Chapter Two
In the morning, after we’d checked out of the hotel, we stopped at the International Cafe & Saloon, where they were promised they’d find a hearty breakfast. When Andrew pulled up to the place, it was like they’d taken a step back in time. The all-wood building had a western feel, with a false front like you’d expect to see in an Old West town. There was an old-fashioned wagon and wagon wheels aplenty decorating the front of the place, like you might have seen during the gold rush era.
We had gone inside, sitting at a table for more than a few minutes when Eleanor smiled at a waitress who bounced right over, filling our coffee cups to the rim. I was disappointed upon hearing that they had no vanilla flavored creamer. I’d had no idea that I’d be roughing it this much. It was bad enough that the motel could only pull in three channels and Eleanor heard when she complained about it at the office that NBC hasn’t been pulled in since 1985! Eleanor remarked about the building to the waitress and she said, “This building was once the International Hotel in Virginia City and was dismantled board by board and reconstructed here in Austin,” she explained. “The restaurant is the original saloon and cafe.”
“My, that sure is interesting,” I remarked. We gave her our orders and she whizzed away. I admired the wild rose bushes that we’d seen on our way over and asked the waitress about that when she came back to drop off a basket of biscuits.
“The town was named after Austin, Texas, and my mama always told me that’s where all the yellow roses came from. Since it’s June, the town really smells nice, but they only bloom for two weeks and then they are all thorns,” she laughed.
“I love this quaint town,” Eleanor said. “How come we can’t just stay here to enjoy our vacation?”
“Because dear, I want to travel up Highway 50 and find a real ghost town.”
“I hope you’re packing plenty of provisions,” a man said at the next table. “I didn’t mean to intrude in your conversation, but make darn sure you have reliable transportation.”
Our food was set down and the waitress smiled. Obviously, she’d overhead our conversation and added, “I’d be happy to give you folks a survival guide. You can get it stamped at the towns along Highway 50.”
“I’d love that. Is it true the highway parallels where the Pony Express went through?”
“Yup. There’s plenty of good sights going up the highway, but like Mac said, be darn sure you have plenty of water and provisions.”
After we were stuffed to the gills, Andrew drove to a service station and found Travis, the man who had lent the car to us, but when Andrew told him where we planned to go, he told us to wait and returned with a Jeep Cherokee.
“This should do you folks much better. It’s about brand new. I’ll stock it with water for you. I have some provisions left over from my last trip to Silver. It’s about as much a ghost town as you’ll find in Nevada.”
“How is the Goldberg Hotel in Silver?” I asked.
“That’s about the only decent place to stay and it’s still open to the public. You might want to call ahead and make reservations.”
“I made them yesterday,” I said. “Thanks.”
Andrew and I moved our belongings from the car into the Jeep and, after buying snacks, we were off down the road with an ice chest full of ice and bottled water.
We hadn’t gone very far from Austin before it was quite obvious how barren this Highway 50 truly was. We passed hills with plenty of trees on the two-lane highway.
Mr. Wilson frowned. “This isn’t what I’d call a call a good vacation. I’d much rather have some luxuries.”
Caroline, who was sitting between Mr. Wilson and Eleanor, giggled. “I can’t say I blame him.”
I gripped my purse and ignored our ghostly companion since we’d kept the ‘seeing a ghost’ business out of Wilson’s hearing range. Mr. Wilson wouldn’t even begin to understand it. His main worry was if he’d be able to find tuna fish on sale for his legendary tuna casserole.
* * *
After hours of driving in the middle of nowhere, Andrew grumbled. “How close is this town? We have less than half a tank now.”
I hit the navigation system and the map had us off the road. I tapped it with my hand and it blacked out completely. Then something quite strange happened—the interior lights and headlights began to flash on and off. I held my breath as Caroline said, “They’re here.”
“Who’s here?” I asked in a whisper.
Andrew gave me a look. “Don’t you dare try to jinx this, Agnes.”
“I’m not. I totally wasn’t about to say that I hope—”
The Jeep came to an abrupt stop and I swallowed hard as Andrew slammed his palms on the steering wheel. “Almost new vehicle, my ass.”
“Told you not to trust someone you never met,” Mr. Wilson said with a pout of his thin lips.
“Wilson, this really isn’t the right time.”
Eleanor went into hysterics. “Nobody will find us until we’re corpses!”
Caroline sat in the back shuddering. “Andrew drove into the dead zone.”
“What dead zone are you talking about? I didn’t see any dead zone on the map.”
“Who are you talking to?” Mr. Wilson blubbered.
I didn’t explain it and moved to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Andrew, be a dear and unlock my door.”
“I can’t. There’s no power. Seems like we’re stuck here until someone comes along.”
I stared in both directions on Highway 50. “If we’re not helped out, and soon, we’ll be cooked in here for sure in this heat.” I dug out my cell and tried to make a call, but there was no signal. “Drat. No connection, either.”
“How on earth did you expect to get any connection, Agnes?” Eleanor asked. “It’s a dead zone, for sure.”
“We told Travis where we were going. Perhaps if we are a no-show, someone will come looking for us.”
“They won’t do that. Why would the hotel call Travis, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to lighten the situation, is all.”
A dark figure approached the vehicle, looked through my window and I screamed at the disembodied spirit sporting a skull for a face. “Caroline, do something,” I shouted.
“I-I’m not g-going out there. He’s looks real mad.”
“Well, tell him we’re just passing through.”
“Who is she talking to and who is Caroline?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“She’s a ghost that attached herself to Agnes,” Eleanor said.
“Why didn’t you say so? I was beginning to think she’d lost her mind.”
“Well, because she didn’t want me to, is why.”
“I think he wants us to follow him,” Caroline said. “He’s pointing over to that shack on the hill.”
“How are we gonna do that when we can’t get out of the car?”
Immediately the door locks clicked and I opened the door and climbed out.
“Where on earth are you going, Agnes?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m going to follow that ghost.”
Andrew shouted for me to stop, but I kept going. I had to know where I was being led. I climbed the hill that was covered with tumbleweeds and that’s when I saw the building. It was a shack of some sort and I tried the door, opening it. Inside, there was a girl about five who had her hands over her face and she was crying.
“Are you okay, dear?” I asked.
Her blue eyes widened and she ran to me hugging me tightly. “I’m so glad you found me. I got lost and I-I miss my mommy.”
I carefully inspected the child’s face and it was sunburned. She had obviously been out in the elements for a long time. “How long have you been out here?”
“I d-don’t know, but it seems like days. I’m so hungry.”
I carried the child back to the Jeep, which started right up, much to my astonishment. Caroline was now hovering near the vehicle, standing next to the other spirit that faded away once we ha
d the child buckled in next to Eleanor, who was helping the child take sips of water from one of the jugs.
Andrew stomped on the gas and we made it into Silver a half-hour later.
“Look, there’s the sheriff’s office. We should see if he knows who the child belongs to. I’m sure her parents are very worried.”
“Do you have a name?” Eleanor asked the child.
“Rebecca. I got separated from my parents.”
“Where at, exactly?”
“Somewhere out of town. They were looking for gold bars.”
“Gold bars?”
“Yes. Mama and Papa said that if they found the gold that we’d be able to move into a real house.”
I sighed. “Where were you staying?”
“At a hotel.”
“Which hotel, dear?”
She shrugged. “Beats me.”
Andrew pulled up to the building that simply had the word JAIL above the door and we waltzed into the sheriff’s office that was contained in a small false-front building. When I walked inside, I saw a jail cell with a man leaning against the bars. “Hello, sweetheart,” the man bellowed, and then belched.
I hid Rebecca out of sight and the sheriff raised a brow. “Can I help you, ladies?”
“I sure hope so. We found this child wandering around and wondered if a missing persons report has been filed for her.”
“Not that I’m aware. What’s your name, dear?”
“Rebecca. I lost my mama and papa and wandered around and around until this nice woman found me. I hid in a shack,” she went on to explain.
“I’ll make some calls, but I wasn’t aware of any missing persons cases in the area.”
* * *
A few hours later, we were still waiting to find out what the sheriff had found out. We waited outside on a bench until he came to inform us that no missing persons cases were filed anywhere nearby. “I don’t know quite what to do with the child. I suppose I could call a few ladies I know to find out if they can take care of her until we locate her parents.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll keep her with us until you sort it out. We have reservations at the Goldberg Hotel. Check out the other hotels in town. Rebecca told us she was staying at one.”
The sheriff leaned down to the child’s level. “Besides the Goldberg, there’s aren’t any. Do you remember if you were in this town before?”
“Not really.”
“You might want to check the national database for missing children,” I said.
The sheriff stood, “I’m Sheriff Jeff Wilford. I guess you can call me the only law in this town unless something really bad happens around here. This ghost town has about two hundred residents, many of who work at the Goldberg Hotel and the other businesses since we get tourists through the area. You might want to check out the Tumbleweed Saloon or the Willington General Store. Both of those places have been restored and reenactments are held daily at one, three, and five. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything else.”
We thanked the sheriff and gave him our names, assuring him that we’d care for the child. I secretly hoped that her parents would turn up, and soon. I’d hate to see her wind up at some foster home. I just couldn’t allow my mind to wander back to how easy it would be for someone to become lost out there. If they were looking for gold bars, I hoped somebody knew the story behind that. Was that part of a treasure hunt of some sort? You certainly wouldn’t be able to find gold bars in a mine hereabouts.
Chapter Three
We finally walked into the Goldberg Hotel and it was quite the sight inside with marble floor, antique oak furniture, and stain glass lighting, but hanging overhead was an ornate, crystal chandelier. We stopped at the counter, rang the bell for service and a woman came out of a room to greet us. “Welcome to the Goldberg Hotel. I’m Francine and I’d love to give you the grand tour after you check in.”
I smiled. What great hospitality. After Andrew checked us in, we were led down a hallway. Francine opened the doors and ushered us into a large room with a stone fireplace, where two men—dressed in strange clothing, like the kind you’d expect to during the late 1800s—nodded at me. They both wore frock coats with thin ties at their collars. Each man also wore a full beard and that certainly wasn’t something you’d normally expect to see, especially in the arid state of Nevada. I quickly turned and realized that Rebecca was no longer with us, and I made my way for the other room to see where she could have gone. I finally spotted her heading up the stairs and I followed in pursuit. Light streamed down the stairs and I had to nearly cover my eyes at the glare. The little girl was now at the top of the stairs, standing with a woman in a long dress that didn’t look a bit like 2014 garb. It was an all-white dress and she positively glowed—literally.
By the time I had ascended the carpeted stairs, I couldn’t see Rebecca at first. Carolina appeared and tried to hold me back like she could actually stop me, but I was insistent that I follow Rebecca, who at this point was being dragged by the mystery woman down the hallway. When they climbed yet another set of stairs, I quickened my pace. “Rebecca, come back here,” I shouted, but the child either didn’t hear me or was ignoring me completely since she didn’t come back down. When I was on what I figured was the third floor, I was beyond upset. I had no idea who that woman was. All I could think was that the woman meant the child harm and she had already suffered quite an ordeal since she didn’t know where her parents really were.
I strode down the hallway and I heard a door slam, the woman and child disappearing inside a room. I stared up at the oval sign with the number 109 on it and tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I then switched tactics and began to pound the door with my fists until Rebecca finally opened the door. She didn’t say anything at first, but instead smiled. “Wake up,” she whispered.
I woke up with quite the start. We were still on Highway 50 and I pressed a hand against my brow.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked.
“Yes, I think so. I just fell asleep and had the most vivid nightmare.”
“What about?”
“I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind, but it seemed so darn real.” I looked in the back seat and Eleanor and Mr. Wilson were there with Caroline, who had a sad look on her face. Since I really didn’t want to start talking to her outright at the moment, I turned back around. Did I really have a dream, or was this also part of it? I had to remember Rebecca, because how could I simply invent an imaginary girl who had lost her family while they were searching for gold bars? It seemed too real to be a dream, but yet, there certainly wasn’t any child in the Jeep now. Since this whole paranormal thing began for me, I couldn’t help but think that someone needed my help—someone from beyond the grave, possibly.
* * *
Hours later, I saw the oval sign with the words “Silver” in bold silver letters atop a black sign. I figured they did that so it would be clearly visible. The entire town was made up of all wood buildings that were a staple of the Old West. We first passed Willington General Store, Tumbleweed Saloon, a bank, and the jail that I expected housed the sheriff’s department. There were also a number of other businesses, but Andrew drove too quickly for me to catch the names. What were very noticeable to me were the hitching posts that stood in front of the businesses. I half expected to see outlaws racing into town on horseback to rob the bank. I had to laugh to myself with that thought. I guess I’d just watched too many westerns in my seventy-two years. There’s nothing like a good John Wayne movie, and I never missed an episode of Bonanza or Gunsmoke.
Andrew parallel parked along the main street, right in front of the majestic Goldberg Hotel & Saloon. Oh, so it was a hotel and saloon. Before we’d barely made it a few feet from the Jeep, a man raced outside the building, the lapel of his black jacket flapping in the wind.
“Hello, folks,” the older man said, who looked about sixty. “I’d be happy to park your vehicle in the parking lot out back.”
“What about our lug
gage?” Andrew asked.
A young man pushed a luggage cart outside and Andrew promptly helped him remove the suitcases from the back and loaded it up. Andrew then handed the older gentleman his key fob and we waltzed through the swinging doors into the three-floor hotel that was yellow—or at least was once. Years of the harsh climate had taken its toll and it appeared washed out.
Clanging glasses were heard and I made eye contact with a group of young men who sat at a table that was located in the saloon. It was a small room, from the looks of it, but I’d have to check that out later. As we walked up the marble floor of the entranceway, I stared overhead at a huge crystal chandelier; the iridescent glass lit up the area and sparkled from where it was connected to the high ceiling.
Eleanor hooked her arm with mine when I began to straggle behind. “It sure is beautiful,” I said.
“So far, it looks like you picked us a great place to stay, Aggie.”
When we reached the counter, an older woman greeted us with a radiant smile. I almost frowned when I realized it wasn’t Francine. She greeted us right away with, “Hello, folks. Do you have a reservation?”
I nodded. “I made the reservation for two rooms, under Agnes Barton.”
She flipped through the book and I was able to see that the pages were nearly blank, which made me feel a little sad. From the looks of it, this was a beautiful hotel and it was a shame more people didn’t come here.
An information card was handed to Andrew, who filled it out and handed it back. The woman stared at the card. “Oh, you’re not Mr. Barton?”
“No, we’re not married,” I said. When the woman’s shook her head, I added, “We’re engaged, though.”
Andrew’s brow shot up. “Perhaps I can convince this old girl to tie the knot, and soon. She’s been dragging her feet.”
“Well, I’m not one to judge,” the woman said.
Harsh laughter came from behind us. “That’s a good one, Lois. I’ve known you for twenty-plus years now and why you still say you don’t judge anyone, when it’s obvious that you do, is beyond me.”
Madison Johns - Agnes Barton Paranormal 02 - Ghostly Hijinks Page 2