by Sharon Sala
When Shorty topped the hill above Plum Creek, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. The preacher and his female companion would be getting off in town, and it was none too soon for him. Sister Leticia was a fine looking woman, but in his opinion, not worth the trouble she had caused. He hadn’t slept in a barn since the night his wife had kicked him out of the house and went back to Indiana to live with her folks. He still had the itch from the damn fleas he’d gotten out of his impromptu bed of hay. He could appreciate Sister Leticia’s feelings, but she wasn’t looking realistically at the ways of men. She shouldn’t expect a man to mind his manners so close when it took everything he had just to survive from day to day.
Unfortunately, Shorty didn’t come by his name for no reason. Not only was he small in stature, but he was short-sighted as well. Being the man that he was, he completely ignored Leticia’s feelings and expectations as important. It was why he was no longer married and why he had to pay for female favors if he had any at all.
“Plum Creek, comin’ up!” he yelled, and whipped the horses into a faster gait because he liked to arrive at his destinations with a flourish.
Big Will knew Shorty’s predilection for speed and held his rifle a bit closer to his chest as the stagecoach started down the hill at a steadily increasing pace.
Inside the coach, Boston Jones pocketed the cards he’d been flipping, while Morris Field began a mental recital of the sales pitch he used to peddle his laces and ribbons.
Eulis dusted off the front of his frock coat as he clutched his bible close to his chest.
Letty felt a twinge of anxiety as they came closer and closer to Plum Creek. She’d never been here before, but she knew cowboys who had. Her worst fear was that in the middle of their new life, a ghost from her past would appear and blow it all to hell. It would be hard to maintain a pious appearance if there were men out in the Reverend’s congregation who’d seen her bare-assed and bouncing all over the place. A few minutes later, the first buildings of Plum Creek came into view.
Letty lifted her chin and steeled herself for whatever awaited.
Mary Farmer was wearing her favorite dress, a pale yellow cotton with tatting around the collar and the edges of her sleeves. The skirt belled around her legs, giving anyone who cared to look quick glimpses of her shiny brown shoes and trim ankles. She’d tied her long blond hair at the back of her neck with a wide yellow ribbon and pinched her cheeks until they stung. She wanted to appear in good health and color when she “fell” beneath the stagecoach wheels, that way her folks would believe that her death was a horrible accident, rather than a coward’s way out of a willful mistake.
The gallows was empty now, but its’ very presence was a bitter reminder of why she was here. A hot gust of wind caught her skirt as she moved past the alley between the saloon and the barber shop. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the dust and missed seeing Dooley Pilchard fall into step behind her.
Dooley had been momentarily blinded too, but from Mary Farmer’s beauty, not the hot wind and blowing dust. He’d watched Joseph Carver hang and at the same time, took note of Mary Farmer’s absence. Now here she was, walking the streets as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He was still trying to figure her out when he caught a glimpse of her face in the window glass of the barber shop. The pain on her face was so vivid he almost stumbled and fell.
He was still trying to right himself when he heard the stage approaching. He turned around just in time to see Shorty cracking his whip over the horses’ heads and whooping and yelling as they rolled into town. Dust boiled out from under the spinning wheels and he could smell the horses’ sweat and hear their wild, labored breathing as they neared the hotel. He turned his head sideways to shield himself from the worst of the dust and as he did, caught another glimpse of Mary Farmer. Then his blood ran cold.
Mary Farmer was still walking down the sidewalk, but with every step, she was moving closer and closer to the edge. One misstep and she’d be under the horses’ hooves before Shorty could stop.
“Miss Farmer! Miss Farmer!” he called.
To his dismay, she did not slow down or look back.
He started to move, lengthening his stride as he hurried to catch up.
“Miss Farmer!”
He could feel the sidewalk shaking as the horses thundered even closer. She had to know they were there but she just kept moving. Suddenly, he thought of the pain on her face and the man who’d been hanged and his blood ran cold.
Before he could shout again, the stagecoach was upon them. He could see the lead pair of horses from the corner of his eye and knew that she saw them, too, because without hesitation, she took a short step to the right and let herself fall.
Dooley saw her arms go up and the skirt of her yellow dress billow outward. Her hair, the color of corn silk, lifted up from the back of her neck and then fanned outward, sending the long yellow ribbon up and out like the tail of a kite. Before he could rethink the motion, he lunged forward, stretching his height to its fullest and using the weight and power of his body as a shield between her and the team and stage.
She was in mid-air when their bodies connected. Dooley grabbed her with his left arm, and the lead horses’ harness with his right as they continued to fall. They hit fast and they hit hard, before they were dragged along the ground, only a heartbeat away from the thundering hooves.
Now it was no longer a matter of saving Mary. It became a matter of saving himself, too. He could hear the frantic shouts of both Shorty and Big Will trying to get the horses stopped, and the scream of some female bystander who must be witnessing it all.
Dirt from the horses’ hooves flew into his face and his arm felt as if it was being ripped from his shoulder. Still, he held on to Mary and the harness with all of his might.
Through it all, in a small corner of his mind he was horribly aware of Mary’s silence. She hadn’t screamed, she hadn’t fought; she hadn’t moved at all. It was as if she was just waiting for it all to be over.
And suddenly it was.
The absence of motion was as startling as the fact that they were still alive. Once he knew that the team had been halted, he rolled out of the way of the restless horses’ stomping hooves, taking Mary with him. For a few priceless seconds, he felt the softness of her body aligned against him and the thunder of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He looked down at the woman beneath him as she slowly opened her eyes and looked up.
They stared, each into the other’s eyes.
His widened.
Hers filled with tears.
Time stopped.
Covered in dust and aching in every muscle, Dooley Pilchard knew that he’d just fallen in love. Then he saw the dust and abrasions on her face and neck and thought to ask.
“Miss Farmer… Mary… are you all right?”
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, leaving traces of its passing through the dust on her face. Her chin quivered. Her lips started to shake. She took a deep breath and then shuddered.
“Oh Dooley, what have you done?”
Then everyone descended upon them.
Big Will began pulling at Dooley, as Shorty and the sheriff yanked Mary out of his arms.
“Miss Farmer! Miss Farmer! Are you all right?” the sheriff asked.
Shorty was pale and shaking as he helped the sheriff stand her up.
“Missy… I’m right sorry… I saw you falling and tried to stop the horses, but it wouldn’t have been in time. If it hadn’t been for Dooley, here, we would have run clean over ya’ and that’s a fact.”
Dooley dragged himself up and brushed himself off as Big Will began thumping him on the back.
“Boy… I didn’t think you was goin’ to make it!” Big Will said.
Dooley straightened. He wouldn’t look at Mary. Couldn’t look at her and know that she would rather be dead, than live in a world without Joseph Carver.
“I didn’t think I was goin’ to either,” Dooley muttered, and walked
away as the stagecoach door began to open.
Boston Jones got out, eyeing the businesses, focused in on the saloon, and started across the street as Morris stepped out. He was looking for Shorty to register indignation about the abruptness of their arrival.
“I say, that could have been a much smoother approach.”
“Had to stop sudden-like,” Shorty said. “This little lady here fell right in front of the stage. Didn’t think I was gonna be able to miss her!”
Eulis and Letty got out in time to hear Shorty’s comment and both looked at the young girl in question. Grabbing onto the opportunity to insinuate them into the goodwill of the residents of Plum Creek, Eulis quickly stepped forward.
“Dear girl… won’t you let Sister Leticia assist you to your home?”
Mary shuddered. Home? It was the last place she wanted to be.
Letty saw the empty expression in the girl’s eyes and read it as more than shock. She slipped an arm beneath the young girl’s elbow.
“Mary is it? My name is Let… uh, Sister Leticia. Will you let me walk with you?”
Mary could see the woman’s lips moving, but she couldn’t hear her voice. Then she started to shake.
Without waiting for her to answer, Letty slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, then looked to the sheriff.
“Where does she live?”
He pointed down the street. “Her parents run the dry goods store. They live above it.”
Letty nodded, and then patted Mary’s arm. “Lean on me,” she said softly.
Mary was halfway home before she realized her feet were moving. She stopped, looked down at herself and saw a rip in the bodice and dirt all over herself. She’d lost the heel on one shoe and her face was starting to burn where her face had been skinned. She touched her face then helplessly tugged at the tear, trying to pull the torn sides together.
“It will be okay,” Letty said softly.
Mary swayed on her feet then looked up. She didn’t know the woman, but she saw kindness on her face, and it was enough to break the wall of her defenses.
“No, it will never be okay,” Mary said. “I am with child and this morning, they hanged the man who got me this way.”
Letty sighed. She’d heard plenty of similar stories from girls who’d worked in her position, but never from a girl of a proper family.
“Do your parents know?”
“No.”
“You need to tell them. They’ll know soon enough, as it is.”
The girl swayed where she stood then looked away.
“No. I’d rather die than see the disappointment on their faces.
Suddenly, for Letty, the near-fatal accident took on a whole other connotation.
“Look at me,” Letty said.
“I can’t,” Mary said. “I’m ashamed.
Letty took her by the arms and shook her.
“So ashamed that you’d kill yourself instead of face the truth?”
Mary covered her face with her hands.
Before Letty could speak, someone put a hand on her shoulder and turned her completely around. She found herself staring at the middle of a big man’s chest. At that point, she looked up then took a studied step back.
“Are you makin’ Miss Mary cry?”
Letty wasn’t in the habit of being intimidated by any man, no matter the size.
“No. She’s doing a fine job of it all on her own,” Letty snapped. “And who are you?”
“Dooley Pilchard. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dooley said, and then frowned at himself. He wasn’t sure that was true, but the manners that had been drilled into him as a boy had popped out without thought.
Dooley didn’t know that his heart was in his eyes as he looked at Mary Farmer, but Letty recognized the look. She’d seen it on a miner’s face as he’d promised to love and honor Letty’s friend Truly Fine until death did them part. Letty stared long and hard at the man, then back at the girl.
“Does he know?” Letty asked.
Mary gasped and looked up.
“Know what?” Dooley asked.
“Don’t!” Mary cried, and then covered her face again.
Dooley pulled himself up to his full height of six feet, seven inches, and gently moved Mary’s hands away from her face.
“Miss Mary, we need to get you home and those scratches tended to on your face.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
He frowned. “What you mean, you can’t? Are you hurtin’ in your limbs? I can carry you easy. Just let me—”
“Tell him!” Letty said.
Mary turned on Letty.
“Shut up! Shut up! I shouldn’t have told you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Told her what?” Dooley asked.
“She’s with child.”
Mary groaned and started to wilt.
Dooley grabbed her before she could fall and then scooped her up in his arms.
“I reckon I’ll carry you the rest of the way,” he said softly.
“I don’t want to go home. I want to die.”
Dooley felt like dying himself, but he didn’t have time to let the feeling fester.
“Yeah, I already figured that out,” Dooley said. “Might near took me with you.”
Letty’s eyes widened. “Are you the man who saved her?”
“I reckon I am,” Dooley said.
Suddenly, it was as if good Lord himself leaned down from heaven and whispered the answer in her ear.
“I know how to fix this,” she said shortly.
Dooley pulled Mary away from Letty as if she’d just tried to attack her.
“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ to this girl or her baby. You hear me?”
Letty hid a smile. It might just work after all.
“I wasn’t going to suggest anything of the kind,” Letty said, then looked at Mary. “You got a baby that’s gonna be missing a daddy and you got yourself a man, here, who treasures the ground you walk on.”
Dooley’s face turned a dark, angry red as Mary gasped. She looked up at Dooley, and for the second time today, found herself unable to look away from those big blue eyes.
“I didn’t know,” Mary said.
Dooley frowned. “Didn’t matter then. Still don’t matter. I ain’t anyone you’d ever care for and I know that.”
“She needs a husband,” Letty said.
Mary’s eyes widened further as she began to understand where the woman’s conversation was leading.
“Put me down,” she begged of Dooley.
“Don’t reckon I will,” he said. “Least not until I’m sure you’re under the watchful eye of your folks.”
“I said… she needs a husband,” Letty muttered, unwilling to turn loose of her idea. “You got a problem raising another man’s child?”
Dooley looked down at Mary and slowly shook his head.
“I reckon it would be real easy to love any part of Mary Farmer, be it her or her child.”
Mary started to cry.
Dooley glared at Letty. “Now see what you went and done. I told you not to make Mary cry.”
Letty hadn’t survived all these years without persistence, and she wasn’t about to give up on what she considered was her first mission of goodwill.
“She’s not crying because she’s mad. Ask her and see what happens.”
“Ask her what?” Dooley said.
Letty rolled her eyes. “Save me from the stupidity of men. I reckon the Good Lord took more than a rib from man to make his mate. I’m thinking He took the smart half of their brain as well.”
“Are you insultin’ me?” Dooley muttered.
“I rest my case,” Letty muttered, and rolled her eyes. “Mr. Pilchard, ask her to marry you and see what happens.”
Dooley looked down at Mary, who had again, covered her face with her hands.
“There ain’t no way a girl this pretty would ever want anything to do with me. Besides, she gave her heart to another.”
> “He’s dead,” Letty countered. “You’re not. I said ask.”
Dooley felt himself coming undone. This morning he’d gotten out of bed with nothing more serious than a good bait of ham and biscuits for breakfast. Now this. He didn’t know what to think. But he did know that he didn’t want to let Mary Farmer out of his sight for fear she’d try to do herself in again.
He cleared his throat.
Mary looked up. He was as dusty as she was and skinned up even more. That was when she realized she hadn’t even thanked the man for what he’d done. Without knowing her intent, he’d put himself in harm’s way to save her. She at least owed him a thank you.
“Dooley.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You put yourself in harm’s way for me. I thank you for that.”
He felt himself blushing.
Letty rolled her eyes and started muttering beneath her breath, which made Dooley nervous all over again.
“You’re welcome, Miss Mary.”
Letty made a sound between gritted teeth that sounded somewhat like a growl.
Being sandwiched between these two women was more female companionship than Dooley had encountered in some years. He didn’t know whether to run, or state his case. Then Mary Farmer touched his arm.
“Dooley, please don’t. My shame is not your concern.”
He frowned. “Well now… it could be, if you was to let me take up your care.”
“I’m sorry?” Letty asked.
The embittered whore in Letty shoved it’s way past Sister Leticia’s act as Letty punched Dooley’s shoulder.
“For God’s sake, mister, say it or get the hell out of my sight.”
Dooley was too startled by the rough words coming out of Letty’s mouth to argue. Instead, he took Mary by the hand and tried not to think about how tiny it felt against his palm.
“Miss Mary… I’m not presuming to think that you care anything for me, and that’s all right. I reckon if you was to do me the honor of being my wife, I could care enough for the both of us.”
Mary’s breath caught in her throat. She kept looking at this mountain of a man and remembering the strength in his arms and that he’d chanced his life to save hers.
