The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,39

brother and Shirley in bed.

“Oh, my Gawd,” Shirley screeched.

Art stood in the doorway with a grin on his face as wide as her butt. Shirley began grabbing at the sheets, trying to cover up her abundance and her shame. It was no use. Milt wasn’t through pumping.

“Hey, Milt!”

Milt grunted and cursed, then collapsed upon Shirley with a hump and a thump.

“Ain’t you got no damned sense at all?” Milt groaned, and rolled buck-naked off of the shrieking woman. “I was busy.”

Art grinned at his brother’s limp state. “You ain’t no more,” he chuckled. “Besides, you’re gonna love what I got to say.”

Milt grabbed for his pants. “Start talking.”

“I was right.”

Milt snickered. “You ain’t never been right.”

Art scratched his balls and considered the possibility of asking Shirley for a turn. But the state she was in and the look on Milt’s face told him he’d best get on to what he’d come to say.

“I was right yesterday,” Art said. “He’s a she.”

Milt went still. Anger over their rousting still rankled. “How do you know?”

Art sucked on a tooth, savoring the thrust of his news before he sent it home.

“I seen her without a shirt. She’s got a bosom just like old Shirley there.” And then he peered a little closer at the wailing woman’s body and recanted. “Well, not exactly like Shirley’s. They don’t swing near that low.”

Shirley buried her face in the sheet. She’d been forced to endure this private moment with an audience, and now, to have her womanly body belittled in such a manner was too much to endure.

“Get out!” she shrieked, and threw a shoe at Milt. “You, too,” she said, and hefted the other one at Art.

The brothers turned and ducked, heading for the door. Once outside they stopped and grinned.

“I think she was mad,” Art said.

Milt shrugged. “For a dollar, old Shirley can get in a real good mood.” Then his thoughts switched from one woman to the next as he fingered his gun. “Let’s go get that short-haired bitch. By gawd, she owes us big!”

Art strutted. He loved to be right. Later when it counted, he would remind old Milt that this had been his idea from the start.

Replete from her first food of the day and unaware of what was unfolding, Caitie wiped her hands on her pants as she headed back toward the livery. The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach was gone. And to her dismay, so was the horse at the far end of the stalls. Her heart lurched.

“Oh no! It’s for certain that Mr. Pevehouse will be firin’ me. Either it’s been heisted, or the owner’s gone off without the leavin’ of pay. Whichever it is, I’m done.”

While she was considering the benefits of making herself scarce, the lights went out. Before she could cry for help, someone stuffed a rag in her mouth and bagged her with an empty gunny sack like so much feed. Her feet went out from under her, and seconds later she felt them being tied. She was capable of nothing more than grunted curses and frantic squeals as a rope was tied around the sack, pinning her arms to her body and rendering her helpless to fight back. She heard an ugly snicker and kicked as hard as she could. When the toe of her boot connected on bone, she knew she’d hit a target. Someone groaned and then cursed and her heart almost stopped. That sounded like the Bolin Brothers!

Merciful God, I pray I’m not right.

But when one of the men suddenly grabbed at her crotch, she knew her worst fears were realized.

“By damn, Art, you were right. There ain’t nothing there but air.” Milt pinched her once, his laugh little more than a gurgle. “Make sure you get all of her stuff. They’ll think she went and stole a horse, then lit a shuck for parts unknown. We’ll be long gone before anyone knows different.”

Her stomach lurched, and it was all she could do to keep her egg and biscuit down. Bound and gagged as she was, if she threw up now, she’d choke on her own spit.

“Tie her on that horse,” Milt growled, and tossed Art the other end of the rope dangling from the girl’s body.

Art quickly complied. A few minutes later they rode out, using the back alleys to get to the edge of Mudhen Crossing.

Only one person saw them leave, and that was Boarding House Shirley. She was none too glad to see the backside