The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,80

pulled two travel-weary horses to a halt just outside of Lizard Flats, surveying the town from the hilltop. As he’d predicted, it had taken him the better part of two days to get here, but from what he could see, it was time well spent. Someone was putting up some sort of shelter. The poles had already been planted into the ground and the workers were near to done with the lattice-work roof. Piles of brush and leafy limbs lay in bunches around the area, ready to be woven into the framework of the roof as a makeshift shade. And with the thought came the realization that this must be where the preacher would hold his sermons.

“By God, Parson. We did it. Before you know it, there’ll be a real preacher-man sayin’ sweet words over your stinkin’ hide.”

He could almost hear Parson saying, Cursing is the handiwork of the devil.

He sighed and kicked his horse forward, confident that Parson wasn’t far behind.

Letty was out on the balcony, enjoying her evening ritual when she saw the rider on the hill, but thought nothing of it. Once word had gotten around that a preacher was coming to Lizard Flats, it had brought all kind of newcomers into town for the event.

Even though the sun was almost gone, the heat of the day still lingered. She lifted the weight of her hair from her neck while wishing for a breeze or maybe a good rain. But it was August, and rain came rarely to the territory this time of year. A loud shout sounded from the hilltop where the brush arbor was going up. She turned and frowned, wishing she could tell them to be quiet. How was she to ever hear her whippoorwill call with all that noise?

Then Will the Bartender walked off the sidewalk in front of the White Dove and turned around and looked up at the balcony.

“Letty! Are you comin down?”

She rolled her eyes and then leaned over the railing.

“Don’t I always?”

Will smoothed his hands down the front of his apron and hurried back into the bar. Ever since Letty had heard about the wedding, she’d been acting like a bear. He didn’t know whether to scold her or ignore her. Instinct warned him to give her some space. Still, his clientele demanded more than a fair game of cards and some drinks. He just hoped she hurried on down before someone got antsy and started a fight in lieu of a good bedding. He couldn’t afford any more broken chairs and glasses.

While Will was worrying about the cost of running his business, Letty was staring at the rider who’d been on the hill. He was a wooly-looking old man and looked familiar, but then all men looked familiar to her and with reason. She leaned over the railing, watching as he passed by, wrinkling her nose as she smelled something foul. People began calling out to the man as he passed, yelling at him to get rid of the stink, but he kept on riding and didn’t stop until he reached the livery.

When he got off his horse, she saw he walked with a limp. He untied the horse he’d been leading then spoke briefly with the man at the stable, then left his own horse and led the other one with the travois away.

It wasn’t until later that night when he came into the White Dove that she learned who he was and why he’d come. After he’d walked out she’d excused herself on the pretext of using the chamber pot when in reality she’d wanted to cry, but not because an old man was dead. Life was hard out here. People died every day. There would be another grave for Eulis to dig and another body for someone to pray over. What had undone her was the affection in the old trapper’s voice as he’d spoken of his promise to find a preacher to bury his friend. Unless something changed in her life, there wasn’t a person on this earth who would care if she was dead.

As she was passing an open window next to the stairs, she felt a shift in the air. She paused to enjoy the brief breeze, and as she did, heard the whippoorwill call that she’d waited all day to hear. Her voice was low as she stood in a posture of abject misery.

“Yes, Mama, I hear it, but it doesn’t call for me.”

Dust boiled beneath Eulis’s feet as he trudged