Whippoorwill (17 page)

Suddenly, one of the men at the table jumped up with a shout and threw down the cards in his hand.

“You cheatin’ bastard! You couldn’t have a full house. Not unless this deck has five kings.”

Before anyone could think what might come next, the man standing had a gun in his hand and put a bullet between the gambler’s eyes.

Eulis flinched.

“God all mighty,” he muttered, and made a run for the back room as the place erupted.

Upstairs, Letty was in the act of pocketing her dollar from the last man she’d pleasured when she heard the shot. The man, a liquor salesman from up north, grabbed his sample case and his hat and bolted out of the room.

It wasn’t the first time there had been gunshots in the White Dove, but it was the first time she’d heard them since Jim had died. The sound made her sick to her stomach, but she was curious as to what was going on. She slipped out of her room and peered over the railing just as Will the Bartender pulled a shotgun from underneath the bar. She got a brief glimpse of a man lying in a pool of blood and a dozen others in a rip-snorting fight, and ran back inside her room and locked the door. But the moment she’d done it, another round of gunshots went off. At that point, she panicked. She was mad at the world, but not ready to die and the floors in this place were as thin as the walls. She could get shot here as quickly as if she were downstairs. She grabbed a shawl and made a run for the back stairs, exiting onto the street just as she heard running footsteps behind her. Still nervous, she darted into the nearby alley then held her breath as the men ran past. Like her, they’d just wanted out of the way of flying lead. Another round of gunshots sounded and Letty resisted the urge to duck, even though she knew she was far away enough now to be out of danger.

Figuring that work was over for the night and knowing it was too soon to go back inside, she stood for a moment, uncertain of where to go next. She ventured out of the White Dove only rarely, and never at night. But the air was cool and the way she figured it, the farther she got from the saloon, the safer she would be. Pulling her shawl a little closer around her shoulders, she started to walk. At first, it was only to put some distance between her and the gunshots, then it became a journey of a different kind.

It only took three blocks before she ran out of sidewalk. Although she was now walking on dry ground, she kept moving. She passed the barber shop, then the livery stable and finally came to the house where Sophie Hollis lived.

From outside, the house looked like something from a storybook, all clean and pretty with lamp light in the downstairs windows. As she stood, she saw a silhouette pass between the curtains and the light and knew that Sophie must have heard the gunshots, too. When she saw the curtains part and then saw Sophie peering out, she moved back into the shadows. But as she watched, she saw something she hadn’t expected to see. There was fear on the pretty widow’s face.

Letty frowned. She had never considered that someone who had everything would still be afraid. There was a brief moment when she felt a kinship for another woman alone, but the feeling disappeared. The only thing she and Sophie Hollis would ever share was that little weasel of a man she was going to marry.

There was a soft fluttering of wings above her head, then a whippoorwill called—so close that she imagined if she took just one step backward, she would hear its tiny, beating heart.

“Who’s there?”

Letty jerked. While she’d been daydreaming, Sophie Hollis had walked out on her porch, and wonder of wonders, she was carrying a gun. Afraid she’d be shot in the back if she walked away without letting herself be known, she knew that she had to speak up.

“It’s me, Leticia Murphy. I’m just out for a stroll.”

It took Sophie a moment to realize who she was speaking to and then stepped back in shock, as if speaking to a woman such as Letty would soil her own reputation.

“Get out!” Sophie cried, and waved the gun in the air. “Get away from my house this instant or I’ll shoot.”

“Perfect,” Letty drawled. “Then you’ll be no better than the fools down at the White Dove.”

Sophie gasped and then hurried back into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Disgusted for having yet a moment of softness for this woman, Letty started back to the White Dove. Sophie Hollis had her place in this world. Letty Murphy had hers and they were never going to be the same.

She thought of the preacher as she retraced her steps. He would probably be as out of place in this town as the Widow Hollis. The only difference was that when the wedding was over, he would leave. Sophie would still be here, married to the town banker, and Letty would still be smiling and flirting and pretending that each man who rode her was the best lay she’d ever had.

It wasn’t much to look forward to. So when the whippoorwill called again, Letty didn’t break stride as she yelled.

“Stupid bird! Whatever you’re looking for sure as hell ain’t here.”

I BAPTIZE THEE…

Gravestones littered the hillside above Isaac Jessup’s farm. It was a poor testament to the Jessup name that Minna Jessup gave birth and then gave up more babies than Isaac could name. It was for that reason that their last, and only surviving child, had never been named.

Before, they’d lovingly named each baby that had come from their union. But nine years ago when their next to the last child had died, Isaac had put his foot down, refusing to put a name on another baby he was certain he’d have to give up to the Lord. When the next baby was born, he stayed true to his word.

So delighted was Minna that her child was surviving, that she was indifferent to her husband’s decision. Even if she had deigned to disagree, in the times in which they were living, a husband’s word was as strong as God’s law.

To their joy, the child not only continued to survive, he thrived. Soon Minna was too busy chasing him about to prompt Isaac into rescinding his vow. The years passed and as they did, Baby Boy Jessup began to outgrow his name. But it wasn’t until a school teacher came to Crawler’s Mill that Isaac’s omission created a new set of problems for their little family.

***

It was the first day of school and Minna Jessup’s joy knew no bounds. Her child was going to get the education neither she, or Isaac had ever had. Her son would amount to something better than the dirt farmers they were, or she’d know the reason why. Even Isaac was perfectly willing to sacrifice his son’s help on the farm so that he could get an education.

Everyone was happy with the situation except Baby Boy. At the tender age of seven and one half years, he stood a head taller than most of the children his age, and yet regardless of his size, it was his name he couldn’t live down.

Poor Baby Boy. In the first week alone, he came home with a busted lip, a black eye, and had irreparably torn the only pair of good pants he owned. When Monday of the second week of school rolled around, Baby Boy bowed up like a pissed-off skunk and ran away from home. It was only after Isaac found him on their farm and hiding in the cave above the spring, that matters finally came to a head.

***

Minna was in hysterics as she ran about the prairie, calling out Baby Boy’s name. And every time she stopped to listen, hoping for an echo of his little voice answering her call, she got nothing for her trouble but the wind whistling down her back. Fear settled deep in her bones as she searched the vast prairie, refusing to glance upon the hillside where the small brown crosses stood, believing if she did it would jinx their luck of finding Baby Boy alive.

Just as she feared all would be lost, she heard shouting and turned toward the crosses on the hill. Isaac was running between them, waving his arms, and shouting something that she still couldn’t hear. But the longer she stood, the more convinced she became that Isaac had found Baby Boy. She gathered up her skirts and started toward him, praying with every step that she took.

***

Baby stood knee deep in the creek with grass roots stuck in his hair from hiding in the cave and cockle burrs caught in the frayed edges of his britches. His little hands were fisted, his face tear-streaked, and filled with dismay at having been found.

His mother was on the creek bank crying, begging him to come out. As badly as he wanted to hide underneath her apron, he’d taken a stand from which he couldn’t back down. His father stood nearby with a switch in his hand that would have felled an ox. In spite of his mother’s comforting presence, the size of that stick gave him great pause for thought.

He shuddered on a sob and swiped at the snot running down his nose with the back of his hand. They just didn’t understand. Here he was, nearly a man, and didn’t yet have a man’s name. He was sick of school and sick of fighting. He’d decided last night that learning to read wasn’t worth the trouble it was going to take.

“I ain’t a goin’ back to that there school and you can’t make me,” he cried, then covered his backside with both hands, certain that his ultimatum would warrant a whipping of severe extent.

Isaac was in a quandary. On one hand, Minna was weeping with joy over the fact that they’d found Baby Boy alive and well. On the other, Isaac considered a direct refusal to obey a father’s orders should merit some sort of punishment. However, it was the condition of his son’s face and Minna’s joy that slowed his intent.

He waved the switch above his head. “See here, Baby, you just cain’t go and—”

“That’s just it, Pa. I ain’t a baby no more. I’m plumb close to growed. I hunted winter meat with you last snow, and you said I could go on my own this year and see if I could fetch down the first deer. I plow, I cut wood, and I know how to do near everythin’ you do.”

The truth of his son’s words hit Isaac hard. He slumped against a willow overhanging the creek bank while Minna stood beside him, making promises to Baby Boy that Isaac knew he could never deliver. Finally, he’d had enough. His voice echoed from one side of the creek to the other as he waded into the water after his boy.

“Son! You get out of that water and get on back to the house, and you do it now! I won’t have no young’en of mine back-talkin’, you hear me?”

Isaac waved the switch for effect, but both he and Minna knew he wouldn’t use it. Not now.

Baby Boy quelled at the tone in his father’s voice. His small shoulders slumped. “I’ll come,” he muttered. “But I ain’t goin’ back to that school.” With a defeated air, he began climbing up the creek bank and out of the water.

Minna Jessup was barely five feet tall to her husband’s six foot height, but when their child was in her arms, she lit into Isaac with all of her might.

“You’ve got to do somethin’ and I mean now, Isaac Jessup! He’s my only livin’ child, and I cain’t be havin’ him runnin’ off like this again out of fear. You’re the one who wouldn’t put a name to him when I gave him birth, so you’re the one who’s gonna have to find a way to make this right.”

“Well, hell, Minna,” Isaac grumbled. “I want him happy as much as you do. You ain’t the only one who lost all them babies. I had to dig the holes for each and every one. It takes a lot out of a man when he has to dig graves for seven of his own.”

Just thinking of all her precious babies set Minna to crying even harder.

Isaac groaned and then pulled his son out of Minna’s arms. “Run on to the house now,” he said gently. “And wash your face good, too.”

“Yes sir,” Baby Boy mumbled, and took off running across the prairie.

Minna fell into Isaac’s arms with a sob. “I know you suffered, too, Isaac. And I ain’t puttin’ any blame on you. What happened was God’s will. I’ve accepted that. But what about Baby Boy? What are we gonna do?”

Isaac held her close, marveling at how so tiny a woman could bring him so fast to his knees.

“I’ll figure out somethin’ Minna, honey. Don’t you fret none, you hear? I’ll make it right and that’s a promise.”

She sniffed twice and then wiped her face with the hem of her apron, much in the same way she’d survived her losses.

“Well now, that’s that, I suppose. Let’s get on back to the house. Most likely Baby will be starvin’. He missed his breakfast and his dinner, too.”

Minna hurried on ahead, anxious to get to her single, precious chick, leaving Isaac alone to come at his own speed. And left alone, Isaac had to admit that his sin of omission had done much toward the suffering that Baby Boy was now enduring.

“Lordy be,” he muttered, as he followed his family home across the prairie. “Who would’a thought there’d be so much fuss over a name?”

Long after supper was over, Isaac pondered the dilemma his family was in, but it was near morning when the answer came; right out of a dream, and as if God himself had spoken.

Isaac sat straight up in bed and reached for his gun, still not certain the voice that he’d heard had been in his head and not inside the cabin with him and his family.

Minna rolled over in bed and clutched the covers beneath her chin. “What’s wrong, Isaac? Is there a varmint prowlin’ outside?”

Isaac’s heart was still pounding as reality sank in. He set the rifle beside his bed and then laid back down. Slipping an arm beneath Minna, he cuddled her close.

“No, Minna honey, there’s no varmint. I reckon I was just dreamin’.”

She snuggled her face against his chest, relishing the safety of his presence, and soon fell back to sleep. But Isaac couldn’t have shut his eyes to save his soul. He was too busy planning the best way to confront the enemy and bring him to heel.

***

And so the week passed while Baby Boy followed his father about their farm and pretended his life wasn’t hanging in the balance. Each day that a sun came and went without being forced back to school was, for him, a day of joy. But with each new sunrise came an unsettling fear that his mother would put the coveted education over his personal feelings and force him back into an impossible situation.

***

“Pa, where are you goin’?”

Isaac paused in the act of harnessing the mules to wipe sweat from his brow.

“Into town to get some things for your momma. Want to come?”