“You’ve caught his likeness. You’ve only seen him twice, both times at a distance.”
She kept her focus on the sketch as Wyatt stood behind her, watching her intently. “I met up with Billy on my way here this morning. We had a nice talk.”
“He spoke to you?”
Wyatt’s hand came down on her shoulder, his touch feather light. She brushed her fingers across his as she turned to look up at him. “Yes. I told him you and I were friends and asked if he’d seen you. He told me you were here in the saloon, which would make his ma mad. Something about her not wanting you to show up smelling like whiskey and Miss Molly.”
He smiled a little, looking far happier than he had when he first appeared.
“He couldn’t understand that last part because evidently Miss Molly smelled nice. He knew that because he sniffed her once when she came into the store.”
This time she couldn’t hold back a grin. The relief at finding Wyatt again coupled with the image of that little boy checking out Molly’s perfume sent her off into peals of laughter.
Wyatt chuckled. “His ma would’ve tanned his hide if she’d found out about that.”
He gave her shoulder another squeeze and stepped back. Cocking his head to the side, he studied her. “So who drove up the mountain this morning?”
She should have known he’d sense the intruder. “My mother. She wants me to leave with her. She’s worried that I’m going to turn into my uncle and end up living up here all alone.”
“She’s right. It might have been better if you’d gone with her.”
She ignored the stab of pain his words caused and focused on the one positive. “She left?”
He nodded. “A few minutes ago. Is she the type to give up easily?”
“No. She hates this place for the effect it had on my uncle and then again on me. You know, after seeing...what I saw back then.”
Wyatt frowned. “You never mentioned having problems.”
She hated the memory of that time. “I had nightmares for months. My parents and the idiot doctor they took me to kept insisting I had just imagined it all. That I’d gotten scared because I couldn’t find Uncle Ray and blew it all out of proportion.”
She’d hated the endless hours of rehashing the same things over and over again. “I didn’t believe them, but they thought it was all in my imagination. But I knew deep down inside that it was all real—all those people, the gunshots.”
Then she stood up and turned to face Wyatt. “Especially you. Even if somehow my mind made up all the rest, I always knew you were real.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close and wrapping her in a cocoon of leather and his strength. “I never forgot that day, either. It was the only time something changed.”
Okay, maybe now was the time to talk about that.
“Why do you think that is, Wyatt? There had to be times when Amanda or Hattie or even Uncle Ray were here when everything played out again.”
His voice was a quiet rumble. “I don’t know. I always meant to do something different. Maybe if I could tie Billy to a tree or warn Amanda that he’d sneak out. Something. Anything to keep him from dying.”
“Do you know which of the gang shoots him?”
Wyatt immediately released her, almost shoving her back out of his reach. “None of them.”
“Then who did, Wyatt? I need answers if I’m going to find some way to end this nightmare for both of us.”
He stared at her, his blue eyes looking faded and dull with pain. “Who the hell do you think it was, Rayanne? The answer is obvious. I pulled the trigger. No one else. Just me. The last thing I saw before I died myself was Billy crumpling to the ground, a gaping hole in his chest, and Amanda screaming his name.”
Chapter 17
Wyatt braced himself for her revulsion and rejection, not that he’d blame Rayanne one bit for feeling that way. After all, he’d hated himself for over a hundred years. He’d done some pretty questionable things in his life, but nothing—NOTHING—could be worse than killing that little boy. Even if Rayanne could forgive him for not telling her before they’d crossed the line to becoming lovers, she’d never forgive him for killing her great-uncle.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she stormed out of the saloon, never to speak to him again. Hell, if she wanted to borrow one of his guns and shoot him with it, he’d stand still and let her take aim. Maybe this would all end if she torched the place and let Blessing burn to the ground.
But none of that happened. Instead, this one incredibly strong woman looked up at him with such compassion in her beautiful green eyes.
“Oh, God, Wyatt. I’d figured out that Billy died that day, but I’d never for a second thought that it was you who’d pulled the trigger.”
She reached up to cradle his face with her soft hands. “I’m so sorry. How awful for you.”
Wait a minute. He backed up a step as he tried to make sense of what she’d just said. Rayanne felt bad for him? His chest hurt from the force it took to spit the words out.
“Awful for me? Are you deaf, woman? I killed that boy right there in front of his mother. They were nothing but good to me, and my stupidity cost them everything. They trusted me. I promised to make the town safe for them. Instead, Billy bled to death in the street with my bullet in his chest.”
He turned his back to those eyes that saw too much. Tears burned his eyes, the images in his head not just memories, but something he had lived through over and over again. Each time was fresh and horrible as when it originally happened. He closed his eyes and remembered the heat of that day, the gritty dust that had clung to his damp skin, the burn of whiskey in his throat from the one shot he’d drunk for courage only moments before stepping out into the street.
The fine citizens of Blessing had all scurried for cover, knowing death was about to stalk the streets of their small town. He drew no comfort from knowing that he’d killed enough of his former associates to keep them from coming back again. Looking back, he’d rather the bastards steal every speck of gold dust that mine ever produced if it meant that Billy could have lived a long and happy life.
He realized Rayanne was trying to get his attention, planting herself right smack in front of him again. He blinked hard, trying to focus on her, the one bright spot in his existence.
“Wyatt McCain, I heard what you said, and I understand what you did. Yes, it was a horrible tragedy, but it was a mistake, an accident. Nothing more. Even Amanda knew that. Did you know that she blamed herself for Billy’s death?”
Now that made no sense. “She didn’t pull that trigger. I did.”
“Yes, that’s true. However, she knew Billy was curious about what was going to happen, but she left him alone, anyway. If she’d stayed home like you told her to, he wouldn’t have died, not like that. But who knows, maybe in the great scheme of things it was just his time.”
Knowing he wasn’t the only one who’d suffered because of Billy’s death didn’t help at all. Rayanne was still talking.
“So back to what I was saying, Wyatt. I have to think there’s a reason I can see you, hear you, feel you when no one else can. Aunt Hattie said all it took was someone believing to make it all real. You and I changed things fifteen years ago. If we believe we can do it again, maybe the two of us can change things for good this time.”
He wanted that more than anything. Well, almost anything. Right now he wanted Rayanne something fierce.
“Change it how?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got two days to figure it out.”
She snuggled close again, holding on to him with such fierce strength. “You don’t have to face this alone anymore, big guy. And if we don’t figure it out this time, then we’ll try again next year.”
“No, we won’t.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her
head. “The last thing I want is you wasting your life on me, Rayanne. You need to find a man from your own time, someone who makes you happy, and build a life with him. Not that jackass who was here, but a good man who deserves you. Promise me that if I let you watch this play out this one last time, you’ll walk away no matter how it turns out.”
She didn’t want to do it. It was clear in the way her eyes shifted away from his face to stare at some point past his shoulder. It had to be the belfry on the old church, the one place she’d been avoiding since right after she’d shown up on the mountain.
He wanted to shake some sense into her. Instead, he gently tilted her face up toward his. “I mean it, Rayanne. I can’t bear the thought of you caught up in this nightmare year after year.”
“But—”
Rather than listen to all of her foolish reasons for wanting to tangle her life up with the tragedy, he hushed her the only way he could. He kissed her. He’d never been a man of many words, preferring action to get his point across. No one misunderstood the solid impact of a fist or what it meant to stare down the barrel of a gun.
If only he dared tell this beautiful woman what she’d come to mean to him. He poured everything he had into the kiss, hoping she’d understand. She sighed and settled into his arms, allowing him to deepen the kiss, to savor the sweet spice that was uniquely Rayanne’s.
When he lifted her up onto the table and moved to stand between her knees, he felt her smile. He pulled back, trying to decide if he should be insulted. “You find this amusing?”
Her eyes sparked with good humor and a lot of heat. “No, I find it arousing. But I have to wonder if we’ll ever actually get around to doing this in the comfort of a bed.”
Leave it to her to make him laugh when only minutes ago he’d been hurting so damn bad. He stepped back and tugged her back to her feet.
To let her know he was only banking the fire, not putting it out altogether, he kissed the palm of her hand before saying, “How about we finish what you need to do here today and then go back to your cabin for the night?”
Her eyes glittered with hunger. “Sounds perfect. Even better, if we get a move on, I promise to knock off work early.”
“Then by all means, let’s get down to it.”
She trailed her fingers down his chest and kept going. “Exactly which it are you talking about?”
He caught her hand in his. “Keep that up and we won’t get anything else done.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh and gathered up her sketch pad and walked away. He laughed and followed her out of the saloon.
* * *
Rayanne was glad that she’d managed to improve Wyatt’s mood because she was about to rip all those old wounds open again. She hated to hurt him that way, but she remained convinced that the only way they’d break the awful pattern that he’d been caught up in for more than a century was to figure out how to change what happened.
Outside, she stood in the bright sunshine and stared up at the intensely blue sky above. Wyatt stood beside her, ignoring the beautiful day to watch her, instead.
“Spit whatever you have stuck in your craw, Rayanne. If I’m not going to like it, anyway, just say it.”
“Fine.” She did a slow turn, looking from one end of the street to the other. “I want you to walk me through that day again. Tell me everything, good and bad. All the things you did right and all those that went wrong.”
He glared down at her, his hands clenched in fists. “Why the hell do you want me to do that? You already know all the important stuff. You saw most of it play out right in front of you. I walked out of that saloon to face down the men I used to ride with. When the gunfire ended, most of them were wounded or dead.”
He waved his hand toward the other end of town. “They rode in from that direction, but they sent one guy around from the other end to hide out in the belfry. He’s the one you warned me about. That was the only year when I shot him instead of the other way around.”
But then he stopped to stare up at the belfry, his eyebrows riding low over his eyes. “Why do you think that happened? And if it happened once, why not again?”
He strode off down the road. “People were hiding in all of the buildings. Someone had to have seen him up there, but no one said a word. Never tried to warn me.”
“Maybe for fear of drawing attention to themselves?” Although as far as she was concerned, that was cowardice of the worst kind. They could have banded together to face down their attackers, not let a single man take on the whole bunch by himself.
“That and I told them to stay out of sight. I didn’t want to shoot one of them by mistake.” His mouth twisted up in a bitter smile. “See how well that worked out.”
“Start at the beginning and go from there, Wyatt.”
She flipped open her pad and prepared to take notes because she’d never get him to go through this a second time and wouldn’t want to. She quickly sketched out a rough map of the town and began marking down the details as he described them. Speaking in a soul-weary monotone, he might as well have been reciting the alphabet for all the emotion he conveyed with his words.
It took them nearly an hour to go through it all before she was satisfied that she had all the details down. Start to finish, the whole gunfight had probably lasted a handful of minutes, but the memories of it seemed to play out in slow motion in Wyatt’s mind. As he talked, he’d flickered in and out of existence, most of the time in that halfway state where she could see him, but he had no real substance.
He looked like hell right now. She hoped a change of scenery would let him come back to her, solid and real.
“All right, that’s enough for today. Let’s head back to the cabin where we can relax.”
He’d just shown her where Billy had died in front of the mercantile. Wyatt knelt down, touching the faded and cracked wood as if he could still see the pool of blood and the boy’s sightless eyes staring up at him from where he lay sprawled on the ground. In reality, Wyatt hadn’t actually seen Billy bleed out. He’d been too busy dying himself.
She tried again. “Let’s go, Wyatt. I don’t know about you, but I could use a cold drink and something to eat. I’ll go get my things from the saloon. I’ll meet you at the edge of town.”
That is, if he even noticed she’d deserted him. She wasn’t sure what she’d do next. In his current state, she couldn’t touch him, much less physically drag him away from Blessing to her cabin.
Inside the saloon, she gathered up her things and stuffed them all back in her pack. Outside, Wyatt stood at the edge of the porch, waiting for her. They fell into step together and made their way toward the tree line.
“That wasn’t the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “However, I have to admit that it was a relief to talk about it, especially with you.”
Wyatt wrapped his arm around her shoulders, once again solid, as if she somehow grounded him in the world. “None of the others who show up every year seem to remember what happened. They think they’re real with no knowledge that a hundred or more years have passed. Then on the twenty-third, all of a sudden, the town is back to exactly the way it was. Everyone says and does the same things. Even me.”
Inside the cool shade of the trees, he pointed toward some vague shapes in the distance. “They get more real, hang around longer as we get closer to the anniversary. Then it all explodes again, gunshots coming from every direction. I know what is going to happen. I even know how many times I’m going to get shot before I die. It’s as if I’m caught in a flooded river, getting swept along with the current and drowning in my own blood.”
He stumbled to a halt. “But you’re different. At least in the beginning, your uncle thought maybe he was imagining me, like I was one of those memories he brought back from the war with him. Before him, Hattie wasn’t su
re for a long time. I can only think of a handful of times when she tried to speak to me. But from the first, you’ve always treated me as if I’m more than a fragment of some nightmare.”
She hurt for him. The other ghosts might not be sentient, but he was. “You are real to me and always will be.”
For the first time since they’d kissed in the saloon, there was less pain in his gaze and a note of excitement in his voice. “You’ve seen the others, and you spoke to Billy like he was real, too.”
Where was he going with this? “Actually, he spoke to me first. But for those few minutes, he existed in this place and time, just like you do.”
“So like the last time, maybe you can make yourself heard on the day of the gunfight.”
His excitement had a dark edge to it as he spun her around to face him. “But this time, when you make yourself heard, it won’t be me you’ll try to save. It will be Billy.”
His words stabbed right through to the heart of her. “But, Wyatt, I can’t let you die. Not if I can stop it. I love you too much to let that happen.”
Okay, she hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but she wouldn’t deny the truth of her words, either. He stared down at her for the longest time.
He drew a long, slow breath. “I love you, too, Rayanne. More than you’ll ever know. I’d give anything for the two of us to have a future together, but I belong in the past. If you really do love me, promise me you’ll do what you can to save Billy. It’s the only way I’ll ever know any peace. All I’m asking is that you try this one time. No matter how it turns out, it’s time for you to get on with your life down below.”
Wasn’t that what she wanted for him, too? A chance to stop this travesty? But if Billy didn’t die in the past, how would that change everything that had happened ever since? Would none of this have happened? What if that meant she’d never met Wyatt at all? None of it made sense.
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