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

by Keta Diablo

  "That she would love you anyway?"

  He looked at this woman, his great-grandmother, and wished he could lay his head on her shoulder and sob like a child. But he was a man. He nodded. "Now, tell me about the other time traveler you met."

  "Oh, I never met him. I read about him in a magazine. They put him in a sanitarium, I’m afraid. He’s probably still there."

  Burke felt as if he’d been struck. Would they do that to him if it got out that he believed himself to be from the future? Could he find the man and help him? He rubbed his forehead. "I fear I’ve gone about this all wrong. I shouldn’t have told her. I should have—"

  "As I said, she'll come around." Nellie patted his arm.

  He hoped the dear woman was right, but thought it unlikely. He wasn't sure he'd believe his own story if someone told it to him. "Thank you, Nellie."

  She touched him on the shoulder, a motherly gesture of support, love, and certainty.

  "Thanks for fighting for me up there."

  "Think nothing of it."

  "I'd better get to the jail. Ted wants to take the posse and go after Horace."

  "I hope you catch him. And string him up for trying to kill our Clori."

  "We'll do our best, but he may have cleared out of the county by now."

  He hurried to the door. Burke had his own reasons for wanting to see Horace caught and "strung up," as Nellie put it. He couldn't kill the man himself, not in cold blood, but he could sure hope to see it happen.

  Not that it would do him any good. If Clori had truly turned away from him, as she appeared to have done, he might as well go back to 2016. Perhaps that was where he belonged, and his notions of staying here and marrying her were as outlandish as she thought his tale to be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Burke reined Dusty in at the hitching rail outside the marshal's office and dismounted. Spook trotted onto the boardwalk and plopped down.

  The door opened, and a young woman exited, wearing a riding skirt with a high waistline that fit her body like a glove. Burke gave a silent whistle. She was too young for him, but a knockout nonetheless.

  Ted joined her, bending to pet Spook. "Burke. Just in time. I want you to meet Miss Ruth Wilson. She's come from your Denver office to learn who you are."

  Shit.

  Would he have to tell his story again? To more people who wouldn't believe him? Discouraged, he tossed the reins around the post and thought fast. His mind came up blank. His goose was cooked. Nothing would work now but the truth, and since he'd already shared his tale with Nellie and Clori, how could he keep quiet now? Would Ted accept his story as readily as his wife had? Or would he have him thrown into a sanatorium like the other time traveler Nellie had heard about? "Can we go get Horace first?"

  "No."

  "All right." A miner walked past them on the boardwalk. "How about we move inside then?"

  "Good idea." Ted waved the girl into the office and waited for Burke. "You've some explaining to do, boy."

  "I know. I'm sorry." He joined them and leaned against the bars of an empty cell. Arizona Joe and his partner occupied the other two. The dog stayed outside.

  How had the woman known about him? Why had she bothered to come all the way here from Denver to check on him?

  Ruth Wilson sat in the chair across the desk from Ted's. Both looked at Burke expectantly.

  How on earth should he put this? Would either of them believe the truth?

  "Best get it over with, son." Ted picked up a cup of coffee and drank.

  Burke crossed his arms over his chest. He looked at Miss Wilson. "You want to know who I am and why I said I'm a P.S.I. Agent, yet you've never heard of me."

  Ruth nodded. "Exactly."

  Burke blew out a breath and considered where to begin. "Miss Wilson may have less difficulty accepting what I'm going to say than you, Ted. But, believe me, it's the truth."

  "Go ahead."

  Okay, here we go again. "I told you I came here with a partner to investigate the hauntings at the Halstead place." Burke drew in a deep breath. Now came the tricky part. "What I didn't tell you was that I arrived there in the year 2016. Something happened, I don't know what. I have no idea how I ended up in 1881."

  Ted spat coffee all over the desk. "Thunderation! Look what you made me do." He pulled out his handkerchief and began wiping up. "You don't expect me to believe that tall tale, do you?"

  "I said it might be hard for you."

  "I believe you." Ruth Wilson spoke softly but with confidence.

  "Well, that's one of you," Burke said.

  Ted turned to the girl. "Why on God's green earth would believe such malarkey?"

  "Look at him, Marshal. Does he look like the other men around here? Does he act like them?"

  Ted's gaze traveled from Burke's hair to his boots. "His hair's kind of short, but that doesn't mean anything. He wore an odd shirt that buttoned all the way down the front. Never saw anything like it before, but I figured he'd come from the big city and fashions are more current there."

  "Not that current." Ruth stood up and walked a semi-circle around Burke studying his attire. "I live in a city, and I've never seen such a shirt. What about these trousers? No suspenders. How does he keep them up, and what are these fabric loops for on the waistband? And look how well they fit. They even have two pockets in back."

  He'd gotten his old clothes back from Nellie's wash line and put them on that morning. They were softer and more comfortable. Besides, he preferred his pants to zip rather than work snaps or buttons. He should have known they marked him as different from other men in Eagle Gulch.

  "Pockets in back?" Ted pulled Burke away from the cell and half-turned him around. "Well, I'll be damned. What do you have bulging in there, son?"

  Burke drew out his wallet, opened it, and held out his Driver's License.

  "Burke Jameson...." Ted stopped reading and looked at him. "You gave James as your name. Who the Dickens are you?"

  "Calm down, Ted. This, too, is going to be hard for you to swallow, but I figure you’re my third-great-grandfather."

  "Great...." The marshal laughed, but the sound held an edge of tension. "Which one of my sons do you supposedly descend from?"

  "Curt will marry a woman named Loretta and have five sons. One of them will be named Richard Andrew Jameson. He’ll—"

  "How'd you know Curt was courting Loretta Coffee?" Ted’s face had lost its color.

  "I've seen my genealogy chart, Granddad."

  "Granddad! You said great-grandfather before."

  "So, I shortened the title a bit." Burke blew out a breath and raked his fingers through his hair. "You want me to tell you more? Spencer—"

  "No! I don't want to hear more. Let the future stay in the gol-blamed future, goshdangit."

  Ted marched around the room, hands on hips, a scowl on his face, making the space seem smaller than reality. He halted in front of a small shaving mirror on the wall and studied his features. Then stalked near and peered at Burke. "Good golly hell. There's a resemblance. You look like Curt more than me, but I see it. You telling me the truth?"

  "Yes, sir. I've told you the truth."

  Collapsing back in his chair, Ted took out his cigarette makings and began rolling a smoke with trembling hands. "I need a drink. Damn. I'm not telling Nellie any of this." He pointed a finger at Burke. "And you're not either. Her old ticker couldn't take it."

  "I'm afraid you're too late, Granddad. And she's in fine health."

  He rose to his feet. "You sure? Why on earth did you tell her?"

  Burke couldn't help himself. He grinned at the man's consternation. "I didn't mean to. I told Clori and Nellie overheard."

  His watch chose that moment to announce a text.

  "What was that?" Ted demanded.

  Burke took it from his pocket and held it out. "My watch, a special sort of iWatch I had designed for me with P.S.I. devices installed for ghost hunting."

  Ruth rushed over. "Truly? I must see this."
<
br />   He handed it to her. "There's an EMF meter, a tracker, camera, spotlight, and recorder. This screen here is for texts, a short message like my partner Gabe just sent me."

  "'Tried gate again. No luck,'" Ruth read. "Oh, my. This is marvelous. I must have one. Name the watchmaker."

  "It's not someone you can go to. The shop won’t exist until around 2010." Burke took back the watch and sent a quick message to Gabe. "Ted, I really want to get to the Halstead place as soon as possible in case Horace has returned. Oh, and he's your petty thief, by the way. The steaks he had Clori cooking came from the beef lifted from Thames' place."

  Ted cursed. "Let's go."

  "Good. We're done talking about 2016 then?" Burke asked.

  "For now." Ted rose and checked his sixgun.

  Burke headed for the door. Following his great-grandfather's example, he reloaded his Colt from his cartridge belt. As soon as he stepped outside, Spook jumped up and pranced around him, seemingly aware that something exciting was about to happen.

  "I'm going as well." Ruth emerged, donning a bonnet and gloves. "Is there a horse I can borrow?"

  "You can ride with me," Ted offered, closing the door. "I'm not missing out on this and rounding up another horse would take too long."

  He called out to two men, asking them to go to his house and keep watch over Nellie and Clori.

  "Good." Burke swung into his saddle. "Everything's ready. Let's ride."

  * * *

  Dark clouds rolling across the sky warned of a coming storm as Burke, Ted and Ruth Wilson galloped up the road. A smart wind kept tree branches swooshing and spread the scent of spruces and firs. The birds had gone silent. Burke shoved a few strands of Dusty's windblown mane from his eyes and pulled his Stetson tighter over his ears.

  Spook ran way ahead of them, of course. Burke heard him bark somewhere up ahead. Not wanting the dog to alert Halstead to their approach, he whistled a low bird call. Spook's barking grew louder, closer. He wasn't responding to Burke's command. Darn dog.

  When they came to the empty field with the collapsed gate, Burke veered that direction. "Shortcut," he called out.

  The others followed.

  The house came into view some distance away.

  Ted, with Ruth perched behind him, edged his gelding up alongside Burke. "Let's halt before we get there. Best Horace doesn't know we're coming if the dog hasn't already warned him."

  "Sorry. I tried to call him back. He usually obeys." Burke whistled again. "Horace will be watching for us to come by way of the road if he's even there. I'm betting he is. Don't know why else Spook would be barking."

  "Better leave our horses here." Ted steered his horse into a stand of spruces that would do a better job of hiding them than the knee-high saplings that had sprung up in the once-cleared field. Burke followed. They dismounted and secured the horses.

  "I suggest we spread out." Ted used his hands to direct them. "Burke, you head that way and cut around back. I'll angle the opposite direction. Ruth, you'd better stay back."

  "Not necessary, sir," Ruth said, drawing an Army Colt from her reticule and checking the chamber with obvious skill and experience.

  Burke nodded in approval.

  He had barely gone a dozen yards when his watch signaled an incoming text. Gabe, of course.

  Gabe: What’s up?

  Burke: Going after Halstead.

  Gabe: Can I help from here?

  Burke thought for a minute: Find Horace Halstead death date.

  Gabe: Will do.

  He came up on the west side of the house which had no window. Moving up to lean against the clapboard-covered wall, he carefully peered around the corner at the back. Minutes later, a man screamed inside. The rear door burst open, and Horace stumbled out, holding a hand to his bloody shirt over his wound and waving a six-gun in the air.

  "Don’t come near me," he squeaked out, obviously scared out of his wits. But he wasn’t talking to Burke. His attention focused on something inside. Who was in the house?

  "Halstead!" Burke yelled, training his Colt squarely on the man's chest. "Stop where you are. I'm armed."

  The man kept going.

  Burke pursued. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

  Horace staggered into a tree, stopped, and, leaning against it, looked over his shoulder. "Is she gone?"

  "Who?" The man obviously suffered from the wound Clori had given him earlier. The blood on his shirt had mostly dried, but a fresh leak showed beneath his hand.

  "Th-that thing. The ghost. Velda. I killed her once. Why couldn't she stay dead?" His voice trembled with exhaustion and hysteria.

  So, Clori's mother had paid her son-in-law a visit. She was finally getting even. "Didn't see any ghost. Toss your gun over here."

  "Burke?" Ted shouted from the other side of the house.

  "Back here. I've got him."

  Halstead's eyes bulged, and he pointed a shaking hand to the trail behind Burke. "That's her. That's her. Shoot her."

  Velda Burkhart stood on the path, smiling.

  She floated closer, and Horace screeched again. "Keep her away from me. She wants me dead. Don't let her near me." He pulled out his gun and aimed it at the ghost. "I'll shoot her. I swear it, I'll shoot her. Then I'll shoot you."

  Burke shared a look of disgust with Clori's mother. "I don't think it does any good to shoot a ghost, Horace. The bullet would just go through her."

  "Like it does with that damned horse." Horace turned the gun on Burke. "Then I'll shoot you. Once that's done, I'm going to kill that bitch wife of mine."

  Burke held up his hands, the Colt still in the right one. Watching this fruitcake wave around a loaded weapon made him more than nervous. "You can put a bullet in me, but you won't get far afterward. The marshal's right behind me, as well as another agent."

  "I’m putting my gun away, see? Now, you do the same." He lowered his right hand and slipped the Colt into his holster to show unconcern. A bully like Horace would take that as an insult and hopefully get riled enough to make a mistake that would allow Burke to grab him. "Besides, Velda's still here. No matter how many people you kill, she'll keep haunting you. I'll haunt your sorry ass too if you shoot me."

  The man let out a roar of anger and frustration. "Who in hell are you, anyway, and why are wooing my wife? You can't have her."

  "I'm not wooing her. I happen to be a guest of the Jamesons. Same as her."

  "Yeah? Well, you're gonna be a dead guest now."

  Horace cocked his gun and tightened his finger on the trigger. Everything inside Burke went still as he waited for the blast of the bullet and the thud of it striking his chest.

  A flash of pale gray and black burst from the trees.

  Silver.

  The mare reared up and drove her front hooves down onto Horace, knocking him to the ground.

  "Easy, Silver, easy," Burke called out as calmly as possible. He might be next to feel the crushing power of those hooves.

  Horace howled and rolled on the ground to avoid the flashing hooves as she struck again and again.

  The mare's eyes flashed fire. She was in a rage. If Burke didn't do something, there would be nothing left of Horace Halstead.

  "Come on now, girl. Calm down." He used his most soothing voice. "Easy."

  Ted ran up. "What happened? Whose horse is that?"

  "I don't know, but she's pounding Halstead into dust."

  The men yelled to be heard above the snorts and screams of the horse, Halstead's agonized howls, and a rumble of thunder overhead.

  "Shoot her," Ruth shouted, joining them. "Shoot the horse. She's gone crazy!"

  The woman gave the men no time to stop her, simply raised her gun and fired.

  The mare didn't even slow down.

  Halstead appeared dead. He'd quit screaming, quit moving, his open eyes stared blankly.

  Burke edged dangerously close to the enraged animal in an attempt to capture her reins. "Down, girl. You've done enough. He's dead."

  Panting and snorti
ng, with froth dripping from her muzzle, Silver dropped down on all fours and looked at her nasty work. She tossed her head. Her sides billowed with effort. Another energetic, emphatic nod.

  Burke grabbed hold of the dragging reins and tugged gently. "Come on, now. You can't hurt him any more than you already have."

  She gazed at him, seeming calm and contented now. Burke pulled up some grass and weeds and used them to wipe her down. His watch dinged. A text from Gabe: "Halstead killed September 18, 1881.

  Today's date.

  "Man's done for." Ted nodded at Halstead as Burke rejoined him and Ruth. "Nothing we can do for him, except bury him."

  "I'll check the house for a shovel," Ruth volunteered.

  Burke watched her go, his brow furrowed as he thought about the grave already by the house. "Ted, who was it said they buried Halstead last year?"

  "His pal, Arbuckle."

  "Isn't the brand of coffee you drink?"

  "Best there is. Man's real name was Hansen. Loved coffee. No one knew his given name, just called him Arbuckle."

  Burke brushed his fingers over his beard. "I wonder...."

  Ruth returned with a shovel. Burke took it from her and walked off.

  "Where's he going?" she asked. "The body's here."

  "Got a hunch." Ted followed his deputy.

  Burke took off his new coat and vest and rolled up his sleeves. Taking up the shovel, he went to work. Several shovelfuls of dirt later, he struck something solid. Tossing down the tool, he crouched down and dug with his hands until he revealed a skull. "Well, somebody's buried here."

  "I'll be...." Ted knelt and joined him, brushing away more dirt to reveal a badly decomposed male and scraps of coveralls.

  "That's Arbuckle." Ted pointed to the corpse's chest. "See the way the galluses are tied on this side instead of buckled? I remember him fixing them that way because a buckle fell off."

  Burke turned the skull over. "Bullet hole in the back of the head."

  "Yeah. Reckon we can both figure out who done it. Arbuckle hung around Horace a lot. Probably found him after Clori shot him and fled the scene, then doctored Horace up."

  "Bastard found a hell of a way to say thanks."