Miles

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  Miles shook his head and shrugged.

  “That was so long ago… I’ll have to think about it. I just... don’t remember.”

  ~***~

  With each passing day, Sarah struggled to think of a way to escape so that Dan would never find her. She looked across the ladies’ cabin toward the saloon, and disgust washed over her face.

  Gambling as always, stupidly drunk, laughing as though he hadn’t a care in the world. As though the blood of so many wasn’t on his hands, including that of the man she loved.

  She turned away. The pain was too great, the desire to fly across the space that separated her from her brother and tear him to pieces, almost too much to bear.

  It was fortunate she took the chance while she had it, and hid the heirloom jewels Delevan presented to her as a wedding gift. She knew better than to count on an opportunity to return them, if she waited. Before forcing Sarah to go to the Bannermans and tell them that Miles and Delevan died fighting over her, Dan searched her belongings. It wasn’t the first time. It was a small miracle he was too distracted to do so before she had the chance to hide what didn’t belong to him. She hoped the Bannermans would read between the lines of the carefully worded letter she mailed at the steamboat’s last stop. She hoped they would understand where to find the jewels. She couldn’t be direct in her letter. If the message was intercepted, it mustn’t give away the hiding place or its contents to anyone else.

  She didn’t know how, or when, or where, but she would find her freedom, or else die in the attempt. As for now, she couldn’t bear to sit here another second. She stood and proceeded to the promenade deck, and fresh air.

  She stood, looking out at the muddy water, thinking her sad desperate thoughts. Going to the authorities would backfire, that wasn’t even a consideration. Dan somehow pinned the stagecoach murders on her, the handbill revealed that. She’d sought and experienced the consequences of seeking help before. Dan could be so convincing… she knew if it came down to her word against his, he would charm the sense out of anyone within hearing, and she would be the one to suffer. It was no different now, than it had ever been.

  She looked up into the sky with a silent plea for help, as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t go back and change what happened… but what she wouldn’t give to be able to start over. To forget.

  Sarah turned and walked back to her stateroom. Closing the door and locking it behind her, she threw herself onto her berth. Eventually she was lulled to sleep, the closest thing to escape she would find here.

  Chapter 13

  “Hi,” I said, as Chip and I walked through the door on yet another snow filled day.

  “Hi back,” smiled Miles.

  Chip and Trixie ran upstairs, probably headed for Mission Control, their favorite place to hang out, as well as ours.

  “Happy New Year, too,” I said.

  “And the same to you,” said Miles.

  “So, did you do anything interesting on New Year’s Eve?” I asked, unwinding my scarf and slipping off my snow boots.

  “Actually I did,” he said.

  I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.

  Miles smiled.

  “I spent the day searching with you, remember?”

  I laughed.

  “Okay, so that’s what you meant. I really had no idea what you were going to say.”

  “How about you?” asked Miles.

  “Well, as I said I would, I went straight home and hung out with my family at the cabin. I did do something fun, though.”

  “And what was that?” asked Miles.

  “I hung out with you all day,” I smiled, as I lay my coat across the entryway table.

  Miles smiled back.

  “For just one day,” I said, getting down to business, “how about taking a break from the attic, and searching somewhere else.”

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Miles.

  “We searched your parents’ room and didn’t find anything. What about yours and Delevan’s rooms? Is there any chance your Father would store evidence there, that he collected?”

  A shadow crossed Miles’ face so quickly, I wondered if I imagined it.

  “We can look,” he said.

  “But you don’t want to?” I asked. “Is this too painful?”

  “It’s fine. And you’re right, we need to search those rooms just in case.”

  “I could search on my own,” I said.

  “No, let’s do it together,” Miles said. “Follow me.”

  I followed Miles up several sets of stairs until we reached the fourth floor.

  “So which room are we going to?” I asked.

  “Mine,” said Miles.

  “You really got a workout every day, living all the way up here,” I said.

  “I did, but wait until you see the view. It was worth it.”

  Miles opened a door, and I stepped into a large room. Miles waved and the drapes opened, letting in the winter sunlight. I walked to the center window and looked out.

  “Wow… that is some view.”

  All around were snowcapped mountains. We were up above the treetops, and the view of the mountains seemed endless. Looking down, I saw the snow-covered garden, the oak tree lined path through the forest, and a plume of smoke that must be from Uncle Mark’s cabin.

  “Climbing the stairs is definitely worth the view,” I said, turning from the window to look around the room. “Let’s start with the trunk.”

  I opened it and began sorting through the contents. I stopped suddenly, and looked at Miles.

  “This is yours,” I said, holding a worn and much used Bible, with his name written inside.

  Miles nodded.

  I looked at the Bible in my hand, then back at Miles.

  “Did... anyone else use this room after you?” I asked.

  “No,” said Miles. “Although my parents gave up the search to find out what happened that day in the clearing, they kept my room and Delevan’s exactly as they were the day we left them. No one has touched them since. There are plenty of rooms to choose from, I suppose no one felt there was a need to use ours. What you’re looking through right now, is the trunk that I used on my last trip. It was delivered after I was, well, gone.”

  “My goodness, Miles,” I said in dismay. “No wonder this is difficult for you. You never come here, do you.”

  “No,” he said. “It just… no, I never come here.”

  “Well come on,” I said, slamming the trunk shut. “We’re leaving. The longer I’m in here, the less I believe we’ll find anything useful, anyway.”

  Miles hesitated.

  “Come on!” I urged him. “It’s not like I can drag you out of here.”

  A smile flickered across Miles’ face at that thought, and he followed me out of the room.

  “If there is ever a place where you don’t want to go, or search, then tell me,” I ordered. “No trying to be Mr. Tough guy. You are tough, but come on, you don’t deserve to be tortured. So don’t let me, in my ignorance, do that to you.”

  “Okay,” Miles agreed. “No more torture. I’m all for that.”

  I led the way to Mission Control.

  “Let’s hang out in here,” I said. “It’s New Year’s Day anyway, it’s a holiday. What were we thinking, intending to work!”

  Miles looked much more like himself again. He coped so well, it was easy to think his semi-transparent state didn’t bother him, he just took it in stride. But the truth was, he lost so much. He lost everything. Seeing his old room brought all of that back.

  “How about checkers, ever play?” I asked, seeing the checkerboard on a low table near the fireplace. I sat in one of the chairs beside it.

  “Are you suggesting that we play?” he looked surprised and a little confused.

  “Yes, let’s do. If you know how, and want to.”

  “Okay… I thought you hated games, though.”

  “I do, I abhor them,” I said.

  Miles l
aughed, and looked even more confused.

  “What is this then, an attempt at penance? What can you possibly have done that’s so terrible?”

  “I’m not trying to pay penance for anything,” I laughed. “I thought with you, checkers might be fun. Don’t you think so?”

  “Yes… maybe. But at the first sign of misery, we stop,” he said, and I laughed again.

  “Okay, agreed,” I smiled.

  “Alright, then. I’ll set them up. I’m not convinced you aren’t trying to pay penance for something, though…”

  There was laughter in his eyes.

  “I’m not. I can’t imagine why you think that,” I said, as if I hadn’t spent several hours regaling him with tales of game-night misery.

  “I wonder,” he smiled too, then turned his attention to the checkers and checkerboard.

  “That is just too convenient, that superpower you have,” I said, as the checkers neatly marched to the appropriate places on the board. “You’ll have to teach me how to play though, I only vaguely remember.”

  “Alright then,” said Miles. “I’ll start, and tell you the rules as we go.”

  I would feel tortured if I were playing this game with anyone else, but with Miles it was different. I had fun, and it was a huge relief to see him smiling and laughing again.

  We played several games, and then moved on to dominoes. I asked if he knew how to play poker, since he travelled in the wild, wild west, and he laughed and said absolutely not.

  The time came to wake my sleeping dog, who was none too anxious to leave the warm fireside, and head back home.

  Miles and Trixie walked with us to the entryway as they did every day that we came to the castle, and I began the task of bundling up to brave the cold, dark, winter outdoors.

  We said goodbye, and Chip and I walked back to the cabin through the frigid evening air.

  “Brrr, it is really cold!” I said to Mom, as Chip and I hurried through the door. “Do you have a fire going?”

  “Well of course,” said Mom. “We’ve got to burn all that wood your Dad chopped, after all. We’d hate for him to feel unappreciated, wouldn’t we.”

  I shed my layers as quickly as possible, and knelt in front of the roaring fire. It was amazing how cold it got at night once the sun went down.

  “Here,” Mom said, handing me a mug of tea.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, wrapping my hands around it, and taking a sip. “Why is it that once you start to get warm, then the shaking starts?”

  “I don’t know honey, but that does happen, doesn’t it. “

  I’d have to ask Miles. I’ll bet he would know.

  “So how are the kids?” I asked. “It’s awfully quiet.”

  “Well, Tryon is sound asleep. We may be up late if he gets woke up, but I’m hoping he’ll sleep through the night. He missed taking a nap today. I took him outside and let him play in the snow for a while, and he wore himself out.”

  “How about Doree?” I asked, drinking more tea and appreciating the warmth.

  “She’s asleep, too. I’m looking forward to the day when the treatment she’s on starts to make her feel better. It’s a process. One that finally, we’re embarking on.”

  It was nice getting to chat with Mom for a minute. We ate dinner together and then went to bed, knowing if we did, that Tryon was less likely to wake up wide awake, and stay up the rest of the night!

  As I lay in bed wrapped in blankets and still shivering a little from the cold walk, I thought about Miles and the search we started on. I never imagined that his and Delevan’s rooms would be untouched after all these years.

  We absolutely had to find that evidence and free him. If Alfred managed to get himself appointed trustee, I could just imagine the sick tour he’d arrange for the resort he had planned. If Miles interfered and let his presence be known, then he’d have no peace whatsoever. Alfred would probably get the castle on an episode of Ghost Trackers, and the lies about Miles would be broadcast for the whole country, or anyone who watched that show anyway, to hear.

  It made me angry just thinking about it. Miles was quite possibly the nicest guy that ever lived, and what happened to him was just worse than wrong. Thinking of the further insult and injury Alfred would inflict if he had the chance, made me furious. I’d make sure he didn’t get that chance.

  Fresh snow powdered the ground as Chip and I made our way to the castle. We saw footprints made by a variety of animals and birds, and it was interesting trying to figure out which creature made them.

  The limbs of the deciduous trees looked as though they were covered in white velvet. Two doves sat together on a limb. It was picture worthy, so I took one with my iPhone.

  It was pretty cold though, and I was thankful to reach the castle.

  “Hi,” I said, as I walked in the door. Trixie was outside, and Chip stayed there with her.

  “Hi back,” Miles smiled, but he seemed a little distracted.

  “What’s up?”

  Something clearly was.

  “Alfred was here last night,” said Miles.

  “What happened?” I asked, as I began taking off my snow boots and other winter outerwear.

  “He was sneaking around outside the castle. I don’t know what he intended to do, but I sent him packing.”

  “How did you do that?”

  Miles couldn’t help smiling.

  “His car drove down the mountain without him, and he followed after it as fast as he could.”

  I laughed. I could just see it.

  “That’s too funny,” I said. “Serves him right, he’s no business being here.”

  “No, he hasn’t,” agreed Miles. “Unfortunately if Trixie or I don’t see or hear something, we’re not aware of it. We’ll both be paying attention though, in case he returns.”

  “If he does, I have a feeling he’ll decide the murderous ghost he wants to market along with the resort, isn’t a fan of his, and neither is his dog!”

  Miles laughed.

  “No kidding, Trixie and I could have all sorts of fun with that.”

  “It sure is strange though, isn’t it,” I mused. “Polly doesn’t know how Alfred found out her grandson was missing. But he did, and has been hanging around town. He’s been here twice that we know of, since her grandson was found.”

  “Are you thinking Alfred had something to do with his accident?” Miles asked with concern.

  I thought about that.

  “Maybe I do. The timing is just awfully peculiar.”

  “Well… I’m not sure he’ll show up again after the strange things that happened the last two times he was here, but if he does, I’ll follow him around and see if I can get any information.”

  “I’m probably experiencing a case of over-active imagination,” I admitted.

  “Still… if he does come back, I won’t send him hurtling down the mountain road until I figure out what he’s up to.”

  “Okay, good. And try and stay under the radar, because if he does get control of the castle, I don’t want him knowing you’re here. He would find ways to make your existence miserable, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

  “Alright. I’ll cause trouble in as subtle a way as possible,” Miles said.

  “Good,” I said. “So... on to the attic?”

  “On to the attic,” Miles agreed.

  After the long walk upstairs, Miles and I continued where we left off after our last search. The attic was huge, and jam-packed with such a vast assortment of furniture and other items. A museum would have a field day if they got ahold of even a small portion of its contents.

  “Are you quite sure your ancestors built this house to hold people, or was it for storing furniture and other things?” I asked, looking around for a moment at all of the places still left to search. “It looks like no one ever got rid of anything, they just put it in storage rooms and the attic.”

  “It’s excessive, isn’t it,” agreed Miles. “I hope Polly’s grandson pulls th
rough, and maybe he’ll do something better than leave all of this in storage. You could suggest that, as estate manager. I doubt he has any idea what’s in the castle, I didn’t realize myself, until I started searching with you.”

  I sneezed.

  “Bless you,” said Miles.

  “Thanks,” I said. Something was starting to get to me, allergies maybe.

  “So has Sarah’s poem triggered any memories yet?” I asked.

  “Not yet. I’ll keep trying to figure out what she meant. I hope it wasn’t something only Cynthia and Delevan knew.”

  Me too. How awful if that’s the case!

  We searched some more, and I sneezed several more times.

  “Do I need to dust again?” asked Miles.

  “I don’t think so, maybe I’m allergic to something. But it’s so cool how you can do that. Mom would love you, if she could see you that is, and got to know you, and you came over and cleaned once a week.”

  Miles laughed at that.

  “Interesting, I’d need to clean in order for your Mom to like me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “She’d love you if she just knew you, although she’d need to see you to do that. I just meant, what woman wouldn’t love to never have to dust again.”

  “How is Polly’s grandson, by the way?” asked Miles.

  “The same,” I said. “No better, no worse.”

  I pointed to the rafters, where an old bicycle with a huge front wheel hung.

  “That’s some bicycle. Did you ever ride one?”

  “No, that was after my time,” said Miles. “They weren’t very safe though, the Bannerman who owned it was thrown headfirst over the handlebars when he ran into a rut in the road.”

  “Yikes, was he hurt?” I asked.

  “He lived, but yeah, he was badly injured. That’s when the bike came to live in the attic.”

  “How did he go over the handlebars?” I wondered.

  “Well, look at how it’s made. If it ran into anything on the road, it would tip forward easily. With the handlebars in the way of the rider’s legs, he’s got nowhere to go but headfirst over the front of the bicycle. Later on, bikes were made so the rider’s legs went over the handlebars. That way, if they were thrown off they had a chance of landing on their feet, instead of their head.”