A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  Shay waved goodbye. “I’ll put ice on it. Thanks again.”

  Once she was inside the saloon, she limped to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer for her foot. After hobbling up the stairs, she ran a bath. As she collected dry clothes from her bedroom, she was grateful for the peace and quiet that greeted her. There’d been enough paranormal activity for one day. She was exhausted.

  Once she carefully climbed into the tub, she gently propped her leg on the rim and laid the peas across her ankle. Though it was throbbing, she was sure the foot wasn’t broken. But it did feel strained. Hopefully the swelling would go down and there wouldn’t be much bruising. The soreness in her arm dissipated once it was immersed in the hot water.

  The water did its job and sent her body temperature skyrocketing back to normal. As she soaked, her pulse began to speed up again when she replayed in her mind the frightening things that had happened in the cemetery. She wondered what Colt would think when she told him later—if she told him at all. He didn’t believe in the supernatural. Maybe he’d heard enough and would decide she was completely out of her mind, especially if she mentioned his wife’s grave and the odd bird. He was her only friend in town. She couldn’t afford to lose him.

  * * * * *

  At one o’clock, Colt picked her up as planned, helped her into his truck when he saw she was limping, and they were on their way to Frank Averill’s house. His heart rate increased when Shay related her experiences in the Black View Cemetery. Although he’d been a non-believer all his life, there was no way he could deny the things that continued to plague her.

  “You’re sure your foot isn’t broken?” He glanced at the ankle she’d wrapped in an Ace bandage.

  “I think it’s just strained. It feels a lot better now after using frozen peas as an ice pack.”

  He drove slowly through town, silent and considering all she’d told him. The entire story was incredible. But the one thing that had most captured his attention was the fact that she’d accidentally stumbled upon Denise’s headstone. Once again, he didn’t believe this incident had been rooted in chance. That was because of the bluebird.

  At first, Shay had been hesitant to tell the whole story. As he prodded, she’d revealed that she’d come upon the headstone quite by accident. She’d mentioned being surprised to look up and see Denise’s name. She hadn’t asked anything about Denise, and understandably so. If she hadn’t mentioned the bluebird, he would have felt a lot more awkward talking about his wife, too. But the bird was something he simply couldn’t ignore.

  He cleared his throat. “I want to tell you something, Shay. It may sound crazy, but…”

  She interrupted him. “Colt, trust me. Nothing you say could sound crazy. You’ve listened to everything I’ve said, and you haven’t called the men in the white suits yet.”

  His gaze remained focused on the road ahead. “Denise’s animal totem was a bluebird.”

  When Shay didn’t respond, he glanced sideways. She was turned in the seat, her body facing him, with her forehead wrinkled in question.

  “Do you know what an animal totem is?”

  “I’ve heard the term. It has something to do with Native Americans, right?”

  “Yes. A totem is symbolic. It can be the symbol of a tribe, a family or an individual. Native Americans believe animals hold special power and knowledge, and that each individual is connected with an animal that accompanies the person through life, acting as a guide. They call that animal a totem. Although a person may identify with different animal guides throughout his or her lifetime, it is one special totem animal that acts as the main guardian spirit for that person. The animal guide offers power and wisdom. Denise’s guide, or totem, was the bluebird.”

  “Was Denise Native American?”

  “No. But she underwent a variety of alternative treatments during her illness, and some of them were spiritual in nature. She had many Native American friends. She respected the culture and beliefs.”

  “And Denise chose the bluebird as her totem?” Shay asked.

  Colt could see her intrigue was piqued. He shook his head. “The animal chooses the person, not the other way around. Every animal has its own special power and message. Denise began to realize that she’d always been drawn to bluebirds. The bird had consistently appeared in her life from the time she was a child. It wasn’t until the bird came to her again at her darkest moment that she understood what he was offering.”

  “Which was?”

  As Colt glanced back at her, Shay’s gaze was direct. “What was the bluebird’s power and message?” she repeated. “Do you know?”

  “Yes. The bluebird is symbolic for happiness within. He signifies a contentment and fulfillment that is happening or is about to happen.” Colt waited to see if the meaning sunk in. Although the bird had been Denise’s totem, he suspected it had also made a connection with Shay.

  It seemed her mind worked like a well-oiled machine. She was putting two and two together. He made a turn onto Frank’s street. Next time he looked at her, there were tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

  “The bluebird came to your wife to assure her,” she said, apparently understanding. “To let her know it was okay to move on to the next world.”

  Believing that to have been the message of the bluebird all those years ago, Colt nodded. He pulled into Frank’s drive. When he cut off the motor, Shay reached for his hand. She trembled, but her tone was respectful. “Colt, do you think that was Denise’s bluebird who came to me this morning?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered with honesty. “It’s a mighty odd coincidence. But then, there have been a lot of those lately.”

  Shay’s eyes were bright with tears. He leaned forward and wiped one from her cheek. “No need to be sad. The bluebird totem is all about happiness. He chose you, as he chose Denise, to give you a message. There’s a lot going on in your life right now. You must have many questions that don’t seem to have answers right now, such as, why did you lose both your parents so close together? What drew you to this town? Why did you buy the saloon? Why are you seeing ghosts? Is it chance that you and I met?”

  She sniffled. “What do you think the bluebird’s message is for me?”

  Colt took her hand and held it. “I think he wants you to know that it’s time to move past your grief and your fears. I also believe he wants you to listen to his song so you can find your own joy and open your heart. With your heart open, it’ll be easier for someone close to you to fill that empty space inside.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Someone like you?”

  The words that came out of his mouth flowed as smooth as honey. “Yes. Someone exactly like me.”

  When she lifted her gaze to him and smiled, he felt his own heart might burst from his chest with emotions he’d kept locked away for so long.

  “Do you think it’s strange that the bluebird could be Denise’s totem and mine, too?”

  “No. I’m starting to believe in a lot of things I never believed before. In fact, I think Denise may have had something to do with the bluebird visiting you this morning. She was a fine woman, and she didn’t want me to go through life alone.”

  Shay smiled again. Relief seemed to roll off her narrow shoulders. Maybe she’d been thinking the same thing but hadn’t wanted to suggest it.

  “Even though the bluebird hasn’t shown himself to you, perhaps the message is also for you, Colt,” she said, looking hopeful.

  “If I were a betting man, I’d say there’s a good likelihood of that.” He held her chin in his fingers and kissed her softly on the lips, feeling the tides turning between them. They parted, and he glanced through the windshield to Frank’s house. The magical moment was destroyed when he saw a figure at the window.

  “At least Opal could hide behind the curtains while she’s spying on us,” he growled.

  Twenty-Three

  “Who’s Opal?” Shay asked, squeaking open the passenger door and following his line
of vision to the front of the house.

  “Frank’s full-time nurse. She’s standing right there in the window. Opal’s a real trip. Ignore anything rude that might come from her mouth. I don’t think the woman can stop herself.” As they walked up the sidewalk, he felt bad that Shay had hurt herself earlier, but her spirits seemed to have lifted. He noticed her tears had dried. “Do you feel better?”

  “Much.”

  Opal opened the door and greeted the two of them with a pleasant smile. “Come on in, Colt. It’s nice to see you. Frank and I have been expecting you.”

  Colt narrowed his eyes at her. “You feeling okay, Opal? Are you running a fever?”

  She laughed. “I’m not sick, silly. I’m as healthy as a horse, but thanks so much for asking. Who have we here?” Her curious gaze stuck to Shay.

  “This is Shay Brennan. She’s the new owner of the Buckhorn Saloon I was telling you about. Shay, meet Opal Franklin.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Opal said, extending a pudgy hand.

  “Same here.” Shay shook her hand. “I appreciate your letting us drop by today. How’s Mr. Averill feeling? Is he up to having visitors?”

  It was obvious she was anxious to meet Frank.

  “He’s awake and looking forward to meeting you, Miss Brennan.”

  “Please call me Shay. May I call you Opal?”

  “Of course, honey. Come on back.”

  With Opal leading the way down the hall to Frank’s room, Colt shook his head, wondering if aliens had abducted the real Opal and replaced her with a nicer version. When they stepped into Frank’s bedroom, his thin frame was propped against a stack of pillows, and his eyes looked clear.

  “Come in, Colt,” Frank said in a stronger voice than Colt had heard in months. Without a moment’s hesitation, Shay stepped up to one side of the bed. In an unexpected gesture, she took Frank’s hand when he stretched it out. Colt sauntered to the other side.

  “I’ll leave y’all to your visit,” Opal called from the doorway before tromping down the hallway.

  Before Colt had a chance to introduce the two of them, Colt saw Frank’s eyes grow large and his mouth drop open. In a matter of seconds, all the color began to drain from his face. He sat immobile and taut as if in shock.

  “Frank, you okay?” Colt jiggled the man’s arm. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his choice of phrasing might not have been the best.

  Shay seemed not to notice his faux pas. She touched Frank’s other arm. “Mr. Averill, are you all right?” Frank’s face looked frozen in that strange expression. Shay looked over the top of him. “Colt, maybe you should call for Opal. I think something’s terribly wrong. He could be having a stroke.”

  “No.” Frank’s hand shot out and grabbed Colt’s arm. He suddenly came out of the trance—or whatever it’d been. His voice was firm. “Don’t need Opal. No stroke. I’m okay.”

  Colt released a sigh of relief. “You scared the hell out of me, Frank. Are you sure you don’t want me to get your nurse?”

  He nodded and kept his gaze on Shay. She placed a hand over her heart and sighed, too.

  “What is it, Mr. Averill?” she asked quietly. “Are you confused? Do you feel ill? Please tell us what scared you a minute ago.”

  “I’m not scared,” Frank said.

  Colt noticed the color was slowly returning to his sunken cheeks.

  “I was surprised. That’s all. Still am, if truth be known.”

  “Surprised about what?” Colt asked.

  “Her.” Frank pointed a bony finger at Shay.

  Colt and Shay exchanged uncomprehending glances over the bed.

  “Do you mind explaining?” Colt said.

  “Open that bottom drawer of the bureau. There’s a picture book I want you to get. And grab my eyeglasses from the top.”

  Colt did as Frank requested and laid the photo album in Frank’s lap. With a shaky hand, Frank slid on his glasses and began flipping through the yellowed pages.

  When Shay threw Colt another quizzical look, he shrugged.

  “Here it is. Colt, take a look at this.”

  Colt pulled his own glasses from his shirt pocket and slipped them on. When Frank jabbed his pointer finger into a sepia-colored photograph, Colt lifted the album closer to his face and stared. A jolt raced down his spine. The resemblance was uncanny.

  When he met Shay’s gaze, she questioned him with her eyes but said nothing. She waited for him to explain.

  “Who is this woman?” Colt asked Frank, whose intense gaze was riveted to Shay.

  “My grandmother. Cynthia Averill.”

  Twenty-Four

  Shay had to see why Frank was scrutinizing her and what had Colt’s brows stitched together. She crossed to the other side of the bed and peered at the photo. It was a professional photograph taken by the Spearfish Photography Studio, circa 1887, according to the stamp on the bottom.

  “These are your grandparents, Mr. Averill?” she asked, staring at the handsome couple.

  “Dean and Cynthia. And there’s no need to call me Mr. Averill. I’m just plain Frank.”

  Shay smiled at him and then returned her gaze to the photo. Dean was standing with his hand on his wife’s shoulder. He wore a suit and derby hat. Cynthia sat in a chair wearing a gown and a hat with feathers. Her hair was long, hanging down her neck in ringlets. Both were solemn, neither of them smiling for the camera.

  “I found a photo of your grandfather,” she excitedly told Frank, while retrieving from her purse the Xerox copy Doris had made from the book. “Look. He’s wearing the same derby hat.”

  “Don’t you see the resemblance?” Colt asked, abruptly stopping her.

  “What do you mean?” She witnessed Colt and Frank exchange glances, but didn’t know why. She had no idea what Colt was talking about.

  “Cynthia Averill,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You kind of look like her.”

  “Me?” Shay chuckled and took another, closer look. “You think I look like Frank’s grandmother?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Why would you think that? I don’t see it. The long hair maybe.”

  Colt looked to Frank for confirmation. “You see it, Frank. Don’t you? That’s why you keep staring at Shay.”

  Frank blinked several times, and his mouth folded downward. “I don’t know. I’m an old man. I don’t see so well anymore, even with these bifocals.” He jerked off the glasses and stuck them into Colt’s hand. “I get confused a lot these days.”

  “You’re not confused about this,” Colt insisted. “Look.” He shoved the sleeve of his shirt up his arm. “The hairs are standing up on my arms. That must mean something.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Shay closed the photo album and placed it on top of the bureau. “Cynthia Averill was a beautiful woman. I can see why Dean married her. But I’m often mistaken for someone else. For years, people have come up to me and told me I look exactly like their sister. Or I remind them of a friend they knew years ago. It happens all the time. Guess I have one of those faces.”

  Colt shook his head. “No way. How can you not see the resemblance? With all that’s going on, I’d think you’d find the similarity between the two of you unnerving. I do.”

  “They say everyone has a twin,” Shay said, not understanding why Colt was getting riled up.

  “But not everyone is visited by ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?” Frank had been silently observing her this whole time. He now stared at Colt for a moment and then looked at Shay again. “Are you seeing ghosts in the Buckhorn?” he asked.

  She glanced at Colt, who nodded to give her the go ahead to tell him.

  “Yes, I am. I don’t want to upset you, but I’m hoping you can help me figure out who the spirits are. Colt tells me your father inherited the saloon from your grandfather, and then you took it over for a number of years.”

  “That’s right. But running a bar wasn’t for me. I preferred hardware an
d tools. Got tired of dealing with drunks and trouble makers.”

  “Was that the real reason you got out of the business, Frank?” Colt asked. “Several times, I remember Granddaddy mentioning something about the ghosts that ran you out of the saloon. I never took his stories to heart until now.”

  Frank’s gaze pierced Colt like he was psychically willing him to shut up. Then his expression softened again when Shay leaned over and patted his hand. Inside, her heart jumped because she knew Frank was hiding the truth.

  “It would mean a lot to me to know if you had any of the same experiences I’m having now,” she said quietly. “I feel like I’m being sent messages, but I don’t know what they are or what they mean.”

  “Okay,” Frank relented. “I’ll talk about it.” He jabbed a finger into Colt’s arm. “But you’d better not tell a soul about this conversation. I don’t want to be a laughing stock.”

  “Promise,” Colt said, drawing an invisible X over his chest. He scooted two chairs up to Frank’s bedside, and he and Shay sat. She delved into Frank’s clear eyes and took a deep breath before beginning her questioning.

  “Frank, did you ever see the spirit of a young woman with blonde hair? I think she may have been a saloon girl many years ago. She would have lived in your grandfather’s time. Her name was Callie Hayes. Do you recognize that name?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of her and never seen her.”

  “What about Everett? Do you have any knowledge or recollection of a man by that name?”

  Frank thought a moment. “Everett who?”

  “I don’t know his last name. But I believe he’s the man who murdered this girl, Callie Hayes.”

  Frank flinched. “Murder? What’s she talking about, Colt?”

  Colt explained about the marks around the neck of the apparition, how the woman had asked for Shay’s help, and all the unusual things that had been occurring in the saloon, including the entity that had tried to throw her out the window.

  “Oh, no.” Visibly distressed, Frank squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth closed. Shay realized she’d gone too far with the questions. She believed he might have witnessed something evil inside the Buckhorn, too. But for whatever reason, Frank was now unwilling to discuss it.