Immortal Cowboy

by Alexis Morgan

  She took the book from him and set it aside. “What’s up?”

  “When were you going to tell me that you’d asked for a leave of absence from the university?” His voice was a shade too cool for the question to be completely casual.

  Oh, that. Whoops. “I only got the approval late yesterday afternoon, and I asked the dean to make an announcement this morning at the staff meeting.”

  Shawn’s eyebrows snapped down tight over his eyes. “That’s not the same as you telling me yourself.”

  She’d been dreading this moment. “I left you a voice mail this morning.”

  His expression lightened up a little. Good. She really hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she’d already faced off against her mother over her acceptance of the terms of Uncle Ray’s will. She didn’t want to have to defend her decision to anyone else.

  “It’s just that all of this is so sudden, and I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

  He looked marginally happier. “Are you sure putting your life on hold is a good idea?”

  Was that what she was doing? Maybe, but then what choice did she have?

  “I’m simply following the dictates of my uncle’s will. He didn’t leave me any wiggle room on this.”

  Shawn drew a deep breath. “Somehow I doubt you would’ve fought the terms regardless.”

  He was right. “I’m sorry, Shawn. I haven’t been myself since all of this happened. Ray’s death hit me hard. The semester is almost over, so the dean was pretty understanding about me leaving early. One of the grad students will cover the last few classes for me and give the final.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to see you jeopardize your career here at the university on a whim.”

  That wasn’t what this was, but Shawn clearly had something on his mind. “Just spit it out, Shawn.”

  Her comment startled him, his smile a bit rueful. “Okay, here’s the thing. I was hoping the two of us could go somewhere together this summer for a few days, maybe a week.”

  He shifted to look at her more directly. “I’m not picky about where. Heck, we can even go explore some of those dusty, old ghost towns you love so much. I just thought some time away from all of this—” he waved his hand to indicate more than just the clutter in her office “—would be good for us.”

  The emphasis on the last word wasn’t lost on her, and perhaps he was right. Some time spent away from their normal surroundings would definitely answer some questions for both of them. They’d had dinner a few times, but she’d been reluctant to take the relationship to the next level.

  Obviously, he wasn’t.

  Part of the problem was the recent resurgence of her nightmares. She’d never shared the story with Shawn and didn’t intend to anytime soon. It was the main reason that she’d never invited him to spend the night at her place. Until she could be sure that she wouldn’t wake up screaming, that couldn’t change.

  On the other hand, she had to wonder that if she’d been convinced that there was something special possible between the two of them, would she have trusted him with her secrets? Their friendship was familiar and comfortable. If it was ever going to be more, she needed to resolve the questions that had plagued her for years once and for all.

  For now, she had to offer Shawn an answer that he could understand, a version of the truth that he could accept without revealing her real reasons for going back to Blessing alone. Once she’d made peace with her past, maybe she’d know if there was a place for Shawn in her future.

  “I plan to spend the time I’m at the cabin on my research. Things are too up in the air right now for me to make any other commitments.”

  “Will you at least think about it?”

  He wasn’t going to give up unless she conceded at least that much. “Yes, I’ll think about it, but no promises.”

  Her effort at a reassuring smile must have succeeded because he gave her an approving nod. “Great. Now I’d better get back to my office. We’ve both got work to do.”

  As a fellow college instructor, he knew the constant pressure to publish. She let him think that was what was driving her research, a far more acceptable explanation for her almost obsessive need to study the past.

  In truth, the dream that had haunted her for years was the real reason she scoured bookstores and the internet for new primary sources of information on the lost towns of the West, and specifically about Blessing, Colorado.

  It didn’t help that all she felt when Shawn left was relief. Her mother would be the first one to tell her that she was being foolish. Shawn was educated, handsome and financially secure; in short, everything Rayanne should want in a man. She liked him; she really did. What did it say about her that she’d rather focus her energy on research than on building a relationship?

  This wasn’t getting her anywhere. A few more minutes of reading and then back to work. As she opened the book, a dank, musty smell wafted up from the pages, but she didn’t mind. Books as old as this one were rarely in pristine condition. Besides, it was the words on the pages that were important.

  The passage she’d been reading made her smile. It was like having a private conversation with someone who had lived and breathed more than a century ago. The author, Jubal Lane, had clearly shared her interest in the boom and bust of the towns that dotted the landscape in the late 1800s. The only difference was that he’d seen them firsthand.

  Jealousy was pointless, but at least she could see those same towns through his eyes. She read slowly to savor Jubal’s thoughts and descriptions, pausing periodically to make notes. When she was about to stop, a word at the bottom of the page caught her attention: Blessing.

  With her pulse racing, she quickly scanned the remaining few lines. Jubal Lane had actually visited Blessing, the town that had formed the backdrop of the nightmares that had haunted her since she was thirteen years old.

  Before that summer, she’d played in the deserted buildings as a child, loving every minute of her visits with Uncle Ray. But that last trip, everything had changed and she hadn’t been back since. The memories flooded through her mind.

  How ironic that she’d run across a reference to Blessing now when it was too late to share it with Ray.

  Rather than letting herself get dragged back into the past, she closed the book and put it in her bag. For now, she had to finish before the shipping company arrived. Most of her things were headed for storage; the remaining few would be shipped to the cabin up on the mountain where she’d need them for her research.

  As she sealed the last box, she paused to look around her office. Odd that it felt as if she were leaving for good rather than for the summer. That was ridiculous. Of course she’d be back in the fall. The terms of Uncle Ray’s will had only dictated she had to live on the mountain through August, not the rest of her life.

  By the end of summer, hopefully, she will have laid the past to rest once and for all. She’d return rested and ready to pick up the pieces of her life here at the university. That was her plan, and she was sticking to it.

  * * *

  Later that night, Rayanne curled up in her favorite chair, ready to learn what Jubal had to say about Blessing. Since no one in her family had ever answered her questions about the town, perhaps she’d finally find them for herself.

  Did she really even want to?

  As a rule, she did her best not to think about the solitary man who wore a black duster and carried a rifle. After all, he and the others only existed in her imagination. But if that were true, why had she continued to be plagued by such vivid, horrifying dreams about them?

  Worse yet, why had she secretly compared every man she’d met to a nameless man with black hair and blue eyes?

  She’d spent years searching for even a mention of Blessing with no luck until now. With a mixture of trepidation and excitement, she opened the book t
o the last page she’d read and started over at the top.

  When she reached the lines where Jubal mentioned his next stop was to be Blessing, she took a deep breath and turned the page. His words drew her back into the past. He described the valley where the town sat with near-perfect detail, enough to convince her he was talking about the one on Uncle Ray’s mountain.

  Jubal said most of the townspeople had moved on to greener pastures after some tragedy had occurred. He also alluded to a gunslinger who had met his fate in the street outside the saloon, his tone implying the man had gotten no less than he’d deserved.

  Rayanne stopped right there to give herself time to process what she’d just read: there really had been a gunfight in Blessing. Did Jubal have more to say on the subject? With her pulse pounding in her head, she drew a deep breath and turned another page.

  “Whoa, this can’t be!”

  But it was. Not only had Jubal written more about the shootout, but he’d also included a picture. As the reality sank in, her hands shook so badly she dropped the book. She picked it up again.

  Nothing had changed. Even in the faded tintype, it was easy enough to recognize the man who’d haunted her dreams for fifteen years. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but the hair was the same. So were the intense, pale eyes that stared up at her from the page. She bet they were blue. In fact, she knew they were.

  The gunslinger had a name—Wyatt McCain.

  He was real.

  He’d lived and died right there in the dusty streets of Blessing.

  For years, her family and the shrink they’d dragged her to had insisted that she’d made it all up. Her mother had blamed her father for filling Rayanne’s head with stories about the Old West. In return, her father had blamed her mother for leaving their impressionable young daughter alone with her nutcase brother. The shrink had blamed it all on her parents’ constant bickering and its effect on their daughter. Idiots.

  None of them had even considered the possibility that it had all been real—the people, the gunfire, the blood and, most of all, Wyatt McCain.

  Had Uncle Ray known? Was that why he’d come to her in the dream to say goodbye? He’d mentioned a gift they’d shared. What had that been about?

  Now that she had a few facts to go on, she wouldn’t rest until she’d learned everything she could. Once she had her arsenal of evidence, the facts would free her of the nightmares from her past. Even if no one else ever knew the truth, she would.

  A real man had died that day in the streets of Blessing, one who haunted her dreams a hundred years after his passing. She would tell his story—her story, too. Her purpose clear, she set the book aside and started a list of what she needed to take care of before she left for the mountain.

  Chapter 2

  The road leading up to Ray’s cabin was in far better condition than she’d remembered, but otherwise it all looked the same. Funny, it felt as if the cabin had been patiently waiting all these years for her return, but this time as owner rather than guest.

  Rayanne eased her car around a slow bend to the right, her pulse picking up speed even if the car didn’t. After fifteen years, she was about to catch her first glimpse of the chimney that marked the location of her new home. The trees had grown taller, but she could just make out a glimpse of gray stone.

  Tension had been riding her hard ever since she’d learned of Ray’s death. All the arguments about her decision to take a last-minute leave of absence from her job and move to the mountain hadn’t helped. But as she neared the cabin and the freedom it had always represented, the muscles in her shoulders and neck eased, and her mood lightened.

  “Well, Uncle Ray, we’re almost there.”

  Wouldn’t her mother freak out to hear Rayanne carrying on a one-sided conversation with her uncle? Well, not him, exactly, but the pewter urn that contained his last remains. One of the sidebars in his will was a request that Rayanne scatter his ashes on the mountain. He’d left it up to Rayanne to pick the time and place.

  But until she carried out his wishes, she found comfort in the notion that her uncle was riding shotgun and could actually hear her. Maybe she was losing her mind just like her mother had said when she learned Rayanne had willingly accepted the terms of the will without a court fight.

  Not that her mom’s opinion mattered. The mountain and the town that had haunted Rayanne for years was now hers, lock, stock and belfry. That is, provided she moved there and stayed through the entire summer. Come September, she was free to stay on or move back to the city. But if she didn’t follow the dictates of her uncle’s will to the letter, the entire estate would pass to a distant cousin. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening.

  It hadn’t been a surprise that Shawn had agreed with her parents. However, if there was any hope of a future for the two of them, she needed to find the answers she’d been looking for.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Uncle Ray, but I don’t plan to live up here for the rest of my life.”

  A stab of guilt had her giving the urn a remorseful glance. “But I will stay long enough to find answers to questions that my folks would never let me ask. And with luck, I can find enough information about the short history of Blessing itself to write a paper.”

  Her mouth curved in a wide smile as she considered the possibilities. If she didn’t have enough information for a scholarly paper, there was another option. She loved historical romances, and she already knew the time period inside and out. Surely she could come up with a story line that fit the few facts about Blessing that she’d been able to uncover.

  The ideas twirled and danced through her head. A beautiful schoolteacher for the heroine would be just the ticket. And the hero would be the sheriff, strong and valiant and handsome. She could picture Shawn in the role, his arm around her waist as together they defied the bad guys.

  But then a vision of a gunslinger dressed in black shoved that picture aside, replacing it instead with a man who moved with predatory grace and had a killer’s ice-colored stare. Wyatt McCain. Rayanne flushed hot and then cold. A woman would have to be a fool to think a man like that could be anyone’s hero.

  The excitement died just that quickly.

  Finally, the last of the trees faded into an open meadow. Her breath caught in her throat as the cabin came into sight. She hit the brakes, bringing her car to an abrupt halt, needing time to adjust to the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. It was almost impossible to sort them all out—relief, trepidation, remembered joy and a great deal of pain that Uncle Ray would never be waiting there to greet her again.

  She put the car back into gear and slowly pulled up in front of the cabin. The sun was already sliding down the far side of the sky. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be unpacking in the dark. The idea worried her more than she’d expected it to.

  She pulled out the ring of keys that the attorney had given her at their last visit. Each one was carefully labeled in Uncle Ray’s familiar scrawl. She picked up the urn and stepped up on the porch.

  As the door swung open, Rayanne stepped back through time. Her uncle hadn’t changed a thing since she’d left all those years ago. Maybe there were a few more books stuffed in the shelves and the sofa was a bit more worn, but that was all. She set the urn down on a small table in the corner and got busy settling in.

  * * *

  Bedtime always came early on the mountain. As Rayanne brushed her teeth, she studied her image in the mirror. Uncle Ray’s hair had been a little curlier than hers, but the color had been the same, a shade somewhere between blond and red. They’d also shared a tendency to freckle during the summer and the same bright green eyes. In a lot of ways, she’d resembled her favorite relative more than she had either one of her parents. Once again, the thought of him had her eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

  It was definitely time to crawl in
to bed. Would coming here intensify her nightmares? She sure hoped not. The past several nights she’d slept without incident, a huge relief. She stepped across the threshold into her bedroom, happy that her childhood sanctuary had remained unchanged.

  She turned down the quilt that had covered the bed for longer than either she or Ray had been alive. Trailing her fingers over the familiar patches of fabric, she wondered again about the people who had worn the various bits and pieces of cloth in shirts and dresses.

  Had they been happy in their lives? She closed her eyes as she caressed the cloth, worn smooth and soft by the years. Maybe another girl had slept under this very same quilt, tucked in by loving hands with a kiss and a wish for sweet dreams or maybe the quilt had been a wedding gift for a bride about to start her new life as a wife.

  She doubted she would ever know the real answers, but it didn’t matter. The warmth of the quilt gave her a connection to the past, one that appealed to her deep interest in history. Stretching out on the narrow bed felt like heaven. A huge yawn surprised a giggle out of her as she turned onto her back to watch the sweep of the stars and moon through the skylight overhead. Just as she had as a small girl, she fell asleep counting the stars twinkling in the night sky.

  * * *

  A new energy had arrived on the mountain, altering the patterns and drawing his attention toward the cabin. Ray’s niece was back. He recognized her even though she’d grown into a woman with long legs and ridiculously short hair.

  Drifting closer to the porch, he stared up at the open window high up near the peak of the roof. The man’s room had been on the other side. He’d always kept his window closed and the doors locked against the perils of the darkness, real and imagined.

  But the girl had her window open to the night. Would she continue to keep it that way if she found out about him and the others? A grim smile crossed his face briefly. Hell, even the others knew to steer clear of him. They certainly recognized bad news when they saw it; maybe the girl would, too.