A Haunted Twist of Fate (16 page)

Colt was forty. He’d made it clear he had no
intentions of marrying again. She had no intention of entering into a
relationship in which she’d have to wonder if someone wanted her for who she
was or for her bank account. That much they had in common—feeling the same way
about relationships.

Shay flopped onto her bed, smiling with a sudden epiphany.
She and Colt were grown adults who were clearly physically attracted to each
other. He did not hide the fact that he wanted to have sex with her. Why should
she be any different? Women had the same needs and desires as men. A couple
didn’t need to be in a relationship to enjoy sex. Gary and Tom had proven that
people could pair off the same as animals, driven by one purpose only—physical
need. Lots of people made love with no strings attached. Why couldn’t she?

Twenty-Six

The sweet and tangy scent of warm cherry pie wafted
out from the kitchen and up the stairs. It was seven o’clock. Colt wasn’t due
for another hour, so Shay ran a tub of water, added scented oil, and slipped
out of her clothes. Her legs needed shaving and her hair washed. As she scrubbed
all her bits and pieces with liquid soap and moved the razor under her armpits,
her nerves began to dance.

Was she actually going to seduce Colt tonight? That
had never been her style, to make the first move on a man. Maybe that was
another reason Gary and Tom had both left her, she thought.
I wasn’t sexy or
seductive enough
.

Well, that was all going to change. Colt was going
to be the lucky guy. She’d show him just what kind of a wildcat she could be,
and give him one erotic night he’d never forget.

She sank lower into the tub. The hot water combined
with the oil soothed her muscles and helped her relax. Before long, her eyes
grew weary. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting sleep wash over
her.

* * * * *

Shay woke with a start, struggling to breathe. Ice-cold
hands gripped her throat, attempting to squeeze the air out of her lungs. Before
she could catch a breath, someone pushed her face down into the water. She
opened her eyes underwater and saw Callie leaning into the bathtub, holding her
down, with her own face twisted in anguish.

From below the slick bubbles, Shay heard her grit
out, “Ev…er...ett.”

Nearly out of breath, Shay kicked her feet and water
splashed over the sides as she jetted herself to the surface. “No,” she
gurgled, trying to pry the hands from her throat. When her gaze connected
directly with Callie’s, the spirit vanished.

Sputtering and coughing, Shay gripped the side of
the tub with one hand and massaged her neck with the other. She pulled the plug
and climbed out of the tub and hurriedly dried off.  Her gaze darted around the
bathroom. A peek into her bedroom assured her Callie was not waiting to ensnare
her again.

She’d just thrown on a robe and quickly toweled off
her hair when she heard a knock at the front door. The bedside clock read eight
o’clock. In bare feet, Shay limped down the stairs and flung open the door.

“Callie choked me,” she cried to Colt.

He pushed his way inside. “What? When?”

“Just now. Do you see marks on my neck?” She
stretched her neck out like a goose so he could inspect.

“No. Tell me what happened.” He took her arm and led
her further inside.

Shay explained. “I was taking a bath, and I guess I
fell asleep. I woke up and Callie was strangling me.  She tried to drown me.
Her face was twisted, and she spoke Everett’s name again.”

Sliding his hand under her wet hair, Colt examined
her throat again and announced there were no bruises, and no scratches or marks
of any kind.

“Does she want to kill me?” Shay asked. “How can I
help her if I’m dead?” Alarm turned to resentment. How dare this ghost continue
to assault her! “I’ve been doing my best to figure out what she wants, and this
is how she repays me?”

“That’s a helluva way to convince you to help,” Colt
answered with sarcasm.

Shay felt more confused than ever. Had Callie been
the one to choke Colt that night? She didn’t think so. That had been a male. Why
all the choking? Why was Callie angry with her?
Was
she angry? Or was
she simply trying to send her another message?

“I don’t think she really intended to hurt me,” Shay
decided after calming down.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what they call it where you
come from, but around here we consider strangulation the act of a homicidal
maniac. You should, too.”

“I believe she’s trying to tell me something.”

“Then why doesn’t she tell you already, instead of
wrapping her damned dead hands around your neck?”

Shay felt his frustration, but her mind was functioning
with more clarity now. “I don’t know, but I need to learn more about Everett. He’s
the key. I’ll go back to the historical society tomorrow and pick up where I
left off reading the newspaper articles. Hopefully I’ll find something that
will confirm a murder did take place here.”

“
If
there was a murder. You don’t have proof
of that yet.”

“No, but I intend to find it.”

Colt didn’t argue with her. Seemed he wanted to end
the conversation. As his gaze slid up and down her body, his mouth curved into
a grin and she realized how she was dressed—in a short silk robe, naked
underneath, with wet hair and bare feet. Her plan to seduce him wasn’t going as
expected, but he seemed willing to roll with whatever she had in mind.

“If you’re trying to turn me on,” he said, “you’re
doing an excellent job of it.” She followed his wide gaze to the cleavage popping
out of the folds of her robe.

This was the make it or break it moment. Colt looked
ready to sweep her into his arms and haul her upstairs like Rhett Butler. She
could go with it and release her inner vixen, as she’d convinced herself she
would, or she could serve him pie and ice cream and then say good night and go
to bed alone. She cinched the belt around her waist tight and pulled the robe
together. “I’m sorry, Colt.”

He chewed his lower lip and sighed—loudly. “I know
what you’re going to say. No need to apologize. It’s been a long day for both
of us.”  He blew air from his mouth like a horse would.  “Try to get some rest
tonight, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Disappointment seeped from his voice, which made her
feel bad, but not bad enough to stop him from leaving. It would have been a big
mistake to sleep with him tonight. Call her old fashioned, but she simply wasn’t
the kind of woman to jump into bed after a few dates. If he was the kind of man
who liked that type of woman, they weren’t right for each other. 

Neither of them mentioned dessert.  It seemed ridiculous
to offer him pie now.

“Do you still want me to go to your brother’s
birthday party with you?” she asked as he skulked to the door.

“Sure. Mama’s counting on it.”

Mama was counting on it, but what about him? She
didn’t want to ask. “Okay, then. Guess I’ll still go.”

He stepped outside and told her he’d pick her up at
six o’clock tomorrow night. No kiss and no mention of getting together during
the day tomorrow. He didn’t even wave after he’d gotten into the truck. Just
drove away.

She sneezed from her wet hair and glared at his
taillights fading into the night. Maybe a one-night stand was what he’d been
interested in after all.  She locked up, covered the pie with tin foil, and struggled
to tamp down the longing twisting in her heart as she climbed the stairs and
crawled into bed alone.

Twenty-Seven

After a restless night, Shay rose early the next
morning and dressed.  She was anxious to put the previous evening behind her
and start a new day with a fresh attitude. She had no regrets when it came to
her decision about Colt. She had to remain true to herself, and that meant
holding out for true love, or steering clear of men altogether. Since she
didn’t believe in true love anymore, it was better to keep her distance from
Colt, no matter how good looking he was or how great he smelled, or how sweet
he could be.

She’d go to Colt’s parents’ house with him tonight,
but once the party was over, she’d tell him they couldn’t see each other
anymore. She’d miss him, but the sadness of loss would pass. It had before. He
wasn’t interested in anything but a fun time, and being used wasn’t her idea of
fun. She’d been there, done that.

Today, the plan was to delve back into the binder of
newspapers at the historical society. Callie’s trouble obviously had to do with
Everett, whoever he was. Being murdered seemed problematic enough, but there
must be more, Shay thought. Callie had originally asked her for help. It was
still to be seen what kind of help was needed. Everett was involved. That much
Shay knew for sure.

Maybe Everett hadn’t been caught and punished for
his crime. Maybe Callie sought justice before she could move on to the next
world. That had to be it. There seemed to be no other explanation.

Shay crossed through the saloon and heard the low
murmurs of the invisible men bellied up to the bar.  The slapping down of cards
and clinking of coins at the tables sounded clearer than ever. The sensation of
walking through a crowded room was becoming more familiar, but it still sent
chills rippling through her body.

Doris was at the front desk when Shay stepped into
the old schoolhouse. “Good morning, Doris. Are you feeling better? Your husband
told me you were down with a migraine the other day.”

“Yes, I’m much better. Thanks for asking, dear.”

“Do you still have that binder of newspapers under
the counter? I haven’t finished my research, and I have some time to kill this
morning.”

“Of course.” Doris pulled the binder up and flopped
it onto the counter.

“Thank you.” Shay hauled it to the back room and
began flipping through the pages from the point where she’d left off before,
but skimming the headlines only. This time she wouldn’t read every column on
each page. If a woman’s trip to Deadwood had made front-page news, surely a
young woman’s murder would have. That’s what she’d look for.

An hour and a half later, there it was in black and
white, confirming what she had suspected. The date read September 25, 1885.

GIRL MURDERED BY
TRANSIENT COWBOY

In the early morning hours of September
24 Sheriff John Manning was summoned to the Buckhorn Saloon by owner/barkeep,
Dean Averill, who informed him of two deaths that had occurred on the premises.
According to Mr. Averill, Miss Callie Hayes, was strangled to death in one of
the upper level rooms by a transient cowhand by the name of Everett Rawlins.
Miss Hayes, aged twenty, had been employed as an entertainer at the Buckhorn. Mr.
Rawlins was twenty-five years old, according to a birth record found amongst his
belongings. He most recently worked at the Bar T Ranch, pursuant to foreman,
Bernard Davies of the Bar T. Rawlins was found shot to death on the floor of
the same upper-floor room.

When questioned by Sheriff Manning, Mr.
Averill stated that another employee had heard people arguing. When Averill
burst into the room to investigate, he discovered Rawlins accosting Miss Hayes.
When Rawlins drew his gun, Averill shot in self-defense, thus ending Rawlins’
life with one bullet to the heart. Unfortunately, Averill was moments too late
to save Miss Hayes, as the young woman was already deceased.

Hayes and Rawlins were buried in the
Black View Cemetery.

Shay closed the binder, having learned nothing she
didn’t already know or suspect, except that Everett Rawlins was definitely
buried somewhere in the Black View Cemetery and Frank’s grandfather had killed
him for attacking Callie. That news was not altogether surprising since Dean
had owned the place.

Poor Callie. Hers was too young a life to have been
snuffed out by some violent cowboy. If only Dean had barged into that room a
few moments earlier. Maybe Callie would have survived to become and wife and
mother and live a long life.

Shay wondered if Frank knew this story. Surely he
did. It was significant enough to have been passed down through the family
history. If so, why hadn’t Frank mentioned it yesterday? His mind was going,
she reminded herself. He probably couldn’t remember what he’d had for breakfast
that morning.

Returning the binder, Shay said goodbye to Doris and
stepped into the sunshine, pleased to have confirmed a few things, while
knowing there were just as many questions still left unanswered. As she walked
back toward the Buckhorn, she heard someone yell her name. Waving her arm from
inside a blue Buick was Opal, Frank Averill’s nurse. Shay waved back.

“Hold up,” Opal called. She whipped her car into the
nearest parking space. The car seemed to groan when she lifted her bulk out and
slammed the door.

“Morning,” Shay greeted. “Is it your day off?”