Romance in a Ghost Town

by Robert P McAuley

  Bob offered Anne the first placement but she deferred that honor to him and he placed a silver star on one of the middle branches. She quickly followed by placing a silver ornament next to his. They both stepped back and allowed the crowd to dress the tree as refreshments were served and the small choir sang hymns.

  An hour later, silver ornaments in the shapes of balls, stars and angels were decorating the tree’s branches, as were silver cups with small, lit candles in them.

  After the service, Cal went outside to help serve the barbeque dinner the town had set up. As usual the musicians started to play and soon there was dancing as Tim watched that only adults drank beer from a keg chilled in a wooden tub provided by The Dust Off Tavern.

  Suddenly a scream went up and children watched wide-eyed as Santa Clause drove his red buckboard up Main Street. He stopped at the church, got out of the rig and slowly walked around the tree as though he was inspecting it. He then stood with his hands on his ample hips and said in a loud voice, “Ho, Ho, Ho! This is one of the best decorated trees I’ve ever seen and I’ll make sure ta make Rattlesnake Haven the very first town I stop at on Christmas Eve.” He then looked at the group of quiet, wide-eyed children and as he wiggled his index finger at them, said with a wink, “I got the report on all of you little ones and as it’s only a short time before Christmas, all I can say is listen to yer parents and be good.”

  He turned and got back on his wagon and waved as he rode off saying, “Ho, Ho, Ho, be good boys and girls, Santa’s watchin’.”

  An hour later the entire group took a candle from a box next to the small alter, lit them and started a procession out the door.

  “Jean,” asked Anne as they followed suit, “where are we going?”

  “To the cemetery, dear. So we can visit the spirits of Rattlesnake Haven.”

  “But,” asked Bob as he lit his candle, “whose idea is it to do this? I mean, nobody said, ‘Hey lets go to the cemetery with lit candles.’ It’s like it was done before.”

  Still smiling, Jean answered, “It’s just the old ways, son, that’s all.”

  They all went up to the cemetery and entered through the gate. Bob and Anne followed the group as they surrounded the hallowed grounds and started to sing holiday carols, with Samson joining in now and then. Bob had to admit to himself that it was a beautiful sight and gesture as the candles flickered in the night and carols wafted over the grounds. He turned to tell Anne his thoughts and saw her kneeling by a gravestone. Guess there’s no need to tell Anne how touching this is, he thought, she seems to have caught it too.

  It was close to ten o’clock and although there was no spoken command, the group stopped singing and slowly walked out of the cemetery, looking back over their shoulders and waving as they headed back to town.

  As usual, Bob, Anne, Cal and Jean walked back towards the house together in a circle of lantern light. “The Hampton’s’ are expecting us this evening, dear,” Jean said to Anne.

  “Jean,” she answered, “I feel terrible. I feel as though I’m forcing you and Cal out of the house.”

  The moonlight reflected in the eyes of the elderly woman and she said as she patted Anne’s hand, “Hush, child! That house you two live in was built for young folk, not for the likes of us.”

  “Well,” Anne said as they approached their gate, “I insist that you two join us for coffee first.”

  “Fine,” said the petite woman nodding her head.

  Inside of thirty minutes, they sat with their mugs of coffee in front of the fireplace, which sprang to life when Bob placed another log on the embers causing sparks to fly about and Samson to growl at them. Satisfied that he did his job as a watchdog, the puppy jumped up on a chair and curled up for a nap. Bob sat next to him and looked at Cal who seemed to shrink knowing that he was going to be asked some awkward questions.

  “So,” Bob said as he held his mug with both hands, “what do you think the minister meant when he said…?”

  “Ya mean the sixty-fourth Christmas piece?” interjected Cal.

  “Yes. What could he have meant?”

  “Son, I hate ta say this but the ministers getting’ old an’ mixes up his sermons, that’s all.”

  “Well,” Bob went on, “what about everyone getting up and lighting a candle and going to the cemetery at the same time without it being said? It’s kind of like mental telepathy or something that’s done a lot over time.”

  Cal looked at his wife who smiled as she shook her head, “Just a coincidence, child, that’s all.”

  “Something else,” said Bob, “How come when we all go to the cemetery everyone seems to stop at a certain place? Like tonight, you and Jean stood by the third grave from the gate as you have done before and Tim, he always stops at the same place next to the cactus. Strange or coincidence once again?”

  “I’d say we all just stopped next ta an empty space, that’s all, partner,” answered Cal as he stood and stretched before saying to his wife, “Best we get on over to Hampton’s place before they bolt the door.”

  She smiled and followed her husband towards the door stopping to say; “Sometimes the answers to your questions will seem silly when they fall into place.”

  “Will they fall into place, soon?” asked Anne as she walked her to the door.

  “Oh,” Jean answered as she patted Anne’s arm, “I’d say so, dear. Good night, now.”

  Bob closed the door behind them and turned to see Anne removing a folded sheet of tracing paper from her purse. He watched as she held it up to the light of the fireplace and after squinting a moment, exclaimed, “Oh Lord.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat on the couch next to her and put his arm over her shoulder. It was trembling. “Anne, what’s the matter?”

  “Look,” she said pointing to the sheet of thin tracing paper with graphite rubbed on it. She looked at him and quickly explained, “While everyone was singing in the cemetery, I took a moment to place this sheet of tracing paper against the tombstone that Cal and Jean stood in front of. I’ve done it hundreds of times before so I knew what I was doing and in the dark it looked like I was just kneeling down as many of the others were, as I quickly rubbed the faded writing from the tombstone onto the paper. I stood and folded it fast then put it in my purse until now. Look at what it had chiseled into the stone.”

  He slowly made out the wording: Calvin Sullivan 1815 – 1895 R.I.P.

  16

  Just Another Coincidence?

  Bob looked at Anne knowing now why she was so upset. “How?” he asked, “How can this be? I mean, is it just another coincidence that they stopped in front of a grave with his name on it?” He shook his head and after thinking a moment, said, “Do you know what we have to do?”

  She nodded back, “Go back to the cemetery and try reading some of the other names.”

  “Yes. And I think we need to do this tonight when everyone is asleep. Do you have more tracing paper?”

  “I just brought a few along but maybe by the light of the Coleman lamp we can read some of the tombstones.” She ran up the stairs and returned with three more sheets of paper as Bob grabbed the Coleman lamp. He opened the door and was happy that Samson decided to go along with them.

  They walked by the light of the moon until they got far enough away from town to lessen the chances of being seen during their nocturnal mission. Finally Bob lit the lamp and the circle of light made their shadows look long and eerie as Samson scooted back and forth sniffing everything. Close to the gate Anne pressed closer to Bob, shivered and said, “This certainly isn’t how I envisioned my last night here: walking into a cemetery in the middle of a dark night.”

  Bob’s laugh was forced as he felt the same and to top it off, the gate squeaked slowly open as they approached it. Both stood with their eyes trying to pierce the dark cemetery and were relieved to see that Samson had pushed the gate open.

  “Boy!” Bob quipped, “That dog will scare the heck outta me some day.” He raised the lantern high
and they entered side-by-side.

  “Here is where the grave of Cal Sullivan is,” whispered Anne pointing to it.

  “And,” Bob added in the same whispering tone, “over there is where I always see the schoolmarm, Derma Jensen kneel and next to that is where Doctor Bain always stops.”

  “Right,” Anne added as she got her tracing paper ready, “There are more places that certain people stop and worship but let’s start with these.”

  Bob agreed and held the lantern up as she kneeled and with a stick of charcoal, rubbed over the tracing paper she held flat against the tombstone. Finished, she folded it up and passed it to Bob who placed it in his pocket as she started on the next one.

  Finished with the remaining tracing papers, Anne had him hold the lantern at an angle to let the shadows of the, almost faded, chiseled words appear on the next few headstones as she copied the information down on a pad. Finally, Anne stood and rubbed her back as she arched it and said, “Finished. Lets go home and see what we have.” They set off for their house for part two of their mission.

  Back at the house, Bob poured some warm coffee as Anne spread the papers out and in a moment they were huddled together near the fireplace as Samson curled up on the easy chair. She held up the first sheet of paper and they both let out an audible gasp as the lettering stated: HERE LAYS FREDERICK JENSEN, DEVOTED HUSBAND OF HIS WIFE DERMA. R.I.P. ? – 1930

  “That’s Derma the schoolmarm!” said Bob shaking his head. “But how can that be? If he died in 1930, and I imagine she was born around 1922, that means that she married her husband when she was a child!” He shook his head and went on, “Something is definitely wrong here.”

  Without answering, Anne went to the next sheet of the transparent paper and held it up. Once again they gasped as it read, ISABEL BAIN, DEVOTED WIFE OF DOC BAIN R.I.P. ? – 1936. Anne looked at him with wild eyes and said with a chill in her voice, “Bob! What’s happening? This is the tombstone in front of which Doc Bains stops and stands, and now this. How can he have lost a wife back in 1936 and her end up buried here in Rattlesnake Haven when the town wasn’t even on the map yet?” She quickly took out the notes she had scribbled by the light of the lamp and with shaking hands read, TIM HOLDEN – COWBOY – HORSE TAMER AND DOWN RIGHT GOOD GUY. HE LEAVES HIS WIFE EMMA AND SON, TIM. R.I.P. ? – 1933. She went on, “Another coincidence? Tim Holden just happens to stop in front of a grave with his name on it?”

  Bob put his hands on the sides of his temple and pressed as he said, “Or his father’s name. And isn’t it funny that nobody knows when these people were born?”

  “Even if it was his father’s name,” she countered, “how could he be buried here when the town was just found recently?”

  Bob still held his head and through clenched teeth said, “Tomorrow we find out! Tomorrow we’re going to press Cal and Jean until they tell all they know. That’s a promise.”

  She bit her lip and said, “Boy, I wish I could be here but I really have to make that meeting with Pete Higgins tomorrow. Then from there I’ll be on the plane to the Big Apple. Hopefully to wrap this whole project up earlier rather than later.”

  “And then?” he asked with a smile.

  “Well, after a few weeks of getting the new station up and running, I’ll try to work a few days a week from right here in Rattlesnake Haven.”

  Bob looked at his watch and said, “Well, we need to leave at sunrise tomorrow to get you to work on time, so I suggest we hit the hay.”

  She grinned her answer and they went up to their room. Sunrise came fast and both were very tired the next day.

  17

  A Forced Vacation

  The trip back to Bransville was becoming familiar as Anne nimbly drove around the many obstacles that Mother Nature grew between Rattlesnake Haven and Bransville. After a quick shower and grabbing her already packed clothes, she went to her boss’s office.

  Pete Higgins smiled as he sat behind his large mahogany desk opposite Anne. She had a squint in her eyes as the bright Nevada sun came through the window behind her boss. What most of his employees didn’t know was that Higgins had purposely placed his desk in that position so anyone facing him from across his desk was immediately at a disadvantage as they constantly tried to avoid looking into the sun.

  “Anne, the reports I’ve been receiving from New York have been outstanding. You and your team deserve some much-needed time out, so I’m keeping you right here in Bransville for a while. In fact, as a reward, I’m demanding that you take a few days off, a week maybe. Stay here in town and just relax.”

  Anne’s face dropped as she tried to understand what he was saying. Quickly she retorted, “Um, thanks, Pete, but I’m not tired in the least and the project is coming to an end, so if you don’t mind I’ll go back to New York and finish it up.” She glanced at her watch and went on, “As a matter of fact I have a ticket for the flight back to New York this afternoon.” She started to rise and his face went from a smile to a frown as he looked down and went on.

  “Anne, I do mind. I really want you to take a rest. Stay in town and just veg out.”

  She stood and stared down at him, totally defeating his desk placement. “Veg out? How do you expect me to just veg out when the project, which was my idea, is coming to fruition? Who’s going to finish it up? Who’s going to sign the deal and close a hundred details? Someone in New York?”

  Her boss shuffled some papers around on his desk, “Well, if you must know,” he answered gruffly, “Tom Madren will.”

  “Tom Madren?” she said with a rising anger in her voice and a grin on her compressed lips. “Pete! He’s a pretty face, that’s all. He’s as knowledgeable about this project as is the New York TV Company’s secretary he’s sleeping with.” She stared deep into his eyes and went on, “Is this his idea? It smells of him.”

  Higgins suddenly stood to be her equal and flared, “Madren is a trusted employee who stays with his own kind not with some, out-of-town terrorists!” he sat and shuffled papers as she stood with her eyebrows arched.

  “What? What are you talking about? What terrorists?”

  He didn’t look up at her as he mumbled, “Go home, Anne. I probably said too much already. Just go home and maybe this whole mess will blow away in a week or two. Now, I have calls to make.” He picked up his phone and started dialing what seemed to Anne as random numbers as he ignored her. She took her notes and left.

  She stood outside of her boss’s office leaning against the doorframe. Her head was spinning as she tried to rerun all that had just happened.

  “You okay?”

  She turned to see Tom Madren standing there.

  “Are you alright, Anne?”

  She leaped at him and he grabbed her by the wrists as he said through closed teeth, “Look. This will get you nowhere. Better that you calm down and have a drink with me.”

  “A drink with you?” she said as she tried to get free, “You sneaking back-stabbing bastard.”

  Still holding her wrists he said, “I guess Higgins told you of their decision?”

  “Their decision?” she said as she still wrestled to get free of his grip. “He would never have made that decision if you didn’t say that you could handle the New York package.”

  “Listen to me, Anne. There’s something big going down and I can protect you.” He was excited to tell her about all he knew, showing her that he was in the inner crowd, “The top people of Bransville and even Carson City know about that–that group out in Rattlesnake Haven. And when I say all the top people, I mean the Governor as well. They know about Jim Bensen having them encroach on the silver mine that belongs to Nevada and about their using sequential serial numbers on their money to launder their phony money with ours…and they know that you are one of them.” He shook his head and added in a confidential tone of voice, “Worst case would be if they fired you, but after awhile, I think I can get you back in.”

  Her eyes became slits as she hissed through clenched teeth, “As what? Weather
girl? How did you get such sweeping powers? And what is it that I have to do to be in your good graces?”

  Feeling that she was finally starting to see things his way, he said with a confident smile and a shrug, “Just be my girl again. And who knows, after a while, maybe if we get married, I can get you back in the media.”

  With that she broke free and slammed him in his jaw. He staggered back and yelled, “Security! Security! Help!” Anne turned to leave as a beefy man turned the corner and ordered her to stop. She was in shock as she saw his uniform: it was United States Army and he carried an M-16 rifle over his shoulder. Another soldier came up behind her and stood as the first man examined Tom’s jaw.

  “Sir,” he asked, “Do you wish to have her placed under guard?”

  Tom shook his head, “No. She caught me off guard. Just escort her from the building.”

  Still in shock, Anne dutifully followed the soldier as the second man followed from behind. She heard Tom call out, “Anne. Do yourself a favor and think it over. Meanwhile, don’t try to leave Bransville.“

  Still in shock, she struggled to keep her temper as she left the building. She wanted to warn Bob but there was no cell phone service and he wouldn’t have his satellite phone powered up until the designated time. Her escort stopped at the building’s exit and she walked towards her house. After three blocks she spotted a police car slowly following her and one of the officers was on the radio. She walked faster and the car simply accelerated to stay in place.

  Got to figure out what to do, she thought as she turned a corner. Checking a window that sold women’s shoes, she spotted the patrol car making the same turn she had and at this angle she could see the officer who sat in the passenger’s seat was an Army trooper, not a policeman.

  Why is the army hooking up with the police? she thought, Unless there’s some kind of an activation that I didn’t hear about? She mentally chastised herself, Okay, Anne, think it over fast. For some reason the Army Guard has been activated and some people seem to feel threatened with Rattlesnake Haven. So, how do we go to Rattlesnake Haven and warn them? Go home first and change, she answered herself, then drive out there. Immediately she cancelled that idea, They’ll be following me no matter how I go and probably stop me before I leave town. She turned another corner and after the brisk six-block walk, entered her house. She locked and leaned against the closed door shaking her head. What am I going to do? She sat in her easy chair in front of the TV and using the screen as a mirror, saw the police car stop and park outside.