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

by Keta Diablo

  * * *

  For the first time since reaching the house, Burke wondered where Spook was. He had assumed the dog stopped barking because the posse had arrived. He found the dog standing on point and looking through the open front door of the house.

  A ghost? Who?

  Horace? Burke could easily imagine the man hanging around after death. But not for long. Burke would see to that. He’d get the town preacher out here posthaste and have the house blessed. That would get rid of Horace Halstead once and for all.

  It might be Clori's mother inside the house.

  Stepping up onto the porch, he peered inside.

  Velda Burkhart. She gestured Burke inside.

  On the table lay a dirty drawstring bag that appeared to have been dug out of the ground.

  "What is this?" He hefted the bag in his hand. Heavy. Gold?

  She nodded.

  "You read my mind?"

  She smiled. "Yes."

  "Hell." He remembered some of the thoughts he'd had about the woman's daughter.

  "Horace buried this bag with Arbuckle. He retrieved it today because he planned to kill you and take Clori away. Eventually, he would have killed her, too. I always knew it. That's why I had to stay and try to watch over her. Not an easy thing for a spirit to do, but you brought strength with you, Burke Jameson. Strength to protect Clori that I borrowed while you slept. Forgive me?"

  "Of course. You used it for a good cause." No wonder he'd been so damn tired, even after a full night's sleep.

  Velda grinned, and he saw Clori in that smile. Once, Velda had been as beautiful as her daughter. "You love my girl. It's all right. I approve. You will be good to her."

  He gave a nervous chuckle. "You talk like it's a done deal. I doubt Clori feels that way. Besides, I'm not from this world, I—"

  "I know. You came from the future. That is all right as well. If you love my daughter, you will either stay here or take her with you."

  "Seems you have it all figured out."

  "A mother's prerogative." She began to fade. "I must go now. I am no longer needed here. Be good to my Clori, Burke Jameson."

  She vanished before he could respond.

  Just as well. He had no idea what he might have said.

  * * *

  Spook pushed against Burke's hand, seeking approval. Grinning, Burke hunkered in front of the dog and gave him a good scratch behind the ears. Spook's favorite reward.

  "Burke?"

  "In here."

  Ted appeared in the doorway, followed by Ruth Wilson.

  "Wondered where you disappeared to." Ted poked among the goods on the counter. "See any coffee grounds?"

  "Didn't look, but I did find a bag of gold. Guess it belongs to Clori now."

  "Horace Halstead's gold?" Ruth asked. "Who is Clori?"

  "Halstead's widow."

  Ted grabbed kindling from the wood box and started a fire in the stove.

  Burke poured nuggets from the bag onto the table. "He had it buried with his pal out there. Dug it up to take with him once he'd killed me."

  "Well, that won't happen now. Ah, coffee." Ted took a beat-up tin coffee pot and went outside to fill it at the pump in the yard.

  Ruth sat down at the table and examined a gold nugget. "The marshal and I buried Mr. Halstead with his friend. Good a place as any, since the grave was already open."

  "Can't argue with that. What are you going to do now, Miss Wilson?"

  She smiled. "Ted invited me to stay with him and his wife tonight. I'll head back to Denver on tomorrow's stage."

  "I appreciate you being willing to help today." Burke propped a boot on a second chair and leaned an arm on his knee. "Too bad you didn't get to meet Velda."

  "Velda?"

  "Yeah. How much of the Halstead story do you know?"

  "Very little. I never even heard the name until you arrived at the marshal’s office this morning."

  Ted bustled back in and began fixing coffee.

  "You’re just in time to hear me tell Miss Wilson the story about Halstead," Burke told Ted.

  Ted grinned. "A story with a good ending, thanks to you, son."

  "Great-Grandson," Burke corrected with a grin. "The horse, Silver, is to thank. I don't know what Horace did to make that animal hate him so much, but whatever it was, I'm on the horse's side."

  "I didn't get much of a look at the mare, but she struck me as familiar somehow." Ted set the coffee pot on the stove to heat up. "Why do you suppose she waited until today to stomp the bastard to death?"

  "I'm not sure. She may have been protecting me. She and I bonded that first night I rode her."

  "Possible, I guess."

  "Go on with the story," Ruth prompted. "I'm quite curious."

  Burke told her about Horace's cruelty toward Clori, resulting in her shooting him.

  "My." She shook her head. "Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't come along, Mr. Jameson. It's as if fate sent you here to rescue Clorinda Halstead."

  He chuckled. "Well, that's a romantic theory, but pretty unlikely."

  "Hello!" A voice called from outside. One Burke recognized.

  Rising, he rushed to the door. "Gabe! About time you showed up."

  The two met in the yard and shared a manly bear hug and a few back slaps.

  "How'd you get here?" Burke asked.

  Gabe gestured back the way he'd come. "That horse, the dappled gray you took off on the night we got here. She just showed up, so I climbed on and she brought me here." He looked around. "I don't know where she went."

  Burke threw an arm around his partner and led him into the house. "She has a habit of coming and going like that."

  "Who have we here, Burke?" Ted asked from the table where he and Ruth sat waiting for the coffee to boil.

  "This is my partner, Ted. Gabe, meet Theodore Jameson, the town marshal."

  Gabe peered from the older man to Burke, then back at Ted. "Jameson? Isn't that a quite a coincidence?"

  Burke laughed. "Gabe here doesn't believe in coincidences."

  "Neither do I." Ruth rose to fetch two more cups.

  "Well, I guess maybe in this case you might be right," Burke said. "You see, Gabe, Ted is my great-grandfather."

  "Holy jumped-up hell."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clori was livid.

  She'd spent all day worrying about that crazy man, afraid Horace would kill him, and what does he do?

  Brings a woman home with him.

  A young woman. Quite pretty, with auburn hair, green eyes, and a seventeen-inch waist. Was that all Burke James cared about, looks?

  They shared an interest in ghosts, of all things. Why couldn't he get a real job? Maybe work at the mercantile or teach school. He seemed well educated. Eagle Gulch needed a good teacher. Their last one came west to find a husband and only lasted three months before she wed and ran off. A man wouldn't do that.

  Oh, Clori knew he had work other than hunting spirits; he was Ted's deputy. But only temporarily, right? Burke said he traveled a lot so he wouldn't want to settle here.

  A new weight fell on her as if an ox yoke had been dropped onto her weary shoulders. Her head went 'round and 'round over a man who wouldn't stay in Eagle Gulch even if she begged him to. Not after she refused to believe his tale about time travel and ordered him to leave her room earlier today.

  What did it matter anyway? As a married woman, she could never have Burke James. Insane or not.

  The weight grew heavier. How could she bear to live with Horace again? He'd kill her eventually. He had threatened to do it as soon as he got her off alone. Probably bury her in the woods, take his cache of gold, the one she'd searched for so diligently without luck, and move on to greener pastures.

  "Clori, dear?" Nellie's voice came through the locked bedroom door. "Are you going to stay in there all evening?"

  Yes. If she could get away with it.

  "Come on, Clori, open the door. Let's talk about whatever is troubling you."

>   "I have a headache, Nellie. I need quiet."

  As usual, the woman ignored Clori. She rattled the knob. "Is it Mr. James you're all up in the air over, dear?"

  Good Heavens. Clori jumped up, unlocked and opened the door. "Come in before everyone hears you, Nellie."

  Wearing a mischievous smile, the older woman moved to the bed and sat down.

  If Clori didn't love Nellie so much, she'd...she'd...she didn't know what she'd do, but it wouldn't be ladylike.

  Nellie patted the mattress next to her. "Come sit with me. I'm sure we can work this out somehow."

  Clori sat but stubbornly chose a chair. "Work what out?"

  "Why, your little tiff over Mr. James, of course. Have you finally come to believe he spoke the truth?"

  She looked away. "Maybe."

  "Good. We're making progress then. Now, are you worried about losing him to that young girl?"

  "Don't be ridiculous. You can't lose something you don't have."

  Nellie gave her a chiding look. "But you don't know that you can't have him, do you?"

  Clori squirmed in her chair. "I'm fairly certain. Besides, I've no interest in men. I've told you that a thousand times."

  "Yes, but I don't believe it. Every woman wants a man...if he's the right man."

  "Ha! There's the catch. Is there such a thing as a 'right' man? They're all stinkers." She'd learned that a long time ago, from her father, her brother, and from Horace. How many times did she have to make an idiot of herself to get it through her head that men couldn't be trusted? Not even Burke. No, she'd made up her mind. Burke James was not for her.

  Nellie frowned. "Well, yes, they are." Her face cleared, and she smiled. "But there are men out there as good-hearted and gentle as my Ted. I think Burke James is one of those. I thought for sure you were coming to like him."

  The aging woman looked at Clori with such hope mixed with trepidation that Clori gave up. "Yes, I like him. In fact, I'm quite fond of him. He is a good man, or appears to be. He's certainly nothing like Horace. But that doesn't mean he feels the same toward me."

  Nellie rose. She patted Clori's hand and kissed her forehead. "You are such a dear, sweet girl. How could he possibly not care for you?"

  Straightening, she went to the door. "Now, come along downstairs and put on your best smile. That's the way to woo a man. That and the delicious beef roast you have cooking in the kitchen."

  Clori sighed and stood up. If she had to bribe Burke into liking her with a roast, she wasn't sure she wanted him. Couldn't he just like her for herself? "Has anyone said anything yet about Horace? Why are they being so tight lipped about what happened out there today?"

  Nellie started down the stairs. "They've only been home half an hour. Perhaps it's bad news they're reluctant to share, or good news worth saving for the right moment."

  "Well, as far as I'm concerned, now is the right moment. Where is Burke, anyway?"

  Halfway down the stairs, Nellie turned to look up at her. "In his room, I believe. He went to wash up. You'd have known that, dear, if you hadn't hidden in your room half the day."

  Clori made up her mind right then.

  * * *

  Burke attached a fake collar to his shirt like Nellie showed him. Pretty uncomfortable. He was fixing his string tie when a knock came on the door.

  A very demanding knock.

  Spook, beside the bed, lifted his head and let out a low whine. His tail thwapped against the throw rug where he lay.

  "Someone we know, boy?"

  The dog answered with another whine and wagged his tail so hard his entire hind-end wiggled.

  Burke opened the door to find Clori standing there, her hand raised to knock again. She looked upset. His heart ached at the sight of her. He wanted desperately to draw her into his arms and kiss her silly.

  "Clori, what is it? Are you going to order me to leave the house? "

  "No. I want to know if I am a widow or not."

  He glanced beyond her into the empty hall. "Come in and I'll answer your questions."

  "A decent woman does not spend time in a man's room." She sounded insulted.

  "Okay. I'll come to your room."

  She sent him a nasty, accusing look. Why, suddenly, did she appear to distrust him again?

  "We'll leave the door open," he suggested. "No one will care."

  She looked toward the stairs and sighed.

  "Clori, Ted and Nellie know you. Do you really believe they'd think ill of you just because you're here talking to me?"

  With a disgusted huff, she came inside.

  Burke left the door open and gestured for her to sit in the only chair the room offered. When she had settled in her seat, he leaned against the dresser facing her. "Clori, I apologize for not telling you the minute we arrived, but it seemed the sort of thing that requires privacy, which is not easy to find in a house full of people."

  "Just tell me," she said.

  "He’s dead, Clori." He felt like he should express condolences. That’s what a person usually did under the circumstances. Except he had no regrets.

  She glanced down at her hands in her lap. "Did you kill him?"

  "No. Oddly enough, a horse attacked him."

  "A horse?" Her voice reflected surprise. "What horse? Do you mean a dappled gray mare?"

  Burke's turn to be surprised. "Yes. Do you know her?"

  "I did." She frowned, looking puzzled. "But Silver is dead. Horace killed her."

  "Odd. I called her Silver too." Something clicked inside Burke's head. "Tell me about it."

  "That night, Horace had been drunk and accused me of moving his bag of gold. I told him I didn't even know where it was, but he didn't believe me." She rose and paced the room as if too agitated to sit still. "I had been out riding Silver while Horace waited for me, furious. I’d grown accustomed to him hitting me, but that night was worse than ever before. I believed he would kill me."

  Burke wanted to go to her, hold her but knew she needed to get it all out without interruption.

  Spook crawled over and laid his head on Clori's feet.

  "My eyes were swollen from Horace's beating, making it difficult to see. I heard Silver give an angry whinny and Horace curse."

  She sat and covered her face with her hands, and he knew she saw a scene too horrific to bear.

  "'You damned nag,' he yelled. 'She cares more for you than she does me, but I'll show her. I’ll show you both!'"

  On her feet again, Clori's agitation grew. "I was so afraid he'd hurt her. My beloved horse. My only friend. She screamed in pain. I clawed my way to my feet and tried to go out to her, but I was too late. Horace had slit her throat."

  She braced herself against the bed's foot board and looked at Burke with pleading eyes. "He killed her, Burke. He killed my beautiful Silver. She lay on the ground bleeding out, and Horace laughed. Laughed! I found his gun, went out, and shot him."

  Burke hung his head, shaking it slightly. Of all the sad stories he might have expected, this wasn't it. He felt no surprise to find out the horse was dead. Only that he hadn't realized it sooner. And that Spook had not reacted to her in his usual manner. Silver. She had tried to protect her mistress, and today, she had protected him.

  He'd heard psychic investigators debate whether or not ghosts were capable of killing. Now he knew.

  Going to Clori, he attempted to draw her into his arms. He didn't care if anyone saw or disapproved. That didn't matter a whit.

  She stopped him with an upheld hand. "I was so sure I'd killed him." Pulling an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, she blotted her eyes. "Why couldn't he have stayed dead?"

  Annoyed that she wouldn't let him near her, he struggled to hang onto his patience. "It doesn't matter now, Clori. It's over. He's gone for good. Your Silver avenged herself, and you."

  She looked at him. "Such a beautiful horse."

  "Yes, indeed."

  Going to the window, she said, "I wish you'd known her."

  "I did, sort of. She's
the one who brought me here. To you."

  "How did she do that?"

  He chuckled wryly. "I doubt you want to get into that again. Let's just say she appeared to me and I rode her here." He ached with the need to kiss her.

  Instead, he withdrew a leather pouch from his dresser drawer and handed it to her. "Horace's gold. He'd buried it with Arbuckle."

  "That’s why I couldn’t find it." A hint of a smile formed on her face, and she hugged the bag to her chest. "Now, I can have my dressmaking shop."

  "Yes. I'm happy for you, Clori."

  "You are?"

  "Of course. Don't you think I want you to be happy?"

  Instead of answering, she said, "Your Miss Wilson is quite pretty."

  "My Miss Wilson? You think I'm interested in her? Clori, I just met her today."

  "Oh."

  "Pretty lady, I suspect you stole my heart the first moment I saw you." He bent to kiss her.

  "No, Burke...." She held up a belaying hand.

  He sighed. "You still don't believe me."

  "I fear I am incapable of completely believing any man. I'm sorry."

  Like a knife, her words sliced open his heart. "Then there's no hope of a future for us, even if I stay here?"

  "No." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please understand. I care about you, but I'm not sure I could ever trust you again. You all but lied about who you were from the moment you came to Eagle Gulch. How many other details are you hiding about yourself?"

  "Clori—"

  "Hey, Burke." Gabe burst through the open doorway and came to a sudden halt. "Oh. Sorry."

  Burke scowled. "You should be."

  "I'll skedaddle. Just wanted to ask you if Ruth might be interested in someone. You know, taken already?"

  "You'd have to ask her that, pal. I didn't get that personal with the lady."

  "Okay." Gabe turned to the door, then stopped. "You know, I like it here. I may not go home."

  Burke glanced down at Clori. Every atom of his being throbbed with the pain of realizing he had lost her. Still, he prayed she'd ask him to stay.

  Instead, she turned her back to him and left.

  * * *

  "What are you going to do, son?"

  Another day had passed. Burke had sat down to Sunday breakfast with the Jamesons. Clori had yet to put in an appearance. Burke doubted she would until he left. The meal finished, he and his great-grandfather were walking along the stream.