by Sue Clifton
Chapter Twenty-One
Cayce rode beside Hank in silence for the first thirty minutes. Her mind was in a state of confusion, not knowing whether she was distraught or relieved over the fact Joshua had canceled on her again. She missed the good-looking cowboy she had become so intimate with after the adventure in south Mississippi a year ago, but as the reverse side of the old saying goes, Distance makes the heart go yonder, and she thought the same thing had happened to Joshua. Now here she was with yet another cowboy, not unusual since she lived in the West, but she had not been attracted to anyone other than Joshua until now. There was something about Hank that felt right, the same kind of right she had felt with Joshua, but different…maybe even better.
Oh, well!
Cayce sighed aloud without realizing it.
There’s too much paranormal work to be done to think about romance right now. And like I told Hank, Joshua will always be a good friend, just like Cody is even long after our divorce.
Cayce was jolted out of her thoughts by Hank abruptly stopping his horse and taking her mount by the bridle, forcing it to stop. He dismounted and threw his horse’s reins on the ground, then pulled her reins completely out of her hands, and ground-tied her horse also before walking to the other side of her to stand looking up at her.
Cayce looked down at Hank. “What are we doing?”
Hank reached up and motioned Cayce from her saddle with his hands. With her hands on his shoulders and his hands around her waist, she dismounted, looking even more perplexed. Hank hung his hat over her saddle horn, pulled Cayce to him, and kissed her long and hard, knocking her hat off in the process. When he released her, she stood stunned, not moving.
Hank took his hat and put it back on, pulling it down to the customary two-finger-width between eyes and hat. Then he picked up Cayce’s hat and placed it on her head, pushing her hair behind her ears like she’d had it before. He let his fingers linger on her cheeks, still saying nothing and staring into her eyes. She returned the stare with her lips still apart from the surprise kiss.
“Now! That’s out of the way. Let’s enjoy the rest of our ride in these gorgeous mountains and quit dilly-dallying around. In fact, let’s enjoy the rest of our stay at Bar None and see where this goes. We’re both too old not to take advantage of every feeling and every moment.” Hank picked up Cayce effortlessly, set her back in the saddle, and handed her the reins. He then mounted. “Race you to the top!”
Both reached the top of the hill at the same time, but only because Hank slowed for Cayce to catch up with him, in both thoughts and actions.
“Wow! This is spectacular! Almost as pretty as my Beartooth Mountains in Montana.” Cayce scanned the panorama of the Sawtooth Mountains before dismounting and taking a seat on a boulder overlooking the valley below.
“Mind if I join you?” Hank sat down on the other side, not waiting for an answer.
“Any more surprises?” Cayce smiled.
“No. At this point, the surprise is over and expectations have set in…I hope.” Hank put his arm around Cayce, who leaned against him. “And you don’t have to worry about Joshua. I called him when I went to get the horses and told him I was pursuing you.”
“And did you get carte blanche for your pursuit as well as for your work on Bar None?” Cayce smiled, eager to hear his answer.
“He said he’d expected it to happen. He knows you too well. He told me to watch after you and not to let you get hurt. Said you were a special lady. He also told me to give you a kiss for him, but I declined. I told him all kisses would be mine and mine alone from now on.” To prove his point, Hank kissed her long and thoroughly.
Cayce pulled herself out of the kiss. “You’re not married, are you?” She looked at Hank. “With what my daughter went through in the last year, I feel I have to ask.”
“No. Divorced for a long time, but not married. Not even any kids to tie me down, unfortunately. Completely unattached and have liked it that way, up until now.” Hank pulled her close again. “Is there anything else you’re worried about?”
“Just one thing. From now on, you take your showers in the hotel. Belle does not have carte blanche where you’re concerned.” Cayce gave Hank a serious look and then burst out laughing. “Now, please continue where you were.”
And continue he did. Hank kissed her, a longer kiss this time, holding her face against his with his big hands, pressing his lips hard against hers and engulfing her whole mouth. He moved his hands and encircled her with his arms, pulling her tightly to him. Cayce lost her breath in Hank’s passionate kiss, but even more importantly, she lost all thoughts of Joshua.
The debacle of her former romance ceased to be a source of distress and confusion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The wagon train trip is two days away. Will you be ready, Harri?” Cayce sat at the counter in the kitchen watching Harri trying to make biscuits with a sourdough starter she had gotten from Teesh.
“I just don’t know about these sourdough biscuits. I’ve never had any luck with a starter unless I cheated and got some from someone else, like I did with this I got from Teesh.” Harri added more flour to the starter, “feeding” it. She replenished what she’d used from the small crock Teesh had insisted she take.
“I can’t believe Piper got that Mormon cookbook for me. I guess that’s why I left it and bought Sally’s instead. It has the sourdough biscuit recipe I’m trying today. It’s almost exactly like Sally’s recipe. If it turns out, I’ll put it in the Bar None cookbook, giving credit to the original pioneer cook, of course. If it doesn’t, then I’m going back to my non-starter sourdough biscuit or maybe my non-starter/non-sourdough biscuit recipe and use the old tried-and-true recipe I use in the Teacake.”
“Just make biscuits like you ordinarily do. Harri’s Best recipe, or non-starter/non-sourdough biscuits, cannot be beat. Nobody’s going to know the difference.” Cayce took another bite from the huckleberry scone, Harri’s trademark in Bar None.
“Yes, but I’ll know. It’s okay for now, since I don’t have time to wait for starter to ferment, but Joshua wants it true to the period, and so do I, if it’s going in my Bar None cookbook. And we both know Sally made sourdough biscuits for the miners. But I can tell you this—I don’t plan on making enough to fill that huge dough bowl. We’re judging a biscuit load by my butt, not Sally’s. That baby—the dough bowl, not Sally’s butt—is going in the Teacake for looks only.” Harri nodded toward the dough bowl, now placed on top of a primitive walnut jelly cupboard. Harri frowned as she kneaded the dough again.
“I’m cooking this batch in the oven, but as soon as I get those Dutch ovens I bought from Lester cured, I’ll be using them. Maybe your new cowboy will build a campfire for me so I can try them out before we hit the wagon train.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?” Cayce looked to see Harri’s reaction.
“A little. I might have been snoring when you sneaked out of your room last night, but I was awake when I heard you come back to bed. And that giggle I heard followed by that wild ‘yes’ you thought you whispered when you got into bed told me you didn’t go to the kitchen for a glass of milk or a bottle of water. No guess needed as to where you spent part of the night, especially the way you two kept looking at each other over dinner.”
Harri rolled out the dough, ready to use her biscuit cutter to make each biscuit as exact in size as possible. “And no need to try to be discreet or pretend to Piper, either. She’s already speculating, as if she’s not trying to hide her own little bed-hopping excursions in the middle of the night—or day, for that matter.”
“Are you feeling left out, Harri?” Cayce smiled as she walked behind her sister and put her plate in the dishwasher.
“Do I look like I feel deprived? My day will come, but I’m not ready yet. I’m kind of enjoying the single life God forced me into. What is it they say on Facebook? No longer in a relationship?”
“Don’t know. I’m not into Facebook as yet. Piper can p
robably tell you if you really want to know.”
Hank entered the kitchen, but did not go straight for the coffeepot as he usually did. Instead, he walked up behind Cayce, put his arms around her in a bear hug, and planted a big kiss on her cheek. Cayce, a look of surprise on her face, watched Hank as he made his way to the coffeepot.
“What?” Hank smiled. “Like I said, we’re too old to dilly-dally.” He stopped to give Cayce another quick kiss, this time on the lips, and headed out the kitchen door, coffee mug in hand.
“Mornin’, Harri,” he called without looking back as he headed through the door.
“Mornin’, lover boy.” Harri never looked up as she meticulously cut each biscuit.
****
“Cayce, why don’t you go down and invite Teesh for dinner? I have beef stew with fried corn on the cob, and Mother’s famous chocolate pie with ‘m’rang,’ as Charlie calls it, for dessert. And I want you to do me another favor and attach this picture to Teesh’s bandana and leave a message for Charlie.” Harri wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the picture lying on the counter. “I’ve even decided to invite Steve this time. I feel kind of bad for not inviting him before now, but he doesn’t seem to come around much anymore.”
“I don’t think we’ve offended Steve. He’s just a loner, kind of like Charlie.”
Cayce looked at the picture of a rich, dark chocolate pie with two-inch tall meringue, the picture a contribution from Piper’s artistic ability.
“If this picture doesn’t get Charlie to show up, nothing will.” Harri turned back to the stove and took the lid off the huge cast-iron pot to give it two quick stirs with her wooden spoon. This was Cayce’s cue to come and stick her nose as close to the stew as possible without singeing her nostrils.
“Hmm! Smells heavenly.” Cayce picked up the picture and left. Zach and Piper had just pulled up to the front as she exited.
Cayce walked to Piper’s side of the Jeep. “How about you two deliver a message to Teesh for me, and this one to Charlie.”
“I already know what’s cooking.” Piper took the picture from her mom after getting out of the Jeep. “Zach and I will get the bandana from Teesh while delivering the invitation, and we’ll tie the picture on the statue for Charlie. We’re going for a jog back down the canyon road as soon as we change into running clothes. We can park at Teesh’s and start our run there.”
A few minutes later, Cayce watched as her daughter and her new boyfriend kicked up dust heading out of Bar None in the Jeep. She hoped Piper was doing the right thing. None of them really knew Zach, but they all liked him on first meeting. Still, she felt Zach was keeping something from Piper. There was a look of guilt in his eyes only a mother—especially one with Extra Sensory Perception where her daughter was concerned—could discern.
Cayce started up the steps to the hotel but turned, looking over at the saloon, where the construction noise had stopped. She smiled and decided to go and check on the progress, meaning the construction boss. For some reason, she had put off investigating the saloon. She had learned to trust her instincts, but now she thought it was time, helped by her newfound relationship with Hank.
Whoosh!
Something hit her hard, knocking her off the top step. She tried to catch herself on the second step, but was hit again, and her fall backward knocked the breath out of her. She lay on the ground, trying to get her breath back, unable to move.
“What the hell?” Hank was just coming out of the saloon and saw Cayce fall. He ran to her and bent down. “Are you all right, Cayce? What happened? Did you lose your footing?” He helped her to a sitting position.
“I…I…don’t…know. Something…knocked me off …the steps!” She coughed, trying to get her breath back. “I’m okay, Hank.” She tried to stand but sat back down, feeling a little dizzy. Hank lifted her and took her to the porch, where he set her in one of the rockers.
“You say something knocked you off the steps?” Hank looked around but saw nothing. “Was it that damned black fog again?”
“I don’t think so. Whatever it was, it was invisible…a force of some kind.” She looked past Hank, who squatted down beside her chair, and saw a shadow, there one second and then gone like a puff of air. In that split second, Cayce saw her.
“Belle! It was Belle! I just saw her there, on the porch of the saloon.” Cayce pointed. “I’m sure it was her. Who, or what else, could it be? But why is she so angry with me?” Cayce shook her head in disbelief.
“Well, I can believe it. There’s been some activity today. A two-by-four flew down the stairs but didn’t hit anyone, and one of the workers came running down saying he heard a sound like a swarm of blowflies right at his head. He was sure it was the same fog that caused Will to fall off the roof, but he was too scared to turn around and look. The men couldn’t work for the inability to look behind them as they’re pounding nails in front of them. I sent the hands back to camp early, with pay, hoping no one will drag up. Finding help in these parts is tough for a normal job.”
Cayce rose from her chair. “It’s time I went into the saloon. I need to use the Gift to see if I can contact some of these spirits. It’s the first step in getting them to settle down.”
“Are you sure, Cayce?” Hank walked in front of her down the steps to make sure nothing knocked her down again.
“These are not all nice spirits like our little Sara, but I’m sure, Hank.” Cayce stopped on the bottom step, put her hands on Hank’s chest, and looked eye-level into his face. “And, Hank, you have to take a step back now. This is who I am and what I do.” Cayce gave Hank a quick kiss. “Promise?”
Hank put his fingertips in his pocket and looked at Cayce, her face still next to his, looking like he was not ready for the quick kiss to be over.
“All right. Let’s go. I’ll try, but that’s all I can promise. If I think you’re in danger, I will protect you.”
Hank opened the door to the saloon, and they both stepped inside. Everything was quiet, too quiet, and ominous. Cayce walked around, collecting vibes from the huge, open room while Hank stood at the door watching. Her footsteps echoed off the high ceilings of the expansive saloon.
A long bar against the back wall formed the focal point of the room, and Cayce was glad to see it had not been refinished. The past did not need to be covered up if her senses were to connect. She walked over and ran her hand along the full length of the massive bar, hoping the Way would find her. Then she did the same to the mirror behind the bar. She perched herself on one of the numerous bar stools and stared into the vintage beveled mirror, original to the saloon, according to Hank, and running the full length of the bar behind shelves that would eventually be filled with liquor and glasses for the many guests who would come. The mirror was missing many spots of silver, something adding to the treasured antiquity of the Nugget’s decor.
As Cayce stared into one of the dark crevices in the otherwise-shiny reflective surface, she sensed movement. The shadowy cracks undulated like silver and black waves on a shining but turbulent sea as they transformed into boisterous miners still dirty from a long day in the diggings. The drunken men grabbed on to tiny, slant-eyed, smile-plastered figurines who looked like they would crack and disintegrate in the tight embraces of their crude dance partners as they were jerked around the dance floor.
Blackjack dealers, card sharks, and cheats, in striped or black collarless starched shirts, sported slicked back hair and waxed mustaches and competed for the attention, or the money, of the miners at the gambling tables. One he/she thing dressed in baggy men’s pants and an oversized, dirty coat, dark hair cropped at the ears and covered by a beat-up man’s felt hat, danced alone, her peg leg resounding like a horse’s hoof on the wooden dance floor. Every past participant found life again in the silver tapestry behind the bar.
Cayce stared, trancelike, into the mirror, not noticing Hank had moved to the barstool beside her. He sat quietly, as he had promised.
The big, rounded bartender, his
dark handlebar mustache out of place against his shiny, hairless head, slid a whiskey bottle down the slick bar top. The bottle passed right through Cayce’s hands propped on the bar, but Cayce did not flinch as it passed through. The “it,” who Cayce recognized as Peg, grabbed the bottle at the other end, turned it up, and guzzled it, letting some trickle down her ugly scarred chin, not without a chin hair or two. Peg, with her new dance partner the whiskey bottle, headed back to the dance floor.
The swinging doors swung wide open, and two men dressed in black held them there. They stared at the bar crowd from their posts at the door.
The miners grew silent, staring. Many hid their bottles behind them and pushed away from the petite girls as if their intentions had been innocent. The piano player stopped abruptly and moved behind the piano; the moneychangers stepped back from the tables, joining other groups of terrified onlookers; and the bartender slid down behind the bar, his bald head reflecting in the bottom of the mirror. Some miners dove through open windows, and those China figurines that could make it to the stairs fled upward, holding their frilly gowns high in their hands and scurrying like tiny, delicate mice racing to their dens.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Foot-pounds? Or has the train left its phantom track and is hurtling out of control into The Nugget?
Cayce glued her gaze to the mirror, hypnotized, but without the terror of those living the scene.
They act like they know who or what is coming.
She continued to stare into the pocked mirror.
What can stop time in its…cracks?
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The two men moved farther inside and stretched the doors open as wide as possible as the footfalls stopped at the doors.
The biggest, burliest man Cayce had ever seen filled the doorway. He looked to be at least seven feet tall, with a bulky body to match, topped by a clean-shaven face offset by dark, disturbed eyes.
He thrust his way into The Nugget, his piercing gaze darting right, left, and center, capitalizing on the fear-stricken faces of the onlookers. The man was dressed in black from head to toe and dragged a heavy wooden cross, the upper end resting on his shoulder like Jesus going to Golgotha. Two more men in black marched behind him and then hurried to his side, taking the heavy burden from him and holding it against the wall in the saloon. The cross became a battle flag, the precursor to what was about to ensue. In a voice booming louder than his footsteps, he released his wrath on the roomful of sinners.
