The Whippoorwill Trilogy

by Sharon Sala

  Letty touched the baby’s forehead. It was cool—almost clammy. When she picked the child up, she could barely feel the weight in her arms.

  “Is it a boy?”

  “Girl,” the woman said. “George… he’s my man… wanted a boy.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” she asked.

  “She can’t feed,” the woman said. “George says girls are a lot of trouble.”

  Letty laid the baby back down and then put her hand on her hips.

  “So are you saying he’s mad at you because the baby was a girl instead of a boy?”

  “George says—”

  Letty snorted.

  “I could care less what George says,” she muttered, then fixed the woman with a calculated stare. “What’s your name?”

  The woman snuffled around a sob.

  “Alice. My name is Alice.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Boston.”

  “Do you have family back there?”

  Alice’s features crumpled.

  “No.”

  “Friends?”

  “I reckon,” Alice said.

  “Why don’t you go home?”

  Alice lifted a hand to her mouth, as if Letty had suggested something foul.

  “And leave my husband?”

  Letty rolled her eyes again.

  “Unless you’re interested in being buried out here beside that baby… yes.”

  Alice picked up the baby, clutching it to her chest.

  “George says it’s my fault the baby is sick, but I couldn’t help it. My milk dried up. I’ve been trying to get her to drink this goat’s milk, but she keeps spitting it up.”

  “God in heaven, woman… the milk is sour. Can’t you smell it?”

  Alice swayed on her feet, and then finally shook her head.

  “Everything stinks in here. I didn’t know it was the milk.”

  Letty sighed.

  “Wrap the baby in her blanket and get yourself together. We’re going to find the doctor.”

  Alice blinked slowly.

  “There’s a doctor in this town?”

  “Yes. His name is Angus Warren.”

  “I asked George if there was a doctor here. He told me no.”

  “That’s what you get for trusting a man who beats the hell out of you on a regular basis,” Letty said.

  Alice reeled from the truth in Letty’s words.

  “You don’t understand,” Alice whined. “George—”

  “If I had ever been stupid enough to marry a man like your George, he would not have lived past the first day he laid a hand on me.”

  “You would kill your own husband?” Alice asked.

  “Hell, yes,” Letty said.

  The woman’s face was so swollen and distorted that she could hardly blink, and yet she managed to show her disdain for Letty’s words.

  “How could you?” she asked.

  Letty stood up.

  “It’s called self-defense.” Then she grabbed the woman and turned her toward the door and the mirror hanging on the wall. “Have you looked at yourself lately?”

  Alice slumped as she laid the baby back on the bed.

  “I should have been able to give George a son and it’s my fault that my milk is gone. As a woman, I’m a failure.”

  “If you’re all set on being some kind of a martyr, then have at it, lady. But just because you’re stupid, doesn’t mean you have the right to let your baby die.”

  Alice pressed a hand against her mouth.

  “I don’t want my baby to die.”

  Letty stomped to the door and yanked it open.

  “Then get off your ass, pick up the kid, and come with me.”

  Alice hesitated.

  “It’s now or never,” Letty said.

  Alice grabbed the baby, wrapped her up in a blanket, and stumbled out the door behind Letty.

  “George will kill me if he sees us,” Alice muttered.

  “No, he won’t, because I won’t let him,” Letty said.

  Alice shuffled behind Letty as they moved toward the back stairs. The baby whimpered once. Letty prayed it wasn’t the baby’s dying breath.

  By the time they got out on the streets, Alice was staggering.

  “Give me the baby before you drop her,” Letty said, and then took the child before Alice could argue. “Lean on me,” she added, when Alice staggered again. So she did.

  Men saw them coming down the sidewalk and stepped aside, unable to hide their shock. A woman and two little boys were coming out of the general store. When she saw Alice’s face, she let out a weak cry of disbelief, and then turned her children’s faces to her waist, unwilling for them to see such a sight. Another man, Henry Smith, who knew Letty by sight as the woman who’d struck it big, got off his horse and stepped up on the sidewalk as they passed by.

  “Miz Potter?” he said.

  “Mornin’ Henry.”

  “Jesus, ma’am. What’s happened here?”

  “Henry, if you’re not too busy, would you do me a favor?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Anything.”

  “Eulis is up at the mine. I’m thinking there’s a good possibility that I might be needing him soon.”

  “You want me to go get him?” Henry asked.

  “Yes, please,” Letty said, and then kept on walking.

  Henry Smith mounted his horse and headed out of town at a lope.

  Alice was leaning against Letty harder now. Letty could hear her labored breathing and figured at the least, she had some broken ribs—maybe internal injuries as well. She didn’t give much hope for either one of them seeing next month, but she couldn’t live with herself without giving this a try.

  “Just hang on a little bit longer,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

  Thief

  George Mellin had been hiding in the underbrush on the north side of Cherry Creek for the better part of two hours, watching Robert and Mary Whiteside working their claim. His latest had played out weeks ago, and his grubstake with it.

  He’d heard all about the big Potter strike and knew that they were hiring, but he didn’t want to work someone else’s claim. Selfishly, he had no thought for his wife, or the baby’s wants and needs. He had gold fever and he had it bad—bad enough to do something desperate—even illegal.

  Yesterday, he’d followed the Whitesides into the general store, subversively eyeing the nuggets Robert shook out onto the pay scale for the goods that they’d purchased. When he saw Mary pick out a pair of new boots and pay for them with no thought for the cost, he’d been struck with envy.

  He had already hit up every one he knew for another grubstake, but with no success. His gut was burning. His head was throbbing with every beat of his heart. He needed a way out of the situation he was in, and had decided to just take what he needed.

  These days, his wife, Alice, did nothing but whine, and that brat she’d whelped was no good to him. What was a man to do with another female to feed? A man needed sons. He was nothing without sons to continue his lineage.

  He sat, watching the Whitesides work, while greed and envy ended the last of his good sense. Several times during the past hours he’d seen one or both of them stop and exclaim at a nugget they’d pull out of the pan. The more he watched, the angrier he became. It wasn’t fair. He deserved a strike as much as the next man, but he kept coming up empty. He was beginning to believe he was cursed by the burden of his family. Oblivious to the fact that his life in all its ugliness was about to be revealed, he moved from a sitting to a squatting position. As soon as the couple moved back to their camp, he would slip away and come back after dark. A few minutes later he made his escape and headed back into town.

  Letty felt the baby wheezing. She was scared to death it would die in her arms before she ever got to the doctor’s house. Alice was glassy-eyed and stumbling, which was no surprise. She’d been beaten so badly over such a long period of time that she had moved to a place inside her head where the p
ain couldn’t go.

  The doctor’s house was up at the end of the street. When Letty saw his horse and buggy tied up at the side of the house, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least Dr. Warren was home. When she’d stomped out of her hotel room to berate her next door neighbor for making such a racket, she had never dreamed she would wind up involved in such a rescue.

  To make things worse, there was always the danger that Alice’s husband would show up and try to reclaim his family. Letty hadn’t ever shot anyone before, but she was pretty sure she’d have no trouble pulling the trigger on Alice’s George.

  “Okay, okay,” Letty murmured. “We’re almost there.”

  Alice moaned.

  The baby made a mousey little squeak.

  Letty wanted to cry. Instead, as soon as they were inside the doctor’s front yard, she began to yell.

  “Doc! Hey, Doc! Help us! We need help!”

  The front door opened almost instantly. Letty recognized the doctor’s wife, Mildred. In seconds, Mildred’s expression went from questioning to shocked.

  “Oh dear Lord,” she muttered, and yelled over her shoulder. “Angus! Angus! Come quick!”

  She ran out the door and down the steps, catching Alice just before she pitched forward.

  The doctor was only seconds behind, and quickly lifted Alice up into his arms and carried her into the house.

  “What’s happened here?” he asked, as Letty followed behind, still carrying the baby. “Was there an accident?”

  He laid Alice down on the examining table and motioned to his wife.

  “Unbutton her dress. We need to see the extent of her injuries.”

  “The baby… what about the baby?” Letty asked.

  Dr. Warren turned, took one look at the child and paled.

  “Give it to me,” he said softly, again directing orders at his wife, Mildred. “Make a pad out of that blanket and lay it on the table, quickly.”

  His wife folded the blanket to fit the table, then laid a small piece of linen over it. Angus laid the baby down and then removed the blanket in which she’d been wrapped.

  Her skin was so fragile, Letty could see the tiny blue veins beneath, and her limbs were hardly more than matchsticks. The baby was so lethargic it could do little more than squeak.

  “Dear God,” Mildred said, as she looked from mother to baby and back again. “What’s happened here?”

  Letty sighed.

  “I’m not sure. I just got myself involved by accident. This lady and her family are staying in the hotel room next to me and my husband. We’ve been there nine days now, and I can count on my hands the number of hours of silence. Most of the time one or both of them have been wailing. Today I knocked on the door.” Letty’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry I waited so long.”

  “Mildred! Warm up some milk. Fill one of the nursing bottles and bring it here as quickly as you can.”

  Mildred flew out of the room to do his bidding, leaving Letty alone with Alice.

  Angus Warren pointed to Alice’s dress.

  “Would you please unfasten her dress for me.”

  Letty nodded.

  There were a few moments of silence as Letty undid buttons. Dr. Warren stood beside her, his expression unreadable.

  “She’s been beaten, hasn’t she?” he asked.

  Letty nodded.

  “Her husband?”

  “Said his name was George,” Letty added.

  “Damned gold fever makes fools out of all manner of men.”

  “Wasn’t a fool who beat Alice half to death. It was a devil.”

  Dr. Angus sighed.

  “They happen, too, sometimes.”

  Letty bit her tongue to keep from saying anything more.

  “Look here,” Dr. Angus said, as he moved the fabric aside on Alice’s dress. “Broken ribs. One is close to protruding through the flesh. I’ll have to set these before they puncture a lung.”

  “Is she going to make it?” Letty asked.

  “Maybe,” Dr. Angus said.

  Letty glanced over to the tiny baby lying so still on the adjoining table.

  “What about her?” Letty asked.

  Dr. Angus just frowned and shook his head.

  “Jesus,” Letty muttered.

  At that point, Mildred came back into the room carrying the milk. She lifted the baby into her arms and sat down in a nearby rocking chair.

  Just as she was about to put the nipple to the baby’s mouth, she froze. Letty heard her breath catch, and her voice began to shake.

  “She’s gone, Angus.”

  The doctor spun around.

  “Let me see,” he said, and laid a finger against the baby’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

  “Damn it,” he said softly. “Damn it to hell.”

  “Cursing won’t help either one of them,” Mildred scolded.

  “I wasn’t cursing for them. I was cursing for me,” he mumbled.

  Letty felt as if she was smothering. Only minutes ago she’d held that tiny life and now it was gone. The pain in her chest was spreading up her throat. Her vision blurred.

  “She’s dead?” Letty asked.

  Mildred nodded, then set the bottle aside and clasped the tiny baby to her ample breasts and began to rock.

  “Mildred, don’t,” Angus said. “I need you to help me. Maybe we can save the mother.”

  Mildred’s chin was quivering as she got up from the chair. She carried the baby back to the table and then laid it down.

  Letty felt as if she was caught in a nightmare, unable to wake up. On one table, the tiny body of one victim had already escaped the hell into which she’d been born, while the mother wasn’t far behind.

  “I’ve got to go,” Letty muttered, and stumbled out the door.

  She paused on the porch and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help.

  Desperate to get away from the pain, she strode off the porch and headed back up the street. Her hands were doubled up into fists, and her head was down as if she would head-butt anyone who got in her way. When she stomped off the sidewalk and into the street, she was outrunning the dust stirred up by her feet. She didn’t know she was crying—huge, hiccupping sobs that shook her to the bone, or that people were whispering and staring as she moved through town. Everyone knew Letty Potter as a tough, no-nonsense woman. They couldn’t imagine what had happened to cause this kind of reaction.

  Letty didn’t know she was gathering so much attention. All she wanted to do was get to her room. She was almost running when she entered the hotel, and was heading for the stairs when she heard what sounded like a roar of rage from the second floor. The sound startled her enough that she hesitated. As she did, a man came storming down the hallway above and took the stairs down to the lobby, two at a time, then headed for the clerk behind the desk.

  “Where is she? Where’s my wife?” he yelled, and grabbed the young clerk around the neck.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just got back from eating my noon meal.”

  Letty froze. She’d never met this man, but she had a sinking feeling that she knew who he was. And, there was only one way to find out.

  “Hey,” she said.

  The man turned the clerk loose so quickly that he staggered backward and fell.

  “You talkin’ to me?” the man growled.

  Letty stared at the man—all six plus feet of him—and could only imagine how Alice had felt.

  “By any chance, is your name George?” she asked.

  George Mellin looked taken aback, and then he recognized her as the woman who was in the room next door.

  “You’re that Potter woman, ain’t you?”

  “I asked you first,” Letty said.

  George blinked. He wasn’t in the habit of being back-talked by anyone, especially some female, no matter how rich she was.

  “You don’t talk to me like that,” George said softly.

  Letty glared. “Or what? You gonna beat me, too?”

  The clerk behin
d the counter had scrambled to his feet and made a run for the door. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but it didn’t look like any good was going to come from it. He headed for the sheriff’s office as hard as he could go.

  “You think because you’re rich that you’re better than ever’body, don’t you, bitch?”

  Letty shuddered. She’d been beaten up a few times in her early days as a prostitute, before she’d settled in at the White Dove Saloon. There, she’d at least had three meals a day and a roof over her head, as well as protection from the ones who liked to hurt a woman first before they had their own pleasure.

  George doubled his fists and took a step toward her.

  Letty was so focused on the man in front of her that she never knew the clerk was gone. She waited for George to take that second step, fearing it, and at the same time, wanting some recourse for that dead baby on the table back in the doctor’s office.

  She could hear the rasping sounds of his heavy breathing and smelled the stench of his unwashed body. Her stomach rolled. She felt light-headed, as if she’d had too much to drink as the sounds of men drinking and laughing from the bar in the adjoining room began to fade. From where she was standing, she could see the man who drove freight wagons to and from Denver City finishing off a big steak. The bullwhip he used on his team of mules was hanging on the back of his chair only a few feet from where she was standing.

  Without giving herself time to think, she stepped through the doorway, snatched the bullwhip from the back of the chair, and uncoiled it as she walked. It snapped once, getting the attention of everyone in the bar, including the freight driver, who thought he was being robbed.

  “Hey, mister! That’s—”

  “That ain’t no mister,” someone said. “That there’s Letty Potter.”

  It was the first snap of the whip that got George’s attention. He pointed at Letty as she walked back into the hotel lobby.

  “You put that down before I—”

  Letty swung it over her head once, and then aimed it at George’s face.

  The leather tassels at the end of the whip tore the flesh on his cheek as neatly as if he’d been bitten.

  “Godalmighty!” he yelled, and grabbed the side of his jaw.