by Angel Smits
As if reading her thoughts, Delta glared at her. Faith stumbled back from the intensity of the hatred emanating from Delta. Cord shifted beside her, and she glanced down. She forced all her love into her gaze, wishing she’d said the words before and hoping he could read it clearly in the dim light.
“Trust me,” she mouthed and stepped away. “All this over a man? A worthless one at that?” Faith kept her feigned disgust low in her voice.
Delta rolled her eyes heavenward. “You think I’m buying that act?” She laughed and took another swig from the bottle. “Oh, honey. If it were only that simple I’d have beat you out long ago.”
Faith controlled the urge to glare. “Then what is this about?”
“Don’t you remember how I died?”
“I haven’t forgotten. How could I? You keep reminding me.”
“Yes.” Delta leaned across the wooden bar with a feral smile. “I did do a lovely job with those photographs, didn’t I? Did they scare you? Make you jealous?”
“They disgusted me.”
“Oh, well, that will do.” Delta walked around the bar, stopping beside Cord. He didn’t move. His eyes were closed again. She reached out and ran a finger down Cord’s bruised cheek. “We could have been good together, but you chose her.” She raised the gun. “Open your damned eyes.” She kicked him, but he didn’t move. “Look at me while you die!” she yelled.
“No!” Faith screamed and ran toward Delta. She shoved hard against Johnny’s solid body. The element of surprise gave her a moment’s advantage, and Delta stumbled backward. Faith sprawled across Cord, shielding him.
Delta caught her balance but almost dropped the gun in the process. She gripped it even tighter. “Damn you. Maybe I should let him watch you die first.”
Faith waited for the painful shot to pierce her body. When none came, she breathed again. Frustration showed in Delta’s face. She recalled Delta’s words. Look at me while you die. There was something in those words, some meaning. Now she just had to figure them out in time. Faith prayed for Cord to stay unconscious, at least for now. She needed time to come up with a plan.
“Gun,” Cord barely whispered the word. Faith fought showing her reaction. “Register.”
Faith looked at Johnny. “He has it,” she whispered back.
“No. Another.”
She squinted and looked closer. Johnny had an antique gun. A dim ray of hope grew in her heart. She had to get the other gun.
Would it even work? Had the fire damaged it? She looked away from Cord, unable to concentrate when worry licked at her heart. She had to find a way around this . . . this . . . person.
Fragmented images flitted through Faith’s mind. None gave her answers. None told her what to do. The withered image of an old man suddenly slipped into her thoughts.
“Timmy’s still alive,” Faith said, knowing Delta heard every word. It worked. Delta’s gaze bore into her.
“No, he’s not. I saw him buried.” An evil glare formed in Delta’s eyes.
“Not m . . . my Timmy.” Grief over Timmy Cumberland’s death pulled at Faith even now. “Yours.”
The barrel of the gun wavered. Delta sucked in a deep breath, and her gaze faltered. “How? No. It’s been too long.”
“I saw him a few days ago. He told me about his life. I met your granddaughter. Her name is Lorena.”
Again the gun wavered, but Delta didn’t lower it. Faith halted her tale, half afraid Delta would squeeze the trigger accidentally. Slowly, as Delta digested the information, Faith inched toward the bar and the gun that could save them.
Delta spun around to face Faith. It was only a few feet, but it felt like a mile. Out of the corner of her eye, Faith saw Cord move, ever so slightly. His hand closed around a broken table leg.
“You’re lying,” Delta said.
“No, I’m not.” Faith suddenly hurt for the other woman. She knew how it felt to lose a child, or at least Maria did. “Your parents raised him, didn’t they?”
“Yes.” A tear gleamed in Delta’s eye. “They took him away. They took my baby.” A sob shattered through Delta, and she broke under its intensity. Her head bowed in sadness.
Cord moved. Delta spun around, deflecting the blow of the table leg in the same instant she kicked Cord’s knee.
Faith took her chance. She ran to the bar. Running her hand along the side of the register she found the gun, wedged beneath the metal. She recoiled from its coldness, but knew she couldn’t give in to her revulsion. Their lives depended on her.
Faith aimed the gun at Delta—in Johnny’s body. “Put the gun down, Delta, or I’ll shoot you right now.” Her voice came out strong though her knees shook.
Delta faced her and laughed. She lowered her gun. “You think I care if you kill this stupid man?” Slowly, she sauntered toward the bar. “He means nothing to me. He’s served his purpose.”
Fear raced through Faith. How could she scare a ghost who had no fear of death? She’d never been a gambler, but she knew about calling Delta’s bluff and kept the gun level with Johnny’s chest.
“Go ahead,” Delta taunted, leaning forward and flashing one of Johnny’s familiar grins. “Shoot me. I’ll just use another body . . . like maybe yours?” Pure madness glared out of Johnny’s eyes.
Faith’s hand trembled, but only for a moment. She felt invaded, violated by this person who knew her heart and mind all too clearly. She wished she knew more about Delta. She had to buy time, to find answers to this tangled web of their lives.
“Why? Can I at least know why?”
“Ah . . . you really don’t know, do you? Didn’t Rafe tell you?” Delta looked down at Cord and shook her head in mock disgust.
Faith dreaded hearing what Delta had to say next. “No. What should he have told me?” Did Cord know what Delta was talking about? If so, why had he kept that from her? If she asked him now, she’d alert Delta that he wasn’t actually unconscious.
“She killed Timmy.” Cord’s whispered words filled the room. She sensed the pain in them, felt shock and hurt at hearing them. Eyes open now, he met her tearful gaze.
“You knew?” Faith’s voice trembled, but the gun held steady.
He nodded. Struggling, Cord rolled and grimaced as he tried to move. Delta approached him. Faith moved quickly to stand between them.
“Stay away from him!” she screamed.
“He lied to you,” Delta taunted.
For a long minute, Faith stood staring at Johnny’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “How could anyone do such a horrid thing to a child?” Her grip on the gun tightened as she fought her pain. Fought against the overpowering grief. Timmy was beyond saving now, she knew that, but Cord still had a chance. She’d grieve for the little boy later.
Delta stood glaring at her. “You should have taken better care of him.”
Faith’s stomach lurched with nausea and pain. To blame Maria for Timmy’s death was cruel, and it hurt Faith clear to her soul.
“Rafe should have been a better husband.” Delta’s grin grew.
Like a warped puzzle, Delta’s taunts began to make sense. No, it wasn’t possible . . . “What if . . . ” Faith turned the gun in her hand and aimed it at Cord. “You’re right, Delta. He should have been a better husband. Should I kill him?”
Delta could barely contain her excitement. “Yes. He deserves to die, doesn’t he?”
Suddenly, Faith didn’t care what or who she’d been in the past. She did care about the man across the room and the memories they hadn’t yet had the chance to make.
Like the images on the pictures, the dreams and memories would blossom to life when touched by love. She wanted to see those pictures. She had to win here.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Faith slowly lowered her arm.
“No!” Delta screamed.
“You . . . you have to.”
“Why?”
“He deserves to die for all he put you through.”
Faith chose her next words carefully, playing along with Delta’s warped scheme. She knew Delta didn’t care about her or Cord. She had to find out what Delta really wanted. She forced her expression to remain calm.
“I see what you mean. He’s lied to me. You told me that.” Faith strolled over to stand nearer Delta. “You don’t know Faith very well. I grew up in this life as the daughter of a minister.” Faith hoped she looked more at ease and casual than she felt. “I’d gladly sacrifice this life’s happiness to save his eternal soul,” Faith said.
Delta rubbed her hands together in anticipation. The gun wavered but never left her hand.
“What happens when I kill him?” Faith forced the disgusting words past her lips.
“He’s mine.”
So that was what Delta wanted. Faith stared at Delta, pretending to ponder her words. “No, I don’t think so.” She didn’t dwell on the ramifications of her actions. Maria had survived. She would, too. Her arm suddenly felt strong and steady. The roar of the gun echoed through the room and rang in her ears. She stumbled as if she’d been kicked.
Johnny flew backwards, his cry of pain breaking the night as the bullet slammed into his chest. Wide, incredulous eyes stared at Faith. Johnny crumpled to his knees.
“How dare you!” a strange voice that was a mixture of Johnny’s and a soft feminine tone wailed. The antique gun lay at Johnny’s feet. A metallic ping filled the silence. Rafe’s wedding band spun and winked in the light.
Faith dove for the gun. When Johnny’s big, beefy hand reached out for the ring, Cord lifted the table leg again and slammed it across Johnny’s hand. His yelp of pain filled her ears.
After closing her fingers around the gun, Faith scooped up the ring and scooted back across the floor toward Cord.
“No!” Delta’s spirit lost control over Johnny. A wisp of golden smoke rose above him. His body sagged, and he slumped to the floor. The golden light stayed above him, shimmering and turning. Faith’s eyes never left the apparition. She recognized the image of the young girl she’d seen in the mirror, the woman in the newspaper photo. The woman who had killed Timmy and tried to kill Cord.
“You bitch!” Delta’s voice echoed everywhere at once. Soul-deep anger filled the spirit’s eyes, eyes growing darker as the seconds passed. “Prepare to die.”
Delta’s golden form moved and blinding pain shot through Faith’s head. What was happening? She tried to think, but couldn’t. Her thoughts scrambled. Darkness overtook her.
The gun and ring dropped to the floor with a clatter. Cord saw the fear and pain fade from Faith’s eyes. Something else took its place—something cold, and he shivered.
“Oh, it feels so good to have a woman’s curves again.”
In that instant, he knew Delta peered at him through Faith’s beautiful eyes. She ran her hands up and down the sides of Faith’s body, a soft moan in her throat.
“It feels so good to be alive. I can feel the blood rushing inside me again.”
She picked up the gun and the barrel grazed the edge of Faith’s breast. He swallowed hard, fearful for Faith.
Delta sauntered towards him, and he resisted the urge to move away. If he could get close enough perhaps he could get the gun from her and save them all.
“Not so eager, lover boy?” She ran her finger down his chest. He fought the urge to pull away.
“Go to hell, Delta.” He purposefully used her name, wanting Faith to know, if she could, that he didn’t mean her. That he knew the difference.
Each word, each touch, filtered through to Faith. Fog encased her, holding her captive, but she knew she had to fight, had to struggle, or Cord would soon die.
“Delta, release me!” she cried inside her own mind.
“Shut up, bitch.” Delta spoke aloud.
“Faith,” Cord called. She heard him. He sounded so far away. She knew he had to be close though. “Faith, come back to me.”
“I’m trying,” she said, knowing he couldn’t hear her. She was trapped inside her own thoughts. No one could hear her except Delta.
Faith conjured the image of her father in the pulpit—his sermons and teachings ran through her mind. He could fire and brimstone with the best of them, surely some of it had rubbed off on her. She began to pray. To Maria. To Rafe. To Timmy. To anyone who might hear her, anyone who could help.
She tried to see Cord through the fog of her own eyes. She loved him. Not as Maria loving Rafe. No, this love was hers and hers alone. For the gentle way he’d touched her cuts the night the window had broken. For the care and friendship he gave Johnny. For his attempts to protect her—even at the risk to himself. But mostly for the way he loved her with his body and his heart. He might not know it, but he did love her.
In that instant, Maria found Faith, binding her to Rafe through Cord. Thoughts and memories joined. Love and hate collided. Past and present fused. The depth and pain of Maria’s grief swamped Faith and her knees buckled. The hard floor caught her as tears pooled in her eyes and spilled over.
Letting go, Delta left behind Maria’s memories of the past and all its pain.
“Go ahead.” Delta lifted up above Faith, her form dancing in the air. “Kill him, just like you killed me.”
“She didn’t kill you, Rafe did,” Cord growled.
Delta laughed. “Tell him, Maria.”
Cord turned to Faith and saw the anguish in her tear-drowned eyes.
“The day the sheriff came to the house . . . I knew he was there to arrest me.” Faith closed her eyes, nearly crumpling with the pain.
“No.”
She nodded, the memories clear and painful, too true to deny. “I killed Delta.”
“No . . . I . . . Rafe shot her and then himself . . . ”
Her tears fell harder as she shook her head. “To protect me. Oh, God.” Faith doubled over, her arms hugging her waist as the pain in her grew. A pain Maria had lived with for too many long, lonely years. “You took the blame for me. I went to town to try to find Timmy. I got a job at the house.”
“You worked in the brothel.” They both knew that from the dreams.
“And I learned the truth. You saw me kill her. The agony I saw in your eyes . . . ”
“You hate her now, don’t you, Rafe?” Delta interrupted, barely containing her glee. “Enough to kill her.” The antique gun skittered across the floor as if kicked. It clattered against the wood and spun before stopping just beyond his reach.
Silence like that of a tomb hung in the air. The storm had ceased and nothing stirred. The gun was useless against Delta so he left it where it lay. The pain in Faith’s eyes tore at his heart. He ached to hold her, to make everything right again.
“No, I don’t hate her.” He lifted up and glared at Delta’s apparition with what strength he had left. “I gave my life for her once. I’ll do it again.” And Cord knew he would.
Twenty
WAVES OF PAIN shot through Cord’s entire body—physical pain warred with emotional pain within him. He had to get to Faith. His heart hurt too much watching her like this. She curled into herself on the floor, letting the misery swamp her.
Struggling, he dragged his battered body across the floor. Finally, he touched her shoulder, and she pulled away. Red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes turned on him. “No. Go away.” Her anguish poured from her and through his soul.
“Don’t let her win.” He spoke softly and slowly. He had to make her understand.
“I killed her.”
“And she killed Timmy.” The horror that grew on her face told him that wasn’t the right answer. “Maria killed her, not you. A hundred years ago. Before you were born.”
His words finally seemed to so
ak in, and her eyes cleared. She sat up straighter, meeting his gaze.
“No!” Delta’s voice echoed around them. Cord reached out and pulled Faith close. Delta’s cry grew louder.
Somehow, the wind came into the room, ripping through in a black cloud filled with ash and soot. On its tail a flicker of flame snaked across the floor, kissing the back wall, which erupted in a ball of flame. The wind pulled at his arms, and he strained to keep his hold on her.
“Cord,” Faith cried, her voice barely breaking through the roar.
Images slammed into Cord’s mind, as vivid as if they were real. Another fire had torn them apart once before. That fire had leveled most of Cripple Creek. The fear that had gnawed at him then as he’d searched for her in the streets came alive inside him. He’d failed Maria then, but he wouldn’t do it again. “Hold tight, honey.” He gripped her tighter.
“I’m trying.” The wind pulled harder, and the laughter grew.
He felt her slipping away. “No.”
“I love you, Cord!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the storm like a knife. The wind fell. The flames died, and ashes fluttered around them like confetti.
“I love you, too, Faith.” Before either of them could say anything more, he pulled her close, kissing her with every ounce of his strength, with every piece of his heart.
“You can’t.” A voice behind them whispered. Faith turned to look at Delta’s fading image.
“Yes, we can and I do.” Faith pulled from Cord’s embrace and stood. “You know nothing of love.” She stepped closer to the apparition. “Maybe if you did, Timmy Cumberland could have lived and Timmy Gibson could have had a mother’s love.”
“I wanted my baby. I . . . I loved him.” Desperation rasped through Delta’s voice. “He was mine, but they took him away. They kept calling him my mistake.” Could a ghost cry? Or was the darkness around her so deep that there were no tears to cry?
Faith ignored the pain in her own heart. She couldn’t risk Cord, Johnny or her life by letting the past hurt them anymore. She had to lay that past to rest.
