The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,61

a lamb, she flung it at the mirror, shattering it and herself into pieces. Satisfaction was swift, but brief. She needed more! Much more! Wild of eye and hair, she let out a shriek and ran out of the room, her nightgown billowing about her feet.

Mehitable heard the first scream as she was standing on the front porch. Guilt hit her like a fist to the gut. She knew her sister’s mental state was unstable. She shouldn’t have left her alone. The sound of breaking glass and another shrill scream sent her reaching for her gun.

Was she in danger? Had she already done herself harm?

Palming her pistol, she dashed into the house, only to find Charity in the drawing room with a vase in her hands, standing in a puddle of water and roses. From the look in Charity’s eyes, the only thing in danger was their mother’s crystal vase.

Mehitable groaned. Quickly holstering her gun, she reached for her sister. Charity lifted the vase in a threatening gesture and took a quick step back, careful to stay out of Hetty’s reach.

Mehitable’s eyes narrowed until they appeared to be closed. Any other time, Charity would have been petrified to know she had angered Hetty this much, but not today. Because Charity had not been able to destroy herself, it would seem she was trying for their belongings instead.

Mehitable took a deep breath, calming her voice and relaxing her posture as she might have done with an unbroken horse.

“Sister… hand me the vase.”

Charity laughed.

The sound sent chills down Mehitable’s spine. She lunged for the vase, but it was too late. Mehitable ducked as the vase hit the wall then exploded in a shower of crystal shards.

At that point, Charity started to curse—without pause to take breaths and in more detail than Mehitable would have believed. She cursed herself and cursed God, then cursed the ground all men walked on. Then she broke into sobs—harsh, choking sobs that leeched all the anger from Mehitable’s bones and left her frightened and shaking. She reached for Charity again, desperate to restrain her in some manner before she did herself harm.

“Sister, Sister,” Mehitable crooned. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

But Charity kept on screaming, fighting every boundary before her, including her own sister’s arms.

Mehitable tried reasoning—she tried sympathy—then she tried shouting back. Finally, at her own emotional limit, she drew back her hand and landed a sharp, healthy slap on the side of Charity’s face.

The silence that came after was startling. Suddenly there was nothing between them but shock and a widening, red flush on the side of Charity’s cheek.

They stared, sister to sister, and then started to cry. Quietly. Openly.

This time when Mehitable opened her arms, Charity fell into her embrace without hesitation.

“It will be all right,” Mehitable said.

“It will never be all right,” Charity sobbed.

Mehitable took Charity by the shoulders and shook her gently until she was forced to look up. “By God, I said it will!”

“But how?” Charity asked.

“Because we’re goin’ after the bastard, and we’re gonna make him pay.”

Charity’s eyes widened. “We can’t.”

“The hell we can’t,” Hetty argued. “We Doones take care of our own.”

“But Hetty, think of the dangers of two women traveling alone. Besides that, we don’t know where he’s gone.”

“Oh, I’ll find him,” Mehitable promised. “And we ain’t goin’ alone. Beau James is comin’ along.”

“Beau James?” Charity’s face paled. “Our Beau James? That hard-eyed young cowboy you hired last year?”

Mehitable nodded.

“But why him?”

“Because he wants to, and because you dragged him into this mess when you passed out in his arms.”

Charity groaned. “I didn’t!”

“You did. He heard everything, including the part about you wanting to die. The past few days it’s been all I could do to keep him here. He was set to go after the preacher right then.”

Intrigued by having a champion, Charity bit her lip and looked away. “I must have looked a fright when I fainted.” And then she slumped. “But what could it matter? He must think I’m nothing more than a whore.”

Mehitable sighed with relief. This was a good sign. If Charity was worried about her appearance, she was beginning to heal. And while there was a lot she could have said as to what Beau James thought about Charity, she decided to leave the telling of it up to him.

“I don’t know what he thought. All I know is he was ready to kill. We leave first thing tomorrow,” she said shortly. “Pack to ride, girl. We’ll be movin’ fast.”

They’d gone first