“All he did was pull at my hair in the basement today.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Colt got the distinct feeling she was holding something back. “What is it?” he asked.
“The night you had the dream about someone being strangled in my room…”
“Yes?”
“It really happened to me. Someone choked me, exactly like you were choked just now. But I’m sure the one who did this to you is different from the one who choked me. That one was a female. This one’s aura definitely feels masculine.”
Aura? Colt said nothing. What could he say? He didn’t believe in auras or psychics or a bunch of mumbo jumbo about ghosts. Still, he’d had that creepy dream and weird things were happening. They were discussing dead people as if they were talking about Sunday dinner. Were they both nuts? All he’d wanted to do was come inside and steal a kiss or two. The evening hadn’t turned out the way he’d hoped.
“Colt?” She searched his face.
“I’m fine.” He noticed her gaze took on a faraway look. “What about you?”
“This is my home now. Last year I ran away when Dad died because the pain was too great. I felt so alone. I’ve had some setbacks in the last few years, and I’ve let fear rule my life. I have to be in control here. This is my home, not theirs.”
Turning in a full circle, she became animated and shouted into the air. “Do you hear that, whoever you are? You don’t belong here anymore. You’re not going to frighten me, and you’re not about to run me out! So leave or get used to it, because I’m your new roommate!”
Colt spun Shay toward him and grinned. He didn’t know much about her, but he liked what he saw so far. He liked her spunk, and she was so very easy on the eyes. When he dipped his fingers under her hair and let his hand linger on the back of her neck, he felt her quiver beneath his touch.
“Shay Brennan. Ghost buster,” he drawled.
Her soft chuckle stoked the fire that had already ignited in his belly. With both hands planted on the sides of her face, he drew her close and kissed her. A spark kindled the moment their lips pressed together. Colt enveloped her into his embrace, wanting to crush her with his heat. As his mouth eagerly played with hers and their tongues darted and flicked, his groin hardened again and throbbed inside his jeans. When their lips finally parted, he rasped, “Maybe you should come home with me tonight.”
Ten
Shay unraveled herself from his arms. “I don’t sleep with men on the first date.”
“It’s our second, remember?”
Tempted to crack a smile, she refrained. She found his wit humorous but was still insulted that he’d imagine her to be that easy. Backing up, she folded her arms over her chest to send him a message.
With a hangdog expression covering his smooth face, he moved forward and caressed her hair with the palm of his hand. “I’m coming on too strong, huh?”
“You think?” Her eyebrow lifted and she backed up again.
He flashed a toothy grin. “I’m sorry, Shay. What I meant was maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight, with what just happened.”
“I think you meant exactly what you said.”
Smiling, he admitted, “I got carried away. It’s been quite awhile since I—”
“Please. Spare me the details.” She threw her hand into the air, uninterested in hearing about his love life. “I really enjoyed our time together tonight, but we barely know each other. I like you, but this is moving too fast for me. Besides, as you can see, I’m living in a saloon full of ghosts. That’s taking precedence right now.”
His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. “I know. I’m not looking to be involved in a permanent relationship, but I’m not going to say I regret kissing you.”
She was glad to hear that, about the kissing part. She hadn’t regretted it either. But what did he mean by not being interested in a relationship? That he’d only wanted to sleep with her tonight? No strings attached? She wasn’t like that. A one-night stand years ago had been one too many. Two disastrous relationships after that were exactly why she couldn’t let this go farther. Colt was nice, but Gary and Tom had seemed nice, too. Both of them had fooled her into thinking they loved her when all they’d cared about had been her father’s money. She wouldn’t open her heart to that kind of betrayal again.
Colt stepped back. “On second thought, I withdraw the invitation to stay at my place tonight.”
She tilted her head. That had been a quick change of mind. Probably because she hadn’t jumped at the chance to hop into bed with him. Nevertheless, she chuckled and felt her body relax. “Is that so?”
He smiled a lopsided smile. “Yeah. I do have a guest room you could stay in, but the first time you spend the night with me, it’s going to be your idea. And you won’t be sleeping in the extra room. You’ll be in my bed with me all night.”
Shay stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. What a cocky son of a gun he was. The look behind those green eyes was one of confidence and pure determination. He was obviously a guy who knew what he wanted and had the patience to wait for it. He came on strong, but his honesty was refreshing. A burning sensation spread through her torso, and her heart picked up its pace. Without thinking, she lifted the Stetson off his head and plowed her hand through his hair. “You’ve got yourself a deal, cowboy.”
Colt took the hat from her hand and set it back on his head. Then he put his hands on her hips and gave her one more peck on the lips. He turned and strutted to the front door. “I think we’d better call it a night, darlin’ before I do something I will regret. I’m going home to take a cold shower.”
The joke was the perfect ending to the evening. She laughed and gently pushed him out the door; confused, because she was relieved the pressure to make love was off, but also sorry to see him go.
“I did have a good time tonight, Colt. Thank you.”
He tipped his hat. “As did I.”
“Ghosts and all?”
He hesitated before answering, “Ghosts and all. I’ll see you again soon.”
“All right.”
“Promise you’ll call if those . . . well, if you get scared. Anytime, day or night. I’ll come runnin’ if you need me.”
She liked that and had no doubt he meant it. “I promise.”
“Night.”
“Good night.”
After sauntering to his truck, he opened the door and stood on the running board staring back at her. She was thinking about how he’d called her darlin’. No one had ever called her that before. His intense gaze pulled her from her ruminations. “What?”
“You’re awfully pretty standing there in the moonlight.”
A thrill of emotion coursed through her. She smiled and waved goodbye.
After watching his taillights disappear down the street, she locked up and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. Her head was dizzy with conflicting sensations. She’d had a great time tonight and had enjoyed meeting Colt’s family, who seemed absolutely normal and fun. But she knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. She’d learned that the hard way, having been engaged twice, only to learn the truth about the intentions of both men, just in the nick of time.
Something hinted Colt was nothing like either Gary or Tom, but his good looks and pleasant temperament would not be enough to make her want to take another chance on love. Or to crawl into bed with him.
She flipped on the kitchen light. This room was also in need of a modern update, but it was functional and included the basics, which was all she required right now. After filling a glass with tap water, she exited the kitchen and walked past the piano. Stopping, she plunked a few of the keys with her finger. It was obviously out of tune, sounding tinny. She wondered whether the piano had been here as long as the saloon.
“Which one of you spirits was playing this a while ago?” she asked rhetorically.
Her gaze drifted across the room. Both she and Colt had smelled the cigar smoke and heard poker chips clinking together on the tables
. It had been just like last night when she’d heard the shuffling of cards out here. It was obvious the gambling hadn’t stopped in this saloon simply because the players were dead. The game playing by those spirits who minded their own business didn’t bother her. The bad guy was another story. What were his intentions?
Sensing no further danger tonight, and feeling calm, she switched off the saloon lights and carried her glass upstairs to the bedroom. Even though he hadn’t admitted it, she knew Colt had seen the young woman in her window.
Would she still be inside waiting for her?
Eleven
With no more paranormal activity as distraction, Shay had gone to bed early, as she didn’t have a television yet and had been too wound up to read. Along with being haunted by thoughts of ghosts, dreams of Colt and his kiss had kept her tossing throughout the night.
Although not refreshed, she woke the next morning anxious to begin delving into the mystery of the ghostly woman’s identity. She decided to begin her search at the historical society. Having called the Visitors Center as soon as it opened, someone there had told her where the historical society was located, in a circa 1900 schoolhouse at the end of the street.
After coffee and a bagel, she started the short hike. The morning was crisp and sunny, which might have been the reason so many people had bounces in their steps. As strangers smiled and nodded good morning while passing her on the sidewalk, she had no regrets about the decision to settle here.
Of course, it wasn’t just the friendly people that had her smiling. She’d had no idea she’d meet a man like Colt when she made the side trip to this town. Now that she had, she couldn’t help but wonder if their meeting had been happenstance, or if there was more to their connection as he’d suggested. Even though she tried, and knew it would be for the best, she couldn’t get him or his kiss out of her mind.
Realizing she didn’t even know which end of town Colt’s office was located, she began paying attention as she passed by storefronts, hoping it was on this end of the street. Three blocks down she stopped in front of it.
Printed across the door was his name—Morgan Realty. No lights were on inside. His pickup wasn’t parked on the street. She glanced at her watch. Eight-thirty. Maybe he was at the Golden Spike having pancakes. That image made her grin. She considered leaving a note but decided against it. She didn’t want to be pursued. However, if there ever were going to be any pursuing, he’d be the one to do it, not her.
Two more blocks down, the schoolhouse came into view. It was a charming two-story structure with Victorian architecture. Painted white, a bell tower protruded from the roof and a wide bank of stairs led to the front door, with a sign above it reading: Historical Society and Museum.
A curly-headed woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a lavender blouse, a long denim skirt and stodgy looking shoes greeted her once she was inside. The lady looked to be of retirement age and was eager to be of assistance.
“Welcome. My name is Doris Rockwood. Are you here to visit the museum, or can I help you with something else?”
Shaking her extended hand, Shay introduced herself. “Hello. My name’s Shay Brennan. I’m new in town. I just purchased the Buckhorn Saloon and I’ve come to see what kind of information I can find on the history of it.”
“The saloon, you say?” The woman seemed intrigued. “Follow me, dear. I can steer you in the right direction.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. Rockwood.”
“Please, call me Doris.”
Shay had hoped finding some history on the saloon would be a fairly straightforward project, but this might be even easier than she’d expected. Her ribcage inflated with eagerness. But when Doris led her into a large back room, her lungs deflated. Stacks and stacks of books filled floor-to-ceiling shelves. How would she ever find what she was looking for in here?
Doris chuckled, evidently noticing Shay’s dropped jaw. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you track down what you’re looking for. Believe it or not, there’s a method to the madness in here, and I’m one of the few people who knows how to decipher it.” She moved to a wooden cabinet that was sitting under a stained glass window and began pulling out small drawers.
“Is that a card catalog?” Shay asked, stepping to her side.
“It sure is. There aren’t many card catalogs in use anymore these days. Not since computers came on the scene. But this is a small town, and our organization is a non-profit, so we don’t have a lot of money to work with. We’re supposed to be updating to computers within the next year or two, but for now, this is what we have to work with.”
Shaking her head, Shay thought her desire to learn the history of the Buckhorn was a lost cause, but Doris started thumbing through cards and setting them on the table top next to her in quick order. “I was a librarian for forty-three years in Springfield, Illinois before retiring here five years ago. I know what I’m doing.”
“I grew up in Illinois, too,” Shay said. “In a suburb near Chicago.”
Doris stopped and cocked her head. “You don’t say? Isn’t that a coincidence?”
Guess it didn’t matter much to Doris how Shay had come to reside in this town or why she’d wanted to buy the saloon, because she asked no questions and offered no further details on her own life in the Midwest. Her eyeglasses were perched on the tip of her nose, which was buried deep in the drawers of cards.
A half-dozen cards later, Doris slammed the drawers shut, snatched the cards off the table and said, “Come with me.”
Shay was amazed when Doris started pulling material off the shelves and filling her arms. “You can sit at one of these work tables.” She referred to two long wooden tables. “There’s a lot of light in this room, and the chairs are fairly comfortable.”
Books about the history and early residents of the town were unloaded onto the table where Shay had dropped her purse.
“Be right back,” Doris chirped, trotting into an adjoining room. A few minutes later, she returned carrying a large binder in her hands. “This is full of newspapers dating back to the late 1880s. Eighteen eighty-five was the year the Buckhorn was built, if memory serves.”
“That’s correct.” Shay was thrilled with Doris’s efficiency and helpfulness, and her knowledge about her adopted hometown.
Doris dropped the binder onto the table and it landed with a thud. Just like in a movie, dust spiraled into the air, causing Shay to sneeze. Doris laughed. “As you can see, this binder hasn’t seen the light of day in years. This one has newspaper articles from the years 1885 and 1886, so I figured it’s a good place for you to start. Good luck finding what you’re looking for. I’ll be in front if you need me.”
Shay stopped her before she could leave the room. “Thank you so much for locating this material for me. It should keep me busy for a while. I wonder if I can bother you with one more request.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. What is it you need?”
“Would you know if there’s any information on local ghosts?”
Doris didn’t bat an eye. “It’s common knowledge that there are ghosts roaming all over the Black Hills. Which ones are you specifically referring to?”
“Those haunting the Buckhorn Saloon.”
Doris placed a finger on her lips and tapped while she contemplated. “Hmmm. I don’t know anything about spirits in the saloon. Our local authors haven’t written any books about them that I know of. Brenda Preston would probably be the person to talk to. Or Frank Averill. He could probably tell you some stories. His father owned the place, and his father before him, I believe.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. I hope to meet Mr. Averill when he’s feeling better. I understand he’s elderly and ill. I’m curious about Brenda Preston. Who is she?”
“A psychic medium. Quite a good one, from what I hear. I’ll give you one of her business cards. I have a few in my desk.”
Twelve
A psychic? Shay chuckled and took a seat at the table as Doris walked briskly to
the front room. She returned and handed Shay a colorful business card. “Brenda lives right here in town. Her cell phone number is listed there.”
“Thanks. I may give her a call if I don’t come up with anything else. It might be interesting to see what she can tell me.”
Doris left and Shay set the business card aside and started flipping through the pages of the book on the town history. The back cover noted the book had been written and published several years earlier by a local man.
Reading the history of the Lakota Indians and how the town started up and then grew and prospered due to tin mining kept her fascinated for close to forty minutes. After skimming through pages of old photos, she ran across a vintage photograph of the Buckhorn and felt like she’d hit pay dirt. Her heart began thumping as she read the inscription under the photo: The Buckhorn Saloon, 1885. Owner Dean Averill.
A man stood in front of the building wearing a derby hat, but the photo had been taken from a distance and was not of good quality, so she couldn’t see his face. A blurb followed the photograph, which she read to herself.
The Buckhorn Saloon was built and operated by Dean Averill, a former tin miner who was one of the first in the area to strike it rich. The bar served such customers as fur trappers, cowboys, miners, gold prospectors, gamblers and lawmen. The whiskey served in the early days was strong stuff, a combination of raw alcohol, burnt sugar and chewing tobacco. Cactus wine, made from a mix of tequila and peyote tea was popular, as well as something called a Mule Skinner, which was made with whiskey and blackberry liquor. Rye and bourbon were also popular drinks, and beer was served in high volume, though not ice cold as it is today. Sometimes a barkeeper watered down the liquor with turpentine, ammonia, gunpowder or cayenne pepper. It packed a wallop either way.
Poker and Faro were known to be played in the Buckhorn, as well as dice games. Mixing alcohol and gambling, no doubt, could result in some deadly gunplay. Professional gamblers quickly learned to protect their assets by honing their six-shooter skills at the same time as their gambling abilities.
A Haunted Twist of Fate Page 5