Going Where the Wind Blows (3 page)

The sheriff changed the position of his aim so his pistol pointed directly at Rita Mae. “No one move, or she gets it,” he said. He stood up, the chair crashing behind him. He began to back away, but Rita Mae jumped forward.

“No! You killed my Bill!”

“He was nothing but a low-down thief, and so are you. Not to mention a whore.”

Gunfire erupted. Rita Mae heard at least three shots, maybe four. She realized she was falling, but didn’t really feel the floor when she landed. Her side hurt. She put her hand over it and felt something sticky, like molasses.

She looked up and saw several faces looking down at her. Jake looked sad. Jimmy, Shane, Homer, and the deputy, shocked. The other whores, scared. Where was the sheriff? She turned her head to the side and saw him lying in a pool of blood, his eyes staring sightlessly up at the tin ceiling.

Blood. Blood was what she’d felt on her dress, and she knew she was dying. She’d always hated her mother and her fake piousness. But now she realized it had given her mother inner strength. Rita Mae had always just gone where the wind blew. She panicked. She didn’t want to die…

Her mother’s voice sounded for the last time in her roaring ears.

The wages of sin is death.

Rita Mae let go, and Bill’s voice drowned out the other.

Blow with the wind, darlin’. Just blow with the wind.

THE END