Wild West Promise

by C. R. Moss

  But once they stepped into the building, he released her and went for the horses. Taking the reins of each horse in his hands, he led the animals out to the riding ring and through an open gate. She trailed after them wondering how the man could run hot one minute and cold the next. Maybe I need to step up my game.

  Kent closed the arena, looped the reins to a hitching post then patted the neck of the Appaloosa. “Good, Coda,” he cooed to the horse, checking the saddlebags and the cinch. Then, as if he’d forgotten and finally remembered she stood there, he added, “Do you need help up? I could give you a boost or get the steps.”

  A boost? Ha! Though she loved chivalrous men and some old-fashioned ways, when it came to certain things—like riding—she liked to be independent and show off. Her autonomous nature took center stage. “Honey, I could probably ride circles around you with my hands tied and eyes blindfolded.” She laughed, stuck her foot into a stirrup and swung her right leg up and over the saddle. The panels of the shirt she decided not to close flapped with her movements.

  Kent handed Coda’s reins to her, eyeing her chest for a good couple of seconds, and then strolled to the Palomino laden with more saddlebags, a rope and a couple of canteens. “You sit the horse very well, but I doubt you’re a better horseperson than me.” He swung up onto Riley.

  “We shall see about that.” She offered a quick smile, not wanting to show how much his ‘ogling’ pleased her.

  They rode side by side through the grounds, the click and clomp of the horses’ hooves the only sound in the stillness of the beginning day. From atop her mount, she surveyed the magical environment. Sunlight beat down on a varied terrain highlighting everything with a touch of gold. Mountains with sharp cliffs and ridges stretched toward a deep blue sky. Gray-green bunches of foliage blanketed the property. Patches of grass and clusters of trees dotted the landscape.

  Several hundred yards from the stables, they trotted into a clearing. Kent glanced behind him, gave Maggie a sexy grin, and said, “You ready to show me what you got, Mags?”

  “Sure am. After you, cowboy.”

  He laughed. With a tap of his heels behind Riley’s girth area, off he went. She nudged her ride into a lope, caught up to Kent and Riley, and then pushed Coda harder. Without disappointment, Coda hauled ass, propelling them into a gallop, and they rode past the other horse and rider.

  Proud of her accomplishment, she pulled in a breath of the sweet mountain air and cued the gelding to a trail that ascended up a small rise disappearing into a group of trees. She guided the horse along the path as it snaked around pines, boulders and brush, eventually pointing them back in the direction of the lodge. When she emerged into another clearing, she brought Coda to a halt and dismounted.

  Before her, up on a large mound several yards wide and long, stood a graveyard.

  Fear plummeted through her. She had a history with places that the dead frequented. Not wanting to concentrate on the memories, she changed her thought pattern and silently hummed Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy.

  Hopefully Kent will be up for saving horses. Try as she might, the song and its message didn’t help to quell the bizarreness within and surrounding her.

  The air tingled. Refusing to continue to entertain any thought of the weirdness that always plagued her when spirits appeared, she whispered, “Cut the shit. I refuse to believe you ghosts or spirits exist.” Not that her proclamation made it true, but if anything, her declaration made her feel superior.

  She silently scoffed. What an ironic situation. Here she rejected any thoughts of apparitions, yet she ended up talking to the damned things anyway.

  Maggie studied the cemetery. What looked to be new iron fencing and a matching gate surrounded the site. The designs of the metal-worked fence included Celtic symbols—ones that warded off evil. A cold brush of air graced her skin. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh. Were the special characters there to keep out the bad or keep it in?

  Caught up in her musing about the dead, she barely noticed Kent’s arrival.

  He dismounted from his horse, stood next to her and slid his hand against the small of her back. “I see the Dougan graveyard has entranced you.”

  The chill from earlier intensified. “Is this only for Dougans?” After she’d said the words, she realized how dumb she sounded and inched closer to him, seeking his warmth. “The big D in the design of the black, cast iron gates should have made it clear to me, don’t you think?”

  Kent arched a brow and pushed up the rim of his black Stetson. “Yeah. It’s a bit of a dead give-away. No pun intended.”

  A sense of something old and malevolent tugged at her. “How many generations are in this place?” She shivered, as if cool fingers tickled the length of her spine to say, ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  “You cold?” He wrapped an arm around her. “Dang Mags, you’re shaking.”

  It wasn’t the cold that had her trembling. No, it was the supernatural force attacking her senses, wanting her to recognize and acknowledge its dark presence. To ground herself and block it out, she focused on the cowboy’s touch. “Tell me about this place, Kent.”

  “Well, there’s a story here. When the first Dougan man went into the ground, a curse was buried with him. Develin Dougan was a son-of-a-bitch. His womanizing ways almost put him six feet under sooner than the good Lord called him. Though from what I know, his cousin Keith Dougan, the founder of the D, wished he’d kicked it even earlier.”

  Maggie started to move forward. A sense of urgency for a closer look into the cemetery seemed to overtake any commonsense she had. But why? It was obvious that this place, this sacred ground, was reaching out to her. She glanced around as if looking for answers from some unseen being.

  Kent stopped her and took Coda’s reins. He secured the two horses to the fencing, slung the strap of a canteen onto his shoulder, then opened the gate. “Here, let’s go on the path to the right. I’ll show you were Develin lays.”

  When they reached the man’s grave, she gasped, clutched and tightened her fingers around Kent’s upper arm. “What the hell happened to his stone?”

  The marker—cracked down the center—leaned toward the left. The grass circling the gray stone, or rather what should have been a nice green patch, grew brown and full of weeds. She scanned the cemetery. Every other grave stood in pristine shape adorned with flowers and tokens of love.

  Kent cleared his throat. “Well Mags, the rumor is that Develin’s sprit is still in this cemetery. Seems he doesn’t recognize his death and vandalizes his gravesite each night. For years, the staff would replace the stone every week. But the marker kept crackin’, and the grass kept on decayin’. So, after some thought and arguin’ among the family, they decided to stop spendin’ money on the man’s gravesite.”

  Maggie’s fingers turned into icicles. The hairs on the back of her neck danced. She released his arm and swept her fingers over her tingling skin. “Something is here, Kent. I…I can feel. Feel it all around me.”

  The cowboy didn’t show any hint of surprise at her statements. He turned her toward him. “Darlin’, you’re white as a ghost.”

  She didn’t doubt his words. Her pounding heart and churning stomach had drawn all her blood into her core. Whatever entities inhabited the land were strong. She’d have to tread carefully while in the iron boundary. “This Develin. What did he do that put him in here with a curse on his soul?”

  “He had an affair with his brother Donovan’s wife.” Kent brushed a stray hair from her cheek.

  She was sure her eyes bulged. “And his brother killed him?”

  “Not quite. You see Donovan and Develin had a crush on the same gal all through their schoolin’ years. Cali Rhodes had those two boys wound tighter than a clock. Cali married Donovan even though she preferred Develin. See, Donovan was a good man. God fearin’. Smart. Banker if I recall correctly. Develin, on the other hand, was a risk taker, liked to gamble, and had run-ins with the law. So, not even a year into her nuptials, Cali and Develin st
arted a reckless affair.”

  Staring off into the distance, he stilled, his face inscrutable as if heavy thoughts weighed on his mind. With a deep breath, he continued, “Oil and water, those two. Always trying to mix but not able to, due to their differing natures. Always fighting. After Cali and Develin’s rows, she’d run to Donovan, confess, tell him all the details, then beg forgiveness. Every time she’d do it, he’d always take her back. Neither brother wanted to let the other have Cali, and they both had wicked tempers.”

  Kent stopped and took a chug of water from his canteen. He swiped drops of water from his luscious lips that she so badly wanted to kiss, then spoke. “The Dougan family was originally from the east coast. Keith had moved his family out this way and started the Double D. After his son Dalton died, he sent word back and asked if anyone wanted to come out and help run the spread. Develin jumped on the offer and convinced Cali to tag along with him. She in turn talked Donovan into moving. The whole messy triangle continued. One night at Develin’s place Cali was packin’ her shit, prepared to crawl back to Donovan after a couple weeks away. Well, Develin snapped. Cali Rhodes Dougan never made it out of the bedroom. Her lover strangled her, dragged her out behind a woodshed, and then cut her body into small chunks. After stuffing all the parts into a burlap bag, he dropped off the remains on his brother’s porch with a note that said, ‘I told you the next time she came back to you it would be in pieces.’”

  What the hell kind of place am I visiting? Bones feeling like they were sheathed in arctic ice, Maggie rubbed her upper arms. “That’s horrible. What did Donovan do?”

  Kent kicked a rock. He watched it roll away. “He tracked his brother to the Lucky Legend Brothel in town and unloaded two revolvers into his body.”

  Although she had no idea who these people were, a deep sadness for their circumstances filled her heart. “That’s so tragic, Kent.”

  “Yup. Sure is. Gets more interestin’, too. On top of the barrage of bullets he planned for his brother, he brought the town witch with him. As Develin lay dyin’, the lady did some kind of dark incantation over him. Once he took his last breath, she hexed his remains. Rumor has it that’s why his spirit can’t rest. The witch cursed him to walk the earth but only within the confines of whatever graveyard he’d be buried in. In this case, the perimeters of the Dougan Cemetery.”

  The air around them cooled several degrees. “Do you feel that, Kent?”

  Kent turned from serious to playful and chuckled. “Darlin’ we’re several elevations up here. It’s just the change in wind direction.”

  She cocked her head. “Seriously? You don’t believe there is anything strange about this place?”

  “I didn’t say that. This place has its quirks. After one particular incident, the owners put up the bars…just to be on the safe side. But the cool air can easily be explained.”

  The land within the metal fencing gave her the heebie-jeebies. From his explanation, it was obvious he really didn’t believe too deeply in the supernatural world. Well, she knew differently. The eerie vibes stroking her body like a fine violin had nothing to do with quirks and incidents. Nope, there was something off kilter here. And the longer she stayed, the more sensitive she’d become. It was time to get the hell out. “I think we should go.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’.” He stepped away from the grave and toward the gates.

  She grabbed onto Kent’s arm with no intention of letting go and trailed along. When they reached the entrance, she fumbled the latch in her haste to leave. A pinch to her thumb sent sharp pain through the digit. “Ouch.” Blood trickled from pinpoint hole in her thumb and dripped onto the ground.

  Immediately, Kent pulled her hand into his. “Darlin’, you’re hurt.” Concern crossed his features. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and then wrapped her thumb in the cloth.

  Seconds later a disturbing whisper touched her ear, sending her body into tightening mode, and her legs ready for flight. “Thank you, Irish witch. I will grow stronger because of you.”

  What the fuck?

  Her breath caught. The words acted like boulders upon her chest, impeding her breathing. The voice had called her witch. A family trait and legend she’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. Just a story and nothing else. She never had and never would believe what the old women in the family gossiped about. Witches in Ireland had died during the witch trials. She wasn’t related to them. At least no one had told her otherwise. All she happened to be was sensitive to the energy of her surroundings, nothing more.

  Maybe if I keep telling myself that I’ll really start believing it.

  Kent locked the cemetery. “All right, pretty lady. Let’s ride to the next sightseein’ location. Since we’re on a Dougan landmark tour, I’ve got a spot you’re gonna love. It’ll make you forget all about this despondent place.” He swept a hand toward the graveyard.

  She wasn’t sure when the air changed, but it did. It was no longer cool. Maybe it was his warm voice or the sun heating her body. Either way, she’d take it.

  Danger’s coming, but not while you’re visiting, a voice stated in a recess of her mind—the hidden place she shoved her gift into and tried to forget about. Her breath hitched on the statement. She mounted her horse and glanced back at the broken grave marker, making a mental note to inform Kent of her premonition when they were done riding.

  Hopefully, he won’t think I’m crazy and will heed the warning.

  “Follow me,” Kent called to her as his mount jogged away.

  Letting go of the bizarre sensations and thoughts, she directed her horse away from the family plot, happy to put as much distance between it and her as possible.

  Chapter Three

  Maggie cued Coda to trot after the wrangler, keeping her gaze on and directing her thoughts back to the man she wanted to have some fun with and loving the way his jean clad ass swayed with the saddle. Hopefully, he’s taking me someplace private where we can really get to know one another and forget about the first stop on his personalized tour.

  Kent led her up one rise, then another, and turned onto a thin trail several feet in from a cliff edge. The mounts slowed to a walk on the rocky path. Soon, he stopped, hopped off Riley, helped her down, then tied the reins to a post hidden amongst some scraggly trees and brush. Kent pulled the saddlebags and canteens from the horses.

  She glanced around. To her right the mountain steadily rose in a sharp incline. To her left, the cliff dropped off for several hundred feet. The desert landscape, with its red and tan colors and splotches of greenery, led down to the city in an incredible view.

  He waved her on, and she followed to where a short, wooden ladder sat propped against the cliff side. Maggie chuckled. “Is this what I think it is? A cave?” She pointed to a hole a few feet above her.

  Kent came up beside her. “Yup. It’s like a clubhouse only made out of rock as opposed to wood.”

  “You sure know how to show a lady a good time.” Maggie placed her hands on her hips. “But I’m never one to turn away from a challenge or an interesting proposition. I say we go up and take a peek inside.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better. Figured we can have our picnic here. I’m sure the Dougan men have a few blankets in there.”

  That made her laugh inwardly. If what she’d seen of the brothers and their women was any indication, of course they did. They probably had all kinds of accessories stowed in the clubhouse. “I bet they do.”

  The entrance to the cave had the most vivid red rock she’d ever seen. Cascading colors of orange, dark brown, and shades of grey slipped by beneath her as she climbed the ladder after Kent. When they’d reached the inside, he walked to a plywood wall that read Boys Only in big black letters. He opened a makeshift door, then slipped to the side, allowing Maggie to enter full center.

  In awe, she cradled her sore thumb with her other hand and surveyed the space. “It’s quite the bachelor pad, wouldn’t you say?”

  Kent set the picnic sat
chel on a wooden table near a painted sign on the wall stating, ‘Girls stay out! This is the Dougan brothers’ place!’

  To the left of the table an array of ropes and riding crops of different shapes and sizes hung on the wall. Beneath them sat a chest with an engaged lock keeping it closed to inquiring minds. In the corner, a plastic crate full of flashlights and batteries lay next to a small generator. Something purple and wrinkly looking poked out of a hole of the bin. She screwed her mouth to the side and furrowed her forehead. Homing in on the item, she gained a better look and made an O shape with her mouth as understanding dawned.

  Kent glanced her way, down at the realistic looking dildo, and back at her. “The place caters to the grown Dougan men now.”

  No doubt. She advanced to the wall and ran her fingers through the dangling ropes. Stealing a look at Kent, she raised a brow. “I guess the stories about the Dougan men are true.”

  “They’re a feisty bunch for sure,” he muttered under his breath but loud enough for her to hear.

  “Feisty is good for the soul.” She made sure to lock gazes with him after the words left her throat.

  And finally, something she’d tried worked. Kind of. He stared at her, the amber in his brown eyes sparkling with untold secrets. A flutter started in her stomach, then fanned out through her entire body. She ached to wrap her arms around him and kiss his lips. But she wouldn’t because, other than the passion in his gaze, the tell-tale signs that he thought of her in a sexual way were non-existent at the moment.

  Stubborn man. Still running hot and cold. I’ll have to rethink what I need to do to snag him.

  Resigned to enjoy their excursion as just a friendly gesture on his part, she sighed and moved to the back of the cave to survey the other goodies.

  A section of bottled water and a variety of other drinks caught her attention. Before she could open her mouth and comment, strong arms wrapped her body from behind silencing her mind and voice.

  “I struggled last night, and I’ve fought my feelings all morning to keep my hands off you,” his deep voice murmured against her ear. He pressed his pelvic region against her ass. “And as you may notice, I’m losin’ the fight.”