The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,88

shrugged and brushed at the dirt on his hands and clothes. It mattered little to him. There was so much of it that one more layer of grime hardly mattered at all. Besides, if he could stand himself, why should anyone else care?

“Naw, I’m fine.” Eulis combed his dirty fingers through his long hair and beard to prove that it was so.

“Not if you’re going to preach tomorrow,” Letty said, and started pulling him toward the door.

“Not if I’m gonna what?”

Letty was too busy guiding him toward the back stairs that led up to her room to answer. Her bath tub was full and waiting for her to crawl in, but tonight it was going to see better use.

More than once, Eulis tried to run, but Letty had him by the beard, and it hurt too much when she pulled.

“Dagnabit you witch! Turn me loose or else,” he warned.

“Or else what, Eulis Potter? Who are you gonna tell? And what will you say? That you helped a whore hide a dead body? That makes you an accomplice. They can hang you as high as they hang me. You’d best remember that.”

Eulis groaned. He had just remembered why he’d become a drunk. It had been a woman who’d driven him to the bottle, and she’d been too much like the one who now had him by the balls—and the beard—to argue with.

The door slammed, and they were suddenly alone. The tub beckoned although the steam had long since quit rising from the water.

“Take off your clothes,” Letty ordered.

Eulis groaned. He was some sober, but not enough, he feared, to do her any good.

“Not for that, you ass,” Letty muttered, and started ripping at his jacket and shirt. The rotting garments fell away in her hands. “Get in the tub. By the time I get through with you, you won’t recognize yourself.”

Eulis was feeling too sick to argue. He needed a drink, but from the look on Letty’s face, he wouldn’t get the time of day unless he did as he was told. He crawled into the water with the reluctance of a drowning man. The tepid water shriveled his privates to an embarrassingly small state.

“I’ll get some more warm water,” Letty said, and bolted out of the room. She was back within minutes, having snitched the big pot of water off the stove that Will kept ready for the making of coffee. When she tilted it into the tub and poured, Eulis started to shriek.

“Christ all mighty!”

“Preachers don’t curse,” Letty muttered.

“I’m going to be sick.”

“You do, and you’ll be bathing in it,” she warned.

He swallowed the bile and took the soap that she offered.

Two hours later, he stood before her mirror, a shorn and saddened man. His own mother would not have recognized him. He was, as near as Letty had been able to create, a passable recreation of Reverend Randall Ward Howe, right down to the part in the middle of his hair, and the clean-shaven face and double chin.

Letty handed him the preacher’s clothes. “Try them on,” she said.

“He was fatter than me,” Eulis argued.

“Your beer belly will hold them up. You can belt in what sags.”

Letty was still holding the scissors she’d used to cut off his hair and beard, so Eulis figured an argument of any sort would be a lost cause. Reluctantly, he began to dress, and when he finished, stood back to view himself.

All told, he didn’t look as bad as he’d feared. He even pranced and preened a bit at Letty’s instructions, trying to mimic the walk of the man whose final act on earth had been a sin. By the time dawn arrived, Eulis had been coerced into a plan of collusion that could fall apart at any given moment. Neither of the culprits had any notion of whether Banker Worthy or Widow Hollis had known the reverend on sight. If they did, it was all over. But, Letty and Eulis were counting on the fact that they had only known him by name. So, if Eulis didn’t go and get himself drunk before the ceremony, they’d be home free.

Letty pushed a sweaty lock of hair away from her face. “It’s nearly daybreak. I’m gonna clean myself up, then we’re both going down and pretend nothing is wrong.”

Eulis grinned. His mouth was dry. And he would have killed two snakes for nothing stronger than a smell of cheap whiskey, but he was starting to enjoy himself. He looked real good in these fine