Beneath a Beating Heart

by Lauri Robinson

The big museum in downtown Cody that she’d driven past, the one that brought in tourists by the thousands, proved people enjoyed the legend of Buffalo Bill Cody. She had a poster from one of his shows. Had been drawn to it, and because it fit in her budget and apartment better than the stove, she’d bought it from Vivi Anne at the grand opening of Here for Now. Still not willing to fall into whatever kind of trap Nate was attempting to set, she shrugged. And called his bluff. “Well, if you want top dollar for the things here, I’ll need more time. If you don’t need the money, pack everything up and give it to Buzz. It’ll help his non-profit, and it’ll be off your hands.”

  Nate frowned, but she was sure the brim of his hat hid the dollar signs dancing in his eyes.

  “Top dollar?”

  “There are some unique things here.” She hadn’t seen anything that was as valuable as she was making things sound, but he didn’t need to know that. Not right now.

  “How much time?” he asked.

  Appreciating how he was considering the bait she dangled in front of him, she took a moment to think. During her tour down the center of town earlier today, she’d counted numerous antique and pawn shops. Considering what Buzz had said about the place being haunted, she wondered if the cousins had contacted other shop owners, but no one had been interested because the items were from Rance’s place. The local haunted house. That was plausible, but in reality, not that many people believed in ghosts, or were afraid of them. However, being connected to a local legend could add to the value of the items.

  Either way, she said, “I can’t say how long it will take for sure. Finding the right buyer in order to get you the maximum price may take weeks, but in the end, it would be worth it.” In the end, she might be able to buy enough time to save the place from being burned down. It certainly wouldn’t hurt either of these cousins to just let Rance go on waiting for his wife. Then again, at the rate he was aging, that could take centuries.

  She paused as that thought took hold. Centuries. The place wouldn’t be left alone that long. That was for sure. She might save it from being burned down next week, but what about next year, or the year after? These cousins wouldn’t indefinitely put off demolishing the buildings or selling the property.

  Her own mind made her pause. What was she thinking? She wasn’t here to save anything from being burned down or to preserve the place so Rance could go on living in it. Ghosts don’t need their own houses? Do they?

  “Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of everything?”

  Nate shrugged his bulky shoulders. “Don’t need any of it, and this here is a prime piece of property. The fact it’s ten miles from town makes it even more attractive to some.” Leaning forward, he set both hands on his knee. “Tourists, coming to see Buffalo Bill’s Museum or heading on in to Yellow Stone, is how money comes into Cody. I have a buyer interested in this place. Thinking about a resort. A big hotel with a golf course in the summer and snowmobile trails in the winter.” He waggled a brow. “Could be a gold mine for the right person.”

  “Why don’t you build it yourself then?” she asked, already knowing he didn’t have enough ambition for that. He was a wait on me kind of person.

  “I don’t have the time.” He dropped his foot to the floor. “I’ve got other irons in the fire.”

  I’m sure you do, she said to herself. From the moment she’d seen Lou, and now Nate, she knew the kind of men they were. They type who liked talking about themselves but didn’t like getting their hands dirty. She doubted either of them worked. Had a real job. They’d lived off family money from the day they’d been born and would continue to until they died. Buzz had told her about that. How they both had inherited plenty.

  Having no family whatsoever, that rubbed her wrong. Even if she’d had a family, her thoughts would still be along the same lines. She’d been called old-fashioned her entire life because she believed differently than most. She didn’t own a credit card—believed if she couldn’t buy it with cash; she didn’t need it, and also believed everyone should be responsible for themselves. Dependency was a fault. And a sign of weakness.

  Despite what she assumed both Lou and Nate thought, their money and looks didn’t make them as desirable as they thought they were. Not like Rance. Ghost or not, he was a real man. A self-made man. Reliable. Honest. Trustworthy. And handsome. Besides his thickly lashed dark eyes and black hair that was just enough on the long side, he had a ruggedness about him that was adorable. And sweet. Perhaps debonair even. Bottom line, Rance was eye-candy.

  Serious eye-candy. A candy connoisseur’s dream. A chocolate bar, dipped in a chocolate fountain, covered with caramel—Sheesh, what had gotten in to her? She barely had a sweet tooth, let alone an obsession. Leave it to her. The first time she’d ever been drawn to a man, he was a ghost.

  Or was he?

  Maybe this was all a dream.

  “Texas, Florida, New York.”

  No, it wasn’t a dream. Nate was still talking and giving her a headache. People didn’t have headaches in their dreams. She had no idea what Nate was talking about, so faking it, she pulled up a smile. “I see.”

  “Takes up all my time,” he continued. “Had to sell off the other family places, too. There’s only so much lawn a man can mow.” He shifted as he pretended to re-tuck the bottom of his shirt into his jeans. “Or pay to have mowed.”

  She waited until his preening was over. “In my opinion, you don’t want to move too quickly here.”

  He tilted his head back and stared as if waiting for more.

  “It would be in your best interest, moneywise, to let me catalog everything,” she explained. “It might take a bit of time, but it will be worth it in the end.”

  He remained silent while his eyes roamed the room. “Doesn’t this place give you the creeps?” he asked. “Being so neat and clean without being lived in for decades?”

  She walked over to the stove and rested both hands on the smooth cast-iron top. “No. Does it you?”

  He huffed out a fake laugh. “No. I started some of those rumors.”

  “About it being haunted?”

  He glanced around before answering and rocked on his heels. “Yes.”

  Liar. “According to Buzz, that rumor is older than you.” She gave him a solid once over gaze. “Rance died in the nineteen sixties.”

  His brief grimace said he didn’t appreciate her discounting him. Lifting his chin, he gave her a mocking grin. “Folks have said the place was haunted before Rance died. That his wife haunted it. That’s why he lived in the old log cabin rather than the house. Right up until his death. He died in that cabin. In an old iron cot. Just never woke up one day.” Eyeing her straightly, he asked, “Does that creep you out?”

  It did him. She pinched back a smile. Maybe Rance had been haunting the place, he just didn’t know it. Could it work that way? She had no idea but suspected it could work however the ghost wants it to. “No, it doesn’t creep me out.” It might have if her first ghost encounter had been different. However, Rance made her want to have a second close encounter. And a third.

  “I guess it shouldn’t, being an antique dealer and all.” Nate pushed the chair in. “I gotta go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. That old Rance hadn’t scared the life out of you.”

  “He didn’t.” She bit her tongue, hoping he hadn’t heard.

  Nate’s frown said he had.

  “Meaning I haven’t seen anything except antiques.” She grinned and shrugged.

  He nodded. “Some nice ones.”

  “Yes, some nice ones.”

  He glanced around again. “All right, then. You ready?”

  “Ready?” She shook her head. “I’ve barely started. There’s still plenty of daylight.” The house had no electricity, but there was plenty of daylight left. “I’ll stay until dark.”

  “Sorry, doll. I’ve got plans for the evening and don’t have time to come out and lock the gate after you leave.”

  Once again, she ignored how he
threw pet names around. “I’ll lock it.”

  “No. You can keep the key to the house, but Lou or I will let you in and out of the gate.” He waved a hand toward the door. “We have to protect our assets.”

  She clamped her back teeth together and didn’t bother pulling them apart. Being accused of theft, no matter how subtle, infuriated her. The only thing holding her back from spouting out just what Nate could do with his attitude was Rance. She couldn’t chance losing the opportunity to see him again.

  With little choice, she followed Nate to the door. “I’ll need the gate opened early in the morning. So I can get in a full day.”

  “Lock the door behind you.” He shoved open the screen door.

  She grabbed the knob of the inside door, but before pulling it all the way shut, she twisted. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  She waited for a response to her whisper, but there was no hum. Disappointment washed over her as she stepped out of the house.

  After locking the door, she shoved the single key back into a front pocket on her jeans and then gently closed the screen door. Turning, she hissed in a breath of air.

  “What are you doing?”

  Nate pushed off her passenger door, where he’d been looking inside her car. “Just checking things out. You have a pretty sweet ride for a girl who peddles antiques.”

  Seething, she stomped down the porch steps with every intention of telling him she knew he was looking to see if she’d taken anything out of the house. It wasn’t the need to defend herself as much as it was the principle of it all. A noise had her pausing once her feet hit the gravel.

  “Look at that,” she whispered. The land beyond the barn was a kaleidoscope of rolling hills, and on the top of one a short distance away was a horse. It was too far away to see the exact color, but her skin goose-bumped as the horse tossed its head and nickered again. The animal looked majestic, regal, standing there, overlooking the house and barns.

  “You own horses?” she asked Nate.

  “No, there are still a few wild ones around this area. That must be one of them. That’s why we keep the gate shut.” His gaze went back to her car. “And locked.”

  Not even the joy of seeing the horse eased her frustration at him. Glancing toward the horse again, she sighed. It was gone, and not a single sign in any direction to prove it had been there. Just like Rance.

  She pulled the car keys from her other pocket and hit the trunk button, wishing the spring-loaded catch had more tension. If it had a bit more oomph, the trunk lid would have smacked Nate. “I assumed you would want to check the trunk. Make sure I wasn’t trying to drive away with any of your assets.”

  He flashed her a snide grin before glancing into the open trunk. Walking past her, he flicked her beneath the chin. “I trust you more than that, doll.” He winked again. “I’ll follow you.”

  Closing her trunk with one hand, she wiped her chin with the other. Jerk. She had half a mind to head back to Billings right now. Her gaze shot to the house, and then the hill. A ghost and a phantom horse wouldn’t let her leave. Not yet. The horse had been real. Nate had seen it, too. The ghost, well, that she had to see again. Had to.

  She’d climbed in her car and buckled her seat belt. Nate’s truck roared to life the same time she started her car. Shifting into drive, she steered the Mustang around to drive beneath the long faded old board stretched between two poles. The truck was tight on her rear bumper. She really didn’t like him. He was a fake. Give her a ghost any day.

  Plucking her cell phone out of the cup holder in the center console, she used her thumb to swipe the call tab, but stopped before tapping on Vivi Anne’s name. What would she say? I saw a ghost, but he doesn’t think he’s a ghost. He thinks he’s alive and living in nineteen-o-one. Rance Livingston was an old man when he died, could his ghost be young? Was that even possible? And what about him thinking she was Beth? That had been strange, and sad.

  Hefting out a sigh, she set the phone down. She had to think about all this before calling Vivi Anne—who would want to know more about the antiques than the ghost anyway. Rance’s antiques. No one had the right to sell them without his permission. Not while he was still alive.

  But he wasn’t alive. He was a ghost.

  “Oh, Good Lord! This is crazy. Just crazy.”

  Nate’s engine roared behind her, so close all she could see was the grill of his truck in her review mirror. If she didn’t care about her car, she would slam on the brakes, just to teach him a lesson in tailgating. What was with her? Why was she getting so worked up? So involved in something that really shouldn’t matter to her one way or the other? That was as out of the ordinary as seeing ghost. It was almost as if there was a part of her she’d never known before. Like it had been buried inside her waiting for a chance to come out.

  That was a strange way to think about things. Maybe seeing a ghost did that to people. Made them think of all sorts of things they’d never really noticed before—including things about themselves.

  She kept her car in the center of the dirt road, giving Nate no room to pass, and kept her speed at one that wouldn’t jostle the little Mustang about too much. After slowing considerably to amble over the bumpy cattle guard at the gate, she stopped long enough to make sure the road was clear before pulling onto the highway.

  Nate had climbed out of his truck to lock the gate. She didn’t waste a second look in her review mirror. Having to put up with him while she figured this all out was going to be about as fun as getting gum off the bottom of a shoe. Or dog shit.

  Once in town, she drove straight to the old west town to talk to Buzz. The parking lot was full and Buzz, leaning heavily on his cane, was elbow deep in a conversation with a young couple in the gift shop. He paused long enough to hand her a little blue “admit one” ticket and waved her toward the door.

  She smiled and waved back before exiting the gift shop to work her way through the dozen or more cabins connected by a rippling wooden boardwalk. There was plenty to see, each building unique in its own right, along with the few graves and more old buckboard wagons than a person could imagine surviving the number of years they had.

  Usually antiques, anything old and full of history, intrigued her, but today, her thoughts were on Rance. A ghost. As she ran a hand over the top of a long bar in a saloon building, she wondered if he’d ever visited this place. A sign on the wall said it had been in a building downtown until the 1920s, when prohibition hit.

  She touched every mirror she encountered, looking and listening. No other ghosts appeared. Not that she’d expected any to, but still had to check. To confirm in some way she wasn’t losing her mind.

  After making her way through the entire compound, she reentered the gift shop. Buzz was now conversing with another couple, mainly about Jeremiah Liver-eating Johnston and his burial here. Liz laid the seven dollars she’d taken out of her purse on the counter to pay for her admittance and then took a seat in a chair behind the glass counter. She hoped Buzz wouldn’t think she was infringing on his territory, but she wanted to talk to him and was willing to wait as long as it took.

  His grin said he didn’t mind, and when a man and woman entered, looking to buy tickets, she sold them two, silently handing the money over to Buzz.

  When his conversation ended a short time later, he eased around to lean against a built-in desk as well as his cane. “Didn’t you meet up with Lou?”

  “Yes, he let me in the gate and gave me the house key, and Nate came to the house a little over an hour later.” Trying to cover up her disgust, she shrugged. “He has plans this evening and wanted the gate locked.”

  “You could have locked it,” Buzz said.

  “He wants to be the gate keeper.” She crossed her arms. “Afraid I’ll try to smuggle out the goods.”

  Buzz shook his head as if disgusted. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Then he grinned. “What did you think of the place?”

  “It’s amazing!” A need to elaborate sprang forth. “It’s f
ull of antiques. I barely knew where to start.” She hadn’t started, not really. “You said Rance Livingston was old when he died, right?”

  “Yep, in his eighties, or ninety would be my guess. Why?”

  She had to decide where to start. “The place looks like it had never been lived in.”

  “It hadn’t. They’d just finished building it when his wife died in that train accident. After that happened, Rance lived in an old cabin behind the house, leastwise that’s how the story goes. The stuff I sent up to Vivi Anne, the old saddle and tack, that all came out of the barn.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to visit the out buildings.” She knew the saddle. It was in the back room of Here for Now. She’d admired the hand tooling that was only half done. The saddle was in pristine condition and had been the reason she’d agreed to come down to Cody to look at the other items.

  Another couple entered, looking to buy tickets, and another set behind them. Guessing it would be like this until closing time, she stood. “I’m going to get checked into my motel. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” He gave a parting nod while, hitting a key to open the old-fashioned cash register in order to give change from the twenty-dollar bill one of the new customers had given him.

  Her motel was just down the road, back toward town. The kind where you parked right outside your door. Vivi Anne had suggested it. Liz grinned. That was part of the reason she didn’t go across the road to a multi-level chain motel. This old motel was nostalgic, and she liked that. She’d always enjoyed old and unique far more than new and modern.

  The man inside the lobby was as friendly, and probably as old as Buzz. It took him three tries before he managed to write her name on the right line of the carbon papered slip. Afterward he laid a diamond-shaped key chain on top of the receipt he still had to hand over. “Number ten. It has the newest TV.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I appreciate that.” She didn’t care about the TV at all, but he thought he was doing her a favor, and that much she did appreciate.

  “Ten’s around the side, toward the back.” He nodded toward the door. “More quiet than some closer to the road. And we have coffee here in the lobby starting at seven in the morning. Wife brews a fresh pot every half hour up until nine.”