by Annie Bryant
Nik and Sam jumped down from the stage and made a beeline for Isabel and Katani.
“Hey, Katani, Iz! Thanks for coming,” Sam said. “We need to decide what to wear to the concert!”
“Let Katani help,” Isabel offered.
“Really?” Nik asked as she turned toward Katani. The twins had commented to each other how fashionable Katani always looked. “You’d do that?”
“We were hoping we could get some free advice from a future famous designer,” Sam said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Don’t worry, girls. I’m on it,” Katani said. “What’s my budget?”
“Our dad usually says, ‘Just don’t break the bank,’” Nik said.
As soon as the girls returned to the stage, Katani and Isabel dashed off to the resort boutique. They were on a fashion mission.
Katani surveyed the store and finally picked up two cropped equestrian jackets in midnight blue velvet and two silky white shirts to go underneath.
“Perfect,” Isabel said with approval. “Nice job, Kgirl.”
Excited about their purchases, they ran back to the greenroom to show Nik and Sam.
The twins were just taking another break from their rehearsal as Katani and Isabel returned.
“Check it out. I think this look is perfect for you. The equestrian jackets are western and romantic at the same time. And these shirts are just right—they’ll even shimmer a little under the lights. Try everything on, and then I’ll show you the final touch,” Katani urged.
“These jackets are amazing,” Nik said, twirling around.
“How did you know they would fit?” Sam wondered.
“Please, I’m a professional,” Katani said, rolling her eyes with a casual shrug.
“So what’s the last touch?” Nik asked.
“Ta-da!” Katani announced, holding up two of her colorful scarves. “The outfits are great, but they need a dash of color to take them to the next level. Here’s a lime green scarf for you, Sam, and a purple one for you, Nik. Wear them as low-slung belts on your jeans. Here, Isabel, help me thread them through the loops.” Katani tied the scarves expertly for the twins and stood back to admire her fashion makeovers.
“How did you know these are our favorite colors?” Sam wondered.
“Last night you said that your bedroom was lime green, Sam, and Nik told me she loved everything purple. Remember?” Katani asked.
“Girls!” Nik and Sam’s mom called from the stage.
“Wait till they see us!” Nik squealed.
“Katani, you’re a miracle worker!” Sam gave Katani an exuberant hug.
“Break a leg,” Katani called after the twins as they dashed back onstage.
Katani and Isabel watched the rest of the rehearsal from the wings.
“Oh, I love this song!” Isabel exclaimed as they started their last number, “Every Little Step.” “It makes me think of my dad.”
Isabel started singing the lyrics softly from the wing. “There’s a little girl with a barrette in her hair bouncing on daddy’s knee . . .”
Sam saw Isabel singing along and motioned for her to join them onstage.
Isabel shook her head no, but Katani gave her a little shove, and she reluctantly walked out into the lights.
Once she was up there, Isabel inched over to center stage. “Here, you can share my microphone,” Sam said as she pulled Isabel closer.
The twins continued singing. Isabel started to join in softly, but eventually she lost her self-consciousness and really let it out. She was singing with all her might. “Daddy asked his little girl to dance with him one last time . . .” Isabel couldn’t believe how good it felt to let go and sing her heart out.
A Fine Stew
“I’m beginning to wish I never heard the word ‘adventure,’” Maeve complained as the stranded group tried to decide what they were going to eat for dinner, huddled around the fireplace at the Hotel de Paris. “Beans were an adventure last night, but tonight they’re BORING!”
“At least we have something to eat,” Lissie pointed out. “If the Mountain Rover had broken down ten miles up the road, we’d be very hungry by now. I think we’d be getting by on Swedish Fish and trail mix.”
“Lissie’s right. We’re lucky to have a roof over our heads, a fire to keep us warm, and something to put in our stomachs, even if it’s just beans,” Mr. Ramsey said.
“How far from town did you walk this afternoon, Dad?” Charlotte asked. Mr. Ramsey had gone on an expedition to see if there was any sign of a rescue team.
“Not far,” Mr. Ramsey admitted. “At the edge of town the drifts were so high! Over my head, even. I have no idea how long it will take them to clear the road and discover the Mountain Rover.”
“Don’t worry,” Lissie said, patting Mr. Ramsey’s back. “Montana is used to this kind of weather. They have to clear the highways first. And they know we’re missing now. I’m sure that someone—the state police, probably— has a search party out looking for us. We’ll be rescued before we know it.”
Mr. Ramsey didn’t say anything but smiled gratefully at Lissie. He was getting a little tired of their ghost town adventure as well.
Charlotte picked up the poker and pushed around the logs on the fire. The flames crackled and hissed at her. Charlotte couldn’t even look at Maeve and Avery. The girls had been making faces at each other since yesterday. She knew they were convinced that her father had a crush on Lissie. Charlotte poked at a big log, which rolled over the top of a smaller log and broke it with a loud crack. The embers glowed and winked beneath the log.
Well, they’re wrong, Charlotte thought. Dad is just tired and worried. That’s all. He’s not interested in Lissie. She just isn’t his type. Charlotte wasn’t sure what type was her father’s, but she knew it was definitely not Lissie.
“I can’t believe it! It’s dark already,” Avery said, looking out the window. “It’s like we didn’t have a real day at all.”
The afternoon had turned dark and dreary and even though it was only four in the afternoon, it seemed like it was midnight.
“This place is really creepy.” Maeve shivered.
“I think it’s cool,” Charlotte countered. “Dry Gulch is like this abandoned piece of history.”
“Come on, Char, get real. This town doesn’t seem all that abandoned,” Avery said.
“We saw those flickering lights in the boardinghouse,” Maeve reminded Charlotte.
“And don’t forget that piano,” Avery added. “It just randomly started playing.”
“That was a player piano, Avery,” Charlotte said. “It’s supposed to play music like that.”
“Yeah, but they usually don’t start and stop all by themselves,” Avery pointed out.
“Doors opening . . .” Maeve said ominously.
“And slamming shut,” Avery continued.
“And don’t forget getting locked in the jail cell!” Maeve cried.
“How could I forget? You took enough pictures to fill up a whole photo album!” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Yeah, I did,” Maeve giggled to herself. “I can’t wait to see how they turn out.”
“Maeve’s right, Char!” Avery said. “This place is creepy. It’s almost as if someone is trying to scare us off.”
“There IS someone trying to scare us off,” Maeve asserted confidently.
“Who?” Charlotte asked.
“Hello! Charlotte, I told you about the ghost.”
Charlotte gave Maeve a skeptical look.
“Charlotte, there IS a ghost in this town and I SAW him,” Maeve insisted.
“Yes, you did,” said a grave voice.
The girls screamed and huddled together.
Mr. Ramsey grabbed the poker and jumped up.
Slow, steady footsteps moved across the floor from the back of the room. Out of the darkness, a looming figure appeared and stood behind the couch. The figure was a tall, grizzled old man in a cowboy hat. Maeve’s eyes widened as she realized that the g
host from the night before was standing right before their very eyes.
Tonight, instead of the long coat, he was wearing a wide, green poncho. He was also carrying a rifle, which he held across his chest, the long black muzzle pointing toward the ceiling.
“It’s Maeve’s ghost!” Avery gasped.
“Just as you described him,” Charlotte murmured.
“I told you it was true. I told you!” Maeve cried.
The ghost put up a hand in a calming gesture, letting the rifle hang loosely at his side. “I mean you no trouble,” the man said in a deep, gravelly voice.
“Then put the rifle down,” Mr. Ramsey commanded, adjusting his grip on the poker.
The old man nodded and leaned down to place the rifle on the floor. “It ain’t loaded right now, anyhow,” he said.
“I have heard that before,” Mr. Ramsey said dryly. For a moment the air was silent but heavy with expectation. Charlotte couldn’t breathe. Had she finally gotten her wish? Was she really and truly seeing a ghost?
“Didn’t mean to scare you none,” the man repeated. “Ain’t used to visitors, is all. Most people don’t bother to stop in Dry Gulch anymore.”
“You mean you live here?” Lissie asked tentatively.
The man nodded. “Lived here since I came back from the war. The Second World War, that is. Lived here before the war, too. But when I came back in forty-five, Dry Gulch was deserted. Pretty much like it is today. Everyone left after the mining accident of forty-four.”
“Please, sir,” Mr. Ramsey gestured. “Have a seat by the fire and warm up.”
The old man moved from behind the couch and sat down in the wingback chair by the fire. Charlotte couldn’t help but draw back as he walked toward the BSG huddle. Despite his insistence that he wasn’t there to cause any harm, there was something menacing about his appearance. And it didn’t help that a scowl seemed to be permanently etched on his face.
Once he sat down, the group let out a collective sigh of relief. Sitting there in the chair, the old cowboy looked more like a real person and less like a ghostly apparition.
It was quiet for a long while, with only the crackling fire filling in the silence.
“Why do you stay in this abandoned place all by yourself?” Mr. Ramsey finally asked.
“I got my reasons,” the gruff man replied.
“Were you the one slamming doors and blinking lights and starting the player piano?” Lissie asked, sitting forward in her chair to face the old man on the other side of the fireplace.
The man didn’t reply but instead stared across at Lissie, apparently fascinated by her appearance.
“We’re obviously stranded, and to purposely scare us, especially when we have young girls in our group, is just . . . just plain MEAN,” Lissie scolded.
The man did not respond but continued to stare intently at Lissie.
“What are you looking at?” Lissie demanded as she sat back in her seat.
The man dropped his eyes to the floor. “Sorry, miss,” he grumbled. “Ain’t used to bein’ around folks. Suppose I lost my manners.”
“Well, maybe we should start with introductions, then. I’m Lissie. What’s your name?”
When the man looked up again, his glare had softened, but he still observed Lissie as if she had two heads. He didn’t say anything for a while and Charlotte wondered if he had forgotten his name altogether.
“JT will do just fine,” he finally responded. Then, in an old-fashioned, courtly way, JT doffed his hat to Lissie and the girls.
Maeve broke away from the huddle and dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, JT,” she quipped.
Charlotte couldn’t help giggling. Maeve had probably picked up her etiquette skills from some old movie about Queen Victoria.
Mr. Ramsey finally released his death grip on the poker. “I’m Richard Ramsey,” he said to JT. “Sorry about the poker. You gave us quite a shock.”
“No bother. You folks must be hungry. I got an old kerosene stove stashed in the summer kitchen out back,” JT told them. “In fact, I rustled myself up some beef stew before the blizzard the other night. Like to keep the non-canned food out back so as not to attract any critters into the hotel here.”
Critters, Maeve mouthed to Avery, who couldn’t help smiling. Avery loved “critters.”
JT got up and gestured for them to follow. He led them through the kitchen and into the servant wing of the hotel. They hadn’t ventured into this area yet, and everyone was surprised to find it quite homey.
“I moved my things—everything that wasn’t destroyed in the blast, that is—here,” JT explained.
“The blast?” Avery asked.
“The mining explosion. My house was back there on Cedar Street and almost everything was destroyed.”
JT gazed out the window. “Dry Gulch was a real nice town before the disaster,” he reflected. “But when I came back from Germany at the end of the war, it was deserted. Everyone was gone.”
“Why did you stay, then?” Lissie asked.
JT looked as if he was the one who’d seen a ghost. Charlotte wasn’t sure if he had even heard the question, but finally he said, “I was waiting.”
The answer sent shivers up and down Charlotte’s spine.
JT turned away and took up a flint to light the kerosene stove. From the ancient icebox, he removed a large pot.
“Beef stew,” Avery mouthed to Charlotte. She motioned for Maeve and Charlotte to lean in. “I don’t care if this guy is a ghost . . . we’re gonna get to eat REAL food!” she whispered.
“You’re welcome to share when the stew heats up,” JT said, breaking down the partially frozen block of stew with a big, wooden spoon. “It’s nothin’ fancy, but it’ll do.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Ramsey said. “The girls are very hungry, and a hot meal in our stomachs would certainly keep us warm this evening and cheer us up. We’re all a little disappointed to be missing out on some of our trip.”
JT nodded at Mr. Ramsey and then his eyes settled again on Lissie.
The group decided to eat in front of the fire in the main part of the hotel. Charlotte, Avery, and Maeve gathered bowls and silverware as JT grabbed the stew pot with a big potholder and disappeared through the service entrance of the hotel.
The smell of the stew was wonderful—rich and beefy and peppered with pungent herbs. Charlotte’s stomach growled as JT ladled the stew into bowls and gestured for Lissie to pass them to the girls. Charlotte was happy to find that besides tender pieces of beef in a rich gravylike broth, the stew had chunks of onions, tomatoes, potatoes, and carrots.
The group was silent as they devoured the rich, savory stew, their first hot meal in what seemed like forever. Charlotte couldn’t help notice that between bites, JT was still observing Lissie very intently. What was that all about? Maybe JT’s fascinated with Lissie’s eyes or something, Charlotte thought. They were kind of a strange color—a bright yellow-brown—like a cat’s eyes, almost. Charlotte’s father had mentioned their unique color when they first met Lissie at the airport. Charlotte didn’t care for the color . . . not one bit.
Finally, Maeve broke the silence. “Mr. . . . JT, were you ever married?
Charlotte stiffened. What was Maeve thinking? It was pretty rude to ask someone she barely knew such a personal question. Charlotte’s eyes shifted quickly to the old man’s face. Was he offended? It was hard to tell. JT didn’t look up. He didn’t even break the regular rhythm of his spoon moving from bowl to mouth. Charlotte was starting to think he hadn’t even heard Maeve’s question when he suddenly dropped the spoon into his bowl.
“Might have been,” he muttered, not even looking up.
“You mean you’re not sure if you were married?” Maeve asked. Charlotte tapped her on the arm and made a “cut it out” sign.
JT didn’t seem to notice. “It was so long ago, I sometimes wonder if it was all a dream,” he mused before picking up his spoon again.
Avery looked at Charlotte and rol
led her eyes. Maeve looked like she was hoping with all her might JT would go on. After a minute of silence, Avery spoke up.
“We keep hearing these howling noises,” she said. Now that they knew it was probably not a ghost, she was curious to identify the mysterious sounds. “Do you know what it could be?” she asked JT.
JT looked up from his stew and scowled. “Don’t pay no nevermind to that howling,” he said before slurping another bite. “It’s the Wild West . . . what do you expect?”
Avery was shocked at his reaction. Maeve could pry into his personal life, but she couldn’t ask a normal question about howling?! This guy was definitely weird.
“I’ll leave you now,” JT said as soon as his bowl was empty. “G’night.” And with that he disappeared into the darkness at the back of the hotel.
The group was silent. Charlotte was wondering if, like her, everyone else was afraid to say anything in case JT was listening in. Finally, she worked up the nerve to lean over and whisper in her father’s ear. “Do you think he’s crazy, Dad?” she asked.
Mr. Ramsey shook his head. “No, I think that he’s just an old and very lonely man. Imagine living alone here in this desolate place for over sixty years.”
Charlotte nodded. “Did you notice how he kept staring at Lissie?” she asked in a low voice. “Why do you think he did that?”
Mr. Ramsey shrugged again. “I’m not sure. Lissie’s eyes are kind of an interesting color.”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. She was annoyed that her father mentioned Lissie’s eyes. She couldn’t help wondering . . . were Avery and Maeve right? Did her father actually have a crush on Lissie?
There were no animal charades that night. Perhaps it was because they were all comfortably full from stew or maybe it was the long day of exploring, but everyone was exhausted and fell asleep pretty much as soon as their heads hit their pillows.
Later, in the middle of the night, they were all startled awake by loud howls.
“What IS that?” Maeve asked.
“Not a ghost,” Avery said.
“Could it be a coyote?” Charlotte asked.
“It doesn’t really sound like a coyote or a wolf,” Avery put her hand to her ear to listen harder.