The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,81

up the hill at the south edge of town. Makeshift crosses lined the horizon, markers for the dozens of people who’d gone before him. He shifted the shovel he was carrying from his right shoulder to his left and pulled his hat down a little farther over his forehead. The sun was hot, the wind brisk. When he breathed, he got dust up his nose for the trouble. He thought about that watering trough down at the livery. The dunking when he’d been anted by them kids hadn’t been all that bad. In fact, he could do with another one right about now, but baths weren’t on his social calendar. He didn’t know why he was thinking so hard on them now. Maybe it was because he’d rather do anything than dig another grave.

Word had gotten around that the preacher was due any day and Eulis was stuck with the job of gravedigger, just like that molasses had been stuck in his hair. Added to that, the trapper who had brought his dead partner into town was now in need of a hole in which to plant him. As he topped the hill, he paused at the first set of markers.

FRANK SMITH

DOLLY SMITH

Husband and wife, as he remembered. He frowned at the place where Dolly Smith lay. He’d passed out in that hole right after it was dug and dang near drowned before he came to. It wasn’t often that thunderstorms came to Lizard Flats. But when they did, they caused a good deal of trouble. Eulis was real careful now about getting drunk when it stormed. If he was going to die, he wanted to drown in his sorrows, not the rain.

He moved to the next marker, squinting to read the inscription, although he knew it by heart.

Yankee Dan.

He frowned. It was a shame they hadn’t known the name he’d been given at birth.

He moved on past the fresh mound of dirt and the scrawny gambler that they’d buried yesterday. No one had known his name. They’d put a cross at his grave and someone had dropped a deck of cards in the grave before he’d covered him up. It was the best they could do.

He didn’t dwell on the fact that the man now lay in an unmarked grave. The way he figured, he’d brought his demise upon himself. For now, Eulis had a job to do and he needed new ground.

He paused at the marker bearing the name of James Dupree and noticed a small bunch of withered wildflowers had been laid near the cross. He knew where they’d come from. Poor Letty. She was taking his dying real hard. As he passed, he gave the unsettled mound of dirt a quick tap with his shovel.

A few minutes later, he’d located an empty spot and began scooping out the dirt and piling it off to the side. Eulis was worthless when it came to most things, but he did dig a good hole.

Neat.

Deep.

Like the farmer his father had been, he was preparing the soil for planting. And like the fields they’d once planted, this ground, too, would be barren. Nothing to raise here but the occasional ghost.

He dug and he dug while the whiskey-stained sweat soaked his body and clothes. The sun was near setting by the time he had finished. He stabbed the shovel into the ground and started back down the hill toward Lizard Flats. Will the Bartender would likely have some stew done by now. Eulis’s belly growled. He stuck his finger in his pocket—still sticky from that dose of molasses. He licked it a bit, just to test. The sweetness that came was faint, but it was enough to remember, one more time, those cookies his momma used to make.

Will was sweeping the floor. Letty Murphy had gone upstairs with a man who only had one eye. But Eulis figured it didn’t matter how many eyes a man had, as long as his pecker stayed hard. As for Eulis, his pecker was too whiskey-soaked to do him much good any more. He didn’t really mind all that much. The glow he got from a good bottle of booze lasted a hell of a lot longer than a dollar a poke on a whore.

“Hey, Eulis,” Will the Bartender yelled. “If you think you’re gonna still get your drinks, you’re gonna have to help me clean up.”

Eulis groaned. It wasn’t that he objected to the work. But his legs were of one mind, his convictions