The Good, The Bad and The Ghostly ((Paranromal Western Romance))

by Keta Diablo

  "The agency provides this for me but I’m not much of a cook. I took a room at a boarding house down the street."

  After the life she’d been living since they’d moved to Nevada, it looked like heaven.

  Cole handed her the key. She tried to ignore the way his skin felt when it touched hers. She was here to work, to make enough money to buy a ticket back to Kentucky, back to Granny.

  "Thank you," she said. "I really appreciate everything."

  He bowed his head. "You’re welcome." He tipped his hat and turned toward the door.

  "It was the hens," she said before thinking through it.

  Cole faced her. "The hens?" he asked with a wrinkled brow.

  "My hens. I couldn’t bear to think of him killing them as a way to get at me. I was used to the beatings but my hens never did anything but keep down the bugs and provide us with eggs. They were innocent."

  "So were you." He placed one hand on the doorknob. "Get settled in tonight and I’ll see you in the office tomorrow around nine o’clock." Cole reached into his pocket and took out a dollar. "Have a meal. Explore the town."

  "I have enough for that in my bag."

  "Consider it your first bonus."

  Chapter Four

  Cole was in over his head. In more ways than one.

  In less than twenty-four hours, he’d gotten the case that could make or break his career, a new clerk, and a wife.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  He knew better than to jump in and try to fix everything but it was his nature and he had a hard time resisting, especially when it was a woman who needed help. Protection. Things he could easily provide.

  No one in Reno really knew him anyway. Aside from Mrs. Stampley, who owned the house where he boarded, the laundress and Old Joe at the Livery, he didn’t really know anyone. Cole kept to himself, minded his own business. His marriage, fake or authentic, wouldn’t exactly make the front page of the newspaper.

  If his name could save Anna from the fate his sister had suffered at the hands of her brutish husband, he was willing to offer it. He could’ve saved his sister if he’d only tried harder, paid closer attention, but he hadn’t and she was in the cold ground, her children left motherless.

  He wouldn’t let it happen again.

  The first thing he had to do was get a handle on the case at The Blade. His job was the only thing he had and he couldn’t afford to lose it.

  But forging a marriage certificate would be easy and would only take a few minutes. Best to get that out of the way before Anna’s father came calling. Back in this office, he pulled a piece of paper from the bottom drawer of his desk. After dipping his pen into a bottle of ink, he settled down and crafted a very elaborate document with beautifully shaped letters and impressive looking signatures. It was a trick he’d picked up at a training class and he’d practiced until there wasn’t a single dip of hesitation in his penmanship.

  Satisfied with the result, he tapped sand onto the paper and waited for it to absorb any excess ink. Just as he was about to roll the document up and store it in his top drawer, the door to his office opened.

  "Sir, can you spare a moment?"

  The woman was petite and robust. Her cheeks were rosy pink. She reminded him of the woman who’d played Mrs. Claus in a production he’d seen in the DeBar’s Theater on Fourth Street back in St. Louis.

  "How can I help you, ma’am?" He rose and she walked over to the desk. "I’m Agent Cole Swansby."

  Her eyes moved to the marriage certificate on his desk. "Congratulations are in order, I see." Her voice was high-pitched.

  "Wha—Oh. Yes, ma’am. Thank you." He blushed and quickly rolled the paper into a perfect cylinder. "Now how can I help you?"

  "You haven’t had time to really marry her. It’s a clever ruse." Her eyes were a bright, mesmerizing blue and even though he didn’t believe in anything other than cold, hard facts, there was something about her that seemed different. Wise. Honest.

  "How could you possibly know anything about my wife?"

  The woman clucked and shook her head. After settling herself on the sofa, she looked up at him. "I’m an old woman. I don’t have time for games, young man. Anna was at my house last night and I knew she was lying about her name."

  "It’s, um, well. . . what was your name again, ma’am?"

  "Alice Wemberly. That poor child left after breakfast this morning and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. I know she’s in some kind of trouble and I know she has the gift. I thought she might come here and ask for help."

  The day was only getting stranger. It was not yet noon and his life seemed to be turning over and over until he wasn’t sure which side was up. "Mrs. Wemberly, Anna is fine. I assure you. As to our marriage, well, it’s a long and complicated story and I’d rather not discuss it."

  "Where is she?"

  Cole was torn. On one hand, the fewer people who knew Anna’s whereabouts, the better. On the other, she’d need a friend and this woman seemed to be sincere in her intentions.

  "She left this behind and I need to return it to her." From her bag she pulled a silver mirror. "I wager it’s very precious to her."

  The mirror was an expensive one and Cole doubted that it ever belonged to Anna. He was certain that it was only a prop. "I’ll be happy to—"

  "I’m afraid I must insist on giving it to her in person."

  Mrs. Wemberly was determined and he hadn’t solved nearly thirty cases by being a poor judge of character. He saw real concern in this woman’s eyes and he decided to take a chance. "I’ll need your word that you’ll keep her secrets."

  Mrs. Wemberly nodded. "I shall."

  "Follow me, then."

  They walked out into the bright afternoon sun and Mrs. Wemberly opened her bright pink parasol with a snap. "Right up those stairs." He pointed to the door. "You’ll want to announce yourself as she might be right skittish."

  "Thank you, Agent. Seeing young Anna will put my worrying mind at ease."

  * * *

  When Annabelle heard the knock on the door, she froze.

  "Oh, no. Oh, no," she whispered to herself. She immediately broke out in a cold sweat. There was no escape from her second floor lodging. "He’s found me already."

  Cole was downstairs and she had no way to get his attention. Up here, she was cornered. There was no escape, no place to run. If she stomped on the floor, Cole might hear her but so might the person banging on the door. Fear washed over her and her heart raced.

  The knock came again, harder this time and her pulse matched it.

  "It’s me, Anna, dear." Mrs. Wemberly’s voice was as soothing as a cup of tea.

  Annabelle took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt. She’d unpacked her meager belongings and was considering going to explore Reno when she remembered that she hadn’t put on her disguise yet and that, on the chance that her father was already combing the streets for her, she’d have no cover.

  She opened the door to a smiling Mrs. Wemberly. "Hello, dear," the older woman said. "I know I shouldn’t barge in like this but I’ve been worried about you and there are a few things we must discuss."

  "Please come in." Annabelle stepped back from the door. "I’m afraid I don’t have any refreshments to offer you."

  "Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I didn’t come for tea and crumpets. I brought some biscuits and honey but they’re for you. I came to explain something." Mrs. Wemberly placed her hand on top of Annabelle’s. "I’m so glad you’re okay, child. I was worried sick."

  It felt so good to be cared for by someone so kind. Since her mother’s death and the trip west, she hadn’t had a single person who’d really loved her. She’d had her hens, but chickens had limits. She didn’t realize how much she’d been craving companionship until she saw the softness in the other woman’s eyes. "Thank you for coming to find me."

  "I love fiercely. Fair warning."

  While the apartment was very modest, Annabelle was proud of her tiny place. S
he pulled a chair to the center of the room and offered it to Mrs. Wemberly. "Please sit down."

  After pulling the second one beside the first, Annabelle had a seat, too. "What did you want to explain?"

  Mrs. Wemberly resettled her ample girth on the chair and adjusted her hat. "I know about your gift because I have one, too."

  Annabelle had never told anyone, not until Cole, about the dreams. "How did you know?"

  "That’s not important. What is important is this." She pulled a beautiful silver mirror from her bag and held it up to the light. The midday sunlight beaming through the window glinted off the silver and cast a circle of light onto the wooden floor. "While you see things in your dreams, I feel things when I pick up objects that have belonged to other people."

  Annabelle’s fingers itched to touch the mirror but she held back. "If you recognized my gift, why didn’t I recognize yours?"

  "See these lines on my face? They’re from experience. I’ve been at this a while."

  "Can I hold it?"

  Mrs. Wemberly passed the object to Annabelle. It felt cool and heavy in her hand and it buzzed with a faint energy she didn’t quite understand. She flipped it over and saw the engraving on the back. There were three letters in curling script, "JMS". Her blood went cold. It was the same mirror she’d seen in her dream last night. The one with the lady in green. "I saw this. Last night."

  "I know you did. I felt it."

  Annabelle had so many questions that she didn’t know what to ask first. "Where did you get it?"

  "There’s a shop in town that specializes in second-hand goods. The moment I saw this piece, I knew I was supposed to buy it. When I picked it up, I felt despair and heartbreak. Last night, when I heard you tossing and turning, I realized you’d know what to do with it."

  "But I don’t."

  Mrs. Wemberly clucked. "Use it to find your ghost."

  She made it sound so easy but Annabelle had never connected a dream with a real person. "I don’t know how."

  "You’ll figure it out." The older woman rose. "I must leave now. Gus will be home soon and he hates an empty house."

  Annabelle knew why. Mrs. Wemberly oozed peace and calm. "Thank you again."

  "Stop by the house later in the week and let me know what you’ve discovered."

  "I’d love to."

  "Plan to stay for supper."

  "Yes, ma’am."

  With the lack of sleep last night and all the excitement of the morning, Annabelle was exhausted by the time the sun began to sink low on the horizon. She’d left the apartment only to pump some water from the well at the bottom of the stairs. After washing her face and stripping down to her chemise, she climbed into bed.

  Annabelle placed the mirror on the small table beside her bed. The object called to her and she wanted it to be close to her until she figured out how to use it.

  "Use it," she whispered to herself. She had no idea what that meant but she knew she had to find out.

  She was asleep before the yellow-orange glow of the sunset faded behind the mountains, her fingers still touching the engraving on the handle of the mirror.

  For the first time in four years, there were no dreams.

  * * *

  "I hope you like yellow." The next morning, Cole opened the door to the office to find Anna already sweeping. He placed the stack of boxes on the desk. "I thought it would look good on you."

  Instead of spending yesterday afternoon working on the case that could make or break his career, he’d spent it in the dress shop and the haberdashery. He’d spun a tale about a mail-order bride whose clothing trunk had been lost when she’d switched trains. He had no idea any of the people who’d helped him had believed a single word of his far-fetched narrative but he’d gotten the wardrobe Anna would need to fool her father.

  The lot had set him back an entire paycheck but it had felt good to be a husband, even a fake one. It felt right to be helping her.

  She propped the broom against the wall. "You didn’t have to buy a new dress. I could’ve altered a second-hand one."

  The green calico she was wearing fit her perfectly and he tried not to stare at the delicious curve of her breast and the swell of her hips. "Did you make that one?"

  Anna nodded and ran her hands over the waist. "Right before I left. I told Papa it was my wedding dress so he wouldn’t be suspicious."

  "Good thinking."

  She stepped to the desk and ran a fingertip along the edge of the dress box. "I appreciate all you’ve done for me."

  It didn’t take a detective to see the anticipation in her eyes. "Open them up. See what you think."

  Her eyes met his. "All of these are for me?"

  He nodded. "When it comes to creating a believable disguise, you can’t skimp."

  She smiled and Cole’s heart skipped a beat. "You’re the detective." She untied the string around the box and opened it. "It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen." Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "It reminds me of the buttercups that used to bloom back home. And look at this trim."

  "I’m glad you like it. I hope it fits."

  "If it doesn’t, I will make sure it does. Nothing is going to stop me from wearing this dress."

  Cole laughed. It had been a long time since he’d bought a gift for anyone and it warmed his heart to feel the appreciation and joy that emanated off her in waves. "See what you think about the hat."

  She tossed the paper in the hatbox to the side and squealed. "It’s the most beautiful hat I’ve ever seen."

  A fancy straw hat with a narrow brim and a shallow crown, it had a bright purple ribbon and a small plume. She placed it on her head and tied it under her chin. "How does it look?"

  "Like it was made for you."

  "Do you have a mirror?"

  He shook his head. "Sorry. I should’ve thought of that."

  "I’ll be right back. I have a hand mirror upstairs."

  "Why don’t you take the dress and try on your new identity?"

  "But I’m supposed to be working."

  "I won’t tell the boss."

  She bustled out of the office, boxes under her arm, talking the whole time.

  It had been a long time since Cole had felt joy. He leaned back in his chair and let it wash over him.

  * * *

  A new dress!

  She’d gone from not having one in four years to having two in less than a week. Add in a safe place to sleep and a small paycheck and Reno was shaping up to be the best decision she could have made.

  Joy. It was a feeling she’d forgotten. With Papa, she’d grown familiar with disappointment and regret, both of which tasted like bitter bile. Relief tasted like a plump peach covered in sugar and cream.

  She opened the door to her apartment and placed the boxes on the bed. With the hat still on her head, she picked up the mirror and looked into it.

  Except she didn’t see herself. Not the new hat, not the iron headboard. She saw nothing but fog, thick and gray, like the ones she’d seen growing up in the Appalachian Mountains. It swirled and shifted. Cold fingers of fear traveled up the length of her arms and into her heart.

  She wanted to drop the mirror, watch it shatter into a million pieces on the plank floor but she couldn’t release it. It was as if it was glued to her hands. She couldn’t look away and she couldn’t let go.

  After several seconds, the fog began to thin, becoming wispier and transparent. From the background, the woman in green stepped forward.

  "You’ve found it," she whispered. "Please use it to help me. Please."

  And then Annabelle fell to the floor, mirror still in hand.

  * * *

  A loud thump shook the ceiling.

  Cole was on his feet and out the door in the time it would usually take him to put on his hat.

  Anna. Something was wrong with Anna.

  His need to shelter and protect her hit him with the force of a stallion at a full gallop.

  He jogged up the rickety wooden
steps two or three at a time. The door was open and Anna was on the floor. Cole rushed to her and knelt on the floor beside her. She looked so small, so delicate. "Anna?" He felt for a pulse in her wrist. It was faint but it was there. Thank God. "Anna?" He rolled her onto her back. She was still wearing her new hat and in one hand, she held an expensive mirror. He placed it on the bed and shook her shoulders. "Wake up."

  Her eyelids fluttered but she didn’t open them. Fear seized him and he shook her harder this time. "Annabelle!" She opened her eyes slowly but her pupils were large, taking up most of the green irises. He felt her forehead but it was cool. "Are you alright?"

  "I don’t know, I. . . ." her voice was faint and it trailed off. She closed her eyes again and Cole tapped her jaw lightly with the palm of his hand. She winced and turned her head, moving her hands to block him.

  "Did I hurt you?"

  Her eyes went wide and she looked at him through her fingers. "I thought you were Papa."

  "He hurt you?" As addled as she was, she’d still moved to protect herself. Rage welled up in him. Any man who would harm a woman wasn’t a man. His determination to keep her safe doubled, tripled. "You’re safe with me. I’d never lay a hand on you in anger."

  She sighed deeply. "I don’t know what happened."

  "Let me help you up," he said. "Maybe we should go see Doc McGillis."

  "No." Her voice was harsh. "Thank you but I don’t need a doctor. I’ll be fine. I just need a chance to catch my breath."

  Cole hooked her arm over his shoulder and pulled her to her feet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she untied the new hat and placed it beside her. Color began to wash back into her face and her breath became more even and regular.

  "What happened?" Cole asked. He sat beside her on the bed.

  "I don’t know. I wanted to see how my new hat looked but when I looked into the mirror, there was nothing but fog. And then she came."

  "She?" He glanced around the room but saw no one.

  "The woman in green. The one I saw in my dreams the night I spent with the Wemberlys."

  "She’s a ghost?" He tried to hide his skepticism. While he’d gotten pretty good at doing that over the years, it was harder with Anna.