Immortal Cowboy

by Alexis Morgan

  What would she do if he were to return the favor, even fully clothed? She’d seen him twice before, once as a young girl and on her first morning back. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Would she faint again or finally realize that he was more than a figment of her imagination? Thanks to that god-awful picture she had of him, she had to know he’d been real at one time.

  No one in the hundred-plus years he’d been stuck here, straddled between life and death, had ever done more than caught a glimpse of him, except when he lay dying in the dusty street of Blessing. He suspected it was like catching a movement out of the corner of your eye, just a hint of something being there but just out of sight.

  A sound deeper in the woods drew his attention away from the clearing and back toward town. Something was stirring or maybe someone. By his reckoning, it was far too early in the summer for most of the townspeople to put in an appearance. That left two people most likely causing the disturbance, the ones responsible for his being in Blessing at all.

  Sometimes Amanda, the schoolteacher, and her son, Billy, showed up early with no warning. They never stuck around for long, leastwise not until later in August, right before the whole nightmare started up again. Even when they were there, they only rarely acknowledged his presence. For some unknown reason, he was the only one who truly haunted the mountain year after year. Maybe because it was all his fault.

  But even if Amanda and Billy didn’t speak to him, he’d seek them out, anyway. Even just a glimpse of Amanda gave him a sense of belonging, a belief that he wasn’t truly alone. Her boy, Billy, served as a reminder of the price paid for innocence lost.

  Wyatt watched as Rayanne drove out of sight before making his way back toward Blessing.

  On the way, he stared up at the sky and muttered, “Someone up there has a hell of a sense of humor. I’ve got one woman who shouldn’t be able to see me but can, and another who should be able to, but can’t. Where’s the sense in that?”

  He paused for a second, tilting his head to the side, hoping against hope this time would be different and someone would answer. Instead, he got the same response he’d always gotten whenever he begged, pleaded or just plain asked for some kind of explanation for this ongoing hell he lived in: absolute silence.

  * * *

  The old general store hadn’t changed much since the last time Rayanne had been there. A few different brands on the shelves, but the same old, faded sign out front advertising gas, groceries and postage stamps.

  She grabbed a basket on the way in and made her way up and down the three aisles, picking up the items on her list and a few impulse purchases, as well. For the moment, she was alone in the store. If Phil, the proprietor and postmaster, didn’t make an appearance by the time she was done, she’d ring the buzzer by the register to summon him from the small apartment attached to the back of the building.

  More than once she and Uncle Ray had been invited back there for a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and root beer floats. Ray enjoyed the occasional game of chess with his old friend and hadn’t minded her hovering over his shoulder while they played.

  She smiled, grateful for another happy memory of her time on the mountain.

  The shuffle of feet announced Phil’s arrival. She snagged an extra pack of gum off the shelf and tossed it into the basket before making her way to the register. The passage of fifteen years had added a few wrinkles to Phil’s face, and his hairline had receded a bit more, but she would’ve known him anywhere.

  She coasted to a stop just short of the counter, waiting to see if he recognized her. It didn’t take long. His welcoming smile brightened considerably as his faded blue eyes crinkled at the corners, leaving little doubt about her welcome. He charged back around the counter to sweep her up in a huge hug.

  “Rayanne, girl, it has been too damn long. We’ve missed your pretty face up here on the mountain.”

  Tears stung her eyes as she hugged her uncle’s old friend back. “I should have been here for him, Phil.”

  Phil held her out at arm’s length. “Now, listen here, missy. Your uncle understood that your life was down in the city. He knew you loved him just like he loved you. If you don’t believe anything else, believe that.”

  His words, spoken with such quiet authority, eased the knot in her chest enough so that she could breathe again.

  “I’d like to think so, Phil. Thanks for saying so.”

  “It’s no less than the truth.” His own eyes looked a bit shiny as he held out his hand for her basket. “Let’s get this stuff rung up for you. Have you had lunch?”

  “Not yet.” And realized she hadn’t eaten already because she’d been subconsciously hoping Phil would make that offer.

  “Great! We’ll have cheese sandwiches and root beer floats, just like old times.”

  A shaft of sharp grief shot through her chest. Just like old times except that Uncle Ray wouldn’t be there. But his memory would be, and that would suffice.

  Phil was still talking. “Don’t let me forget that I’ve got a package I’ve been holding for you. If you hadn’t come in today, I would’ve brought it to you on Sunday when the store’s closed.”

  Really? Her local post office had said it could take a week or more for her mail to catch up with her. She wasn’t expecting any more book deliveries, either. She knew better than to rush Phil. He did things in his own way and at his own speed.

  At least he made quick work of her groceries. He added the last can of soup to the bag and then hit the total button on his old-fashioned cash register. “That’ll be fifty-five dollars and forty-seven cents.”

  She handed him the cash and then took the bag with her perishables and stuck them in the cooler at the back of the store. Another habit she’d learned from Ray. With that done, she followed Phil into his apartment.

  * * *

  Two hours flew by as he caught her up on all the changes in the area since her last visit. A few old-timers had passed on; some new folks had moved in. All the usual gossip, only the names changed. She didn’t mind hearing about people she didn’t know, not if it made Phil happy to talk about them.

  Finally, she finished the last of her float, enjoying the combined flavors of vanilla ice cream and root beer. She’d have to live on lettuce for a few days to make up for the calories, but the guilty pleasure of the sweet treat was worth the penance.

  “Thank you for lunch, Phil. That really hit the spot. Nobody makes a root beer float like you do.”

  His smile was tinged with sadness. “It wasn’t anything special, Rayanne. Nothing fancy like what you probably have all the time down there in the city.”

  She reached across the table to put her hand on his, noticing for the first time how knobby his knuckles had gotten. Her friend wasn’t getting any younger. Who would run the store when he was gone? She didn’t want to think about it.

  “Fancy doesn’t make it special, Phil. Having lunch with you and Uncle Ray right here at this same table are some of the best memories I have.”

  He blushed a bit but looked decidedly happier. “I’ll get that package for you. Ray brought it down to me about the time the doctors told him his heart was plumb worn out. He asked me to keep it until you moved into the cabin.”

  Interesting.

  “So he was sure I’d come?”

  Phil stared up at the ceiling for a second before answering. “I was sure. He hoped.”

  Okay. Before she could ask Phil to explain, he was up and heading for his bedroom. She could hear him rummaging around and muttering under his breath. Finally, he returned with a shoebox sealed shut with duct tape. Whatever was inside, Uncle Ray had wanted to make sure it was safe from prying eyes.

  Phil handed it to her. “No idea what’s in there, but I figure it had to be important because he made a special trip down to bring it to m
e.”

  Wow, a special trip. Ray had been a man of habit. He only came down to Phil’s on the first and fifteenth of every month to pick up his mail and supplies. Only the worst of weather kept him from his appointed rounds.

  “I wonder why he didn’t just leave it in the cabin for me to find.”

  “He didn’t say.” Phil shook his head. “Who knows, maybe he just wanted to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. You know how he was about protecting his privacy.”

  The box felt heavier somehow, as if knowing Ray had driven all the way down to entrust it to Phil’s care gave it more weight. She was tempted to rip the tape off now instead of waiting until she got back to the cabin, but that didn’t feel right.

  No, she’d wait until after dinner and curl up in Ray’s favorite chair to open it. For now, she needed to get moving. She had work to do up on the mountain.

  She set the box down long enough to give Phil another hug. “Thanks for lunch, Phil, and for keeping Ray’s package safe for me. I’ll let you know what’s in it next time I come in.”

  He shook his head. “No need. If Ray wanted me to know, he’d have told me himself.”

  Phil pointed to the mountain that dominated the view from his living room window. “I chose to live here because I like things quiet and simple. Your uncle, though, he needed to be up there on the mountain. Ray never talked about what it was that held him there all these years. He was a man who kept his secrets, that’s for sure. Years ago I asked him one time why he didn’t move down here where he could be around other people instead of living up there with that ghost town.”

  Then he nodded toward the box she held in a white-knuckled grip. “I figure the answer to that question is in that there box.”

  There wasn’t much she could say to that. She had her own special reasons for spending time in Blessing.

  Driving back to the cabin, she kept glancing at the box sitting in the passenger seat. It sat there like a homemade time bomb ready to explode the minute she peeled back the tape.

  An uncomfortable thought, but that didn’t make it any less true. Somehow she just knew that the secret truths it would reveal were going to change her life forever.

  * * *

  Rayanne was back. Even if Wyatt hadn’t been watching for her, he’d have figured it out from all the racket she’d been making. It had started with her slamming the door of her car and then doing the same thing with the door of the cabin, both going and coming out again a few minutes later.

  From the way she was marching along on a straight line toward the trail through the woods, something sure enough had her worked up. He grinned as she stubbed a toe on a root and turned the air blue with an impressive string of cuss words. That temper of hers was something to behold, that was for damn sure.

  He drifted after her, making sure to stay far enough away so she wouldn’t pick up on the fact she wasn’t alone. Not really, anyway.

  As soon as that thought crossed his mind, she froze and slowly looked back in his general direction. Her eyes narrowed, leaving no doubt that she was staring right at him. Actually, considering he was currently nothing more than a cloud of energy, she was staring right through him.

  What had he done to draw her attention? Most likely nothing. Obviously, she’d inherited more than her uncle’s eye color. Rayanne clearly sensed him on some level. He hovered right where he was, waiting for her to move on. In the future, he’d need to maintain more distance if he was going to follow her around.

  Finally, she hobbled on down the trail, her gait smoothing out as her foot quit hurting. When she was out of sight, he cut straight through to the far side of the woods, moving far faster than Rayanne’s human legs could carry her. Then he skirted the edge of the woods to approach Blessing from the other side of town.

  First things first. He made a quick trip up and down both sides of the street, reaching out to see if there was anyone else around. Earlier, Amanda and her son had passed through. He’d called out their names, waved his hands and even stomped his feet, but failed to draw their attention. All he’d done was use up all of his power for the day, leaving him nothing but a mist on the wind.

  Even if it was too early in the summer for them to really be there, he hated to be ignored. He might not feel the heat of the summer sun or the bitter cold of the winter snow, but he could feel lonely.

  But not right now. Rayanne had finally caught up with him. She came around the far end of town headed toward the church as usual. At the last minute, she surprised him by veering off course into the saloon, instead. Interesting. What was she doing in there?

  Only one way to find out. He drifted close to the door, keeping low and moving slowly to avoid drawing her attention again. She’d already dragged an old table over beside the chair she’d left by the window. When she had it right where she wanted it, she tested its strength. Thanks to one leg being shorter than the others, it wobbled like crazy. Resourceful woman that she was, she used a scrap of wood from another broken table to shim it up.

  Satisfied with her efforts, she unloaded one of the packs she’d carried with her. Paper. Pencils. Ruler. Those things he recognized. She pulled out another item, something shiny and new-looking. What was that? There were so many things in the world that he knew nothing about. Then she pulled on a small tab and ran out a short strip of metal as she looked around.

  “Might as well start in here.”

  The device’s purpose became clear as she used it to mark off distances in the room and jotted them down on paper. Why was she measuring the room? Who would care how big a saloon was, especially one that hadn’t served a single drink in a hundred years?

  He edged through the door, moving slowly. She was so intent on her ciphering to take note of his presence. Inside, he drifted up toward the ceiling to stay out of her way. She’d finished marking down the size of the floor and had moved on to the old bar and even the table she was working on.

  It made him tired just watching her.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t about to complain about the view. Right after she’d started working, she’d stripped off her oversize flannel shirt, another one of Ray’s old castoffs. The shirt she wore underneath would’ve scandalized the good folks of Blessing back in his day. It was dark blue with no sleeves and a neckline that plunged low enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of those freckles he liked so much. Memories of yesterday’s storm had him smiling.

  He didn’t know when women took to wearing trousers, but he had to admit he could get used to how that well-worn denim hugged her feminine charms. She’d been bent over, checking the number on that measuring device when she abruptly straightened up. Her hand moved up to rub the back of her neck as she slowly glanced around the room. After a few seconds, she walked over to the door to look outside. Finally, she turned back to face the bar and slowly lifted her eyes up to the corner where he was.

  “Okay, so I’m imagining things.”

  No, she wasn’t, but he’d just as soon hope she didn’t figure that out. The last thing he needed was a hysterical female on his hands. He drifted back outside. On his way, though, he used a small spurt of energy to set the doors swinging. His efforts were rewarded when Rayanne charged out onto the sidewalk right behind him, her hands on her hips as she glared up and down the street. He couldn’t help but laugh at her frustration.

  Besides, why bother haunting the place if he couldn’t have a little fun with it?

  Chapter 6

  Dinner was done, and the few dishes Rayanne had used were washed and put away. She’d run out of excuses for avoiding the shoebox she’d left sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Right now she was heating water for a pot of tea. She’d picked a blend that was supposed to soothe the nerves.

  She hoped it worked because she’d been jumpy as heck ever since she’d left Phil’s place. She’d never minded
being alone; most of the time she preferred it. No parents and no would-be boyfriends questioning her every decision.

  What she didn’t like was the creepy-crawly feeling that someone had been staring at her both in the woods and a little while later in the saloon. Silly, probably, but then there was that swinging door. Not exactly a smoking gun, but it was the second time it had started swinging while she was in town.

  Granted, the first time was when the storm was moving in, and she’d written that time off to the wind. However, today when she’d been plotting out the saloon, there hadn’t been even a hint of a breeze.

  Her uncle had told her often enough that people didn’t stick around long when they came to visit him because they weren’t welcome. Lord knew her mother and father had hated the place. She’d always thought what he’d really meant was that she was one of the few he didn’t mind sharing his space.

  Now she had to wonder. Was it possible that it was the mountain itself that didn’t like intruders? As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she shook her head and laughed. Maybe she should write a fantasy story with a sentient mountain complete with a ghost town. She even had the perfect dark hero, the same one who’d haunted her dreams last night.

  She studied the picture of Wyatt McCain that she’d smoothed out and stuck on the fridge with a magnet. Those pale eyes followed her wherever she went. Had that straight slash of a mouth ever softened into a smile? And why did it matter? He’d been dead and buried a hundred years before she was born.

  Enough about Wyatt. He’d already claimed too much of her thoughts lately. Time to open the box. She put the old teapot on a tray along with her favorite mug and the cookies she’d picked up at the store. Then she added a box of tissues.

  Just in case.

  Ray’s favorite chair was the perfect spot for the great unveiling. She dug out the old pocketknife he kept in the drawer of the end table and used it to loosen one edge of the sticky, gray tape. When she had enough to grab hold of, she stripped off the first layer of tape. It took her a solid ten minutes of careful work to finally get down to the cardboard.