by Keta Diablo
Her face flushed. "No, I’m not. Wait for me."
"Always."
Annabelle didn’t have to look for Julia. She was waiting for her. Sitting on the same barstool, with the same flask in front of her, she said, "I thought you’d decided not to come back."
"It took us a while to get to the bottom of things."
"Do you have good news for me?"
Annabelle climbed onto the stool beside her. "Astonbury won’t be coming back to The Blade."
"Why not?"
"When my partner told the madam what we’ve discovered, she hightailed it out of town. The Blade is closed for business."
"It’s not enough. Everyone needs to know what kind of man he is. Instead of being the guest of honor at the Empire Extravaganza, he should be in jail." Anger burned in her voice so that each word was clipped and harsh.
"Agreed, but there are two problems. One: you’re dead and unable to testify against him and two: there’s no real crime. He’ll simply say you decided to become a working girl on your own."
Julia took a long pull on the flask. "So what do you suggest?"
"As far as I know he still owns this place." She looked up at the rafters. "And as long as it’s standing, he can simply hire a new madam to run it. If it were no longer here, then he’d lose money. Lots of it."
"Fires are common in the West," Julia said, catching on quickly. "And I’m probably headed to hell anyway."
"Or," Annabelle said in a quiet voice, "you could do the right thing. Redeem yourself and go to the light."
Julia narrowed her ghostly eyes. "But he might hurt someone else."
"He might. In fact, he probably will, but, if someone had told you, back when you met him on that train to Kansas City, that he was the man he is, would you have believed the person or would you have fallen in love with him anyway?" She turned to Julia and placed one hand over the ghost’s. While she couldn’t feel flesh and bone, she felt the outline, the essence of the other woman’s hand. "Each person has her own path to walk. What he did to you was terrible, so terrible I can’t imagine how you feel, but you have the chance to move forward into a place of complete bliss. Maybe that’s winning."
The only sound in The Blade was the occasional buzzing of a fly.
"You think St. Peter would take me? After all I’ve done."
"I’m certain he would. Want to know why?"
Julia nodded and for the first time since the woman had started appearing in Annabelle’s dreams, she looked defeated.
"There are three reasons. The first is that, instead of leaving this plane, you chose to stay in an effort to help other people. Secondly, when presented with a better way to handle a problem, you chose the right way. And thirdly, if you’re worried about St. Peter opening the gates for you, you’re still concerned with doing the right thing."
Julia was silent for a long time. "I’ll go," she finally said.
Annabelle wished she could hug her but instead she reached into her bag. "Before you get to heaven, where everything has to be done the right way, I thought you might like to destroy this."
Julia took the mirror in one mostly-transparent hand and smiled. "I’d love to do the honors." She bashed the silver mirror on the bar and the glass shattered in thousands of tiny pieces. Then she dropped the handle onto the floor and stomped on it until it was bent and misshapen.
"Feel good?"
"The best."
"Thank you, Julia, for choosing me."
"Thank you for helping me."
Annabelle didn’t know how she knew to do what she did next. From her purse, she took the length of ribbon and placed it on the floor. From behind the bar she took a candlestick and a match. After lighting it, she said, "Stand in the center of the ribbon circle and hold this." She handed her the candlestick. "Good luck, Julia. Maybe I’ll see you some day."
"I’m sure you will."
Annabelle closed her eyes and began to pray. "Heavenly Father, we commend to you Julia. Take her into your arms and into your light. Amen."
When she opened her eyes, Julia was looking upward. The candle still flickering in her hand, she was beginning to fade, her edges blurring into the stale air of the saloon. She began to spin, faster and faster, the candle still burning, until there was nothing left of her.
The brass candlestick fell to the floor with a clatter and the flame quickly lapped at the dry floorboards.
Julia was going to get both of her wishes.
Annabelle grabbed her bag, took one last look around The Blade and ran out the front door.
"Hurry. It’s going up in flames," she said, grabbing Cole’s hand.
"You don’t do anything by half-measures, do you?"
* * *
The Blade was a total loss. Once it caught fire, it burned to the ground in hours. He and Anna watched it until the last flame disappeared, leaving only gray ash in its wake.
"I’m glad she’s okay," Anna said. "And while I didn’t intend for the candle to do anything more than help us in sending her to the light, she’d be happy with the outcome."
"I can’t say I’m all that disappointed myself," Cole said.
"Think they’ll have to cancel the Empire Extravaganza?"
"Sure they will. Without The Blade, there’s no place big enough to host all the men looking for a night with a lady."
"It’s a relief, isn’t it?"
"A big one." Cole leaned over and kissed Annabelle on the cheek. She smelled like apples and sunshine and everything he missed back home. There was so much he wanted to say to her but the words wouldn’t come so he took her hand and they walked back to the office without saying a word.
The next morning, he bought Anna a new yellow dress on the way to the office. After all she’d done to solve the case at The Blade, it was the least he could do for her. He left it, wrapped in a box tied with a green ribbon, on her doorstep.
He should have expected the telegram.
When he walked into the office, it was waiting on him.
EMPLOYMENT TERMINATED. BROKE CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT. ALCOHOL ON THE JOB. LAST CHECK WILL BE SENT TO RENO. BEST OF LUCK.
How headquarters had known that he’d had one glass of whiskey in over four years of service escaped him. Figuring out how they’d known about Annabelle was a little easier. Katherine Busbee had probably sent a telegram to headquarters before she left town.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a Tremayne Agent anyway. He still had no idea if the boss had been in cahoots with Astonbury and Busbee and his motivation to find out was dwindling.
Maybe he should apply to Pinkerton. They might hire him and all those cases could be solved using logic.
He’d figure something out tomorrow or the next day. For now, he needed to make good on the bet he’d lost to Anna.
Walking up the stairs to her room, he was overcome with emotion. In the short time he and Anna had worked together, he’d grown very attached to her and he didn’t know what would fill his days once she left for Kentucky.
When she opened the door, his heart skipped a beat.
Anna wore her new yellow dress and her hair was wrapped into a bun but a few curls escaped to frame her face. Her carpetbag was thrown over one arm and she held her bonnet in the same hand. She was so beautiful and he wasn’t sure how he was going to find the strength to give her the item in his pocket.
"I was going out for some tea but I can go later. Come inside."
He took off his hat and they sat at the small table. "There’s no way I could have gotten to the bottom of this case without you."
"You would’ve figured it out. Eventually." Her eyes danced with mischief.
"I was a pretty solid skeptic."
"And now?" She raised her eyebrows and looked at him through her eyelashes.
He couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. "It’s time for me to make good on the deal we made."
"I like a man who’s true to his word."
"First of all," he began. "I admi
t that ghosts are real." It was a huge step for him. The whole time he’d been an agent, he’d believed it was bunk, weak minds too afraid to face the truth. But he’d been wrong. "I was wrong to doubt that there are things out there I can’t explain."
"It’s nice to know a man who can admit when he’s wrong."
"I’m also a man who settles his debts." He reached into his pocket and drew out an envelope. "Here’s the money for your ticket home." Handing it to Anna was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Not because of the money, but because he didn’t want to imagine his life without her.
She pushed it back toward him. "I can’t accept it."
"But it was part of the bet I lost."
"Things were different. You had a job then. You don’t now. You’ll need that money to get home yourself."
"I’ll find a way."
He saw the indecision in her eyes and pushed a little harder. "You need to get home and visit your grandmother."
She took the envelope gingerly. "Let’s half it."
"Then neither of us would be any better off."
"What will you do?"
Cole had given it some thought but he had no real direction. "Maybe head for San Francisco. I hear there are some good jobs there."
"Thank you, Cole. For everything." Tears welled in the corner of her eyes. "I’m so glad I met you."
"The feeling is mutual. I assure you." He took her hand in his and squeezed it. "I’ll miss you."
"I’ll miss you, too." She smiled through the tears. "I’d better get going. The next train will be here in a few minutes and I’d like to be on my way."
"Want me to walk you to the depot?"
"This is already too hard. I’d better go alone."
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Best of luck, Annabelle."
* * *
She’d never imagined when she’d sneaked out of the shack in Virginia City that she’d meet the man of her dreams in Reno and have to leave him behind such a short time later. She walked down the street, determined not to look back. She was afraid that if she did, she might rush into his arms and never make it back to Kentucky.
Annabelle picked up the pace, moving toward the depot at a fast walk. The sooner she had a ticket in her hand, the sooner she’d stop second-guessing her decision to leave Reno, and Cole, behind.
At the counter, she bought a ticket east. It would take several days to make it back to Louisville but she had enough left over to buy the food she’d need to get home. She sat on a wooden bench in the depot and watched the clock slowly creep toward the half hour. Time had never moved slower.
The air inside was stale and stagnant. When the agent announced that her train was running an hour behind, she decided to get some fresh air. She grabbed her bag and walked outside onto the street.
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
A few yards away, she saw her father. He wasn’t alone. Hobbling along beside him was her intended, Paul Cheever. She ducked back inside but she wasn’t quick enough. He’d seen her.
Her heart raced. Her mouth went dry as bone. Her first thought was to call out for Cole but she swallowed the urge. She had no idea what to do, where to go. Annabelle ran back into the depot and looked for a place to hide but there was no place. The benches were low to the ground and she wasn’t sure she’d fit. Maybe she could run into the station agent’s office but there was no way to judge how he’d react. She’d been so close to getting on the train and out of his reach.
If only the train hadn’t been delayed. If only.
"Annabelle." The Kentucky accent was strong and she knew he’d been drinking. "Get over here." He stomped toward her, Cheever lagging behind with his pronounced limp. "You’ll never run from me again. I’ll make sure of that."
He still had the ability to terrify her.
He moved closer until his face was only inches from hers. "You think you’re smarter than everyone, don’t you?" He grabbed her forearm and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Well, you’re good and caught now and Mr. Cheever is still willing to marry you."
She’d come so far and now she was facing the same fate she’d tried so hard to avoid.
"I won’t marry him, Papa. I won’t." She heard the tremor in her own voice but she couldn’t seem to stop it.
"The hell you won’t. You’ll marry him today. Right now."
"She’s already married, sir." Cole walked into the depot. "Now, I’ll ask you to take your hands off her."
Her father turned to face Cole and his expression was feral. "She’s my daughter and she’ll do what I say. I don’t know who the hell you are but you’ll not speak for me and mine."
"She’s my wife and I’ll only ask once more. Please take your hands off her."
There were only a handful of people in the train station and every single one of them watched every move her father and Cole made. Not only was she scared for herself, she was scared for Cole. She knew he could handle himself, but he was honorable. Her father was not.
As if to prove ownership, Papa shook her again. "Mind your own damn business."
"Sir," a booming voice came from the other side of the room. It was Homer Washburn and he was striding towards them, his long legs making quick work of it. "I don’t like to meddle but you really should unhand this man’s wife."
Whether he’d meant it as a distraction or not, it worked flawlessly. Her father, shocked that yet another person was coming to her aid, dropped her arm and turned to face the new foe.
Cole’s punch was swift and it connected. Annabelle winced when she heard the crushing of bone and saw her father hit the wooden floor.
"Don’t ever touch her again, sir." Cole stood over her father and looked down on him. "I don’t take kindly to anyone putting his hands on my wife."
Annabelle’s heart swelled. Even though it was a fake marriage, Cole had defended her as if it were real, as if he had real feelings for her. Papa was still on the floor, blood pouring from his nose.
"Come on, darling," Cole said, bending his elbow so she could take his arm. "Let’s go home."
They walked in silence until they reached Sierra Street. "Thank you for what you did back there," Annabelle said. "You saved my bacon."
Cole’s jaw was set in a hard line. "I’m glad I was there."
"Me, too." She squeezed his arm.
"What time is your train coming?"
"It was delayed in Virginia City. The station agent wasn’t sure when it might arrive."
Cole stopped in the middle of the street and looked down at her. "What would you think if I went with you?"
Her eyes went wide. "But you can’t. In order to keep your job, you have to stay here."
"I don’t exactly have a job anymore."
"What?" She blinked, certain she’d misheard him.
"They fired me. Katherine must have told them that I’d broken our confidentiality agreement by enlisting your help."
"But you’re a great agent. Surely they can see that." She couldn’t imagine him being anything other than a detective. He was a natural, smart and observant. Tremayne, whoever he was, had made a huge mistake.
He shrugged. "I think it’s time I look into another line of work anyway."
"I’m so sorry. I caused th—"
"Shh," he said, placing his finger over her lips. "You did nothing wrong. In fact, you did everything right."
"Kentucky is beautiful this time of year and while I don’t know if there are any detective jobs, I’m sure we could find something for you to do."
"On one condition," he said. "That I go as your husband. Your real husband."
She grimaced, making a big show of it. "I don’t know. That’s a tough one but I think it might work."
"Might?" He opened his arms and she stepped into them.
"Kiss me again and I’ll let you know."
His lips were soft on hers and his scent, Bay Rum mixed with the dusty smells of Reno, flooded her senses until her knees nearly gave way. She locked her fingers behin
d his neck and toyed with his hair. She could get used to this. Very easily.
"I accept your condition and add one of my own. I’ll let you come to Kentucky as my husband if you promise to kiss me like that at least once a day."
"Done," he said, leaning down to kiss her again.
* * *
Thank you for reading A Ghostly Wager. If you'd like to know more about Blaire Edens' books please visit her Author Home: http://www.blaireedens.com/ or visit her Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Blaire-Edens/e/B00NO99LJU/
How The Ghost Was Won
By Erin Hayes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 Erin Hayes
No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
About How The Ghost Was Won
There are ghost stories. And there are ghost legends.
From orphan to saloon girl to ghost whisperer, Hattie Hart has been and seen a lot of things in her time. Her new job as a detective with the Tremayne Psychic Specters Investigations Agency takes her out to the remote town of Carolina City, Nevada, on a vague assignment to investigate the disappearance of a US Marshal.
Except, when she arrives, she meets the devilishly handsome Grant Madsen, a US Marshal who is alive and well. Certainly not missing, but certainly the man of her dreams. So why did her boss send her out to this small boomtown when there’s nothing for her to investigate?
She soon discovers that in Carolina City, there are strange happenings from the afterlife that threaten to kill her or worse. She’ll have to race against time to save her life, the town, and the US Marshal she was sent to find—and maybe, if she's lucky, her heart.
