“Lou Dixon,” she interrupted. “Not Cliff.” As she said the name again, her conversation with Buzz filtered through all her crazy thoughts about love and ghosts. Buzz had said the sheriff back then had been Cliff Dixon, and Rance’s friend. “Lou Dixon, and his cousin Nate inherited this place from their uncle Riley Dixon. I think Buzz said Riley was Cliff’s grandson. Lou wasn’t interested in demolishing the place, but his cousin Nate was, and evidently, Lou now agrees with Nate.” She stopped herself from explaining how people thought the house was haunted. By him. “That’s why I’m here, to appraise the antiques, anything of value. That’s what Buzz said, anyway.”
“Who’s Buzz?”
Explaining Buzz, Vivi Anne, and Here for Now, the antique store Vivi Anne owned would be more information than he needed right now. She shrugged. “Buzz is a friend who told me about this place.”
He eyed her suspiciously, as if he knew she wasn’t telling him everything.
“This place is my home,” he said. “I live here.”
“Not in twenty-eighteen,” she whispered.
Chapter Four
Maybe he’d lost his mind. It happened. People went insane for many reasons. That’s why they had asylums. Surely he would have felt that coming on. One didn’t just go from sane to insane. Did they?
One didn’t think his wife was a ghost either.
He rubbed his forehead and his temples. A good case of the jitters had him wanting to get up, but he’d promised he wouldn’t let go of the mirror. And wouldn’t. She’d gone white a few minutes ago, over by the window. As if she’d seen a ghost or something.
Maybe she had.
Him.
That made no sense. He wasn’t dead. She was.
Beth was.
Aw, hell. He wasn’t prepared to let that thought in, may never be, no matter how many strange women entered his home.
But this wasn’t a strange woman. Despite the few minor differences, she was Beth. How could that be? People didn’t all of a sudden have a few minor differences.
“This Lou,” he said, chasing aside ghostly thoughts for a minute. “You said he’s Cliff’s relation?”
She pinched her lips together as she nodded. That was a classic Beth move. She always tried to make things sound simpler. As if telling the entire truth would take too long. Not that she’d ever lied to him. Not a once. Something told him this gal—this woman who looked too much like Beth to make him comfortable—wasn’t either. Because she was Beth.
Stopping his mind from continuing to turn on that wheel, he asked, “A feller named Buzz told you about this Lou?”
“Yes. Lou and Nate. They’re cousins.”
“Why did this Buzz tell you about them?”
She sighed. “Actually, Buzz called Vivi Anne, a friend of mine, about the antiques here. Vivi Anne couldn’t drive down to Cody because she had to meet a guy from Helena, so I drove down. That’s when Buzz said they, Lou and Nate, inherited this place.”
He was far more interested in her than anyone inheriting his place, now or a hundred years from now. “Drove down from where?”
“Billings.”
His heart jolted even though he’d had a gut feeling that’s what she’d say. This was Beth. Maybe she hit her head during the accident and couldn’t remember. The accident had been two months ago. He’d gone up there as soon as he’d heard about the accident and searched the banks of the river. Others had been there too. Her mother and father and sister. Strangers had set up camp like he had, searching for their loved ones. Maybe one of those people found her, took care of her, cut her hair. She could have been unconscious for an extended amount of time and when she awoke, couldn’t remember things, but knew this was home.
He sighed. And maybe he was a ghost. Hell, none of this made sense.
Her brows pulled together as if she was trying to remember something—just like Beth used to.
His heartbeat kicked up its pace.
“Cliff was the sheriff, or is, in your time, right?”
Trying to decide if any portion his rambling thoughts made sense, Rance absently answered, “Yes, Cliff’s the sheriff.” He stopped shy of asking if she remembered Cliff.
“Okay, so, I think Buzz said Cliff’s grandson was Riley. He said so many names it was hard to keep track, but I know he said that you left this place to someone named Dixon, I think it was Riley, along with enough money to pay for its upkeep.”
He hadn’t made any plans of leaving this place to anyone, but, without Beth, without a family, Cliff seemed like the obvious person—when the time came. Beth would have known that. Cliff would know it too. Shortly after he’d returned from Billings, Cliff had ridden out. Not in the mood to see anyone, he hadn’t been very friendly, but that hadn’t stopped Cliff from making him sit down and eat the food his wife Nan had sent out. Cliff had also pointed out that if the things had been different, that if he’d been the one to die instead of Beth, that he’d have expected people to step in and help her. Bring her food. Make sure she was getting along.
Cliff had been right. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt inside him that he’d have expected people to help Beth, or in the fact that they would have.
“You never wanted this place sold,” she whispered, “in case your wife returned.”
Rance held his breath at a ping that stung near his heart. He wasn’t ready to consider the option of Beth never returning, and never would be. Angered at the thought, he asked, “What do you know about my wife returning?”
“I don’t. Buzz said she’d died in an accident and that you didn’t believe it. That you waited for her to return until the day you died.”
Beth would have known he’d wait for her forever. And ever.
“So, back to your ranch,” she said. “Riley left it to Lou and Nate, along with money for the upkeep, but, I suspect, considering it’s been over fifty years since you died, they’ve decided to sell it. Lou is interested in learning how much the antiques out here are worth.” She shrugged. “I don’t know about Nate. I haven’t met him, and I only met Lou a short time ago when he unlocked the gate for me, but my first impression says money means a lot to him.”
“Oh?” Despite the situation, and the ideas still floating around inside his head, he found himself as charmed by her as much now as he’d ever been. Beth had always laid a lot of faith in first impressions. She’d told him the day they’d met that he’d marry her. He’d laughed at the idea. That day. A week later, he knew she was right. That he would marry her. And had a few months later. In January. Beth hadn’t been willing to wait any longer.
Drawing in a breath that caught in his lungs, he turned his focus back to this woman. “Why do you say that?”
“A vibe I got. He drives a brand-new Camaro and wears high-buck clothes. That tells me he knows what money is. And he likes it.”
“Everyone knows what money is,” he pointed out. “What’s a vibe? And a Camaro?”
“A vibe is a feeling, like a gut feeling when you know something despite what people say, and a Camaro is a car, like my Mustang, but it’s a Chevy instead of a Ford.”
He had his own gut feeling, and it said this was Beth. She just didn’t know it and was making up a wild tale. He bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to keep his heart from thudding right out of his chest as his gaze wandered over her from head to toe. Stopping briefly on that tight-fitting top. If he let his eyes linger too long, he’d regret it. “Is that what you’re wearing? High-buck clothes?”
“Jeans and a tank-top?” She shook her head. “Not hardly. These are from the farm store.”
“Webster doesn’t carry things like that.”
“Webster?” She frowned. “I’ve never heard of Webster’s. These are from Ted’s Farm Store. I like shopping there. Can’t beat the quality or the price.”
A tingle made the hair on his neck stand. Beth had said those exact words when he’d driven that set of mustangs up to Montana for her father to buy for her mother. Her father had seen one of
Bill’s shows and wanted a set of matching mustangs for his wife. It had been the best sale of his life. He’d gotten more than money out of those horses, he’d gotten a wife. Cautious, knowing she’d argue about him being a ghost again, he asked, “You have family in Billings?”
“No,” she said. “I don’t have family anywhere.”
Her answer surprised him until it clicked that if she’s forgotten him, she must have forgotten her family as well. And Webster. The shopkeeper was as charmed by her as everyone else. Including him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He was going to have to go slow with her this time around. Like a two-year-old filly right off the range. They needed time for things to become familiar and so would she. In fact, he’d even play along with her ridiculous tale for a bit, if that’s what it took.
Having lost the pebbles of the tale she’d laid out, he asked, “Who is this Lou again?”
“Um, let’s see,” she said, tapping her chin, “he would be Cliff’s great-grandson.”
“Great-grandson.”
She nodded. “Yes, great-grandson.”
Cliff had two sons, Ralph and Randy, so it was safe to say that someday he’d have a grandson and then a great-grandson. “So this Lou, he wants to demolish my house?”
“Not Lou.” Turning her head, she scanned the room slowly. When her eyes landed on him again, sorrow filled her face. “But Nate does.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I guess Lou does, too. Nate changed his mind.”
He lifted his hat off the bed and plunked it on his head.
“Where are you going?”
He grinned. Beth always knew he was leaving when he put his hat on. Unable not to, for it’s what he’d always done, he winked at her. “To stop him.” Whoever this Lou is. Sitting around was not his way. Doing was. He stood.
She leaped to her feet beside him. “You let go of the mirror! You promised you wouldn’t.”
He’d forgotten that, how she couldn’t see or hear him when they both weren’t touching the mirror, but he didn’t take a hold of the handle right away. If this was Beth, as he knew it was, it didn’t make any sense that she couldn’t see him. He could see her with his eyes closed. Her vision anyway.
His gaze roamed over her again. Those blue pants, that tiny pink top that didn’t have any sleeves, the golden skin of her arms, her neck. He snapped his gaze up to hers but couldn’t keep it there. That shirt was so tight it molded the shape of her to precise perfection. Memories of exploring every curve and crevice of her body sent blood surging through his veins.
“Rance Livingston, you take a hold of this mirror this instant.”
He wiped a hand over his grin, and then, wondering, he reached out to touch her. His fingers slid right through her arm. Disappointed, but not ready to give up, he tried her shoulder.
She didn’t even flinch. Probably because he hadn’t touched her. Couldn’t. Damn, but this was the strangest thing.
“This instant. You hear me?”
Having to try just once more, he let his hand hover close, lowering it slowly over her shoulder.
A scowl formed on her face. “Rance?”
His fingers tingled, but inside, he knew the sensation was in his mind only. His hand hadn’t touched her. It couldn’t. Despite how real she appeared, there was nothing to touch. Nothing real about her.
“If you don’t take a hold of this mirror, I’ll—”
Grabbing the mirror handle, he asked, “You’ll what?”
He laughed at how she jumped and again when she stomped a foot.
“Don’t do that,” she ordered.
“What?” Whether he could touch her or not, whether she was real or not, he hadn’t felt this alive in weeks, months, and could only credit it to her. Right down to the saucy little look she gave him. Ghost or not, there was no way this wasn’t Beth. His Beth. She just didn’t remember it. He’d have to change that.
“Don’t disappear on me like that,” she said.
That was a problem he’d have to solve. The mirror thing.
“And just how do you plan on stopping Lou or Nate? Or both of them?” she asked.
He wanted to rub his head again but knew it wouldn’t help. He had no idea who these fellas were but was going to find out. Watching her nibble on her bottom lip wasn’t helping him either. When Beth did that, she was thinking of something she wasn’t sure how to say.
Could these Nate and Lou fellas have found her after the accident and held her hostage or something, telling her crazy things, like the wrong year and that they were related to Cliff? Maybe that Buzz person had been with them. That was enough to irritate him. Knowing she’d been alone with three men.
His mind gnawed on that like a dog did a bone, and seeing her chew on her lip made him want to know what she didn’t want to tell him. “Spit it out.”
Her eyes narrowed, which made her look enticingly cute instead of irritated. “Don’t snap at me,” she said. “You are the one who let go of the mirror.”
“You’re right, I did, and I apologize for that.”
She nodded her chin. “Thank you. Apology accepted.”
Damn it, this was Beth. She always made him apologize and then responded with those exact words. Another sensation tickled his spine. There was now a hint of cunning in her glare. She’d always been shrewd when it came to getting what she wanted. Clever, too.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Maybe you could start haunting this place in twenty-eighteen” she said quietly. “That might scare Lou and Nate away. Anyone else snooping around, too. Most people are afraid of ghosts.”
He stopped shy of telling her he wasn’t a ghost, but the notion that she was had made inroads in his mind. She wasn’t completely his Beth; it was more like Beth was inside her and needed to be coaxed out. Was that because she was Beth’s ghost? He’d need time to come to grips with that, and what could be done about it. What could be done about being married to a ghost? Letting her believe he agreed with her might be the route to take. At least for now.
“I’d need your help,” he said. Whether he could touch her or not, his next step was figuring out a way to keep her from disappearing again.
A hint of the glimmer that used to live in Beth’s eyes nonstop appeared for a brief instant. The glimmer quickly disappeared, but a smile remained on her lips. “Of course, I’ll help.”
In the midst of sinking deeper into bizarre thoughts of living with a ghost, and how that could possibly be, it was a moment before he recognized a sound drifting in through the window. No more impressed with the interruption than he’d been for the past several weeks, he grumbled, “Someone’s here.”
She frowned but didn’t say a word as they walked to the window together. There, as they both once again looked out the opening, she said, “I don’t see anyone.”
“There’s a wagon pulling up to the house,” he explained.
“Who’s in it?”
“Nan Dixon and another woman.” Disgust rumbled across his chest. Nan meant well, but her relentless visits had long grown old. She’d said much the same thing to him as Cliff had, that if instead of Beth dying, he had, Beth would have been heart-broken and would need friends. He’d agreed with that. But hadn’t agreed with the notion he needed friends showing up at all time of the day. Still didn’t.
“Who is Nan Dixon? Wait, is she related to-to Cliff?”
He stepped back, bringing her with him. “Yes, she’s Cliff’s wife.”
She stretched her neck, attempting to see out the window again. That too was Beth. His stomach clenched. He could handle a ghost, but Nan was as no-nonsense as a rock.
“You stay here, I’ll be right back.” A wallop of fear washed over him, making him wonder if she’d disappear when he let go of the mirror. No, it was the other way around. He could see her without the mirror, she just couldn’t see him. That, and Nan shouting his name had him saying, “Stay away from the window.”
He let loose of the mirror and watched how she glanced around,
as if searching for him. Reluctantly, he turned and headed for the doorway. Then he raced down the steps and through the house, anxious to get rid of Nan as soon as possible.
Nan and her companion, a young woman with blonde curls poking out from beneath a calico bonnet, had both climbed out of the wagon and were walking toward the house. He let the screen door slam shut behind him in his hurry onto the porch.
“There you are. I knew you were nearby; your horse is still saddled in the corral.” Nan grinned as her keen eyes landed on his face. “You look more like yourself today. There’s color in your face. And I’m glad to see you’re using the house.” Her gaze went upward, to the second story. “Beth would like that.”
He waited for the wave of anger that engulfed him every time someone mentioned what Beth would or wouldn’t like. When nothing came, he followed Nan’s gaze and glanced up, but the porch roof prevented him from seeing the upstairs window. Bounding down the four steps in a single stride, he asked, “What brings you out here today?” He shot another glance toward his bedroom window. The shut window. The curtains were closed, too.
He hoped that was because Beth had listened to his request to stay away from the window, but the eerie sensation rippling his spine said it wasn’t. An urgency to get back inside filled him. “I’ve got a lot of work to do today, Nan. Tell Cliff I said h—”
“Rance Livingston,” Nan snapped. “I’ve never seen you so rude.”
He pulled his gaze off the window and turned. Nan looked as ruffled as a grouse that had just been rousted off her nest. He knew the feeling.
“I just introduced you to my niece, and you totally ignored—”
“Hello,” he said, and flinched slightly. Interrupting her wouldn’t set any better than not hearing her make the introduction. He’d been too busy thinking about Beth to hear anything. Still, he held out a hand toward the blonde woman.
“Hello, I’m Cindy Franklin,” the woman took his hand delicately. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. Uncle Cliff speaks so highly of you.”
He nodded, pulled his hand out of hers and, after a brief glance over his shoulder—toward the upstairs window again—he turned his attention back to Nan. “As I was saying, I’ve got—”
Beneath a Beating Heart Page 4
