by Keta Diablo
"I’ll take my leave now," he said, with hand on the doorknob.
Her eyes fell on the riding skirt and boots stacked on a chair in the corner. A force was at work and she had been meant to follow this course of action. "Just a minute."
He tilted his head, a dejected look in his eyes. "Yes."
"What time are we going riding tomorrow?"
His lips curved up into a smile. "Do you think you’ll be ready by five in the evening?"
"Yes."
"See you then. We’ll meet in the lobby."
Chapter Nine
The ashen look on Abbott’s face shocked Healy when he greeted her at the door. He looked at her with glassy, bloodshot eyes.
"Are you ill?"
"Damnest thing. As a rule, I never feel poorly, but I got this ache in my gut. Started up recently. Come on in."
Healy hobbled into the ranch house and saw Erline seated at the table, apparently ready for the séance.
"Let’s get this over with. I got to repair some fences today," said Abbott, ushering her in.
Abbott and Healy took their place at the table. Erline gave her a stiff nod. Her mouth was set tight and her eyes shifted back and forth.
Healy noted the time on the clock set on the mantelpiece. Charlie had been late to pick her up, and making her appointment with Aaron was foremost on her mind. It was already two-fifty in the afternoon and the ride to and from the ranch had taken almost an hour, with Charlie chatting and leaning into her the whole way, stretching out the ride, acting like they were a courting couple. There should be enough time to dispel this troublesome spirit and get back and change into riding gear. Healy thought about wearing the riding skirt to the ranch but rejected that idea. She had to remain professional after all, but she was anxious to get this over with as well. "All right let’s get started."
"What are we supposed to do?" asked Abbott.
"Everybody put your hands on the table, fingers touching the hand of the person next to you."
Hands spread on the tabletop. When Erline’s hand touched hers, Healy almost drew her hand back from the shock of the cold flesh. "Close your eyes. I’m going to try and summon the ghost. Sometimes this takes a while. Remain silent so I may concentrate."
"Where’s your trumpet?" asked Erline, voice full of sass.
"If you’re referring to a spirit trumpet, I don’t need such gimmicks."
"I heard tell, the ghosts need trumpets to communicate," persisted Erline.
Healy looked at the clock again. "Have you been to a séance before, Mrs. Foster?"
"No, I...."
"Well, I have. I suggest you let the expert—that would be me—decide what we need or don’t need."
Erline shot her a look that could freeze water.
"Let’s let Miss Harrison get on with this. I have things to do," said Abbott.
When he spoke, an indefinable sweet smell carried on his breath. Healy tried to place the familiar smell but it eluded her. "Eyes closed, no talking," she said.
Healy closed her eyes. Only the sound of the windmill in the yard creaking and the clock ticking came to her ears. She sensed the spirit hovering nearby and tried to focus on it.
Aaron’s mouth came to mind. The way it looked and moved when he talked. How it felt on her lips. His kisses were so different from John’s butterfly kisses. Aaron’s kiss had been insistent, urgent, and full of passion.... The minutes ticked by.
"Is anything happening yet?" asked an impatient Abbott, breaking Healy out of her reverie.
"Please, don’t talk," she said, chastising herself for letting her mind wander.
Twenty minutes must have gone by, and although Healy felt the ghost, she couldn’t get in touch with it.
"I bet if you had a trumpet, we’d be getting somewhere," Erline said.
"Give me a few more minutes." At last she was getting something off the ghost, but it was strange as if it was trying to tell her something by its resistance. "This is no good," she finally admitted. "I can feel the ghost but it’s like it’s doing this to me." Healy demonstrated what she meant. She took a pose with her arms crossed over her chest, head turned away, and her lips pursed.
"Oh, I know that look!" said Abbott. "My first wife, Cora, when she got mad at me, she’d dig her heels in and act like that."
"Excuse me, did you just say you were married before?" Healy asked.
"Yes, my first wife died almost two years ago."
"And you didn’t think to tell me that earlier?"
"You said you didn’t want all the details," protested Abbott.
"But, that’s the sort of detail...Ugh! Never mind. Tell me how she died."
Abbott dropped his head and went red in the face. "Tragically."
"This could be what we’re looking for! What happened to her?"
For a minute it looked like the rancher wasn’t going to open up. Erline watched him. Healy held her breath.
"She fell," he whispered. "I found her body at the base of a cliff."
Healy felt a burst of angry energy from the ghost. It was suddenly clear to her what was going on. "We’re going to try something different. Erline would you leave the room, please?"
The woman stuck out her bottom lip, ready to argue, but a look from Abbott warned her to comply. She stood, and with a swish of skirts, left the room.
"Let’s begin again," Healy said. She closed her eyes, but every time she did, she saw Aaron’s face. His long, straight nose, that seductive half-smile....
The clock chimed four times.
She bit her bottom lip hard and tried to capture the spirit once again. Got it. Eyes now open; Healy saw the air shimmer as a figure tried to take shape. For a brief instant she spied a woman standing in the spot vacated by Erline.
"Your wife? Did she have dark brown hair, worn in a braid twisted around her head? Very slender woman. That’s what I’m getting."
Abbott had gone pale. "Cora?"
Healy looked at him with sympathy. "She was very pretty."
"Yes, she was. I fell for her first time I saw her."
The woman materialized again with a smile. But as Healy watched, her features transformed into an expression that made Healy’s blood run cold.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hand, going to her heart. "She’s very angry with you."
"Me? What did I do? If anyone should be mad, it should be me!"
Healy put up her hand to silence him. The air seemed to gravitate to one side of the room. The spirit was trying to gather the strength she needed to speak.
Her excitement growing, Healy narrowed her vision to block out all but the specter. The features of the woman would come into sharp focus only to blur again. Each time the woman materialized, Healy longed to shout, "You can do it!"
Once the figure appeared in very sharp detail, she pointed at Abbott, the angry feelings in the room palpable. "Do you see her?" Healy asked.
"No, I don’t see anything but I feel something like a knife in my heart," said Abbott, his voice full of pain.
Healy looked at the clock and tried to hide her rising panic. It was four-twenty. If she didn’t leave soon, she’d miss Aaron. She was already going to be late. Would he think she didn’t intend to show? "I think we’ll quit for the day."
Abbott sputtered. "But, we’re just getting somewhere!"
"I’m tired. Cora is trying to say something, but I need all my strength. Tomorrow I’ll come at this refreshed."
Before she could stand, the face of Cora appeared in front of her, almost nose to nose—and Cora didn’t look happy with her.
Chapter Ten
How unprofessional to cut out of a séance like that. Healy hoped the ghost wouldn’t hold it against her but she felt she had to see Aaron. There was some force at work making it vital they keep this appointment with one another.
She had to practically shout at the slow-as-molasses Charlie to get a move on, and still he didn’t deposit her back at the hotel until twenty minutes after five. On top of everything else Charlie seemed to hav
e taken a fancy to her and had been trying to draw out their rides back and forth.
She hurried into the lobby, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She scanned the crowd in the lobby. No Aaron. Too late. Her heart felt as heavy as lead.
Then her heart started up humming again and she saw him. Aaron sat hunched over on a small settee near the staircase. Turning a straw hat around and around by the brim, looking forlorn. As if sensing her presence, he looked up and broke into a dazzling smile. Healy crossed over to him, and he stood up. "I thought you’d changed your mind."
He wore a black hat with a low crown and a wide brim, and had a red neckerchief tied at his throat, hanging down to the top of his leather vest. His trousers were gray with black pinstripes—and they were considerably tighter than Mr. Foster’s. He doffed his hat and Healy could see he’d made an attempt to groom himself. His already glossy curls were shinier and tamed into springy coils with the aid of Macassar oil. His shaved face exposed smooth, olive toned cheeks.
"No! Give me a few minutes to change. I’ll be right down," she said, looking at the straw hat in his hands.
He looked down at his feet and said in a quiet voice. "It’s for you. I didn’t know if you had a hat, and the sun can be fierce in the desert."
"Thank you. That was thoughtful of you. I’ll just be a minute."
She hurried up to her room, aware his eyes were on her as she ascended the wide stairs.
When she returned wearing a riding skirt and boots, he was still in the same spot. His face lit up when he saw her dressed to ride, but then his lips turned down into a frown as she limped over to him.
"Ankle still bothering you?"
"It’s nothing. Let’s go."
Walking through the streets leaning on his arm, Healy felt as if she floated. They got to the livery stable and Aaron instructed her to wait outside. She was puzzled when he returned with only one horse.
"I thought we’d both ride on my horse, unless you have a horse you forgot to mention."
Her face went hot "Oh! I didn’t think..."
He winked at her. "Come here."
When she stood in front of him, he squashed the straw hat on her head and cinched the leather cords under her chin, grazing her delicate skin there with his leather gloves. Aaron swung into the saddle of the big gray horse with ease and then helped her up so she sat astride the great beast behind him. With a sigh of pleasure, she put her arms around his waist and breathed in his scent. She pushed the hat back on her head so she could press her cheek against his soft corduroy jacket. His body was lean and taut beneath the layers of cloth.
"Comfortable?"
"It’s tolerable." Very comfortable. Can I stay here forever?
* * *
Healy twirled around in slow circles taking it all in. A whole world opened up to her and she soared with all the new sights and sounds she’d seen today. Riding snug against Aaron’s back she crossed a desert landscape, which filled her with wonder. They moved through a forest of tall saguaro cactus. Aaron knew about the flora and fauna and pointed things out to her. He spoke in his slow drawl, his words vibrating against her chest pressed against his back.
Earlier in the day, they stopped at a small adobe house. Sheep and goats were penned up near the house. Aaron helped Healy off and then got out of the saddle. He handed her a canteen. "Take the time to get some water into you," he said, and then pulled something out of his saddlebag.
Before Healy could see what Aaron had in his hands, they were greeted by a wizened man stepping out of the house with a dog on his heels.
"Senior Martinez," said Aaron.
The old man broke into a gap-toothed smile. "Hola, Senior detective."
After that, Healy lost the thread of the conversation, as she didn’t speak Spanish, but apparently Aaron did. At one point, the old man looked at her and laughed at something Aaron said. Without looking at her Aaron reached out his hand, and knowing without being told, she knew he wanted the canteen. He took a long drink and she watched his Adam’s apple dip and bob. When he handed the canteen back to her, Healy took a drink too—not because she was thirsty, but because she wanted to put her lips where his lips had been. The cool water tasted like metal.
Aaron went on talking while Senior Martinez nodded with a frown on his face. A breeze carried a strong odor of animals. Healy wrinkled her nose. The old man caught her eye and smiled at her. He gestured toward his house, offering an invitation to go inside.
"No, gracias, senor." Aaron waved him off, but with kindness in his voice. "Esto vuelvo a ti."
Aaron held out a small bundle wrapped in a kerchief. When he handed it to Senior Martinez the man unwrapped it with shaky fingers. Inside the cloth was a silver crucifix and a leather cord. Tears ran down the old man’s cheeks. "Muchos gracias."
"De nada," said Aaron.
After goodbyes were exchanged Aaron and Healy headed off again.
"What was that all about? Was that your loose end?" she asked.
"Yes, I wish I had more to return to that poor man than his son’s crucifix."
"How did you come by the crucifix?"
"That gang I told you about? They kidnapped that man’s son and took him hostage."
"Why would they do that? He looks like a poor man."
"It wasn’t about money. They knew we were on their trail and grabbed poor Jorge as a last resort. Bastards shot him anyway when he proved to be too much trouble. I wanted to tell his father we caught the men who killed his son and they’re going to hang. That cross is about all he has left of his son and I wanted to bring it back home."
"You’re a kind man."
He turned his head sideways to face her. "I hate bad guys."
"But he invited us in. Why did you say no?"
"He would have felt obligated to feed us and he don’t have much. Now with his son gone he has to manage the small farm himself."
Eventually they reached their destination and Aaron turned the horse sideways so she got a good view. To her surprise, after miles of riding through the desert, a white cathedral rose out of the dull-colored landscape. Framed against a blue sky streaked with wisps of white clouds the sight left her speechless.
"Mission San Xavier Del Bac. Folks call it the White Dove of the Desert," Aaron said.
"But it’s in the middle of nowhere. Who comes here?"
"It’s a mission. It’s serves the Indian tribe here."
She froze when he mentioned Indians. He didn’t seem concerned, so Healy reasoned she shouldn’t be either.
Now they were inside the cathedral. Statues, carvings, and colorful paintings filled the walls and ceilings. It was like being inside a jewelry box—a feast for the eyes.
Speaking of feast for the eyes, every time Healy turned again in Aaron’s direction her heart warmed and expanded in her chest. He sat on a bench watching her with a smile on his face, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Across one thigh lay his gloves, one on top of the other. For some reason the sight of the gloves stoked a fire in her loins.
The next time she looked at Aaron, he crooked his finger at her. "Come on over here."
She crossed the room and he took her hand and eased her down next to him. "I’ve been wanting to do this all day," he said, and to her surprise he grabbed her leg, pulling her onto her back.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Now he had her leg across his lap, pulling off her boot. He grinned up at her and rolled the stocking off her leg. The nerve of the man!
As she tried to struggle out of his grasp, he raised one hand and undid his kerchief. "I can’t watch you hobble around one minute more. You need to bind this ankle up."
The sight of his hands on her bare calf hitched her breath. No man had ever seen her bare leg before, and he seemed to be taking it in at his leisure. She wanted to pull free but something inside of her went against that notion. His warm, dry hands on her bare skin took her breath away. The hands on her leg were rough and callused. She studied the little white half-mo
ons at the base of each broad fingernail—his thumb nail was split and bruised from a recent injury. Coarse black hair sprinkled the back of his hands. So masculine.
His fingers brushed against her tender skin as he wound the big kerchief first around the arch of her foot and then around her ankle. With a shock, she realized her drawers were peeking out from hem of her skirt. I never...letting a man see my unmentionables. What would my mother say? She tried to discreetly tuck the offending undergarment under the skirt. She glanced up at Aaron. He was watching her fingers with eyes as dark as coal. He licked his lips.
"That will do you," he said, but let his hands slide up her leg to the knee before patting her thigh. He put the stocking back on, rolling it up in a slow fashion. Healy heard him breathe deeply, but then realized the heavy breathing came from her.
At last he fit the boot back on her foot and gently placed it back on the ground.
"Thank you."
His Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard dip. "The pleasure was all mine."
They sat side by side for a moment, both seemed to need to compose themselves from the unexpected charge built up between them. Healy broke the silence first. "I’ve never seen anything like this place."
Aaron rubbed his bottom lip. "I guess it is unique what with all the different types of people involved in creating it."
"Not just this, but the whole ride. I can’t believe I was living in St. Louis, not knowing this other life existed. I never expected the desert to be so entrancing. Thank you."
He gave a soft chuckle and put his arm around her. It seemed natural to snuggle against him. The arm tightened around her. When she looked up his face was close to hers...so very close.
His mouth met hers. It was not the urgent kiss they’d shared last night, but still it sent a wave of heat from her mouth to a spot between her legs. Her body reacted to him in a way new to her. Healy had an urge to throw her leg over his lap again.
She sat back, overcome with her own desires. "This is a church! We shouldn’t be...."
"There’s nothing sinful about kissing to my way of thinking. Unless’n you’re kissing the wrong person. Feels mighty right to me."
