Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2)

by C. Marie Bowen

  Two are still moving this way.

  Their positions were closer than they had been this morning.

  He put away his maps and pendulum. He had already begun to sketch a street map of Denver to add to his portfolio. The sooner he found these individuals and warned them about the minister and his prophecy of a demon, the quicker he could turn his full attention to Mademoiselle Kline.

  Chapter 24

  Alyse James

  Alyse and her uncles stepped from the train onto the wooden railway platform outside the Denver station. Underneath her sturdy boots, the rigid boards felt as though they moved with the familiar motion of the train.

  A sensory illusion.

  Alyse grinned and looked up at her uncles from beneath her bowler hat.

  Bernard pointed toward the station. “Bay, wait beside the door with Alyse. I’ll find our trunks.” Bernard handed his brother his small bag and disappeared into the crowd along the platform.

  Bayard took Alyse’s arm and steered her to an empty place on the side of the building. “Did Amylia tell how we are to find her?”

  Alyse nodded then became distracted by the crowd. A woman rushed away from the train, three children in tow, like a string of ducklings. A porter, pulling a low-wheeled cart, followed a lanky gentleman wearing a tall hat. Loud laughter behind her caused her to turn. At the corner of the station, several men with gun belts strapped to their hips and curved brim hats discussed last night’s entertainment.

  She pulled her attention from the loud men and concentrated on her uncle. “She showed me the house where she lived. There’s a livery near her home where several of her horses are boarded.”

  Behind her brother, a round man in a vest held the door for an elderly woman, whose overskirt and collar were trimmed with bright red pleated ruffles.

  Too many people and distractions.

  The clamor along the platform and the throng of anxious people assailed her senses. She closed her eyes for a moment to shut out the cacophony, then opened them and kept her gaze on Bayard’s calm, familiar face. “Amy suggests we rent a wagon from the stable and use two of her horses for the trip to her ranch.”

  Bayard nodded, as he stood on his toes and looked down the platform. “Bern’s coming.”

  A dark-skinned porter in a Union Pacific uniform pushed their luggage cart and followed Bernard.

  Bernard looked from Bay to Alyse. “Where to?”

  “Amy suggests we find transportation to the livery near her house on Pence Street.” Alyse looked over her shoulder at the line of horse-drawn vehicles waiting for fares along the street.

  “We’ll need a wagon for the trunks,” Bay commented.

  “I see one.” Bernard slipped around the gregarious men on the corner and hurried down the ramp toward the street.

  “This way, then.” Bayard nodded to the porter and took Alyse’s elbow.

  “I want to see the house,” Alyse commented as Bayard helped her to the high buckboard seat.

  After Bernard tipped the porter, he and Bayard climbed in the back and sat on their trunks.

  The driver looked over his shoulder. “Where to, gentlemen?”

  “The livery stable on Pence Street and Park Avenue,” Alyse directed the driver. “Do you know it?”

  The driver nodded, made a clicking sound with his tongue and directed the team away from the line of vehicles.

  They encountered a considerable amount of construction and traffic along the main thoroughfare. Wagons with lumber, and groups of horsemen, slowed their progress.

  Alyse found her attention returning time and again to the mountains. They had passed through mountains during their train ride west, but nothing compared to these.

  Before long, the driver turned onto a diagonal street, and pulled to a stop beside the livery a few blocks down.

  Bernard leaned forward from the back and paid the fare while Bayard jumped down to help Alyse descend from the seat.

  Her uncles stacked their trunks next to the building, and Alyse stepped inside to speak with the stable master.

  The stableman greeted her as an old friend. “This is a surprise, Mrs. Harris. I thought you’d left town with your husband.” He paused and stared as Bay and Bern walked into the stable yard and stopped behind Alyse.

  “I—um. Yes,” Alyse improvised. “My husband traveled to the ranch, but I stayed to meet my uncles at the train.” She paused, unsure how to proceed with introductions. Amy would have known the man’s name.

  The man put out his hand to Bayard. “Nice to meet you. I'm Clay Matthews.”

  “Bayard James, Mr. Matthews, and this is my brother Bernard.”

  “Call me Clay.” He shook Bernard’s hand then stepped back and turned his attention to Alyse.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Harris? Are you ready to take your horses back to the ranch?”

  “Only two.” Alyse smiled and fidgeted with her skirt. Pretending to be Amy caused her stomach to knot. “And a buckboard for the luggage.”

  “That won't be a problem. You'll want your usual provisions for a two-day trip?”

  “Yes, please.” She pointed up the street. “We’re going to check on something at the house. We shouldn’t be long.”

  “I’ll have the wagon tacked up by the time you get back.” The stableman turned and pointed toward two boys who watched across the yard. “Hitch the Harris’ brown and the dappled to the small wagon.”

  Alyse turned and paced out of the yard and onto the street. “We’ll need to stop at the general store on the way out of town for items the livery may not provide,” she reminded her uncles.

  At the end of the first block, Alyse stopped. “Wait a moment. I need to catch my breath.”

  Bayard put his hands on his knees and nodded.

  Bernard lifted his bowler and ran his sleeve over his bald head. “It’s like there’s no air.”

  Alyse nodded “It’s very thin.” A brief rest restored her, but they walked slower along the second block. She hadn’t noticed while sitting on the train, but even a short walk proved the difference in the air.

  By the time they stood in front of the red brick house with the 'H' on the door, Alyse’s breath was labored and her heart beat fast.

  Broken lumber and debris leaned against the side of the house. The recently rebuilt porch cover had yet to be painted.

  Alyse pointed to the second-floor window. “Amy stood in the room upstairs when we twyned.”

  I saw the damage from inside, through Amy’s eyes.

  “Hello,” a voice called from behind them.

  Alyse turned and watched a man cross the street.

  He must be a neighbor. Oh Goddess, he’ll know I’m not Amy.

  Alyse gripped her skirt with both hands and smiled a welcome.

  The thin, balding man appeared surprised, but smiled and continued into the yard. “Miss Amy, I thought you left with Jason.” The man looked from Alyse to the twins beside her and raised his eyebrow.

  Make it a nosy neighbor.

  She cleared her throat. “I did, but Jason dropped me off at a friend's house near the station. My uncles from Boston were due in today. I wanted to show them the new porch before we left for the ranch.” Alyse smiled what she hoped was a confident expression. After days on a train, she knew she looked as bedraggled as she felt.

  The neighbor turned to Bayard and put out an open hand. “Albert Fielding.”

  “Hello, Mr. Fielding. I’m Bayard James. This is my brother, Bernard.”

  “Mr. Fielding.” Bernard and the neighbor shook hands.

  “I had cousins that were twins. Never could tell them apart.” Mr. Fielding chuckled. “Oh say, there was a federal marshal here just yesterday looking for your husband.”

  “Really?” Alyse raised her eyebrow. “Did he say what for?”

  “No, not really.” Mr. Fielding rubbed his chin. “Just wanted to ask Jason a few questions. I told him you were at the ranch.”

  Alyse nodded. “Perhaps I will see
him tomorrow, then.”

  “I expect you will, if he headed that way.” The neighbor took a step back. “Well, I’ve got to get back to my own projects now. Nice meeting you, gentlemen.”

  In the middle of the street, the neighbor turned back. “Oh, before I forget, tell Jason I have the painters coming tomorrow to paint the porch.” He waved and continued toward his house.

  Alyse raised her hand. “All right, Mr. Fielding. I’ll let him know.”

  Bayard waved as well. “These westerners are kindly folk.”

  “Only because they think she’s Amylia.” Bernard countered.

  “I'm not use to pretending to be someone else,” Alyse confessed as they started back to the stable.

  “There’s nothing to it, really. People believe their eyes before anything else,” Bay told Alyse as they walked. “These people don’t even know your sister has a twin. It’s much harder to convince people who suspect duplicity.”

  Alyse laughed. “You sound like you have plenty of experience tricking people.”

  The wagon was ready when they arrived. Alyse thanked Clay for loading their trunks onto the wagon.

  “Have a safe trip, Mrs. Harris,” Clay called as Bernard guided the team away from the livery.

  Bayard stayed with the wagon while Alyse and Bernard hurried into the mercantile for supplies. They purchased a pot for heating water, a basket of fried chicken, several strips of salted beef and a bundle of firewood at the recommendation of the clerk. Firewood, the clerk explained, was difficult to come by heading east.

  They decided to get as far as they could while the sun lasted. At sunset, they would camp and get an early start in the morning. With the directions embedded firmly in Alyse's mind, they headed east out of town toward the ranch and her sister.

  Chapter 25

  Sam Kline

  Sam poured the remainder of the hot water on the coals and stepped back as steam and smoke rose into the morning sky. He cast a cautious glance at Cat.

  She sat at the end of the wagon, legs tucked beneath her skirt, a blanket wrapped around her and a tin cup of hot water between her hands.

  Her silence said more to him than her complaints would have. “Cat, I’m sorry I forgot you don’t like coffee.”

  Cat’s eyes flashed at him, then back to her cup. “It’s not just about the coffee.” She muttered into the cup, “How would you know what I like, anyway?”

  Sam rested his hands on his hips and stared at his sister. “You could have slept by the fire if you were cold.”

  “On the dirt?” Her outraged glare scoured him with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Sam shrugged and turned to the horses to hide his smile. “You would have been warm, at least.” He removed the horses’ hobbles and led them to the front of the wagon. “We should get to the Harris Ranch by noon,” he said as he passed the end of the wagon.

  “Marvelous.”

  Sam’s grin widened at his sister’s tone. He turned his attention to harnessing the team and hitching them to the wagon. When he finished, he wiped his hands against his denim trousers and looked up.

  Cat had taken her place on the seat. The blanket still wrapped around her back. Her hair brushed and plaited into a thick braid, which hung over one shoulder. She narrowed her eyes when their gazes met. “I would have liked more hot water.”

  Sam pulled on his gloves and climbed onto the seat beside her. “I should have asked before I poured it out. I’m sorry.”

  Cat lifted one shoulder. “Let’s just go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back to civilization.”

  * * *

  Just before noon, they passed a recently abandoned ranch. Tumbleweeds blew across the yard and stacked against the bunkhouse. Sam’s directions from Judge Anders mentioned The Shilo Ranch, but Sam understood The Shilo to be a working ranch. “A couple more hours and we’ll be there.”

  “Will there be people?” Cat had shed her blanket hours ago, and now hid her fair skin beneath a parasol. She turned her gaze from the empty ranch and raised an eyebrow at her brother. “I hope they have beds.”

  Sam glanced at his sister. “Depending on what this Harris fellow has to say, we may not be asked to spend the night.”

  “You should have let me stay in Denver.”

  “I should have left you in N’Orleans.”

  He caught his sister’s glare and gave one back.

  Cat turned away, and they rode in silence.

  After a while, Sam spotted a thin trail of smoke ahead. Soon, the house and outbuildings came into view. He turned the team off the main road and onto a drive that wound up a shallow rise to the yard. Several horses circled inside a large corral, and men worked in front of the large barn in the distance. “See Cat, there are people here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, be nice, Sam. I’d like to sleep in a bed tonight.”

  Sam pulled the team to a stop in front of the house just as the front door opened.

  A tall, dark-haired cowboy stepped onto the porch, a rifle held in the crook of his arm. He nodded to Sam and walked to the end of the porch near the wagon. “Hello, folks. Can I help you?”

  Sam stared at the man. A vague sense of recognition assailed him, but he couldn’t put a name to the face. There was something about the way he walked, and the way he wore his gun belt.

  Maybe not just a cowboy then, but so damned familiar.

  “Good afternoon.” He set the wheel brake and tied the reins to the post beside the seat. “We’re looking for the Harris Ranch. Specifically, for a Mr. Jason Harris. Might that be you, sir?”

  When Sam spoke, the man on the porch stepped back and shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.” A smile transformed his face. “Sam Kline. I haven't seen you since Albuquerque. That had to be, what—eight years ago?” He leaned the rifle against the house and stepped down beside the wagon. “How the hell have you been?”

  Sam froze when the cowboy said his name then recognition sparked, and a name fell into place. “Merril?” Sam dropped from buckboard.

  The men embraced and pounded each other on the back.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Why do you want to see Jason?”

  They spoke at the same time and laughed.

  Sam stepped back and measured Merril with his gaze. “You’ve gained some height, kid. What are you doing at the Harris Ranch? Do you work here?”

  “It's my wife's ranch.” Merril chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t believe it. I thought I’d seen the last of you when you rode out of Albuquerque.” He gestured to the woman who watched from the doorway, and then waved for her to come outside.

  The lovely blonde-haired woman crossed the porch with a cautious smile and nodded to Sam and Cat. She stepped from the porch and took Merril’s hand.

  “Sam, this is my wife, Nichole Shilo—formerly, Harris. The man you are asking for is her cousin. Nicki, this is Sam Kline, an old friend of mine from Albuquerque.”

  * * *

  Nichole Harris-Shilo

  Nichole smiled hello to the tall man beside her husband. He stood almost as tall as Merril, with light-colored hair and expressive blue-gray eyes.

  He tipped his hat to her. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Shilo.” His attention returned to Merril. “You're married? I remember you as a hotheaded kid who had just learned to shoot straight.” Sam laughed again, then held out his arm toward the woman seated on the wagon. “This very patient young woman is my sister, Catherine. Cat, this is Merril Shilo, and his wife, Nichole.”

  The woman beneath the parasol smiled at her brother then nodded to Merril and Nichole. “I’m pleased to meet you both.”

  “Come inside.” Nichole released Merril’s hand and stepped onto the porch. “We’re about to have lunch. It would be great if you would join us.”

  Sam stepped around the wagon and helped his sister down. “Thank you. Cat can join you while I see to the team.”

  “Nonsense.” Merril picked up the rifle. “Ou
r stablemen will see to your rig and horses.” Merril raised his arm and waved toward the barn.

  Tom and Lloyd waved back and start toward them.

  Nichole stopped beside the doorway and waited for the young woman. “After you.”

  “Thank you.” Cat gave Nichole a shy smile and stepped inside.

  Once inside, Nichole spotted Lawna setting the table. “Lawna, would you set two more places, please? We have guests for lunch.” Nichole smiled her thanks at Lawna, then looked with affection to Merril's animated face as he and his friend entered the house. She turned back to Catherine and tipped her head toward the stairs. “Come upstairs and you can wash off the dust before we eat. I’m familiar with the long ride from Denver.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Cat rested her closed parasol on the entry table and followed Nichole up the stairs.

  In her room, Nichole poured water into the bowl and pulled a clean washcloth from the drawer, then stepped aside.

  “Thank you.” Cat wet the cloth and applied it to her face with a sigh. “I was not prepared for how dry and dusty it is.” She rinsed off her neck and then her face again.

  “I know just what you mean.” Nichole sat on the end of the bed while Cat washed. “So, I take it you're not from Colorado.”

  “No. We came up from N'Orleans by train.” Cat picked up Nichole's hairbrush and gave her a questioning look. “May I? Mine’s in the wagon.”

  “I don’t mind,” Nichole said with a smile. “How does your brother know Merril?” Nichole stared at Catherine’s reflection in the mirror as she unbraided her long brown hair.

  Cat’s brown mane swung around her face and she tugged the brush through her tangled strands.

  Nichole felt dizzy with déjà vu. Cat’s rounded chin and almond-shaped eyes—Nichole had seen those reflected in a mirror before. The familiar stroke of a brush down fine, brown hair that snarled at the ends conjured a memory of the woman Nichole used to be. Nichole’s posture stiffened as she put a hand over her heart. Amazing. She knew Cat’s hair would glint like fire in the sunlight, just like Courtney’s, only Cat’s nose and the color of her eyes were different.