A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  An hour had passed by the time she finished going through the book looking at all the photos. Disappointingly, none were of the young blonde girl. Needing a break, Shay stood up and stretched and then took the book to the front to ask Doris if she could make a copy of the snapshot of the bartender. She wanted to have it, if and when she got to visit Frank Averill.

  Returning to the table, she opened the binder and began the daunting task of reading through newspaper articles from the local paper, The Pioneer. Not sure how to go about this search, she started with the March 1885 papers, since that was when the Buckhorn had opened. She would search for headlines that mentioned the business and any of its patrons or employees, especially the saloon girls.

  After two hours of reading about unusual deaths, the amount of snow that fell on a particular day, the election of the sheriff (John Manning, with his brother Thomas and cousin Pat acting as deputies), reports of Indian attacks, a recent trip to Deadwood by a Mrs. Antoinette Ogden, and a variety of other interesting stories about the town and its former inhabitants, Shay had not found anything she didn’t already know about the Buckhorn.

  Weary and cross-eyed, she marked the spot where she left off and closed the binder, returning it to Doris in the front.

  “I’ll keep it here under the counter until next time,” Doris pleasantly told her.

  Having worked through lunch, Shay’s stomach grumbled in hunger, so she said goodbye and started the short trek home.

  Fifteen

  After Colt finished showing several homes to the couple relocating from Ohio, and agreed to show them a few more tomorrow, he drove to Frank Averill’s house. Last time he’d seen him, Frank had looked to be at death’s door, but Colt had seen the man go through a spell like this before and come out fresh as a rose on the other end of it.

  The nurse swung open the door on the first knock. “Where the hell have you been the past couple of days?” She didn’t bother to lower her voice. “He’s been asking for you.”

  Opal was a heavyset woman with a no-nonsense attitude and either a bosom too large for her nurse’s uniform, or a uniform too small for her bosom. Colt wasn’t sure which. Her hair was as short as a man’s, and she cussed like a sailor. She was a tough bird, but Frank seemed to like her.

  “Nice to see you, too, Opal.” Colt strode down the hallway toward the bedroom, but was brought to a standstill when Opal caught up and stuck her arm out and karate chopped him in the stomach.

  “Watch it, Opal.” He flinched. “Your arm’s as thick as a slab of beef and twice as dangerous.” He’d learned through trial and error that the best way to communicate with her was the way she communicated.

  Opal smiled, flashing him canine teeth that looked as razor sharp as a vampire’s. “Sorry, Colton. Don’t know my own strength.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he warned good-naturedly. “I haven’t been called Colton since I sat in the principal’s office in high school.”

  She grinned. “I like to rile you up. It makes my day. You need to come around more often.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to accommodate you from now on. Now tell me why Frank’s been asking for me. What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s dying, fool.”

  Colt rolled his eyes. “I mean, specifically, today. Is he any worse than last time I was here?”

  “Not worse. About the same. But he’s been hallucinating some, calling out a lot of names. Yours, mostly.”

  He sighed. “You have my cell phone number, Opal. If he wanted to see me, you should have called. I told you to call anytime day or night if he needs me.”

  She shrugged. “I figured you’d be by sooner or later.”

  He stepped around her, which was not easy to do in the narrow hall, and entered Frank’s bedroom. Frank lay in his hospital bed, propped up on some pillows, and appeared to be asleep. Colt waited beside the bed, staring into Frank’s ashen face, noting the once strong body that was now skeletal, and remembering the fun times he’d spent with his granddaddy and Frank as a boy growing up. They’d taken him hunting, fishing, on excursions to Deadwood, and he’d even drunk his first beer with them on a camping trip.

  His mental wanderings were interrupted when Opal entered the room and thudded to the other side of the bed. She jiggled Frank’s arm to wake him.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Colt whispered. He frowned. “I can see he needs his rest.”

  “He’ll get all the rest he needs when he’s six feet under.”

  “Good Lord, Opal, but you’re over the top at times. For the life of me, I can’t figure out how you manage to land any nursing jobs at all with that smart mouth of yours.”

  She grinned again. “A lot of people like my outgoing personality, Colton. But mostly, I land jobs, as you call it, because I’m dedicated to my patients, and I’m the best damned nurse in all of South Dakota.”

  He shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Colt? Is that you?” Frank stirred and opened his eyes, but seemed to have trouble focusing. Colt clamped a gentle hand on his arm.

  “It’s me, Frank.”

  “I’m here, too, Frank,” Opal said, lightly taking his other arm. “I’m going to check your blood pressure again, honey.”

  “Okay.”

  Colt watched in astonishment at the gentle way in which Opal handled Frank. The tone of her voice had even changed. She sounded . . . sweet.

  “It’s just fine,” she told Frank after she’d listened and removed the cuff. Opal wrote the number down in a notebook and then looked at her watch and excused herself. “I’ll leave you two boys to your privacy. I’ve got my soap to watch anyway.”

  Once she’d left the room, Colt noticed Frank’s eyes were fully open and his gaze steady. “I don’t know how you put up with that woman,” he chuckled. “She’s as rough as a cob.”

  Frank smiled. “Opal ain’t so bad. She keeps me laughing. That lady can tell some real humdingers.”

  “I’ll bet. Well, laughing is a good thing. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?” He noticed a full pitcher sitting on the dresser.

  Frank waved it off. “Nah, I’m fine. But I wouldn’t mind rattling these old bones a bit.” When he tried to scoot himself up, Colt lifted Frank by the waist so he was comfortably sitting up straight. He felt light as a feather.

  “Thank you. That’s better. I get tired of lying down all the time. Wish I could go outside and take a walk now and then. But my bones would probably break if I put any pressure on my feet.”

  Colt took a seat in a straight-back chair that was next to the bed, thinking how it must be hell to become old and decrepit. Worse yet, Frank was alone, with no one but a surly nurse as a companion.

  “How’s the lady who bought my saloon?” Frank asked, out of the blue.

  “She’s real nice. Her name’s Shay Brennan. As a matter of fact, she’d like to meet you sometime, when you’re up to having visitors.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, I guess she just wants to meet the man who owned the property before her. And I believe she’s interested in the history of the building.”

  Frank’s piercing gaze showed intrigue. “Has she experienced anything peculiar going on in there?”

  Colt hesitated before answering. He didn’t know the true reasons for Frank shutting down the business years ago when he was a younger man. His granddaddy had hinted it had something to do with supernatural occurrences, but Frank had never confided in Colt.

  “Yes, sir, she has. But you probably already knew that.”

  A strange cackle erupted from Frank’s throat, sending a jolt through Colt. Then Frank’s skinny arm reached out and he snatched at the air, grabbing for Colt’s sleeve. Colt stood up and leaned against the bed railing. Frank tugged on his shirtsleeve.

  “Bring her by tomorrow,” he croaked.

  “You sure you’re strong enough?”

  “Bring her,” Frank repeated.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

 
When Frank lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, Colt patted his arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You rest now.”

  A slight nod ended the conversation.

  “I’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” Colt told Opal as he sauntered through the living room and flung open the front door. “And I’m bringing a visitor, so I want you to be on your best behavior. Okay?”

  Engrossed in her soap opera and the handful of cheese curls she popped into her mouth, Opal grunted her goodbye.

  Sixteen

  Shay found Colt’s house with ease that evening. As she pulled into the paved driveway and ran her gaze over the property, she was pleased with the looks of it. It was an older two-story home with vinyl siding, a front porch with white railing, and a nicely manicured lawn. A large tree shaded the side yard. Flowerbeds or hanging plants would have brightened the exterior, but all in all, it was very nice. It was simply missing a woman’s touch.

  Colt stepped outside and waved her in. The sight of him caused heat to race through her veins. He looked so good in tight jeans and a t-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. Too good. Had she made a mistake in coming here? Time would tell.

  “Hi,” she said, strolling up the steps. “Nice to see you.”

  Before she could anticipate it, he planted a quick welcome kiss on her lips. That pleasant burning sensation began to swell in her again. She was determined not to have sex with Colt, but that didn’t mean she was immune to his charming advances. Every move he made, each slow smile, the way he walked, the way he talked, how he touched her—everything about him oozed masculine sexuality.

  His gaze moved up and down her body. “You sure look beautiful tonight, Shay. And you smell good, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Come in. I’ll show you around.”

  “This is for you.” She handed him the bottle of wine she’d bought, thinking it would go well with Italian food.

  “I appreciate that, darlin’.” He flashed her that sexy smile. Her breath hitched at being called the pet name again. Like a puppet head on a string, her gaze landed on his backside as he led the way in. Denim jeans had never looked so fine on a man.

  The interior of his house felt warm and cozy. As he gave her the dollar tour, she noted hardwood floors throughout and neutral paint on the walls. In the living room, the furniture was dark leather, worn in and very comfy looking. A flat-screen television hung above the chunky mantle of a stone fireplace. Imagining them curled up in front of a blazing fire on a cold wintry evening set her heart dancing, but she quickly tried to erase the thought.

  A sturdy oak table, four chairs and a hutch were the only furniture in the formal dining room. An outdated chandelier was suspended over the table, and a couple of oil paintings hung on the walls.

  “I never use this room,” he said, as they walked through it into the eat-in kitchen.

  She had expected an old-fashioned kitchen in need of updating, but was pleasantly surprised to walk into a room with modern cherry cabinets, gleaming granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. A center island and a table with built-in banquette seating under a bay window highlighted the space. He set the wine bottle on the island countertop.

  Noticeably missing was the savory smells of Italian food simmering on the stove. Shay wondered whether he’d changed his mind about cooking for her and they’d be going out to supper instead. That would be disappointing, because she’d wanted to see what kind of a chef he was. She expected there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

  “Your kitchen is beautiful. Was it like this when you purchased the house?”

  “No. The house had been a foreclosure, so we got it at a bargain basement price. The interior was in pretty bad shape at the time, but the bones of the place were good. I pretty much had the whole thing gutted inside and we started over. The kitchen was the last room to be done. It was Denise’s dream kitchen, but unfortunately, she got sick and didn’t have much of an opportunity to use it.”

  Shay’s heart went out to Colt. This was the most—actually all he’d said about his wife, and she sensed he’d truly loved her. As fast as he’d brought her up, however, he changed the subject just as quick.

  “That’s it, except for my bedroom, which is upstairs.” With a devilish grin, he reminded her, “But you can’t see that tonight.”

  “Why? Do you have clothes strewn all over the floor and an unmade bed?”

  He laughed. “No. Because I invited you over this evening. Have you forgotten what I said about you sleeping in my bed?”

  “Not at all. But we weren’t discussing sleeping or…not sleeping in your bedroom, or anywhere else.” She had remembered, and was glad the tour didn’t include the bedroom. Anyway, she’d hoped he’d forgotten that conversation. Imagining herself in bed with him was dangerous. Temptation could only lead to making decisions she’d regret later. The subject needed to be changed and fast. “How long have you lived here?”

  Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. “Excuse me, Shay.”

  She followed him into the front room where he opened the door to a pizza delivery boy.

  “Thanks.” He handed the young man some cash and told him to keep the change. As he carried the pizza box and a plastic sack to the kitchen, he slid a smile at her. “You told me you like Italian, right?” He placed the pizza box on the stove and then pulled a large bowl of salad out of the plastic bag and set it on the countertop.

  She had to grin as he removed two plates from the kitchen cabinet.

  “I’m not much of a cook,” he admitted while pulling a bottle of ranch dressing from the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind. Do you like ranch?”

  “Yes.” She laughed, having received her answer about whether he was a good cook or not.

  He eyeballed the bottle on the island. “I’m sure that wine is delicious, but pizza goes great with beer. Want one?”

  “Sure. We can save the wine for another time.”

  “Now you’re talking. For another time,” he repeated, winking.

  He poured two ice-cold beers into tall glasses. As he offered her a stool at the island and a slice of pepperoni pizza on her plate, it was strange, but she felt like they were a couple. There was no pretense surrounding Colt. What you saw was what you got, and that’s what she liked about him. After worrying how the evening would go, she started to relax.

  “I saw Frank today,” he said between bites. “He’d like to meet you.”

  “Really? That’s great. How’s he feeling?”

  “He’s weak, but still hanging in there. He asked me to bring you by tomorrow. I have some houses to show in the morning, but will you be available early afternoon?”

  “Anytime is fine. I can’t wait to talk to him. Do you think he’ll be able to shed some light on my situation?”

  Colt shrugged. “The paranormal isn’t a topic I’ve heard him speak of, but you’re a persuasive lady. If he has something to say, I have no doubt you can get him to open up.”

  She smiled, taking that as a compliment.

  They adjourned to the living room after they’d finished their pizza and salads, and Colt put on a CD of soft music. A button on the wall lowered the lights in the room. For a good ol’ boy, as he liked to call himself, she was starting to believe he was really a hardcore romantic.

  He lowered her onto the sofa, and any predetermined notions about not making out with him flew out the window when he held her face in his hands and kissed her passionately.

  Seventeen

  It took every bit of willpower Shay could muster to break away from Colt. It hadn’t taken long for his hands to start roaming, and she’d lost strength to resist.

  “It’s getting a little hot in here,” she breathed, sitting up. With his well muscled body pressed to hers, she’d felt like a teenager making out, but it had started to get intense. It was time to put the brakes on Colt. She’d promised herself before she drove over that no matter how attracted she was, or how she longed for intimacy, she wouldn’t hav
e sex with him tonight, and she meant to stick to her word.

  “I think we both need to take a cold shower tonight,” she said, attempting a joke.

  “That’s going to be a problem for you since the Buckhorn only has a tub.” He smiled seductively. “We can shower here, together, if you’d like.”

  She knew he’d probably strip out of his clothes in record time if she even hinted that might happen. “When pigs fly,” she replied, standing and adjusting her shirt, which he’d started to unbutton. Shay smoothed down her flyaway hair. It was time to go before things really got out of hand. “Thanks for having me over, but I really need to be going.” She grabbed her purse off the chair where she’d tossed it when she’d arrived and strode to the door. The need to get out of there as fast as possible had her trembling from head to toe. With her hand firmly grasping the doorknob, she turned. “What time will you be picking me up tomorrow to go to Frank’s?”

  Colt sprang up from the sofa. His shirt had pulled out of his jeans and he swayed a little, like he was drunk. She knew he wasn’t, but he was staring at her with that deep and powerful look in his eye.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said softly.

  She nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m leaving.” Her heart pounded with an insane rhythm. She wanted him to make love to her, she realized. But it was too soon to trust. Too soon to give herself to any man. “What time tomorrow?” she repeated, feeling a howl working its way into her throat.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked like a little boy who’d had his candy taken away. “I should be done with my clients by one o’clock. I’ll come by the saloon right after.”

  “Okay. See you then.” She flung the door open. When he followed her onto the porch, she bolted down the steps before she could change her mind about leaving.