A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  This sure wasn’t the ending Colt had expected tonight. He stomped up his front steps and slammed the door behind him. In the bedroom, he tore his clothes off, tossed them in the corner, and crawled into bed in his skivvies, jerking the sheet up to his chin.

  There’d been something strange in the air tonight: Brady announcing his upcoming marriage and pending fatherhood, Frank showing them that dammed picture of his daughter, lightning flashing across a still sky, and Shay deciding to call Brenda Preston. Oh, and Shay telling him to take a hike.

  Dammit! Had there been a full moon out tonight to cause the world to go psycho?

  The only two things he was sure of right now was that Brenda was nothing but trouble, and the woman he wanted didn’t want him. So much for pleasant dreams.

  Thirty-Two

  “Yeah,” answered a voice groggy with sleep.

  “Hello? Is this Brenda Preston?” Shay sat on a stool at the bar staring into the mirror at her reflection as she held the cell phone to her ear. It was nine o’clock in the morning, but it sounded like she’d roused the woman.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Ms. Preston, my name is Shay Brennan. I got your business card from Doris Rockwood at the historical society.”

  “Did you say Shay Brennan?”

  “Yes.”

  Brenda yawned into the phone. “I heard about you. You purchased the Buckhorn Saloon.”

  “That’s right. Mrs. Rockwood told me you’re a psychic medium, and I have a . . . a situation. I’d like to speak to you about some paranormal things that have been going on in the saloon.” When she received no response, Shay thought maybe Brenda had hung up the phone or fallen back asleep. “Ms. Preston, are you still there?”

  “I’m here. You say you need my help?”

  “Yes. Are you free to see me today or tomorrow? I’m anxious to find some resolution to my problems.”

  “Would you like to know how much I charge for a consultation?”

  “I’ll pay your fee, whatever it is.”

  After another moment of silence on the other end of the phone, Brenda said, “We’re talking about spirits, right?”

  “Yes. There are two who are causing me problems.”

  “I see. It’ll be one hundred dollars for an initial consultation. I’ll be glad to meet you today. What time is convenient?”

  Shay didn’t balk. “My schedule is open. You name the time.”

  “Ten-thirty?” She yawned again.

  “Fine. We’ll meet here at the Buckhorn. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

  Relief flooded Shay’s body when she flipped the phone shut. She felt a little silly calling on a psychic, but she didn’t know where else to turn. She wanted some answers. Surely a person who saw dead people would be able to provide her with those answers. Anyway, what could it hurt? If Brenda Preston was a fake as Colt had suggested, Shay would find out soon enough. All it would cost her would be a hundred bucks. That was a drop in the bucket.

  She swung off the barstool and sauntered into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee while thinking about the events that had occurred last night. The entire evening had exhausted her. The hardest part had been telling Colt goodbye. Although she already missed him, she knew calling off their relationship was for the best. The highly charged sensual dream she’d had about him last night hadn’t helped, however. For a split second, she thought of calling him and telling him she’d made a terrible mistake by saying goodbye.

  Shay flipped the phone open again and punched in his number. Before he could answer or it went to voice mail, she pushed the off button.

  What am I doing? I was the one to end it, and for good reason. I have to be strong and forget about him.

  * * * * *

  Colt and his dad sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating sausages and eggs that Hannah had cooked. She buzzed around the kitchen wiping down the counter and putting things into the refrigerator. She seemed to still be fuming over the announcement Brady and Dawn had made last night.

  “You would have thought the two of them had more sense,” she groused. “Hasn’t either of them ever heard of birth control?”

  “Please, Hannah. Not while I’m eating breakfast,” Chet complained light-heartedly.

  “Maybe they wanted to get pregnant,” Colt said, adding fuel to the fire. He winked at his dad, knowing that would get his mama going.

  Hannah spun and pointed her spatula at him. “That girl probably did it on purpose. She thinks Brady’s got money. You know her family. They come from nothing.”

  “Oh, Hannah,” Chet said, biting into his sausage link. “Don’t talk bad about the girl. She can’t help how she was raised. She’s going to be the mother of our grandchild. I think it’d be best if we support her and Brady. Maybe some of our values and ways of doing things will rub off on her.”

  Colt stared at his father. He’d never heard his daddy string that many words together at one time in his entire life, unless they pertained to ranching or music. And he’d sure as hell never heard him express an opposing opinion from Mama’s.

  With her back to them, Hannah ran water into the sink for washing dishes. She was quiet for a minute, as though she were thinking over what Chet had said.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she finally said, turning to face them again. “It could be worse, I guess. At least they’re getting married. She’ll probably start to show soon. But if any of my friends say anything, I’ll tell them to stick their comments where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  Colt and Chet laughed.

  “It sure was nice to see your lady friend again last night, honey,” Hannah said, changing the subject. “I like her. She’s a sweet gal.”

  “Yes, she is. But, she’s not my lady friend. We’re not seeing each other anymore.”

  “Why?” Hannah frowned. “What’d you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Colt said, rising and placing his clean plate in the sink. “She blindsided me. Told me it was over practically before it’s begun. I thought we were getting along just fine.”

  “Hmmm.” Hannah turned back to the sink and scrubbed his dish with a soapy rag, apparently not going to pry. “Sorry to hear that. It sure is nice to have you here for breakfast. Wish you’d come more often. I miss cooking for you.” She rinsed the dish. “Why aren’t you in the office yet?”

  “I don’t have any appointments until later. And I wanted to ask the two of you some questions about Frank.”

  “What kinds of questions?” Chet asked.

  “Do either of you know what happened to his daughter, Alicia? I remember Granddaddy mentioning she’d died a long time ago, but do you recall any more details?”

  “You know more about that family than I do, Chet.” Hannah ran a sponge over the stovetop.

  After Chet forked the last of the eggs into his mouth, he pushed back his plate and patted his stomach. “That was a wonderful breakfast, Hannah. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear.”

  “Well, Daddy? What do you know about Alicia?”

  “Why are you asking, son?”

  The whole thing about ghosts appearing to Shay would take too long to explain. But his folks would understand his curiosity regarding the photograph of Frank’s daughter that looked like her. Even though Shay wanted nothing more to do with him, his newfound interest in the Averill family had been piqued.

  After describing to Chet what had happened at Frank’s, his father offered what he knew. “Alicia Averill ran away when she was about twenty years old. She met a much older man, someone from out of town, at the café where she worked. When Frank found out, he threatened the guy. Frank told him to leave Alicia alone or he’d kill him. Next thing Frank knew, Alicia was gone. She’d apparently left town with the man. Frank and Bonnie received one letter from Alicia a few months later, but they had no idea how to find her. The postmark was illegible. Next time they got word, about seven months later, Alicia was dead. She’d died in a car accident. It tore the
m both up, as you can imagine.”

  Colt shook his head. For the second time in a matter of moments, his daddy had expounded on a subject not related to music or ranching. “Did Frank blame himself for her death?”

  “I expect so.”

  “You say Shay looks like Frank’s daughter?” Hannah stopped her work and joined them at the table.

  “Yep. The likeness is uncanny. We also saw an old photograph of his grandmother Averill. There’s a resemblance there, too.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew large. “What does it mean?”

  “I have no idea, but I appreciate you talking to me about the Averill family, Daddy.” He stood up and jiggled his belt buckle while expelling a deep breath. “Let’s keep this conversation to ourselves for the time being, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, son.”

  “Mama, thank you for breakfast.” He kissed her on the cheek and shook his father’s hand then lifted his Stetson off the seat of another chair and slid it on his head. “I’ll see y’all later.”

  As he headed for the front door, Hannah followed and swung him around by the shoulder. “How did you respond when Shay told you she no longer wanted to see you?”

  Colt shook his head. “There wasn’t much I could say. She has her reasons, I guess. I have to respect that.”

  “Hogwash,” Hannah snapped. She wagged her finger in his nose. “You like that girl. I can see it written all over your face. I haven’t seen you this jolly in years.”

  “Happiness is fleeting, Mama. I learned that a long time ago.”

  She punched his arm.

  “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

  “For once in your life, Colton Morgan, stop being a good ol’ boy and don’t let this woman slip away. If you want her, go after her! You can’t let her call all the shots.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “The hell it isn’t.”

  Colt’s eyes bulged. He’d never heard his God-fearing mama curse before.

  “How do you think I got your good ol’ boy father to marry me? I went after him, that’s how.”

  When Colt saw his dad appear in the door behind his mom and shrug and nod, he had to laugh.

  Hannah whispered in his ear. “If you love her, son, you’ve got to fight for her. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Remember, a day without love is like a day without sunshine.”

  He cocked his head, having heard a familiar saying. “I think that’s a commercial about orange juice.”

  Hannah shoved him out the door. “Whatever.”

  Thirty-Three

  Brenda didn’t look like a person who saw dead people. Shay wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe a hippie wearing a flowing skirt, peasant blouse, silver bangles and flowers in her hair. Or a Goth dressed all in black. But Brenda Preston was nothing like either of those. She was a tall brunette with a short, stylish haircut and was dressed in jeans and a crisp white blouse and heels. From the way Colt had spoken of her, Shay thought she’d be a space cadet, too. Pleasant and professional, she was not how Colt had made her out to be at all.

  They shook hands. “Come in, Ms. Preston. Thank you for coming.”

  “I don’t mind if you call me Brenda. May I call you Shay?” Her smile was open and friendly.

  “Sure.” Shay welcomed her inside and liked her immediately. “Won’t you have a seat?” After offering her a chair at one of the gambling tables, she proposed coffee or tea.

  “No, I’m fine.” Brenda’s gaze traveled around the big room. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been in this building before. I’m surprised, since there have been rumors for as long as I can remember.”

  Shay pulled out her chair and sat. “There hasn’t been anyone living here for years. The previous owner closed the saloon a long time ago.”

  “That would be Mr. Averill.”

  “Yes. He’s elderly now and quite ill.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Brenda gazed up at the ceiling and over to the staircase. “There’s a lot of paranormal activity in here.”

  Shay didn’t reply. Brenda suddenly placed her palms flat on the table and closed her eyes. Shay wanted to ask if she was already connecting with a spirit, but she was afraid of interrupting her trance, or whatever she was experiencing. She herself didn’t feel any presence nearby at the moment.

  Brenda opened her eyes after a few moments. “There are many souls here. They continue to linger because this is where they are most comfortable. It’s like home to them.”

  Shay nodded. “I often hear men playing cards in this room. Seems they’re still enjoying poker games and smoking their cigars. It can be unnerving, but I’m not afraid of those ghosts.”

  Brenda smiled. “No need to be. They have no intent to harm. They simply don’t know they’re dead. They should be guided into the light.”

  “Can you guide them?”

  “Yes, but not today. We’ll hold a special ceremony another time. It’s the others you’re concerned with. Am I correct?” Without waiting for an answer, Brenda’s gaze drifted to the staircase and stuck. Shay held her breath. She hadn’t told her anything about Callie or Everett. It was her way of testing Brenda and her abilities.

  “There’s a spirit upstairs,” Brenda stated.

  Again, Shay didn’t respond, but she felt a tingle race across her shoulders. When Brenda stood up and propelled herself toward the stairs, Shay scooted her chair out and followed.

  Brenda stopped at the piano and smiled. Speaking to someone invisible, she said, “Yes, you’re a very lucky man to be surrounded by so many pretty girls.” She turned to Shay. “The piano player says he has the best job in town because the girls sit next to him on the bench when they sing.”

  Shay felt excited that Brenda seemed to be making connections already. She glanced at the piano and remembered the photo of the saloon girls gathered around it. She didn’t recall seeing a man in any of the pictures she’d found, but that probably only meant there wasn’t a picture of him in those particular books. “Would you like to go upstairs?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Shay led her to the top of the stairs and then stopped and waited to see which room Brenda was drawn to. Without hesitation, Brenda stepped into Shay’s bedroom and stood at the foot of the iron bed. With her heart lodged in her throat, Shay waited with baited breath to hear what Brenda was going to say next.

  “Have you seen the physical manifestation of the woman who haunts this room?” Her eyes flipped shut again.

  Shay’s tongue felt tied. Brenda really did have a gift. “Yes,” she answered. “She’s shown herself to me three times.” She didn’t know how much information she should share and decided to let Brenda ask specific questions.

  “She’s blonde with blue eyes.”

  “That’s right.” Although her enthusiasm was growing, Shay didn’t allow her stoic veneer to crack. Brenda had a lot more to prove.

  Brenda turned and pointed to the fireplace. “She was there. I can feel her residual energy. She’s hiding now. Come out,” she requested softly. “I’d like to speak to you. We’re not here to cause any harm.”

  Shay looked around the room but didn’t see Callie anywhere. She didn’t feel her either, the way she had before. If Brenda claimed Callie was in the room, even for a minute, why didn’t Shay see or feel her presence?

  “This woman keeps a secret,” Brenda went on.

  “Do you know her name?” Shay felt this to be the biggest test.

  Brenda took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I believe her name is Elizabeth. Yes, it’s definitely Elizabeth.”

  Disappointed, Shay softly sighed. Maybe Colt was right. Maybe Brenda was a fake. To say Callie had blonde hair and blue eyes was probably a lucky guess. But she hadn’t even gotten the first letter in her name correct. A door slamming downstairs jerked her from her wandering thoughts.

  The two women looked at each other. Then Brenda bolted out of the room and flew down the stairs. Shay followed, nearly tripping down the steps
in her eagerness. Brenda came to an abrupt halt at the basement door.

  “Someone is down there.”

  Recalling how the entity had terrified her that day in the basement, Shay quietly said, “Yes. He’s the bad one.”

  “I’m going down.” Brenda reached for the doorknob.

  “No.” Shay’s hand shot out and covered hers. “He’s violent and powerful. He’s tried to hurt me.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Brenda wrenched the door open. As soon as she took a step forward, a strong gale-force wind whooshed up the stairs and knocked them both backward. Shay flew into the back wall and Brenda fell to the floor. The familiar rotten smell swirled and clung to Shay’s nostrils.

  Clearly and loudly, a deep voice commanded, “Leave!” and the basement door banged shut. There were no more threats or violence. The entity apparently had gone.

  Shaken but not injured, Shay offered her hand to Brenda and helped her stand. “Are you okay? You took a hard fall.”

  Nodding, Brenda rubbed her hip after Shay got her to her feet. “I didn’t fall. I was pushed.”

  “Did you see the demon’s face?”

  “No. Did you?”

  Shay shook her head. “I haven’t seen it even once.”

  “I felt his strength and his anger.”

  No kidding, Shay thought. She’d felt Everett’s anger on several occasions, but she’d never heard him speak until now. “Did you hear anything?” she asked tentatively, wondering if Brenda had heard the voice, or if Shay had only imagined it.

  “He wants you to leave,” Brenda said.

  “His name is Everett, and I think he killed the girl upstairs,” Shay blurted, immediately wishing she had kept her mouth shut. She should have waited for Brenda to provide that information.

  “Everett? Do you know his last name?”

  With the cat out of the bag, Shay told her more. “Yes. It’s Rawlins. I read about him in an old newspaper article. It’s all there about how he murdered Cal—one of the saloon girls, and was then shot by the owner of this establishment, Dean Averill.”

  Brenda threw her a sideways glance, but thankfully she didn’t question her further. Maybe she hadn’t caught Shay’s slip of the tongue. Since Brenda had gotten Callie’s name wrong, Shay didn’t want to give away any hints in case Brenda later retracted what she’d already told her about the girl.