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

by Keta Diablo

  Spook bounded up, a grin on his doggy face and a shoe in his mouth.

  A battered, chewed-up, half-rotted work boot.

  Ted took the footwear and looked it over. "Reckon coyotes or wolves have been at the grave. See all the dirt clinging to it? There’s even dirt inside."

  Burke frowned. "Aren’t coyotes a lot more likely to bother a fresh grave than one months old?"

  "You're right." Ted headed for the back of the house. "Best have a look-see."

  Vines all but covered the grave except for one corner that had been disturbed. At the head stood a simple wooden cross that read Horace Halstead, 1855 - 1881.

  "You recognize the boot? Is it Horace's?" Burke asked.

  Ted shrugged. "Same kind most men wear hereabouts. Don't know who else it might have belonged to, though, since it came from here. "

  Burke set it down to compare to his own boot. Shorter. More narrow too. Came closer to matching Ted's. Burke was bigger than his great-grandfather. People in the twenty-first century generally were, compared to nineteenth-century folks. A corner of the heel had been broken or chewed off. "Mind if I hang onto this?"

  "Nope. What you gonna do with it?"

  "Not sure yet. Just have a feeling I should keep it a while."

  Finding nothing else of use after a thorough search, they mounted up and rode for home.

  Halfway there, in an open area, Burke’s watch dinged. Relieved to hear from Gabe again, he dropped back a few feet and carefully drew the watch from his pocket: Crossing gate no help. Still here.

  Disappointed, Burke sent a return message: Stand by. Will text later.

  He returned the watch to his pocket and urged Dusty up beside Great-Granddad. He felt a pressing need to get the Halstead ghost taken care of. Before he did something that altered the future. Before the time portal sealed up somehow, trapping him here.

  As usual, the thought of leaving brought Clori to mind, lessening his interest in returning to his own time. He really wanted to get to know her. She needed a friend, and he wanted to fill that spot in her life. Would that mean risking a change in destiny? He didn’t know, but the urge to find a way to help Clori very nearly outweighed his need to go back to 2016.

  Did she really need his help? She did if he correctly guessed her identity.

  "May I ask you a question, Ted?"

  "Sure can."

  Burke drew a deep breath and hoped Great-Granddad didn't get angry or defensive. He’d meant to keep quiet about his suspicion, but had to know. "Was Clorinda Horace Halstead's wife?"

  * * *

  Clori woke in the middle of the night and rolled over. Still dark. Why had she awakened? Raising herself on her elbows, she looked around the dark room.

  In a wedge of moonlight from the window stood the silhouette of a man against the far wall.

  Impossible. Her room locked from inside. No one could get in.

  The ghost—Horace—had returned.

  Her heart stumbled then accelerated. Trying to hang on to reason, to sanity, she stuttered, "H-Horace? Is th-that you?"

  No answer. The image floated toward the foot of the bed.

  Clori’s gaze darted to the closed door. Was it still locked? Could she get to it in time? He remained ten feet away. "Stay where you are or I'll scream," she threatened and edged her feet toward the side of the bed. "I’ll scream loud enough to....." Wake the dead.

  He froze. A breeze caused the curtains at the second-story window to billow. Who opened it? Is that how he got it?

  But a ghost had no need to open a window. He’d simply float through the door.

  Her flesh prickled as an icy chill swept over her like the frozen breath of Satan.

  She tried to see through the image. A man would be solid, a spirit transparent.

  He looked solid, real. Previous hauntings she had experienced were faces in the window that vanished instantly, voices in the night calling her name, the frequent sensation of being followed and watched. She much preferred those incidents to what she faced now.

  "H-Horace? What do you want?"

  Still no reply. He took a step closer, hands lifted.

  Clori’s pulse pounded. Did he intend to kill her? Choke her? Could a ghost do that?

  A whiff of a scent came to her. Horace's hair tonic.

  It was him.

  Her dead husband—the one she had shot and killed—stood a mere ten feet away.

  She knew from experience how fast he could move. Dare she hope being a ghost would slow him down?

  Panic struck. She could already feel his hands around her throat, squeezing hard, the way his fingers had so many times while alive. Squeezing the life out of her.

  Burke, her heart cried. Burke would save her.

  But he wasn’t here. Only Horace.

  He took another step.

  Leaping from the bed, Clori screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she heard it in her ears.

  Desperate, she raced across the icy floor, expecting at any moment to feel hands clawing at her.

  Those hard, cruel hands.

  Please, Lord, please. Let me get there in time.

  She made it to the door. The knob under her hand felt like a lump of ice.

  Frozen. Won't turn! Won't turn!

  The latch! The one she’d had Ted install so she could lock it from inside.

  Stupid! Stupid! Release it!

  She fumbled with the mechanism. Her flesh crawled. Too afraid to look to see how close Horace might be, she prayed frantically.

  Please. Please. Burke? Ted?

  Any second, she would feel him grabbing her, pawing, pinching, hitting, killing her!

  At last the latch slid open.

  A breath wafted over her neck above her nightgown.

  Horace.

  Lord. Help me!

  Chapter Six

  Burke awoke with a start. Had he heard a woman scream?

  The sound came again, splitting the midnight darkness of the house. Burke jumped out of bed and headed for the door. He stopped abruptly, snatched up his Levis and yanked them on. Still fastening the top snap, he ran into the corridor.

  The empty corridor.

  Clori’s doorknob rattled at the opposite end of the hall. Couldn’t she get out? Panicked spurts of adrenaline sent him racing toward the room.

  The door flew open, and Clori burst out, a swirl of ruffled fabric as white as her face.

  Burke opened his arms, and she fell into them, sobbing.

  "A man, he...Horace," she babbled.

  "Okay. I've got you. You're safe now." He cradled her against his chest and watched her door. If the bastard dared to show his face, Burke would teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget.

  She felt good pressed against him, her breasts in her thin nightgown rising and falling with each breath. Normally, that would have aroused him. With Clori, it also brought out his protective instincts.

  A sudden sense of rightness and inevitability washed over him. They were meant to be together. Now he knew why he'd been brought here; to protect and care for this woman. His entire body warmed at the thought, from the heart outward. He had traveled the world and never felt at home anywhere. Here, with Clori in his arms, he did.

  His great-grandparents' door flew open, and Ted rushed out, Nellie behind him with a lighted lamp. "What happened?" Ted asked.

  Burke cursed silently. How could he have let himself get carried away with the feel of her and forget the ghost in her room?

  "I thought I heard a scream," Nellie said, hugging her husband's arm.

  Clori lifted her face from Burke's chest. "A man. In my room." She shuddered visibly. "Horace’s ghost."

  Ted gently drew her away from Burke and edged her toward his wife. "Take her into the bedroom, Nellie, while we check her room."

  "Be careful," Nellie pleaded, hugging the frightened girl against her small frame as they went into the bedroom.

  Burke followed his great-grandfather into the open room at the end of the hall.

/>   The empty room.

  "Window's closed." Ted crouched down to search under the bed. "Couldn't have gotten in by the door. She keeps it locked."

  From the window, Burke saw no easy way for a man to reach it from outside. He studied the room. No closet, only a wardrobe and chest of drawers. "I figured that. I heard her rattle the knob to get out. Do you think she really believes her husband is haunting her?"

  "Don't doubt it for a minute." Ted's brow drew down in anger. "Horace beat on her regular as sunrise. A no good drunk is what he was." His voice heated up, and fury reddened his face. "Her mother tried to stop her from marrying him, but he'd pulled the wool over the girl's eyes. Had her seeing him as a knight in shining armor. Her father had died and her mother, gentle soul that she was, had little influence over her. Then she died suddenly, and Clori married Horace. Everybody in town knew she'd made a big mistake. Wasn't long before she showed up at church with bruises on her face. Claimed she fell or ran into a door."

  Burke's fists clenched. "Makes me want to take a baseball bat to him."

  "Stand in line."

  But who had visited Clori's room tonight? A ghost or a live man? Burke scanned the room and saw Spook standing in the doorway, unconcerned.

  If a ghost had been here, Spook would have known, yet gave no such indication.

  When the men went back out, Nellie came out of her room. She peered at Burke with disapproving eyes. "You're half-naked."

  He looked down. "The important parts are covered."

  "Where is your undershirt, young man?"

  "Don't have one." He crossed his arms over his chest to hide as much as possible. He should have known going shirtless would be considered inappropriate in 1881, but cripes, it had been an emergency. He hadn't thought about shirts, only Clori being in trouble.

  Ted frowned. "Good hell. I’m an idiot. You had no saddlebags or satchel or anything with you when I brought you home. I should have known you were wearing all you owned."

  "I'm afraid that's the gist of it, all right, sir."

  "I'll advance you the money for a spare set of duds."

  "Including underclothes and a nightshirt," Nellie stated firmly.

  "Yes, ma'am. I'll go into town after breakfast." He nodded to Ted. "And I'll pay you back ASAP, sir."

  "ASAP?"

  Burke mentally struck himself in the head. Stupid fool. "As soon as possible."

  "Oh. Fine. That's fine, Burke. We'll work something out."

  * * *

  "You decide to become a gardener?" Ted asked later that morning out in the yard. "Or do ghosts live in burrows like rabbits?" He chuckled at his joke.

  Burke rose from the lawn where he knelt and turned to him. "Checking to see if Clori's visitor left any footprints last night."

  Ted glanced up at her window directly above. "Did he?"

  "Yeah. Look here." He crouched down again and pointed out the imprint of a man's boot heel in the dirt. "Appears to be the same size we found at Halstead's."

  "Well, I'll be a two-tailed horned toad." Ted scoured the ground for more prints. "Don't reckon ghosts leave footprints, though."

  "Not in my experience." Burke walked to a quaking aspen half a dozen yards from the house. "I think a man might be able to reach her window from this tree." One branch, thick enough to support a man's weight, extended almost to the window. "Or he might have lowered himself down by rope from the roof."

  Ted straightened and shook his head. "Never woulda figured that." He peered up at the roof. "Mighta used the chimney to anchor himself, I suppose. No prints from a ladder?"

  "No. Are we heading out to the Halstead place this morning?"

  "Best we get you some new duds first. Mother wants to wash those things you been wearing forever."

  Burke brushed a hand over his bearded cheek, feeling chagrined. "Sounds good. Don't want your wife chasing me off with a broom."

  Ted laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that, but keep in mind tomorrow is Saturday. Bath day."

  "Good to know." A bath would be super. He preferred showers, but right now, simply being clean would be great. He resisted the urge to sniff his underarm, in case someone saw him. The thought of Clori naked in a bathtub drifted into his head, as perfect as Venus rising from a clamshell, all pink and gleaming and wet. He quickly banished the image as his body threatened to react.

  They turned toward the house. Breakfast would be ready soon.

  "I want to stop out to the Sanderson house later." Ted paused by the porch. "His mine ain't producing too well, and with a wife and four little ones to feed, he mighta become desperate enough to help himself to a large chunk of meat. Took a loaf of bread once. Damn near made this grown man cry. Sent Clori out there the next day with a big basket of food."

  "A very considerate thing to do," Burke said. "Want me to go along?"

  "I'd appreciate it." Ted climbed the back steps, Burke behind him, and opened the door.

  Burke stepped into the warm kitchen and greedily sucked in the delicious smells of biscuits, gravy, fried beefsteak, and coffee. His stomach growled. He enjoyed being here in his great-grandparents' home, but he couldn't sponge off them forever, especially since they didn't know who he was. He needed a paycheck, one he could spend here.

  The two men pulled out chairs at the table and sat down. Clori stood at the stove stirring the gravy, while Nellie loaded golden brown biscuits from a baking pan into a cloth-lined basket. Clori wore a plain deep blue dress today with white at the waist, collar, and cuffs. The color seemed to bring out the blue of her eyes and make them seem larger.

  Clori turned from the stove. "Are you staying in Eagle Gulch, Mr. James?"

  She appeared calm now, fortunately. He’d hated seeing her so frightened and upset in the middle of the night. Though she’d seemed to calm somewhat in his arms. That pleased him. He wondered why she wanted to know if he was staying or not. Dare he hope she wanted him here? "I really can’t say, Mrs. Hall. I may have to return to my job with Tremayne Psychic Specters Investigations in Denver. I haven’t contacted them yet. But I’ll be working for the marshal in the meantime."

  Nellie placed the biscuits on the table. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, Mr. James."

  "He might prefer the boarding house." Clori poured the gravy into a bowl and set it in front of him.

  He glanced up, guessing what had brought on that suggestion. He smiled. "Trying to get rid of me?"

  Color rushed to her cheeks and not because she'd been working over a hot stove. Her eyes narrowed. "Why should I care where you live?"

  "Well, I was hoping you'd come to like me."

  Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing more as she took her seat.

  Burke watched her under lowered eyelids and pondered her reasons for wanting him gone. He made her nervous, but why? The murder she tried to hide? Or had Halstead’s cruelty toward her left her wary of all men?

  So far, not a soul in Eagle Gulch had volunteered a word about her killing her husband as if determined to guard her against outsiders like him. He understood her desire to pretend it never happened, but considering how the townspeople stood up for her and kept her from having to go to trial and maybe jail, it seemed odd she remained so standoffish, refusing to make friends or socialize with those same people who had protected her.

  * * *

  From the side of her eye, Clori watched Burke fork biscuits and gravy into his sensuous mouth, chew, and swallow. She loved a man who enjoyed his food, yet wasn't a pig about it, the way Horace had been.

  Burke's mouth fascinated her. She wanted to touch those generous, mobile lips to see if they were as soft as they looked. An image of them moving over her skin invaded her head. Her pulse rose, and heat suffused her entire being. He'd be a gentle, generous lover. She didn’t know how she knew that; she simply did. Or maybe she simply wanted to believe it.

  Stop it, Clorinda Halstead! You’ve killed one man. Are you really stupid enough to fall for another one? You know men are all alike, a
nd the more handsome they are, the meaner they are.

  Disgusted, she banished Burke James from her mind.

  At least, she tried.

  "You all right, Clori?" Ted wiped his mouth with his napkin, missing a bit of gravy on his mustache. "You seem upset."

  "I’m fine, truly." Was she so transparent as that? She wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. Horrible to have been caught thinking such improbable and unhealthy notions.

  After that, she refused to allow herself to look at Burke James. The man was entirely too attractive. She could imagine every single woman in town panting over him. And some married ones as well.

  Yesterday, Willa Chamberlin "happened" to drop by. The entire time she stayed, she scoured each nook and cranny as if expecting to find their "fascinating and heroic" guest under the table or tucked among the books on the bookshelves. Three times, the woman asked after him. Claimed she wanted to thank him for saving the stagecoach from being robbed.

  Ha! She wanted to flirt with him.

  Clori couldn't blame Willa, but didn't like the thought of women fawning over him. Besides, a young single woman like Willa in a boom town like Eagle Gulch should have no problem catching a man. She didn’t need to set her cap for Burke.

  Why not, Clori? You don't like him. You can't wait for him to leave. Are you jealous?

  Of course, she wasn't jealous. Of all the ridiculous ideas. Her concern was not for him, but for the poor, idiotic women who hoped to snag the man into marriage. Idiots. Dreaming of some man caring for them, loving them. Men only loved themselves.

  Except Ted Jameson. She knew without question that he loved Nellie, and she adored him for it. Nellie deserved all the love she could get.

  What about you, Clori? Don't you deserve love?

  Horace hadn't thought so. He railed at her continually for her failings as a wife, a cook, a housekeeper. According to him, she couldn't do anything right no matter how hard she tried.

  And she had tried very hard.

  No, she had no desire to get married again. Being a widow suited her fine.

  It had felt wonderful to have Burke's arms around her for those few moments in the wee hours this morning. She'd been so terrified. Yet in his arms, she'd felt safe. Safe and...almost treasured.