by Sharon Sala
“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 clothes. And Letty didn’t know it, but he’d been raised on the Good Book. He knew plenty of passages to get him by the worst of it.
What he didn’t know was if he could keep a straight face. In the years that he’d spent in Lizard Flats, he’d been kicked aside, ignored, or spit at on a daily basis. This was too good to fathom. He kept thinking of Sophie hitting him with her umbrella and the trouncing Alfonso Worthy had given him while he’d been sitting in Pete Samuel’s trough. Now Eulis was going to perform their marriage ceremony and it wouldn’t be worth a hill of beans. It was the best sort of vengeance a man could ask for. Bloodless, but binding, nevertheless.
By breakfast, he was in full swing, bestowing compliments on women who, yesterday, wouldn’t have let him sweep the dirt from beneath their feet, and blessing babies as if he’d brought them into the world himself.
Letty watched from a safe distance away, horrified by the monster that she’d created, yet unable to turn him off for fear of ruining herself in the process. There was nothing left for her to do but ride out the day with as little panic as possible.
No sooner had she sworn to react with calm, than Alfonso Worthy entered the dining room adjacent to the saloon with his fiancée, Sophie Hollis, in tow.
“Reverend Howe, I presume?”
Eulis grinned. Yesterday Alfonso Worthy had stepped over him like a dog turd. Today he was fawning at his feet. Justice had never been so sweet.
“That’s me. I mean… yes, I am he… uh, him,” Eulis stuttered. He had to remember to talk fancy. “And this must be your charming bride-to-be.”
Eulis rose to the occasion by standing, then bowing over Sophie Hollis’s hand before bestowing a gentle kiss upon the knuckles of her right hand with princely grace.
Sophie giggled and blushed as Alfonso announced his news. “We came to inform you that the wedding will be held in exactly one hour… if that meets with your approval.”
Eulis pulled a small book from the pocket of the preacher’s coat, and pretended to consult it for several moments, as if checking a schedule which was actually nonexistent. Howe hadn’t been in town long enough to do anything but die.
Finally, he raised his head and nodded in a pleasant, and what he hoped was, a benign manner. “That will be fine. And where, pray tell, is the ceremony to be held?”
Letty rolled her eyes in disgust at the flowery words Eulis was spouting. If he wasn’t careful, he’d outrun his own wind and blow himself down.
“We’re holding the ceremony at dear Sophie’s house, of course,” Alfonso said, and smiled as Sophie blushed.
She’d been all over him like a cat after fleas for the better part of a week. Alfonso would get the ceremony out of the way, and then get Sophie in bed or know the reason why. Going from the front parlor, to the upstairs bedroom, seemed the simplest and best way to accomplish both.
“I’ll be there promptly in one hour. A man of God always keeps his word,” Eulis said.
Alfonso nodded, content that he’d done his part in satisfying propriety. Once he satisfied Sophie Hollis in bed, he would have it made.
Sophie pranced and giggled. “Do hurry, dear Reverend. I just don’t like to be kept waiting a minute longer than necessary to call this wonderful man my husband.”
Eulis nodded, burped and took another sip of his spiked tea. The weakened whiskey settled his queasy stomach just enough to get him by. It was one thing to become a preacher overnight. It was another thing altogether to get religion and go on the wagon at the same time. Some men might be able to do it. Eulis Potter knew his limitations better than most. He’d do what he must, but he’d do it with a glow, or not at all.
The moment the affianced couple was gone, Letty rushed to his table and snatched the cup from beneath his mouth and sniffed it.
“I should have known,” she hissed. “You’re drinking whiskeyed-down tea. You get drunk on me, Eulis Potter, and I’ll hang you myself.”
“Reverend Howe, to you, my dear. And hadn’t you better get changed? We don’t want to be late for the ceremony.”
“What’s wrong with my dress?” Letty grumbled, smoothing down the red silk with sweaty palms.
“It reveals too much of your, ah, womanly charms.” He waggled his eyebrows and leered at her breasts for effect. “Don’t you agree?”
He had her over several barrels and they both knew it. Unable to argue, Letty raced to her room to dress. In her panic, she tore both the underarms of her only decent dress and had to cast it aside. She ran to the window, as if looking for answers, then started to grin. There was a blue-sprigged muslin in the window of Matt Goslin’s store that had been hanging on a store dummy for the better part of three years. It was sun-faded in the front, and stained in the back from the time the roof had leaked and wetted down everything in the front of the store. But it was high-necked, and long-sleeved, and by God, it would hide everything—including her damned neck, if she buttoned it just right.
Let The Games Begin
It looked as if the entire population of Lizard Flats was in Sophie Hollis’s yard, ogling for a view of the ceremony about to take place upon her front porch.
Matt Goslin, storekeeper and rejected suitor, glared from a place near the steps. If Alfonso Worthy was going to snatch up his sweetie, he was going to see it as up close and personal as he could get.
Letty Murphy had picked her place early. She was less than five feet from the spot where Eulis, the drunk-turned-preacher, had taken his stance. She figured if he got out of hand, she should be as close as possible to try and prevent a disaster from occurring.
And while she waited, she tugged at the neck of her new dress, not for the first time, wishing she’d worn one of her own and said to hell with propriety. It was no wonder that the upright women of Lizard Flats often had pinched express
ions about their mouths. These high-necked, long-sleeved dresses were uncomfortable as all get out.
Letty fidgeted beneath the stares of the guests milling about the yard. She supposed it was because they’d never seen her dressed in such a fashion, when in fact, they were curious as to why her dress was faded to a near-white in front and still bright blue in the back. No one recognized the dress as having come from Matt Goslin’s store. What they did notice was that the dress was about a size and a half too small, and that Letty’s ample charms were pressing with prominent persistence at the boundaries of the buttons running down the front of the dress.
Just then the bride and groom came out of the house. As they paused beneath the porch, everyone’s attention turned to them. A small gasp of admiration rose from the assembled females. Sophie Hollis was wearing a pink dress with a complexion to match.
Truly a blushing bride.
Alfonso was strutting as he took his place before the preacher.
Eulis cleared his throat and Letty held her breath. It was time to begin.
“Do you, Sophie, take…”
“I do.” She giggled and cast a flirtatious eye toward her little banker.
“Not yet, my dear,” Alfonso cautioned with a whisper. “He’s not through saying his piece.”
Just the word “piece” made Sophie quiver inside. She sighed and squeezed her legs together as a reminder to stay calm, smiling over her nervous need.
“Reverend, pray continue,” Alfonso said loftily.
Eulis nodded, and did as he was asked.
Eulis’s voice rolled up and out of his throat in deep booming consonants, echoing from beneath the porch where the ceremony had commenced. But the mighty tone was not because he’d suddenly felt the call to preach. It was because he’d talked more in the past eight hours than he had in the last eight years and his throat was getting hoarse. He continued where he’d left off.
“…this man to be your awful wedded—”
“Lawful,” Letty hissed. “The word is lawful… lawful.”
Eulis glared and paused for effect. “Lawful wedded husband. To… a… hold all the time and to a… have forever. Even when you’re sick?”
Eulis paused at the end of this statement and nodded toward the blushing bride. Now it was time for Sophie’s answer, but the preacher had left something out that Alfonso felt needed mentioning. He smiled at Sophie and patted her arm and then leaned forward.
“What about obey?” Alfonso asked. “You didn’t say anything about obeying.”
Eulis sighed and wished them both to hell and back. What possible difference could the omission of one teeny little word possibly have? Then he looked at the pout on Sophie Hollis’ face and knew that the banker probably had a point.
“Of course, of course. I’m sorry. The trip was just so tiring, that I fear I’m not myself.” He cleared his throat and began again.
“Sophie Hollis… do you promise to obey this man in every way until death do you part?”
She’d been a little miffed at Alfonso’s interruption until the preacher had mentioned the word ‘death’. The memory of her dear Nardin’s untimely demise made her forget her irk. Of course she should obey. It was, after all, the mode of the day.
“I do. I do.”
Her gasp was tinged with just a hint of a sob. Alfonso squeezed her hand in a comforting manner and sent her into spasms of delight. She could hardly wait. For everything.
“And do you, Alfonso Worthy, take this woman to be your wife? Will you take care of her and all that’s hers forever until one of you dies?”
“With pleasure,” Alfonso said, thinking of Sophie’s womanly body, and then amended by adding, “I do, too.”
Eulis felt euphoric. He was getting to the good part and hadn’t messed up yet.
“Then by all that’s holy, I say you’re man and wife. And no man here should put it under.” Letty groaned. “Asunder. The word is asunder.”
But Eulis’s second faux pas didn’t matter. As far as everyone assumed, the two were now legally wed. The gleam of relief in Alfonso’s eyes matched the lust in Sophie’s. Each had gotten what they most desired.
A rousing cheer went up.
“Food and drinks inside,” Alfonso announced, and stepped back as the crowd surged forward.
Sophie shivered in her shoes and pressed her new husband’s arm against her breast as she held fast to him to keep from being swept off the porch. When he caught an arm around her waist to steady her, she knew that she’d done the right thing. One day she would even confess to him that she’d figured out who her secret admirer had been, but for now, she was just happy to call him husband.
When Eulis would have willingly joined in the celebration, Letty grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off the porch before he imbibed too much to finish the rest of what he must do.
“Come with me,” she hissed.
Eulis yanked his arm free and looked back at the house. “But what about the party?”
Letty pointed toward an old man who was sitting astride a horse just outside Sophie’s fence.
“You don’t have time for partying. You’re the preacher, remember? That old trapper has been waiting for you to get here and bury his partner.”
She wiggled her eyebrows and glared. It was enough of a reminder to Eulis about the need to cover up their own dirty deed that he quickly bolted off the porch. A vision of the real preacher bouncing down into that deepened hole came back with full force. The few inches of dirt he’d tossed over the man would not suffice long unless the real corpse was laid neatly on top and planted beneath six feet of territory dirt as planned.
“Lead me to him,” Eulis said.
Letty did as she was told.
Henry Wainwright held his breath as best he could. He and Parson were about to take their last trip together. And when it was over, Henry would be going on alone. The need for haste outweighed whatever lingering sorrow Henry had mustered. Old Elmer smelled to high heaven, and that was a fact.
By the time they got to the outskirts of town and entered the cemetery, Henry was plumb light-headed from lack of oxygen, and the preacher and the whore in the two-tone dress looked green. They passed right by James Dupree’s marker which prompted Letty to a fresh set of tears.
“Maybe you’d best tip him on in and begin covering him up,” she suggested, unwilling to think of Jim, and desperate to have the last of her sin buried as quick and as deep as possible. “The preacher here can talk while you shovel.”
Henry nodded. It sounded like a plan to him. Will the Bartender had promised to come to the burying, but it was obvious that he’d forgone his promise for the celebration taking place down at the newlyweds’ home. No one else had bothered to follow them out of town. Possibly because Elmer and Henry had been strangers to Lizard Flats. And possibly because Elmer Sutter stunk.
Henry untied the travois from the horse and pushed it to the edge of the hole that Eulis had dug yesterday. A quick film of tears covered his eyes as the buffalo robe and all that it held slid down into the grave.
Dust boiled up into Henry’s eyes as the body raked the sides of the hole, making them water even more. It was just as well that he couldn’t see. He might have wondered why old Elmer hadn’t settled as flat as he should have in his earthly resting place. The portly paunch of Reverend Randall Ward Howe was a hard hump upon which to rest. But it was of little importance in the scheme of the living still left on earth. Henry bent down, picked up the shovel, and started to scoop as the preacher began to speak.
“All in all, a man’s time on earth is short,” Eulis began.
Henry paused in the midst of his third shovel full of dirt and nodded in satisfaction. The words were big and deep, just like he’d expected to hear from a ‘real’ man of the cloth. Old Elmer would be proud to know that he’d kept his word.
Anxious that the funeral not become a public scene, Eulis felt the need to hurry. Someone might actually wonder why it was that the bereaved was doing his
own burying when it was the place of the gravedigger, namely himself, who usually did the honors.
“Therefore it is only fitting that a man’s burying should also be the same. Ashes to ashes and uh… dirt to dirt.”
“Dust,” Letty hissed, and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “It’s dust to dust.”
Eulis nodded. “So it is, little lady. So it is. It’s mighty dusty out here, at that.” And he proceeded to repeat the Twenty-third Psalm. It was the only thing out of the bible that he knew by heart.
Letty sobbed.
Henry gave the woman a kindly look. It was a nice touch to the solemnity of the situation. It was right nice of her to shed a few tears for a man she’d known only briefly in her bed.
Little did he know that she was shedding tears for her own deeds. The body lying beneath Parson Sutter would be forever hidden from the eyes of man, but it wasn’t them she was worried about. It was God. He saw everything and knew everything. And He knew that Leticia Murphy had been mad at Him for some time now, and after the incident with the preacher, had committed a grievous sin. It was for herself that she cried the most.
Within the hour, it was over. Eulis and Letty stood silent witnesses to the last thump of the shovel upon the hand-carved cross that Henry Wainwright planted at the head of the grave. Or maybe it was at the foot. After the bear and the time that had passed, it had been hard to decide which was heads and which was tails of what was left of old Elmer.
“There now. It’s done,” Henry said, and shoved the shovel into the ground for the next grave that would be dug.
He took off his hat, revealing a rim of yellow-white hair and a shiny spot of skin at the crown of his head that was encrusted with an accumulation of grime and scars.
“Elmer Sutter… you’ve been a good and true partner. I might even find myself missin’ your damned preachin’.” He sniffed and swiped at the tears and snot running down his lip. “Rest easy old pard. I reckon I’ll be seein’ you soon enough as it is.”
