*
It surprised Trish to find the heavy doors on the west end of the livery closed. The "ping tap" that had rang out this morning no longer filled the air. Albert didn't respond with his usual welcome as she pulled the heavy door open. Surely he wouldn't leave the livery unattended. She held the door, allowing for the careful balance of hinges to keep it open.
The forge sat quiet, its embers cooling and growing dark. She tied Yedi and began to rub him down. Yedi, usually calm and relaxed under her hand, danced with jittery impatience. The musky smell of horses mixed with that of fresh manure and something else Trish couldn't identify. She realized as she brushed Yedi that she hadn't heard the familiar whicker of a horse welcoming one of its own. Something didn't feel right. Yedi grew increasingly jumpy. She found it necessary to keep a hand on his flank to remind him not to kick her.
Yedi's flighty unpredictability made it wise for her to do less than the thorough job of a rub down. He pranced and danced as she led him to the pasture. She returned to the dark coolness of the livery to hang Yedi's bridle.
Trish brushed against the heavy door, upsetting its balance and causing it to slowly arch closed. She thought she saw something near the forge just before the heavy doors eased shut, blocking out most of the light. When she looked in that direction a second time, she could detect nothing.
A cold chill ran up Trish's spine. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. She didn't want to stay here anymore. Something wasn't right.
Where was that infernal lantern? She pushed the heavy door open to allow the sunlight in again. Then she saw it—the westerly sun's light glinting off broken glass. She pushed the door open as far as it would go, willing it to remain open against the breeze that threatened to close it. If only she could get it to stay open long enough to get a log or stick from the woodpile. She hurried to the pile, the door arching closed behind her. Three steps from the pile, she continued forward before stepping on something.
"Ugh, a rat!" She grabbed a thin log from the pile and hurried to the door. Wedging the wood against the door, she turned back. The livery was still too dark to see on the far side. She would have to open the far doors. That would help clear the stench as well. She hurried across the dirt floor, tripping near the forge.
"Dang it, Albert. Why aren't you here?" She reached the east doors and pushed one open, pinning it open with the antique hook and pins. A bone button, with its threads and some fabric hung, snagged on the doors edge. She pulled it off, taking a moment to examine it. It was probably from Albert's coat. She dropped it in her pocket, thinking she would return it to Lucinda to mend his coat. With the door securely pinned, she turned back to the dimness of the livery, moving forward with slow, deliberate steps.
Cautiously, she moved toward the forge, peering around the livery. An awkward shape lay in the shadows of one of the stalls. Her intake of breath shuddered. She inched forward to get a better look. She tripped, falling to her hands and knees. A choked scream escaped her lips. The texture beneath her hand felt gross. Sticky mud, a sickening copper-sweet odor mixed with more pleasant smells of horses and manure. The horse in the stall stamped, rearing back.
Her body shook. She released a breath she'd not realized she held and tentatively reached out to the solid mass that had tripped her. Her hands touched fabric. She relaxed a moment too soon. The form moaned. Her hands trembled. A macabre curiosity argued with her fear.
The eerie whisper of wings taking flight overhead rushed against her senses, producing a pinpoint sharpness. She rolled the body over, catching a glimpse of Albert's face. Grimacing, she fought through her gathering tears to pull his body to her.
"Albert, it can't be! Albert, I'm so sorry." Struggling against her shaking, she pulled his head and shoulders onto her lap. Had she not heard his breath, she knew she'd flee. She'd been here only a short time. One man dead because of her, another in need of help to remain in mortality. Albert's breathing changed to that of a death rattle. With a final sigh, he faded, giving his soul to immortality.
She lifted and turned his head as if she could will him back to life. No! One of her fingers sank into a divot in his skull. Her stomach cavorted and she pulled her hand away. The sickening sweet coppery smell filled the air, her hand stained with blood. Cold reality seeped into her soul. Shock immersed her in its empty grip as moments flew, turning to minutes slipping by. She didn't belong here and now she had watched two men die. Quinn had kept her first secret, but who would keep this one? She couldn't be found with the body. She didn't even have a good character witness.
She eased Albert to the dirt floor, frantically searching her mind for clues as to what traces of herself she left behind. A horse approached outside. She had no time to hide her tracks. She scampered to her feet and hurried to the East door. Releasing the pin, she raced for the saloon's back steps. It wasn't until she reached her room that she realized her clothing was soaked with Albert's blood.
Chapter 20
The Talisman - Crisscross Page 27
