“That the gift for seeing the truth of Blessing was growing stronger from generation to generation. Ray knew what went on in town on the twenty-third, but most years he only got glimpses of the action. Sometimes he’d see people and at other times he’d only hear sounds.”
Phil let his hand drop back down to his knee. “But that year you were up on the mountain, you saw everything. He felt real bad about that.”
She’d never blamed him for anything. “Uncle Ray had no way of knowing what would happen.”
“Feeling guilty and being guilty don’t always walk hand in hand, Rayanne.”
Phil gave her ice cream a pointed look. She picked up the spoon and started eating again.
“He thought maybe you were the one who could fix what was broken up there. End it for everybody and let those folks rest in peace.”
“I hope it worked. I can’t go through that again.”
“You’re stronger than you think, Rayanne. Most folks would have come screaming down the mountain at the first sight of a ghost. You hung in there right up to the last.”
She swallowed her ice cream and wished she could swallow her pain as easily. “It’s not that. I promised Wyatt McCain I wouldn’t spend my life up there on the mountain trying to change things for him.”
“You spoke with him?”
She blushed furiously. They’d done a whole lot more than talk, but she wasn’t about to share that bit of news with her elderly friend.
“We spent a lot of time together. He helped me map out the whole town the way it used to be.”
“What was he like, this McCain fellow?”
What could she say that wouldn’t give too much away? Even if Phil did believe that there were ghosts on the mountain, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t think she was crazy for falling in love with one. She settled on the simplest truth.
“He was a good man, Phil. A real good man who sacrificed himself for that town. He knew full well he was outmanned and outgunned, but he did his best to protect the people of Blessing. He died for them.”
She smiled, letting herself remember some of their special moments, starting with his blue eyes staring down into hers as he made love to her. How funny he’d been when she told him modern women would think he was hot with his sleeves rolled up or if they saw him in his duster. How he’d made her feel complete, special and loved.
“I’m not going to ask what’s going through your mind right now, but I’m guessing you have some strong feelings for McCain. Call me an old softy, honey, but I think you being up there wasn’t some accident. It was meant to be.”
Another customer came in. Phil stood up and patted her on the shoulder again. “Finish your ice cream. Something tells me you’re going to need all your strength.”
She almost choked when his words echoed what Wyatt had said to her the night he’d made her finish her sandwich before he’d let her take him upstairs to make love. Right now the memories were too raw to dwell on for long, but it was nice to know she could still smile.
* * *
Back up on the mountain, she sat on the front porch and stared up at the sky while the sun came up. Another day had passed with no sign of Wyatt. She still needed to go back into Blessing to retrieve the last of her papers and to finish the last of her sketches and measurements. The only building left was the old church.
She’d put it off until last, although she didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe because that was where all of this had started for her fifteen years ago. It seemed fitting that the church be the last place she added to her portfolio.
Now that it was light enough to see where she was going, she set her coffee cup aside and rose to her feet. She hadn’t yet decided whether to return to the college or if she’d winter over here in the cabin. Right now, she was taking each day one at a time.
The birds were busy in the trees, their chittering a welcome sign that she was alone. She paused at the edge of the trees to stare at Blessing. The morning sun was kind to the faded wood, reminding her how different the place had looked when the buildings were all new.
She took that first step on her return to Blessing and found that it wasn’t as hard as she’d feared. Wyatt had told her that once the gunfight was over, sometimes it was late fall before it all started again. She wanted to finish her work now while there was no chance of running into him.
She couldn’t stand the thought of Wyatt getting caught up in the same old pain again. In town, she gathered up all of her work in the saloon and packed it away. With that finished, she drew a slow breath and headed across the street to the church.
Inside, she stopped to look around. Of all the buildings in town, this one had withstood the passage of time the best. Maybe the people who had built it had done so with more care. Although she didn’t attend church herself, she savored the profound sense of peace that seemed to have soaked into the walls of the building.
For a few seconds, she bowed her head and offered up a silent prayer that the man she loved and that boy he cared so much about had finally found peace on the mountain. Hoping somebody up there had been listening, she set her stuff down and got busy. It didn’t take her long to measure everything. Then she took a few minutes to sketch in the few details she remembered from the short time she’d been inside the building as it had been in its prime.
Finally, she reluctantly headed up the stairs to the belfry. This time, the memories from fifteen years ago stayed firmly in her past. Instead, she concentrated on the present as she stepped through the door onto the platform outside. The sun warmed her skin as she walked over to the railing to look down. The view from the roof gave her a new perspective of the town. She opened her pad to a new page and started drawing as fast as her pencil would move.
Slowly, the town took shape. When the buildings were all in place, she added the people—miners, storekeepers, ladies running their errands, children kicking a rock down the street. She could see it all so clearly in her mind.
And one lone man wearing a dark red shirt with his hat pulled down low over his face stood down on the sidewalk, staring across at the saloon. She closed her eyes and then looked again. He was still there.
The point on her pencil snapped, and her pad slipped out of her fingers.
“Wyatt?” she whispered.
From this angle, she couldn’t see his face. That shirt was different, and he wasn’t wearing a duster. Even so, there was something about him that looked so familiar.
Spots danced in her eyes and there was a loud roaring in her head. She tried to hold on to the railing, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. When her knees refused to support her, she sat down before she fell down.
What had she just seen? She braced herself for the worst and peered through the railing toward the street below. Just as she feared, it was empty. Perhaps by drawing the town as she wanted to remember it, her imagination had filled in the few details she’d most wanted to see. Maybe it had been too soon to come back.
She was done for the day. Maybe for good. She started to gather up her sketches. Where had she left her pack? She spotted it a few feet away, but before she could make a move in that direction, she heard the familiar creak of the door to the belfry opening.
Okay, the last time someone had shown up on the belfry when she was there, it hadn’t turned out all that great for her or Wyatt. Rather than face a potential threat sitting down, she rose to her feet and grabbed her pack to use as a weapon if it became necessary.
The man she’d seen down on the street stepped out onto the roof. His hat now tipped back off his face, and the sun gleamed off his blacker-than-night hair. A pair of sky-blue eyes stared right at her.
The boards beneath his feet creaked in protest as he took a cautious step toward her. She stared at his feet in amazement. He had weight. Substance.
This time she shouted his name. “
Wyatt!”
His answering smile was everything she could have hoped for. “I should’ve known I’d find you up here.”
He held out his arms and she ran straight into them. “Wyatt, what are you doing here? You said you’d disappear until fall. I didn’t break my promise to stay away.”
The rush of words came out in a single breath. Instead of answering her, Wyatt picked her up in his arms and swung her around and around.
“I’m back, but not like before. I’m real again, Rayanne. For good this time. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”
When he set her back down on her feet, she was breathless. “Really real? How can that be?”
“I don’t know.” Then he looked down at the street below, his expression haunted. “Why isn’t Billy here with me?”
She had to tell him the truth. It wasn’t going to be easy. “I’m sorry, but Billy didn’t sneak into town to watch the gunfight, Wyatt. He stayed home like he was supposed to, but he was bitten by a snake near the woodpile. He was in town looking for Amanda, not you.”
“Damn it, so he died that day, anyway, didn’t he?” Wyatt tightened his hold on her.
“I have to think so. Amanda’s journal said she lost Billy that day, but not how he died. I’m so sorry, Wyatt.”
“Me, too, but maybe you were right, and it was just his time. Nothing we did changed a thing.”
She hugged him back. “But it did. Now you know that it wasn’t your fault that Billy came to town, no matter how he died. I told you Amanda never blamed you for her son’s death. You shouldn’t, either.”
She caressed his face with her fingertips. “My uncle, a surprisingly wise man, said that a man had to forgive himself for the things in his past before his soul can find peace. Now that you know Billy’s death wasn’t all your fault, maybe you can make peace with what happened.”
Wyatt closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then another one. When he finally opened them, she saw nothing but a calm acceptance in their depths.
“Maybe your prayers were answered, and I am getting a second chance to live my life right. But it’s going to take a powerful lot of adjustment to this new world, and I’m going to need some help with that.”
Wyatt tightened his hold on her. “Know anybody who would be willing to take on the job? It would take a special woman to love an ex-gunslinger.”
The last vestige of pain in her chest melted away. “That all depends. Think that ex-gunslinger could put up with a woman who likes to spend her time wandering in ghost towns and reading dusty, old books?”
Wyatt stared down at her with a world of love in his smile. “She sounds perfect, the kind of woman worth waiting more than a century for. The kind a man would be right proud to call his wife.”
Rayanne retreated a step. “Is that a proposal?”
He took his hat off and crumpled the brim in a tight grip. “I reckon it is.”
“Then I accept.”
For the second time, Wyatt grabbed her up and swung her around and around and then kissed her to seal the deal. For the first time, she didn’t worry that it was too much, that he’d blink out of existence if she demanded more than he had to give. It was amazing, a gift she’d never take for granted.
When he set her back down, his expression turned solemn. “It won’t be easy, Rayanne, explaining me to your folks and friends. And I’m not sure what I can do to earn a living, either. Things have changed so much since I died.”
She understood why he was worried, but at least he was looking forward, no longer trapped in his past.
“Not to worry. I have a friend who owns a small store near here who could use some help. I suspect he’d be thrilled to meet you. Besides, Uncle Ray left me both this land and the cabin free and clear along with enough money to ensure neither of us has to work. But even if he hadn’t, we can handle anything as long as we’re together.”
Then she tugged Wyatt toward the door back down to the church. “But we’ll worry about all of that later. Right now, let’s head back to the cabin. I think we both could use a long soak in the tub.”
Wyatt’s blue eyes sparkled with heated intent. “Lady, I like the way you think.”
After he stepped through the door, she realized she’d left her sketch pad and pack behind. “I forgot something, but I’ll catch up in a second.”
With her artwork tucked under her arm, she paused to take in the view below. Everything looked the same and yet there was a different feeling in the air. Something calm and soothing. And then she knew. For the first time in over a century, the streets of Blessing were at peace.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE WOLF SIREN by Karen Whiddon.
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Chapter 1
“You look...” The tall, dark-haired man stared, his silver gaze intense. “A thousand times better than the last time I saw you.”
Clutching the door handle and peering out through the six-inch crack, Lilly Gideon tried hard not to tremble. Belatedly, she realized she never should have opened the door. But then, she hadn’t known this man had been coming up the sidewalk.
Or had she? Something, some inner restlessness, had given her the urge to step out onto the front porch. Surely, she hadn’t been going to meet this stranger who talked as if he knew her. He had a confident air of masculine authority and the sheer strength of his muscular body overwhelmed her.
She struggled to speak, to summon up some sort of relatively normal response. She was safe, she told herself over and over like a mantra, ignoring the shiver of dread working its way up her spine. Finally safe. Her brother, Lucas, his wife, Blythe, and her daughter, Hailey, were in the kitchen and would come running at the slightest sound. All she had to do was call. But staring at the handsome stranger, still she couldn’t seem to force words past her closed-up throat.
“Lilly?” he asked, the deep dustiness of his voice striking a chord inside her, as if her soul recognized him. “It’s me, Kane McGraw. Don’t you remember me?”
Pushing away the panic, she struggled to simply breathe. The chiseled planes of his rugged face did seem achingly familiar, but with her tangled confusion of memories, she didn’t know if this was a good thing or bad. He wore his dark hair short, spiky, a bit longer than military style, which added to his self-confident appearance. Once again, she found him intimidating.
Despite her best effort to appear brave, she let her hand creep up to her throat and dredged up words. “I...no. I don’t remember you.”
Her twin brother, Lucas, must have had a second sense, too. Something that told him she needed him right now. “Lilly?” he called, appearing in the arched opening that led to the foyer. “Are you all right?”
Relief flooding her, she turned her panicked gaze toward him, imploring silently for help.
“What’s wrong?” Lucas strode toward her, putting himself in front of her even as he yanked the door all the way open.
“Kane?” Despite hearing the joy in her brother’s voice, Lilly stepped back, taking refuge in the small space between the door and the wall. She hated the way terror sti
ll consumed her, but for now she didn’t yet have the strength to overcome it. Maybe someday, but not just yet. She only hoped that with time...
“Lucas!” The two men gave each other the quick shoulder hug used by men.
“That was fast,” Lucas said, the sun making his brown hair appear blond. He glanced at Lilly, and then back at their visitor, grinning. Lilly envied her brother’s carefree attitude. Newly married and in love, his clear blue eyes radiated happiness. She kept hoping some of it would rub off on her. So far, she hadn’t been so blessed.
Kane laughed, a throaty chuckle, drawing her attention. “As soon as you told me what you needed, I dropped everything. My vacation days were piling up unused anyway. I think the Society of Pack Protectors was shocked that I wanted to take them.”
Though the deep rumble of this stranger’s voice chased away the chill inside her, she kept herself utterly still, hoping she wouldn’t draw any attention to herself. Of course, her brother noticed immediately.
“Lilly?” Lucas held out his hand, waiting until she’d slipped her fingers into his before continuing. “Don’t you remember Kane? He helped us rescue you.”
The reassuring sincerity in Lucas’s expression calmed her enough to enable her to look at the other man. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “My memories from that time are all blurry.”
Kane’s smoky gaze held hers. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot.”
She nodded, although fifteen years of torture, clinging to the edge of life, had been more than a lot. She was damaged, broken in more ways than one. Though she was eager to purge that time from her memory and heal herself so she could stride with confidence into the world, first she had to shake the paralyzing terror that dogged her every move.
Before she could run, she needed to walk. Before she could walk, she’d have to manage a crawl.
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