken her hair down, undone the long braid she wore like a crown upon her head, and washed it clean in the water of Cherry Creek.

Robert sat nearby, teasing her about wearing gold dust in her hair. They’d laughed easily then. They had found some good color today and their bellies were full. A few more months of this life and they would have enough to buy some land—maybe in California where they had heard that the weather was mild all year long.

By the time the thunderstorm hit, they’d been asleep for hours. The thunder woke Robert, who got up to take a pee, and check their campsite. It was sprinkling a bit as he made the rounds of the camp, but when the rain began to fall in earnest he dashed back into the tent, and crawled into his bedroll. Even though winter was gone from the mountains, a rainy night at this elevation was always cold. Mary roused as he pulled the covers up around his chin.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“I reckon so,” Robert said. “Go back to sleep.”

Confident that Robert knew what he was talking about, Mary settled easily and was soon back asleep, but Robert wasn’t as convinced that he’d been right. Through flashes of lightning, he’d seen the rushing water in Cherry Creek and lying here inside the tent, he could hear the continuing roar of wind