Haunted by Love (Eastern Sierra Brides 1884)

by Zina Abbott

  “He’d probably appreciate it. Like I said, Luther, for the price of livery for the mules you’re welcome to bunk down with them until morning. All we can do is hope the weather clears up by then.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Hazel Jessup sighed with relief as she heard the driver call out to the team. She felt the stagecoach finally slow to a stop. She had been huddled in her seat for hours, having made herself as small as possible in an attempt to avoid the rain blowing through the gap between the wood window frame of the coach and the leather flap covering it.

  On her other side, she tried to avoid leaning into her chaperone, Abner Sweeney. He had offered to put his arm around her shoulders and use his cape as a shield against the rain for both of them. Hazel had declined. As nice as Mr. and Mrs. Sweeney had been on their trip out from Ohio, she did not feel right about such an intimate gesture, no matter how well-meaning, especially since Mrs. Sweeney chose to stay behind in Reno. Instead, at one of the stops she had asked the driver to remove the quilt from the top of her trunk. For the rest of the trip she had turned the quilt so the back faced outward and used it to protect her face and clothing from the rain that blew into the coach.

  Hazel could tell it was dark outside. How much was due to the clouds blanketing the sky, and how much was due to the lateness of the day, she had no idea.

  The train ride from Ohio to Reno, Nevada, had been long and uncomfortable, especially since her former guardian had not paid for a sleeping berth for her. She had slept the best she could on the hard wooden benches. In Reno, they had left the train. Although the Sweeneys planned to continue to San Francisco, Mr. Sweeney insisted that he not leave her to travel the rest of the way by herself. Mrs. Sweeney decided to stay behind in a hotel where she could rest and spend her days shopping until her husband returned.

  Hazel felt mixed emotions about Mr. Sweeney continuing with her alone. She had worried about being by herself all the way from Reno to her destination. Would she be safe, or would the stage be held up by road agents? Would the men who shared the coach with her be rude, or too forward with her? Would the stage break down, and she be forced to walk to the nearest town out in the middle of this desert wasteland?

  So, for that reason she felt a measure of relief that this man whom she had met a matter of days before would continue most of the remaining trip with her. Everyone along the way assured her that, although Bodie was still a rough gold mining town, once she was safely on the stagecoach to Lundy, either Charley Hector or his brother, Eddie—whoever was driving that day—would see to her safety and well-being.

  On the other hand, Hazel did not know what to think about the manner in which Mr. Sweeney had gone out of his way to be so considerate of her. While in Reno, he had persuaded Mrs. Sweeney to take her shopping for a new dress with all the underpinnings to go with it—and a new nightgown. Following her husband’s instructions, Mrs. Sweeney had found one of the nicer shops and bought quality clothing, better than anything Hazel had ever known. The silk nightgown with lace and ribbon trim around the low neckline and short hemline along with its matching wrapper was far more elegant than any sleepwear she had ever seen.

  At Mr. Sweeney’s urging, she had worn the new dress with its draped front and lightly-bustled back on the trip down. Hazel knew she looked beautiful wearing it. The only thing she felt uncomfortable about was the manner in which Abner Sweeney had squinted his eyes and studied her body when she arrived at the stage depot ready to leave Reno. It reminded her of the way Mr. Dodd, the husband of her guardian, sometimes watched her. Although Hazel had been told often enough she was a pretty girl, she sometimes wondered why some men followed her with their eyes the way they did. Had Mr. Sweeney seen something out of place with her clothing or hair? Or, did he find fault with her speech?

  Hazel knew she talked with the accent of the hill people like her parents, no matter how often Mrs. Dodd tried to correct her. One thing she would not miss was Agnes Dodd yelling at her about her speech.

  But now, even though he treated her very politely, Abner Sweeney watched her every move. Hazel could not figure out what she was doing wrong.

  As the stage rolled to a stop, Hazel pushed on the leather covering the window to see the lights of their stopping place for the night, the two-story inn with wood trim fronted by two doors standing side by side. Hazel heaved a silent sigh of relief. Compared to some of the hovels she had seen in passing since they left Reno, she welcomed the sight.

  After the stage driver helped Hazel out of the coach, she ran for the cover of the small portico. Not knowing which of the two front doors to enter, she stood between them. She turned and watched Mr. Sweeney ease his body stiff from the cold out of the coach.

  Before he could join her, two of the male passengers pushed past her and opened the door on the left. As Hazel twisted to peek inside, her nose twitched as it was assaulted with a heavy cloud of cigar and pipe smoke. She spied comfortable couches and chairs, newspapers strewn about, a gaming table with cards and chips scattered among the players, and a well-stocked bar just behind the door. Her eyes widened, and she involuntarily sucked in her breath at the sight of the large painting of an almost nude woman hanging between two windows on the far wall of the room.

  “You can’t enter the door on the left, miss,” the driver called out to Hazel. “That’s the gentlemen’s lounge. The ladies’ entrance is on the right. We’ll bring in the bags and trunks shortly.”

  By that time, Abner Sweeney reached Hazel’s side, and, grasping her by the elbow, guided her through the door on the right.

  Unlike the gentlemen’s lounge, the inside of the ladies entrance was narrow and covered with a cream-colored wallpaper bearing a pattern of dainty pink roses. Hazel’s eyes were drawn to the small reception desk and chair next to the front door. Otherwise, the entrance appeared to serve as a hallway leading to the stairway and some downstairs rooms. Hazel turned to study the middle-aged man behind the counter.

  “Welcome to the Leavitt House. Such bad weather for travel, but I’m relieved you made it safely. Hiram Leavitt, at your service.”

  Before she could respond, Abner Sweeney took over. “The name’s Sweeney. I believe you received a wire stating we would need a room.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sweeney. We have a room set aside for you as requested, but…” Hiram Leavitt studied Hazel with a puzzled look. “I thought you were traveling with your wife. If this is your daughter, I might have difficulty finding a second room for her. With the weather, all our rooms are full.”

  “She’s my wife,” Mr. Sweeney impatiently cut him off.

  Hazel blinked in surprise.

  Why’s he passin’ me off as his wife?

  Hazel opened her mouth to protest, but a quick glare from her chaperone silenced her.

  “Now, if you can see my wife to our room and have our baggage sent up, I’d appreciate it. I’m spending some time in the gentlemen’s lounge warming up after today’s miserable journey.”

  After Mr. Sweeney exited the door and she heard the door to the other half of the building open and close, Hazel continued to stand in front of the counter in shock. What was she going to do? Mr. Sweeney knew she wasn’t his wife. Where did he plan on her sleeping? On the floor? Surely he didn’t intend for her to share the bed with him. Even if his intentions were honorable, surely Mrs. Sweeney wouldn’t approve.

  Her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Hazel clutched her damp quilt as the driver and his guard entered several times and stacked trunks and valises along the wall opposite the front counter. Hazel watched the innkeeper, who was joined by a woman she guessed to be Mrs. Leavitt, as he checked in the other passengers from the stagecoach. Finally, he turned to her.

  “I apologize for the wait, Mrs. Sweeney. I will take you to your room now.”

  Hazel swallowed. If she meant to do something to set things right, she had to do it now. “I’m sorry, Mr. Leavitt, but there’s been a misunderstandin’. I ain’t Mrs. Sweeney. My name’s Hazel Jessup. He-he’s my chapero
ne helpin’ me travel to be with family. I-I’m sure he meant well and all by sayin’ we could share the same room because it would save him a passel of money, but, I-I’d druther not.”

  Hazel watched Hiram and Mrs. Leavitt quickly glance at each other with knowing looks, their silent communication ripe with understanding. Hazel wondered what they seemed to know that she didn’t.

  “I know you said you’re plumb out of rooms, and I don’t want Mr. Sweeney to have to pay nothin’ extra on my account. But, if you can find me a space in your kitchen or a storeroom with room for a pallet, I’d be beholdin’. I’d druther pass the night there.”

  The woman turned to say something to Mr. Leavitt. She spoke so softly all Hazel caught was the name Charlotte. After they finished their quiet back-and-forth, with Charlotte being mentioned several times, Hiram Leavitt turned to Hazel. “We have room for you after all. If you will point out your bags for me, I’ll take you up.”

  Her brow creased with concern, Hazel studied the worried look on the woman’s face. “I done heard you say somethin’ about a body named Charlotte. If you’re takin’ me to her room, I don’t want to discomfit her none by stayin’ in it.”

  Hiram shook his head. “No, no. Everything is fine. Sometimes Charlotte stays here, but the last several months no one has seen her. We’ll put you in Charlotte’s room with no additional charge. I’ll say nothing to Mr. Sweeney about where you are and I’ll come for you in the morning.”

  Hazel heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Leavitt.” Then, turning to the woman, Hazel offered her a big smile. “I’m mighty beholdin’ to you both, as long as it don’t put out this Charlotte none.” Hazel noticed the quick glance Mr. Leavitt gave his wife, but once he turned to her with a comforting smile, she decided it truly was all right for her to stay in a room that was usually reserved for another woman. She pointed out her valise and her small trunk—between the two of them, they held all her worldly possessions—and followed Hiram Leavitt up the stairs to the front room on the second floor.

  “I’ll have Mrs. Leavitt bring some supper up to you shortly.”

  “Thank you, kindly, Mr. Leavitt. I reckon I am a mite famished.”

  CHAPTER 4

  After Hiram Leavitt deposited her luggage and lit the gas lamps before he left, Hazel slowly turned in a circle to survey the room. The double four poster bed looked as comfortable as the one she had slept in up in Reno, yet there was something about the room that made her feel sad. She walked over to the dressing table and looked into the mirror, noticing the lines of fatigue around her eyes. With a smile, she shrugged it off. After a good night’s sleep in this beautiful room, she would surely be well-rested by tomorrow. She unfolded her quilt and spread it over the chair to dry.

  Hazel heard a noise outside that drew her to the window. When she parted the drape and looked out, she realized her room faced the main street. She took a moment to study the frontier town. The stagecoach was already gone, but one lone rider with his shoulders hunched against the bad weather rode down the street. She had already been told that in good weather she would be able to see the mountains of Nevada to the east. To the west was the eastern slope of the Sierra-Nevada range; the great, tall spine of mountains that dominated the eastern part of central California until it butted up to Nevada west of Carson City and Lake Tahoe.

  “Watch where you walk. I’m looking for my baby. I don’t want you to step on her.”

  Step on a baby? Hazel shook her head. Where did that idea come from? She looked over at the bed with its headboard next to the front window. It was made up with a nice coverlet over the mattress and pillows. Then she looked all around the wooden floor with its carpet in a beautiful floral pattern. There was no sign of a baby.

  Curious about what she might find out the side window of her corner room, Hazel removed her traveling coat and set it on an upholstered bench at the foot of the bed before she rounded the bed to the north window. She pulled the curtains aside, but could not focus on what lay outside. Instead, she felt assaulted with a stronger surge of sadness. The feeling increased and grew so intense she nearly crumbled to the ground under its emotional weight. She dropped the curtain in place and stepped back to the foot of the bed.

  Away from the window, the feeling of sorrow remained, but did not feel as strong. Hazel took a few deep breaths as she struggled to work out in her mind what she had experienced. She knew there was no reason for her to feel sad. Exhausted from the last two days of stagecoach travel, perhaps. And hungry. Apprehensive, because she never received a reply to any of her letters to her sister she had asked Mrs. Dodd to mail for her, and she wasn’t sure if her sister knew she was coming. But not sad. If anything, she felt excited and happy about the upcoming reunion.

  Hazel knew she had a long day ahead of her the next morning. She decided she might as well put on her nightgown, brush out her hair and prepare for bed. She noticed when she walked toward the opposite side of the room to pick up her valise, the feeling of sadness faded. But, when she walked back toward the dressing table, it increased slightly. Her curiosity aroused, Hazel once again walked toward the side window of the room. The feeling of sorrow again intensified.

  “Go away.”

  Hazel froze in place. Someone was speaking to her. She quickly stepped back until she reached bottom corner of the bed. The sense of sadness once again diminished. But that did not answer the question now in Hazel’s mind. A tingle of fear coursed through her as she realized she was not alone in the room.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Go away. Leave me alone.”

  Her legs trembling, Hazel clung to the post at the foot of the bed. She had heard the voice twice now. Only, it wasn’t a voice she heard. The words entered her mind as plainly as if someone stood next to her and spoke to her, but they did not come through her ears first. And, in spite of the two lamps casting their soft glow throughout the room, she could not see anyone.

  “Who might you be? I figure you’re here, but I can’t see you none.”

  “I’m searching for my baby. If you took her, bring her back. Otherwise, leave my room.”

  Leave her room? Bring back her baby? Hazel had heard the Leavitts talking about this room belonging to a Charlotte. But they said she wasn’t there. Or, was she? And they certainly didn’t say anything about a baby.

  Hazel swallowed in an attempt to keep her throat from closing with fear. “Are-are you Charlotte?”

  Hazel forced herself to remain calm while she waited for a response.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Ri-right pleased to meet you, Charlotte. Mr. Leavitt done told me about you. I don’t recall him tellin’ me no last name. He said you like stayin’ in this room, but he said he ain’t seen you for a spell.”

  “Johansson. Charlotte Johansson and I’m here. Now, go.”

  “I-I don’t mean you no harm, Charlotte Johansson. I told Mr. Leavitt I don’t want to put you out none, but he said it ain’t no problem seein’ as how there ain’t no other room I can stay in and I don’t want to share no room with Mr. Sweeney.”

  Hazel waited, but heard no response. “I can tell you’re here, Charlotte, and you seem a mite sad, but I can’t see you none. And there ain’t no baby that I can see. Are you—under the bed, or hidin’ in a closet?”

  Hazel gasped for breath and gripped the bedpost until her fingers ached as she witnessed the scene before her eyes. Where before the carpet in colors of red, blue and beige appeared bare, she now watched as a mound of white materialized on top. Next, she watched a dark spot in the center—which Hazel soon realized was hair—lift to reveal a face. It belonged to an attractive young woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties. Hazel had no idea how the woman accomplished it, but she rose to her feet as if pulled up by a puppeteer’s string until she stood at her full height. The two studied each other. Hazel’s eyes never left Charlotte’s face; yet, with her peripheral vision, she could not help but notice the beautiful nip-and-tucked yoke edged with lace
on the white nightgown the woman wore.

  Gradually, the fear Hazel felt faded. The person before her radiated sorrow and worry, but nothing Hazel considered threatening. She began to suspect what she was seeing.

  “You’re a haint, ain’t you?”

  “You are seeing the body of my spirit dressed in what I was buried in. None of my other clothes fit after I birthed the baby.”

  With that, Charlotte sank back to the floor and faded until Hazel could no longer see her.

  The experience left Hazel breathing heavily and momentarily speechless. As a child, she had occasionally joined in with playmates who shared ghost stories. As they were intended to do, the entertaining tales had left Hazel shivering with fright and a dread that she might someday encounter an unfriendly—and perhaps threatening—specter.

  Now, exactly that had happened. Hazel had seen, heard and talked to someone who she guessed had at one time lived on the earth, but who lived no more—at least, not in a mortal body. Except, this ghost did not threaten her or try to frighten her; she only told Hazel to go away.

  But, Hazel had nowhere else to go that night. With trepidation, Hazel slowly stepped toward where she had seen Charlotte disappear. Once Hazel was within two feet of where she believed Charlotte to be, she slowly lowered herself to the floor and sat with her back to the side of the bed frame and mattress. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself for comfort. The emotion of sorrow once again grew stronger, nearly overwhelming her. She gritted her teeth, determined to do what she felt was the right thing.

  “What brung you here, Charlotte? Why ain’t you in the place the Bible done told us about for spirits of them who pass over?”

  “I cannot leave my baby behind. I wait for Swen to help me find her, but he has not come back.”