Ghost Heart

by Weston Ochse

  “Oh, it exists all right. And it’s just as she says, a shirt with magical powers.”

  Matt shuffled his feet impatiently. “Then what—”

  “It’s a wild goose chase.” When Matt squinted at her, Calamity Jane continued. “Assuming you even need to find the shirt to begin with, that Christmas Witch knew from the get-go that you didn’t have a chance. She made you trade a memory for nothing.”

  Matt crossed his armed. “But I got the memory back. She might be bad, but I got it back.” Calamity lifted her chin and looked down at him. “And are you sure that was the only thing she took?”

  Matt opened his mouth to reply, then stared at his hands instead. “I don’t think she took anything else.”

  “He doesn’t think she took anything else,” parroted Calamity in a voice that sounded more like a man’s. “My boy, if’n she did take something else, how would you even know?”

  Matt couldn’t answer.

  Eventually Calamity sighed. “Fine. You want to go on a wild goose chase, be my guest. You can go to the moon and back for all I care.”

  Just like William, Matt heard her mumble under her breath. Never listens to a single word I ever said. Even after he was shot, did he listen? Nooo. The rest was lost as the ghost turned and scanned the crowd, her gaze always searching.

  Several moments passed before Matt lost patience and tugged on Jacket’s arm. “Who’s she looking for?”

  “Jack McCall. The guy who shot Wild Bill.” “But isn’t he dead?” “You should know better by now.” Jacket gave him a small grin. “Being dead don’t really matter for some people.”

  “Oh, yeah. Why is she looking for him here? Did she get a clue or something?”

  “Naw. She’s been here since before the faces were built.”

  “Really?” Matt turned and stared at the four huge presidents, then remembered that they were only about seventy years old. They seemed so permanent it was easy to imagine they’d been up there forever. “Why has she been here so long?”

  “Because of the Christmas Witch,” Jacket told him sadly. “Calamity made a deal with her too.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “She did?”

  “Yeah. Seems that on her deathbed, back in the year 1900, Calamity told the Christmas Witch that she wanted vengeance. She wanted to track down the ghost that killed her William, Wild Bill to the rest of us, and give him a taste of her own anger. The Christmas Witch agreed and plopped her down right here at Mount Rushmore with the agreement that she couldn’t move from this place until her vengeance was satisfied.”

  “Why Mount Rushmore?”

  “Our Calamity was given the job of keeping the settlers and miners out of the area until they built this thing.”

  “Wait. That means she was here before this thing was even built!”

  “Exactly.”

  “But how did the Christmas Witch know?” Matt asked. Then another question made his eyes go wide. “And how old is she anyway?”

  “No one knows, kid.”

  “So she’s been waiting here in case this Jack McCall guy shows up? Talk about a wild goose chase!”

  “Not just waiting, forced to wait here by the Christmas Witch. I told you, the Christmas Witch can be mean. She always has her own reasons for doing things. Otherwise you can bet that Calamity would have hunted him down by now.”

  “What would she do if she caught him finally?”

  “Shoot him,” Calamity said from behind him. “I’d shoot him right square between the eyes, and you’re darned tootin’ I’d have tracked that codswallop down by now. I was a scout for General Custer, you know.”

  “I didn’t know that, ma’am.”

  “That’s right, I was. And you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “I think I’ve found a way to confound the Christmas Witch. If I’m right, it will get you to the war shirt much quicker than I’d previously figured.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Calamity Jane folded her arms, looking pleased with herself. “See, I was going to send you to the man himself. Crazy Horse rests at the foot of his monument. It’s the likely place for a ghost of his stature. Not too many injuns got themselves a statue, you know?” She grinned. “Especially one bigger than Rushmore.

  “Then I remembered I’d heard tell of the war shirt some years ago, a rumor about where it’s buried. One thing a ghost hears if she’s in one place long enough is rumors.”

  “Do you think it’s the truth?”

  “You can never be sure about rumors,” she said. Jacket rolled his eyes and she hurried to add, “But in this case, it just might be true. See, it was Custer who told me where the shirt was. Now Custer might have been one of the more luckless generals when it came to killin’ injuns, but if there was one thing he was, it was honest.”

  “Do you believe him?” Matt asked.

  Calamity Jane leaned down until her nose was almost touching Matt’s. “What I believe is that he believes. Whether or not it’s true or not is for you and your guardian to figure.”

  “So we could follow this rumor and it could end up nothing but a big wild goose chase,” declared Jacket.

  “Well … yep.”

  Matt scowled and thought about it for a moment. Still, what other choice did he have? “Where’s the war shirt supposed to be?”

  “The Badlands,” Calamity Jane promptly answered.

  Matt remembered when he’d sat on the Christmas Witch’s porch steps and been told about Calamity. The word meant disaster and it sure wasn’t the usual kind of thing associated with a person’s name. He remembered feeling dread when he’d learned this. Now, standing in full view of the presidents of Mount Rushmore, he felt that same dread.

  The Badlands. Could there be any worse name for a place?

  XXI

  THE POWER OF BELIEF

  After spending a few moments conferring with Granny Annie and Buddha, Matt and Jacket trudged to the far end of the upper parking lot where they’d met Raisin. Matt could see Ali Baba’s RV in the distance. It had been parked across lines, taking several more spaces than it needed. In the bright sunshine, the glowering eyes of the thief painted on the RV’s side didn’t seem so bad.

  Forty-one motorcycles were parked at odd angles around the RV. Matt spotted the camouflaged motorcycle with the sidecar and felt a little jolt of elation. Reggie!

  There was so much he’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours. He wanted to tell her all about it—the vampire kitties, the Christmas Witch, the troll, the fortune teller, Wild Bill and Calamity Jane. His life had become both scary and exciting and he so wanted to share all of it with someone he knew.

  But then he realized that she didn’t even believe in her spirit anymore. How was she going to believe anything he told her? To Reggie, his reality would be nothing but fantasy.

  Which was where the plan came in.

  About ten of Ali Baba’s Forty Thieves lounged in front of the RV, playing cards, snoozing and talking to one another. Jacket had asked around, and according to his sources, Ali Baba had taken the rest of his thieves and headed into the woods, leaving Reggie inside the RV.

  Raisin’s eyes were bright with curiosity. “What’s the plan?”

  “Hopefully we’re going to make her believe in you again,” Matt answered.

  Raisin crossed his arms and looked doubtfully at Matt. “As simple as that, is it?”

  “Sure.” Matt lifted his chin. “Why not?”

  “Here I’ve been fading and about to lose my soul and all I had to do was come to you for help.” Raisin shot Matt a sour look. “Now why didn’t I figure that out?”

  “Easy, Raisin,” warned Jacket.

  “Don’t tell me to take it easy,” he growled. “You’re not fading. Your ward believes.”

  “Keep your voice down, Raisin. No reason to get—”

  “Keep my voice down? Who’s going to hear me, Jacket?”

  “Matt,” Jacket shot back. “Matt can hear you and he�
�s my ward.”

  Raisin opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut hard enough to make the tips of his Fu Manchu mustache sway. He stared at Jacket for a few long seconds, then gave up and grinned weakly. “Sorry, old friend. Sorry, Matt.” He shook his head. “Things are just looking mighty bleak from where I stand.”

  “I understand.” Matt studied his fingernails. “Things are bleak all over.” He didn’t have to mention his parents. “I do have a plan, though. What’s the harm in trying?”

  Raisin smiled in resignation. “You’re right—there’s no harm. So what do we do now?”

  Matt gestured to the RV in the parking lot. “We just sit here and watch.”

  Jacket and Raisin turned just in time to see Buddha lumber up to the motorcycles. Parked at awkward angles, Buddha had to twist and tiptoe like a ballerina to get between some of them. One he almost upended, but he saved it with a great paw of a hand.

  The bikers who’d been lounging around stopped what they were doing and stood. They glanced at each other then glared at Buddha, who was easily double the size of any one of them. Finally the bravest one stepped forward and held out a hand for Buddha to stop. Instead of complying, Buddha smiled, grasped the hand and shook it in greeting. Then, as gently as a giant could, he pushed the biker aside, stepped up to the door of the RV, and knocked.

  Within seconds, Reggie opened the door and peered out. She grinned at the sight of Buddha and accepted the folded sheet of paper he offered her. After opening it and reading, she refolded it and returned it to Buddha. She glanced briefly to where Raisin, Jacket and Matt stood in the copse of trees at the other end of the parking lot, then went back inside the RV and shut the door.

  Buddha bowed slightly, then turned and made his exit, his pathway far less gentle than his entrance. Seven bikes crashed to the pavement. Ignoring the huge man’s apologetic shrugs, the bikers clambered over each other to rescue their fallen machines from the indignity of the ground. While the bikers were busy heaving the cycles back into place and worrying over bent mirrors and busted turn signals, Reggie slipped out the door unnoticed. After a quick glance behind her, she ran toward a line of cars parked along the edge of the lot and was soon lost from sight.

  Raisin tracked her until she disappeared. “What was that all about?”

  “Look over there.” Matt pointed toward the back of an orange Volkswagen Van at the end of a row of cars. As they watched, Reggie suddenly stepped around the corner. When she saw Matt, she broke into a run. When she got closer and saw Jacket, she slowed and eyed him warily.

  “It’s okay,” Matt said. “He’s a friend.”

  Reggie smiled, then leaned down and wrapped her arms around Matt’s neck to give him a tight hug. “I missed you!”

  “I missed you, too.”

  She stood, still gripping Matt’s hand tightly and stared at Jacket.

  “This is my friend, Jacket,” Matt told her. “Remember him?”

  “I don’t know who you are, mister, but you’d better not be hurting this kid.”

  Jacket’s eyebrows raised. “I’m not hurting anyone.”

  “You know what I mean,” Reggie said, an edge to her voice.

  Jacket only smiled. “You mean like the way you got hurt when you crashed your motorcycle into the side of the mail truck when you were eight?”

  Reggie frowned, then glanced quickly at Matt. “Why’d you tell him that, Matt? What’s this about?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. He was there.”

  “Who are you trying to fool?”

  Raisin spoke and Jacket repeated what he said. “Or what about the time you broke the television set by pouring water inside of it to get the dust out?”

  “Wait—how did you—” She stepped back slightly. “I never told anyone about that!”

  Matt tugged on her hand. “See, Reg? There is too such a thing as guardian spirits. This is Jacket. He’s my guardian spirit.”

  Reggie frowned and her expression darkened. “We’ve been over and over this, Matt. Is this why you called me over here? To tell me this again?”

  “No. We want to help you. We want to save you from—”

  Reggie’s eyes narrowed. “We? I thought you said the guardian spirits were invisible? Who is this man?”

  “When you left me at the fish hatchery we had to do something. We went to the Christmas Witch and she made him whole again.”

  “So now there are witches.” Reggie shook her head and knelt in front of Matt. She stared into his eyes. “Oh, Matt, don’t you realize there are no witches and there are no ghosts and there is no magic? These are just things that we make to try and explain what can’t be explained.” She reached out and mussed his hair. “I know you don’t want your folks to split up. I know how it feels … it’s a kind of fear that … leaves you breathless. Don’t forget, I’ve been there. I am there.”

  Matt stared back at her, and his shoulders sagged as he realized she was a lost cause. She’d never really believe, not again, anyway. She’d grown up and allowed the world’s cynicism to destroy her belief in the fantastic. Still, he had to try one more time. “There is magic, and I can prove it.”

  Reggie sighed. “What? Do you want me to hide my hands behind my back so you can pick which one has a penny in it? Maybe guess a number between one and ten?” She stood and shook her head. “It was nice seeing you, Matt. Now get back home before something bad happens.”

  She turned and started walking back toward the RV.

  After about a dozen feet, Matt called after her. “What about the drugs?”

  Reggie halted, then spun and stared at him. “What do you know about that?” she demanded.

  “So you do know,” he said.

  “I know. I don’t like it, but I’m not in charge.”

  “What he’s doing is a bad thing. Selling drugs hurts people.”

  Reggie stared at the ground, clearly uncomfortable. “I know, but what can I do?”

  “You can stop him,” Matt said flatly.

  “Yeah, right.” Reggie’s laugh was short and tense. “Me and what army? Don’t forget, he has his Forty Thieves.”

  “I know,” Matt agreed. “But we have some things on our side that more than equal that. You may not believe in some of it, but we have them. You’ve seen Buddha.”

  Reggie had to grin. “Yeah, he’s immense.” She thought back for a moment. “He was at the Buffalo Chip, right?”

  Matt nodded. “He’s on our side, plus there are a few others. There’s only one thing you need to do, then you can leave the rest to us.”

  Reggie stared at Matt for a moment, then shifted her attention to Jacket. “Where are you in all of this?” She was still very suspicious of him.

  “I’m with the kid.”

  Reggie regarded him carefully. “You helping him?”

  “Always,” Jacket said.

  “You’re kind of old to be associating with children.”

  “You’re kind of young to be associating with drugs.” That quieted her, but only for a moment.

  “Will Phillip go to jail?” she finally asked.

  “If I have anything to do with it,” Raisin put in even though Reggie couldn’t hear him. Jacket hooked his thumbs in his pocket. “Probably.”

  Reggie swallowed. “I don’t want him hurt. He’s not the best person in the world, but he’s still my cousin.”

  “If everything goes according to plan, nobody will get hurt,” Matt assured her.

  “Since when do things ever go according to plan?” Raisin asked smartly.

  “So what is it you want me to do?” Reggie gave Matt a weak smile.

  Matt rubbed his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. He keeps the drugs underneath the seats. And there’s a button underneath the edge of the window that opens the door.”

  Reggie stared at Matt in amazement. “How do you know all this?” she demanded.

  “Aw, Reggie, you don’t believe in magic, so you don’t want to know.” Matt grinned, then contin
ued repeating what he’d been told by Raisin. “You need to take some of the drugs and put them in a trash bag.” His grin widened as he pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and held it out.

  “Make sure you replace what you take with this.”

  XXII

  PHANTOM MEETS BOY MEETS CALAMITY JANE

  Reggie returned to the RV, much to the surprise of the bikers who’d thought she was still inside. After about twenty minutes, she opened the door again. Holding a bulging white garbage bag, she started to climb down the metal stairs, but was quickly stopped by one of the bikers.

  Standing with Raisin and Jacket, Matt watched from across the parking lot. His heart was hammering—if she was caught now, she’d be in big trouble. From what he’d heard about Phillip Nightwing—Ali Baba—the guy wasn’t a nice person when he was crossed. Matt wished he were close enough to hear what was being said.

  Now Reggie was arguing with the biker, who clearly didn’t want her to leave the RV—he was probably still a little weirded out by her earlier disappearance. Then she did something that made Matt’s heart stop in mid-beat. With one hand on her hip, she thrust the bag toward the biker. As the biker reached for it, Reggie said something else. Unexpectedly, the biker recoiled and suddenly wanted nothing to do with the bag. He lurched back as Reggie swept past him.

  She strode straight toward the trash can across the lot. When she reached it she lifted the lid, dropped the bag inside, then closed it back up. With her chin in the air, she strode back across the parking lot, up the stairs and back into the RV.

  Without turning back, Reggie slammed the door behind her.

  ««—»»

  A half hour later, while the bikers concentrated on a double-handed game of spades, Jacket nonchalantly walked over and retrieved the bag. When he got back to where Matt waited, there was a sour look on his face.

  “What?”

  “The things I do for you,” Jacket grumbled.

  “What are you talking about?” Matt poked a finger at his guardian. “This was partly your idea, you know.”

  “I never said I’d rummage through trash cans. Do you know how deep that girl shoved the bag? Never ever did I volunteer for something like that.”