A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  “No. Not at all.”

  He saw her bottom lip quiver. Seemed her mind was working. He sensed she was holding back some news of her own. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

  She nodded and blurted, “Yes. I think I saw one of those spirits last night, right before you stopped by.”

  He leaned forward, propped on his elbows. “Tell me.”

  Inhaling deeply, Shay explained what she thought she’d seen, including black and blue bruising around the woman’s neck. “What’s happening, Colt? Do you believe it’s a coincidence?”

  “No. I don’t know how to explain it, but there has to be something more to this than chance. I’m a practical man, and a South Dakotan cowboy born and bred. I heard the stories about ghosts haunting this town as I was growing up. To be honest, I’ve never believed in ghosts and I still don’t. But I’ve never had that kind of dream before either.”

  Shay’s hypnotic eyes delved into his, causing him to grow hard and weak at the same time.

  “So, you’re saying you do believe I saw a ghost?” She seemed unsure.

  He didn’t know her from Adam. She could be as nutty as a fruitcake, but he didn’t think so. Something hinted she told the truth, at least about what she thought she’d seen. Although he knew ghosts did not exist, what reason would she have for lying?

  Colt reached out and placed his hand over hers. “I believe, Shay, what we’ve got here is some kind of a haunted twist of fate.”

  Six

  As Shay explored the saloon basement later that afternoon, she dug through boxes and crates to see what kinds of old treasures she could find and thought about Colt and their exchange earlier that morning. For some reason, they’d trusted each other with confidentialities that would have normally had one or the other calling the sheriff, or someone with a straight jacket. She wondered why that was.

  Recalling his words, a haunted twist of fate, gave her the willies. Was it possible that a spirit from beyond had somehow brought the two of them together? He’d suggested that, in a roundabout way. She didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. He could be as mad as a hatter.

  Despite her reservations about getting involved with anyone, she did like him. He seemed to like her, too. Before they’d parted, he’d asked her out tonight to a chuck wagon supper and cowboy music show, of all places. If she was going to be a local, he’d teased, there was no time like the present to start acting like one. And he’d thought she’d enjoying meeting some people since she was new in town. His kindness had touched her. And it was true. She’d been feeling lonely since hitting the road a year ago. She’d be glad to meet some friendly people from the place she now called home.

  One year ago, she never would have imagined ending up in a small town in South Dakota, living in a historic saloon, coming face-to-face with an apparition (if that’s what the woman had been) and getting to know a real cowboy.

  Shay had no idea what to think about ghosts and Colt’s dream. What was even more disconcerting than him dreaming someone was being strangled in her bedroom was that she’d felt hands wrapped around her throat for those few seconds while in the presence of the blonde woman.

  What did any of it mean? Why was Colt even involved? Was it because he was a friend of the former owner? It was a mystery, but one that wouldn’t be solved today.

  She went back to her exploration.

  Opening the lid of a cardboard box, Shay discovered it was full of dusty bottles. Carefully removing them one by one, she held each up to the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, which didn’t offer much light. Most were beer bottles, but a few were labeled Sarsaparilla. Other amber-tinted bottles carried peeling whiskey labels. Deciding they’d look good upstairs as decor on the shelves behind the bar, she began to wipe them down with a rag.

  Touching the bottles carried her back in time. What kind of men had bellied up to the Buckhorn’s bar and slapped down their coins to order a beer or a whiskey? Miners and gamblers? Lawmen and gunfighters? Had there been killers amongst the patrons of the saloon during its heyday? Shay had no doubt. Every territory in the west had been wild in the 1800s, with the Black Hills being one of the wildest. Everyone from Bill Hickok to Calamity Jane had frequented the saloons in Deadwood. They’d probably spent time in this town during their travels as well.

  Thinking about the men who had drunk their libations here piqued her curiosity about the women of that time period. Had saloon girls worked at the Buckhorn, singing, dancing with the patrons, and flirting with them, coaxing them into buying more drinks? Could the bedrooms upstairs have been used for prostitution? The possible scenarios got her blood to pumping. She’d have to do some research.

  Thinking about doing research brought the pretty face of the blonde to mind again. Had she been a saloon girl? An entertainer? Or had she sold her body to survive? She’d looked so young and innocent. The only thing Shay knew was that she’d reached out begging for help.

  That was the strange thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. What kind of assistance did the woman need? How did one go about helping a dead person, anyway? Maybe she was stuck in limbo waiting to go into the light. There were a lot of TV programs showing mediums doing this sort of thing—guiding ghosts into the light. Shay had never been interested in those shows before. Now she wished she’d watched a few of them so she’d know what to do.

  She was gently placing the polished bottles back inside the box when she heard footsteps above her. It sounded like someone running across the wooden floor upstairs. Cocking her head, she jumped when a peal of laughter rang out from the top of the stairs.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  Carefully lowering the last bottle into the box, she began advancing up the creaky basement steps and had the weirdest sensation that someone watched her. This was the second time she’d had the feeling. The hairs on her arm stood on end.

  Twirling when she felt a gaze on her back, she lost her hold on the rickety handrail and stumbled. Luckily, she was able to catch herself before falling.

  “That was a close one,” she said aloud, while placing a palm over her thumping heart.

  Feminine giggles swirled around her head to startle her. It was as if the giggling bounced off the walls from all directions, like surround-sound. Her head jerked up just as the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

  “Colt?” she called as she crept the rest of the way up the steps. Her fingers clutched the doorknob and she tried to rattle it, but it was as if the door was frozen shut. “Someone please let me out!” She continued to shake the knob. It didn’t budge. Perspiration beaded her forehead as she shook it several more times.

  More footsteps plodded in front of the door on the other side and stopped. A shadow moved under the crack in the door. Shay held her breath and placed her ear against the wood. Again, it was as if eyes bore into her back, but she was afraid to turn around. Strongly sensing a male presence close by, she wrinkled her nose. Something smelled rank, like a dead animal.

  “This isn’t funny,” she screamed, while banging on the door with the palm of her hand.

  The vein in her neck pulsed. More rattling of the knob did nothing. She removed her hand and listened again. The laughter faded into nothingness. The footsteps padded away. An eerie silence filled the space around her.

  When a hand suddenly yanked her hair, Shay shrieked and instinctively grabbed for the knob again and pulled hard. This time the door sprang open, and she fell through it onto the floor. Flipping onto her back, she kicked the door shut with her foot.

  Stumbling to her feet, she locked the door, planted her back against it, and took a couple of deep cleansing breaths. Then she heard her cell phone ringing. She’d left her purse upstairs in the bedroom. With rubbery legs that shook like gelatin, she took the stairs two at a time and answered her phone on the fifth ring.

  “Hello.” With her heart beating erratically, Shay wilted onto the bed with the phone next to her ear.

  “Hey. Sounds like
you’ve been running. What’s wrong?”

  Though scared out of her wits, she could help but smile while picturing Colt’s open face. When she’d given him her cell phone number this morning, she hadn’t expected a call so soon. But she sure was glad to hear his voice. “You won’t believe what just happened to me.”

  “What?”

  “Your grandfather’s friend, Frank. He’s so right. There is definitely more than one spirit in this saloon.” Shay proceeded to tell Colt what had just happened. “There’s a very angry ghost in the basement.”

  “Do you want me to run over? I can, if you don’t want to be alone.”

  A knight in shining armor coming to her rescue was a sweet gesture, but she just wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d been independent for a long time and had learned men, with the exception of her dad, were not to be counted on. Unfortunately, she’d trusted and been let down too many times. She’d gotten used to handling life on her own.

  “Hopefully that horrible thing will stay in the basement. I locked the door and don’t plan on returning any time soon.” After asking Colt to hold, she listened and heard no more noises coming from downstairs. “All is quiet again. I’m fine,” she answered in truth. The presence in the basement had frightened her, but she was not about to lose her head and behave like a silly girl. “I think these ghosts are testing the waters or playing with me. I guess it’s been a long time since a living person has spent any time here. They probably feel I’m invading their space.”

  Colt chuckled. “Maybe.” She could imagine him shaking his head, but she hoped he’d be shaking it because he admired her courage and not because he thought her foolish or making things up. Oh, well. It didn’t matter what he thought of her anyway. It was time to change the subject. “I’m looking forward to this evening.” She placed a hand over her chest and felt her heart rate had completely returned to normal.

  “Me too. I’ll pick you up at five. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, call me. I mean that. I’m here at your service.”

  “All right.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay this afternoon?”

  “Yes, but thanks for being on the other end of the phone at the right time. See you tonight.”

  She flipped her phone shut and decided to take a hot bath. As outdated as the bathroom was, she was simply happy to have one that functioned. The room was small, and the old-fashioned claw-foot tub had been stained from years of non-use. But she’d cleaned it with bleach first thing yesterday and it looked new again. A bath would settle her nerves.

  While strolling out of the bedroom to go draw the water, Shay heard a rustling sound behind her. She paused and peeked back around the door into the room. Her heart skipped a beat. The curtain on the window waved like a flag, despite there being no breeze.

  Seven

  When Colt knocked on the door at five o’clock sharp, Shay was not surprised. She’d guessed he’d be on time. It was refreshing to meet a man who was punctual—not that she was keeping a list of things she liked about him.

  Her breath hitched when she opened the door. Dressed in black Levis, a black and white plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a black Stetson, he looked every bit the essence of western masculinity. When he smiled and cocked his hat with the tip of his finger in greeting, she literally thought she might swoon.

  Feeling as nervous as a girl about to go on her first date, she felt her face heat when his gaze slid up and down her body, taking in every inch of her and apparently enjoying what he saw.

  He winked. “You look fantastic, Shay.”

  Not knowing what one wore to a chuck wagon supper, she’d gone shopping after her bath and chosen a short denim skirt, a white fitted t-shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots she’d purchased at the boot shop down the street. She was also wearing a western belt with a silver buckle and rhinestones and dangling earrings. She didn’t want to stand out as the outsider she knew she was and hoped this outfit was appropriate, and not over the top.

  “Thank you. Do you think people will believe I’m a local?”

  “Yep. The only thing missing is a cowboy hat. We’ll take care of that later.”

  We? She wondered at his turn of phrase as she locked up.

  “Any more unusual occurrences after I called this afternoon?” he asked.

  “No. I guess the ghosts wore themselves out earlier.”

  He escorted her to his pickup truck and opened the door for her. Nice. She noticed the name of his business printed on the side—Morgan Realty.

  “How long have you sold real estate?” She climbed into the cab, taking care not to let her skirt shimmy up, and snapped on the seatbelt. She was hoping to guess his age without coming straight out and asking him. She believed he was older than she was, but she wasn’t sure how much older.

  “About ten years,” he answered after jumping into the driver’s seat and had backed away from the curb.

  “And before that?”

  “I’ve been involved in my family’s ranching business since I was a kid.” He kept his gaze focused on the road as he talked and drove. “I graduated college with a business management degree, concentrating on agriculture, and was a labor agency manager for a couple of years. Then my folks lost their ranch manager, so I did that for about seven years before deciding to get into real estate.”

  “Hmmm.” She quickly did the math.

  He slid a sly grin at her. “I turned forty this year, in case you were wondering.”

  There he goes again, reading my mind. “Are you sure you’re not psychic, Colt? I was putting the numbers together.”

  He laughed. “If I was psychic, I wouldn’t be curious about your age, Shay.”

  She smiled. “You know it’s not polite to ask a woman how old she is.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s why you have to throw me a bone.”

  “I’m thirty-three.”

  “And never been married?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to get into all that. “No. I came close, but that was a long time ago. What about you?”

  Colt stopped at the light and then made a right turn out of town. Before long, they were traveling down a gravel road. He hadn’t answered her question. She was beginning to think he wasn’t planning on replying when he finally said, “I was married once. She passed away.”

  Shay’s heart lurched. “Oh, Colt. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. It was a long time ago, too.”

  She wondered why he hadn’t remarried, but thought she’d already pried enough. She hoped she’d get to know more about him as the night went on. He was an interesting man. With her face close to the glass window, she peered out at the magnificent Black Hills, for which the area got its name, and totally switched the topic.

  “The hills take my breath away, Colt. It feels like we’re in another land, or time. I never believed they were really so black until I saw them for myself. This area is so unique and mysterious. You’re lucky to have grown up here.”

  “Yes, I guess I am. I’ve been around a bit, and this is as good a place as any to live.”

  Turning off the gravel road, he drove under a wooden entrance with a sign that read Double M Ranch. She sat up straighter and gazed at the pastures on both sides of the road and the buildings ahead.

  Colt parked at a hitching rail in a gravel parking lot that was full of cars and shut off the motor. “We’re here. I hope you’re hungry. You ever try buffalo meat before?”

  “No!” Her mouth gaped. “That’s what they serve here?”

  “That, along with pulled pork sandwiches, seasoned potatoes, cowboy beans, biscuits, applesauce, fresh lemonade and homemade ice cream. Do you think you have room for all that?”

  Shay patted her stomach. “I know so. I’m not one of those little birds. Remember? Besides, I skipped lunch today.”

  “Now I see how you stay so thin. But you shouldn’t skip lunch.” He slid off the seat and slammed his door. Then he came around and opened hers and to
ok her hand to assist her out.

  “Thanks.” She noticed his gaze landed squarely on her legs as she smoothed down her skirt. “This is a neat place.” She glanced around and liked the looks of the ranch.

  Guests strolled along wooden sidewalks of what was built to resemble an Old West town. Feeling like she’d stepped back into another time period, her gaze shifted from building to building. She noted a gift shop, a bank, a candy store, a blacksmiths shop, a schoolhouse, a small chapel, and several other authentic looking western storefronts lined up side by side. There was even a stage stop with a stagecoach parked in front of it. Nearby in a corral, miniature goats, miniature horses, and miniature donkeys were being petted and manhandled by enthusiastic children. There was also a playground of slides, swings and bridges that dozens of kids climbed upon.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” Colt guided her toward a huge red barn where, she assumed, supper and the music show took place.

  “This is not at all what I expected,” she admitted, as they stepped inside and she gazed about.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I have no idea. But this looks really fun.”

  The barn was huge and packed with people laughing and chattering as silverware clattered. The delicious smells wafting through the air caused Shay’s stomach to grumble. Tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths were lined up family style below a big stage, with long benches as seats. Stuffed heads of game and deer antlers decorated the walls, and hay bales were scattered around.

  They approached a podium, where the hostess, an older, attractive woman wearing a cowboy hat, boots, and fringed leather vest and skirt greeted them with a huge smile.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” she said, grabbing Colt around the shoulders and leaving a big red lipstick stain on his smooth cheek.

  Shay threw him a wide-eyed look. Sheepishly, he made the introductions as he pulled a hankie from his back pocket and swiped his cheek. “Shay, I’d like you to meet my mama, Hannah Morgan. Mama, this is Shay Brennan. She’s the lady who just bought the Buckhorn Saloon.”