The Amen Trail

by Sharon Sala

  “Mr. Morris, I am finished with my bathing. I left enough water in the bucket for you, and the soap is on the table. I trust it will be enough.”

  Morris was so pleased by the normalcy of their conversation that he actually bowed when he stood.

  “I thank you again for sharing your soap. I won’t be long. Then maybe after we’ve bathed, we can go to the mess hall and eat with the soldiers. The doctor said that the stage passengers are always invited.”

  “Good,” Letty said. “I’m hungry.”

  Morris slipped past her, and in his haste to get inside, he stubbed his toe on the threshold and started to fall. On instinct, Letty grabbed him by the back of the coat near the collar and yanked. Morris flew backward, landing on his backside unusually hard, which jolted loose a rather large fart. He groaned.

  “Sister Leticia, I am so—”

  Letty interrupted. “Didn’t mean to grab you so hard, but I was afraid you’d fall and hurt your nose again.”

  Morris was so happy she wasn’t going for her gun that he rolled to his feet. If she was willing to pretend the fart had never happened, Lord only knew he was willing to do the same.

  “Yes. Thank you,” he said, then straightened his coat, raised his chin, and walked into the barracks and closed the door.

  Letty looked at Eulis, then grinned.

  “I got them all buffaloed, don’t I?”

  Eulis frowned. “You don’t need to be so proud about it.”

  Letty shrugged. “If I’d known being proper had this much power, I might have tried it years ago.”

  She sat down beside Eulis and then lowered her voice.

  “Talk to me.”

  Eulis pretended ignorance. “Morris says that a preacher is needed in Dripping Springs.”

  “That’s good,” Letty said. “But that’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

  Eulis glanced around then hunched his shoulders.

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  Letty punched his arm.

  “Ow. What’s the matter with you? I fell outa a moving coach, remember?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Eulis sighed. In all the years he’d known Letty Murphy, he had yet to win an argument from her. But this wasn’t just about an argument. It was about his life.

  “Dang it, Letty, why can’t you let sleepin’ dogs lie?”

  “Who is the sleeping dog? Is it that Major? What’s his name… Banfield?”

  “Canfield,” Eulis said, and then realized that he’d fallen into her trap.

  “You know him, don’t you?” Letty asked.

  “Sssh,” Eulis hissed.

  “Then talk,” Letty whispered.

  “We gotta get out of here,” Eulis said.

  Letty’s heart started to pound. She’d never seen Eulis this upset—not even when Will The Bartender back at the White Dove Saloon had cut him off the whiskey.

  “Tell me why,” she asked.

  “If he recognizes me, I’ll hang.”

  It was the last thing Letty expected Eulis to say.

  “Why? What on earth can he—”

  “I used to ride with Canfield, only he wasn’t a major then. He was a lowly soldier, just like me.”

  “You were a soldier?” Letty asked.

  Eulis slapped a hand over Letty’s mouth.

  “For God’s sake, Letty, not so loud.”

  She leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching and whispered.

  “Sorry. So why would he want to hang you?”

  Eulis swiped a shaky hand across his face.

  “Cause I’m a deserter. I rode off my post and I didn’t look back.”

  Letty straightened, and then stared at Eulis as if she’d never seen him before. She couldn’t believe that the no-count drunk who’d barely sobered up enough to sweep floors for drinks had any kind of a past like this.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish,” Eulis said.

  “Lord have mercy,” Letty muttered.

  “I hope He has more than that for me,” Eulis said. “If not, I’m a goner.”

  Letty frowned, then got up and started to pace. “Shut up, Eulis. That’s loser talk.”

  Eulis snorted, then groaned when the act caused him pain.

  “That’s because I am a loser,” he mumbled.

  Letty grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and pushed him against the wall.

  “You are not a loser! You are a preacher. You have married people, and buried people, and baptized a kid with no name. You said words over a killer in Dodge City before they hanged him for murder. Loser’s don’t do good. They do nothing at all.”

  “Fine then,” Eulis argued. “I’m not a loser, just a liar.”

  Letty drew back her hand and slapped him square on the face.

  He grabbed his face and then groaned.

  “Damn it, Letty, you don’t have call to do that. I’m already hurt.”

  “Do you want to be dead?”

  Eulis gawked. “Well, hell no.”

  “Then shut up whining and help me figure out what we’re gonna do.”

  Eulis drew back, looking at Letty with new respect.

  “You aren’t pissed off?”

  She sat down with a thump and put her hand on Eulis’s knee.

  “Isn’t there some story in that Bible of yours that says something about having to be all pure and everything before throwing rocks?”

  “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

  Letty’s eyes widened. She eyed Eulis with new respect.

  “That’s good, Eulis! Real good.”

  Eulis grinned. “I been practicin’ up on my scriptures.”

  “Then there might be hope for us yet,” she said.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “Go to supper.”

  “But what about—”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Eulis… how long ago was it when you were a soldier?”

  “I don’t know… maybe seventeen… eighteen years ago.”

  “And what did you look like?”

  He almost laughed. “I was the skinniest fella you ever saw. And I had hair… lots of—” All of a sudden, he started to grin. “I get it. So maybe it’s a good thing I tried to drown myself in drink.”

  “It sure did a job on your face,” Letty said, then rubbed a hand through his short, shaggy gray hair. “And you’re hair’s a different color and some thinner. Somewhere down the road you solved the problem of losing your pants with that pot belly you’ve got now. Add to that the fact that your face is all red and skinned up and your eye is swelled shut. Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you and we both know it.”

  “You’re right,” Eulis muttered, then slapped his hands on his knees. “And you’re right about something else.”

  “What’s that?” Letty asked.

  “I’m hungry… real hungry.”

  She grinned. “Then as soon as old Morris gets himself cleaned up, I’ll get dressed, and we’ll all go have us some supper.”

  “Then find out how to get to Dripping Springs.”

  “Right,” Letty said. “Dripping Springs, here we come.”

  If Eulis hadn’t been so stiff and sore, he would have done a little jig. As it was, he settled for rubbing his hands together in a gleeful manner.

  “But first we eat.”

  LEAD A HORSE TO WATER BUT CAN’T MAKE IT DRINK

  It wasn’t until their third day at Ft. Mays that Letty and Eulis were able to leave, and when the time came, they readily packed their things, mounted up, and rode out of the fort. Eulis was happy to put the fort, his past, and Major Canfield behind him, even though their mounts left something to be desired.

  It was a hot, windy day as they paused on a hill overlooking the fort and looked back. The stagecoach on which Morris Field had been waiting was just pulling out of the fort. Boston Jones, the gambler with whom they’d been traveling ha
d bought a horse and moved on after their first night at the fort. Letty had heard rumors that Boston had gotten into a card game with some of the soldiers and won big. There were also rumors that the game hadn’t been fair, which figured since he carried a marked deck. She figured it had been in Boston’s best interests to get out while the getting was good. Personally, she was glad to be rid of the lot.

  Her horse nickered. Eulis’s mount answered back with a bray, which was a large part of their problem. They hadn’t had the money to buy good mounts and had to settle for a horse and a mule. The horse was old and mostly blind. The mule was big and broad and stayed in a pissed off mood, but the pair were oddly compatible, somewhat like Eulis and Letty.

  The hostler who’d sold them the mounts had given them only one instruction. Aim the mule where you wanted to go and the horse would follow. Therefore, Eulis was on the mule. Letty was on the horse. It wasn’t the most ideal of arrangements, but Letty and the mule had struck sparks off one another from the start. The mule didn’t like her any more than she liked it, which left Eulis no choice as to what he would ride. If they wanted to get to Dripping Springs, he would be riding point, with Letty following along behind—in the dust—on a blind horse being led by the smell of a mule’s ass.

  To Eulis, their situation was somewhat comical and he would have enjoyed a good laugh, but judging from the expression on Letty’s face, it would not have been a good move. This momentary setback might be uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t kill either one of them. The town of Dripping Springs was supposedly only a day and night’s ride away. Without misfortune, they should arrive at their destination before noon tomorrow. Surely they could endure their discomforts for one night.

  “Well, let’s get moving,” Eulis said, and turned the mule away from the fort toward Dripping Springs.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Letty asked.

  Eulis frowned. “You heard the directions the same as I did. If you have a different opinion as to where I should aim, then let me know now.”

  “I suppose we’re going in the right direction,” Letty said.

  “All right then,” Eulis muttered. “Giddyup mule,” he said, and kicked the mule lightly in the flanks.

  It responded with a buck and a kick and something that sounded suspiciously like a fart.

  Letty rolled her eyes. Someday she was going to live in a fine house and surround herself with people who talked pretty and smelled the same way. However, it did occur to her that if it got dark, and she could no longer see where they were going, all she had to do was follow the smell, which her old mare was already doing.

  A faraway mountain range broke the contour of the horizon, strung out along the edge of the world like a length of discarded blue ribbon. Something about the scene accentuated the emptiness with which Letty lived. She took a deep breath around what felt like a sob, then focused on the man and the mule in front of her. She couldn’t afford sentimentality. That was for women who still had hopes and dreams.

  And so they rode—across the unending prairie, toward the ribbon of blue mountains—bringing them ever closer to Dripping Springs. Beyond that, only the Good Lord knew what might happen, and Letty was hoping and praying that He understood they meant no disrespect for their pretense.

  ***

  They made camp in a grove of cottonwoods on the banks of what Eulis called a fair-to-middlin’ size creek, which he explained was one too wide to jump over, but not deep enough to drown in.

  Letty didn’t care where they stopped, only that they had. She’d ridden cowboys for the better part of her life, and had never been as sore as she was now after only one day on the back of that mare. And as if that wasn’t misery enough, she’d hoped to bathe in the creek. That dream had been dashed by the stupid mule that, not only waded into the creek to drink, but had then proceeded to get down and roll until it was wet all over, turning the water to the consistency of thick soup.

  Her mare had smelled the water and stumbled down the creek bank and into the water with such thirsty desperation that Letty couldn’t bring herself to care that her plans for a bath had been thwarted. She unpacked their meager store of supplies, walked up the creek a short distance to try and find some water that hadn’t been muddied, filled their canteens as well as a small bucket, and started back to camp.

  Even though she couldn’t see him, she could hear Eulis talking to himself as he gathered up dead fall for firewood. It sounded to her as if he was practicing a sermon. She had to give him credit for perseverance. Never in a million years would she have believed that her moment of desperation when the real Randall Ward Howe had up and died on her that their lives would have taken such a drastic turn. Sobering up the town drunk and passing him off as the preacher from back East had been the gutsiest and the craziest thing she’d ever done. That it had worked still amazed her. And here they were, following Randall Howe’s itinerary down the Amen Trail, preaching and marrying and burying wherever the need arose. She didn’t know what awaited them in Dripping Springs, but after what they’d endured, it was bound to be a snap.

  Still following the meandering creek back to their campsite, Letty paused to resettle the canteen straps on her shoulder and get a better grip on the bucket. As she did, something rustled in the bushes behind her. She turned abruptly, and as she did, accidentally spilled the water in the bucket she was carrying. Disgusted that she was going to have to make another trip back for water, she stared into the darkness, trying to see what was there. Nothing moved. She stared for a moment more, then bent down, picked up her bucket and started backing up.

  The sound came again, only off to her right.

  Her heart started to thump erratically. Whatever or whoever it was, there had to be more than one.

  Letty never had felt comfortable being outnumbered and decided it was time to call for help. She raised her voice. Not loud, but enough that she hoped to be heard a short distance.

  “Eulis!”

  He didn’t answer her, although she could still hear him preaching somewhere off in the distance.

  She took another step back. The sound followed her—now from behind. She spun, the bail of the empty bucket held tight in her hand and ready to swing.

  “Eeuulliiss!”

  She was moving away now at a swifter pace, and because she wasn’t looking where she was going, she fell. Head over heels—bucket up—canteens down—and into a tangle of scrub brush and vines. The vines came loose as she fell and once loose, automatically curled around the first thing in which they came in contact, which happened to be Letty’s arms and neck.

  Certain that she’d been captured by heathens and wasn’t long for this world, she began to scream in earnest.

  “HELP! HELP! EEEEUUULLLIIISSS!!! THEY’VE GOT ME!!”

  Something rustled near her left ear—scratching closer and closer in the dead leaves and dirt as she struggled helplessly to get up. Now it was around her ankle, then her wrist. She whimpered.

  “Don’t hurt me,” she begged, then took a deep breath and started to gag.

  ***

  Eulis was right in the middle of his third recitation of the Ten Commandments and was down to Thou shall not kill when he thought he heard Letty call. He paused, tilting his head to one side as he listened. He heard crickets, some birds, and a coyote somewhere off in the distance on an early evening hunt, but no Letty. Shrugging off the notion, he bent down to pick up another stick of firewood and resumed his recitation.

  “Thou shall not commit—”

  “HELP! HELP! EEEEUUULLLIIISSS! THEY GOT ME!”

  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Letty! Something was happening to Letty! He dropped the armload of firewood and started to run, calling out her name as he went.

  ***

  Letty heard Eulis calling, but was too busy dying to answer. Every breath she took was followed by a retch that turned her guts inside out. She tried once more to call Eulis’s name but couldn’t stop puking long enough to say the word. She was cau
ght in a snare of vines, lying in her own puke, and except for one other time, as scared as she’d ever been.

  For a couple of seconds she was twelve years old all over again—listening to her father’s dying screams and smelling the fire as their home burned to the ground with her father in it, praying that the badger hole she was hiding in would be deep enough to keep the Indians from finding her.

  Her muse quickly ended as someone began pulling at her, freeing her arms and her neck then dragging her out of her own mess. She wanted to see—needed to know who it was that had come for her—but she was still gagging to hard to ask.

  All of a sudden she was in the water and being dragged farther and farther from the bank. She gasped as the water washed over her face and up her nose. Dear Lord. Just when she thought she’d been saved, they were trying to drown her instead. With one last surge, she came up from the water, wind-milling her arms as she tried to break free.

  Eulis ducked to miss her fist then let her go. Satisfied that she was coming to herself, he ran out of the creek and up onto the bank, putting as much distance between them as he could. There were some things that were stronger than friendship, and being skunked and all that came with it topped the list.

  “Letty! Letty! Take yourself a breath now… but just a little one. Easy now, girl. You can do it. Splash some of that water on your face and then breathe.”

  Letty shuddered then splashed, following the advice. It was Eulis. He’d saved her after all. She tried to get up, then tried to look up, but was beginning to realize her troubles were far from over. She couldn’t see, and it was all she could do to keep breathing. Her throat was tight and swollen from the inside, and her eyes burned something fierce. Still, she did as he said, splashing water and then inhaling, splashing again on an exhale until slowly, slowly, the gagging reflex began to slow down.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she mumbled, and then rolled from a sitting position in the water to her hands and knees. Her dress was plastered to her limbs and she could feel the long wet locks of her hair swinging back and forth against her face and neck as she rocked.