A Haunted Twist of Fate (4 page)

Colt reached out and placed his hand over hers. “I
believe, Shay, what we’ve got here is some kind of a haunted twist of fate.”

Six

As Shay explored the saloon basement later that
afternoon, she dug through boxes and crates to see what kinds of old treasures
she could find and thought about Colt and their exchange earlier that morning.
For some reason, they’d trusted each other with confidentialities that would
have normally had one or the other calling the sheriff, or someone with a
straight jacket. She wondered why that was.

Recalling his words,
a haunted twist of fate
,
gave her the willies. Was it possible that a spirit from beyond had somehow
brought the two of them together? He’d suggested that, in a roundabout way. She
didn’t know him from a hole in the wall. He could be as mad as a hatter.

Despite her reservations about getting involved with
anyone, she did like him. He seemed to like her, too. Before they’d parted,
he’d asked her out tonight to a chuck wagon supper and cowboy music show, of
all places. If she was going to be a local, he’d teased, there was no time like
the present to start acting like one. And he’d thought she’d enjoying meeting
some people since she was new in town. His kindness had touched her. And it was
true. She’d been feeling lonely since hitting the road a year ago.  She’d be
glad to meet some friendly people from the place she now called home.

One year ago, she never would have imagined ending
up in a small town in South Dakota, living in a historic saloon, coming
face-to-face with an apparition (if that’s what the woman had been) and getting
to know a real cowboy.

Shay had no idea what to think about ghosts and Colt’s
dream. What was even more disconcerting than him dreaming someone was being
strangled in her bedroom was that she’d felt hands wrapped around her throat for
those few seconds while in the presence of the blonde woman.

What did any of it mean? Why was Colt even involved?
Was it because he was a friend of the former owner? It was a mystery, but one
that wouldn’t be solved today.

She went back to her exploration.

Opening the lid of a cardboard box, Shay discovered
it was full of dusty bottles. Carefully removing them one by one, she held each
up to the single bulb hanging from the ceiling, which didn’t offer much light.
Most were beer bottles, but a few were labeled
Sarsaparilla
. Other
amber-tinted bottles carried peeling whiskey labels. Deciding they’d look good
upstairs as decor on the shelves behind the bar, she began to wipe them down
with a rag.

Touching the bottles carried her back in time. What
kind of men had bellied up to the Buckhorn’s bar and slapped down their coins
to order a beer or a whiskey? Miners and gamblers? Lawmen and gunfighters? Had
there been killers amongst the patrons of the saloon during its heyday? Shay
had no doubt. Every territory in the west had been wild in the 1800s, with the
Black Hills being one of the wildest. Everyone from Bill Hickok to Calamity
Jane had frequented the saloons in Deadwood. They’d probably spent time in this
town during their travels as well.

Thinking about the men who had drunk their libations
here piqued her curiosity about the women of that time period. Had saloon girls
worked at the Buckhorn, singing, dancing with the patrons, and flirting with
them, coaxing them into buying more drinks? Could the bedrooms upstairs have
been used for prostitution? The possible scenarios got her blood to pumping. She’d
have to do some research.

Thinking about doing research brought the pretty
face of the blonde to mind again. Had she been a saloon girl? An entertainer?  Or
had she sold her body to survive? She’d looked so young and innocent. The only
thing Shay knew was that she’d reached out begging for help.

That was the strange thing she couldn’t stop
thinking about. What kind of assistance did the woman need? How did one go
about helping a dead person, anyway? Maybe she was stuck in limbo waiting to go
into the light. There were a lot of TV programs showing mediums doing this sort
of thing—guiding ghosts into the light. Shay had never been interested in those
shows before. Now she wished she’d watched a few of them so she’d know what to
do.

She was gently placing the polished bottles back
inside the box when she heard footsteps above her. It sounded like someone
running across the wooden floor upstairs. Cocking her head, she jumped when a
peal of laughter rang out from the top of the stairs.

“Who’s there?” she called.

Carefully lowering the last bottle into the box, she
began advancing up the creaky basement steps and had the weirdest sensation
that someone watched her. This was the second time she’d had the feeling. The
hairs on her arm stood on end.

Twirling when she felt a gaze on her back, she lost
her hold on the rickety handrail and stumbled.  Luckily, she was able to catch
herself before falling.

“That was a close one,” she said aloud, while
placing a palm over her thumping heart.

Feminine giggles swirled around her head to startle her.
It was as if the giggling bounced off the walls from all directions, like
surround-sound. Her head jerked up just as the door at the top of the stairs
slammed shut.

“Colt?” she called as she crept the rest of the way
up the steps. Her fingers clutched the doorknob and she tried to rattle it, but
it was as if the door was frozen shut. “Someone please let me out!” She continued
to shake the knob. It didn’t budge. Perspiration beaded her forehead as she
shook it several more times.

More footsteps plodded in front of the door on the
other side and stopped. A shadow moved under the crack in the door. Shay held
her breath and placed her ear against the wood. Again, it was as if eyes bore into
her back, but she was afraid to turn around. Strongly sensing a male presence close
by, she wrinkled her nose.  Something smelled rank, like a dead animal.

“This isn’t funny,” she screamed, while banging on
the door with the palm of her hand.

The vein in her neck pulsed. More rattling of the
knob did nothing. She removed her hand and listened again. The laughter faded
into nothingness. The footsteps padded away. An eerie silence filled the space
around her.

When a hand suddenly yanked her hair, Shay shrieked
and instinctively grabbed for the knob again and pulled hard. This time the
door sprang open, and she fell through it onto the floor. Flipping onto her
back, she kicked the door shut with her foot.

Stumbling to her feet, she locked the door, planted
her back against it, and took a couple of deep cleansing breaths.  Then she heard
her cell phone ringing. She’d left her purse upstairs in the bedroom. With
rubbery legs that shook like gelatin, she took the stairs two at a time and
answered her phone on the fifth ring.

“Hello.” With her heart beating erratically, Shay
wilted onto the bed with the phone next to her ear.

“Hey. Sounds like you’ve been running. What’s
wrong?”

Though scared out of her wits, she could help but
smile while picturing Colt’s open face. When she’d given him her cell phone
number this morning, she hadn’t expected a call so soon. But she sure was glad
to hear his voice. “You won’t believe what just happened to me.”

“What?”

“Your grandfather’s friend, Frank. He’s so right. There
is definitely more than one spirit in this saloon.” Shay proceeded to tell Colt
what had just happened. “There’s a very angry ghost in the basement.”

“Do you want me to run over? I can, if you don’t
want to be alone.”

A knight in shining armor coming to her rescue was a
sweet gesture, but she just wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d been independent
for a long time and had learned men, with the exception of her dad, were not to
be counted on. Unfortunately, she’d trusted and been let down too many times. She’d
gotten used to handling life on her own.

“Hopefully that horrible thing will stay in the
basement.  I locked the door and don’t plan on returning any time soon.” After
asking Colt to hold, she listened and heard no more noises coming from downstairs.
“All is quiet again.  I’m fine,” she answered in truth.  The presence in the
basement
had
frightened her, but she was not about to lose her head and
behave like a silly girl. “I think these ghosts are testing the waters or playing
with me. I guess it’s been a long time since a living person has spent any time
here. They probably feel I’m invading their space.”

Colt chuckled. “Maybe.” She could imagine him
shaking his head, but she hoped he’d be shaking it because he admired her
courage and not because he thought her foolish or making things up. Oh, well. It
didn’t matter what he thought of her anyway.  It was time to change the
subject.  “I’m looking forward to this evening.” She placed a hand over her
chest and felt her heart rate had completely returned to normal.

“Me too. I’ll pick you up at five. In the meantime,
if you need anything at all, call me. I mean that. I’m here at your service.”

“All right.”

“You sure you’ll be okay this afternoon?”

“Yes, but thanks for being on the other end of the
phone at the right time. See you tonight.”

She flipped her phone shut and decided to take a hot
bath. As outdated as the bathroom was, she was simply happy to have one that
functioned. The room was small, and the old-fashioned claw-foot tub had been
stained from years of non-use. But she’d cleaned it with bleach first thing
yesterday and it looked new again. A bath would settle her nerves.

While strolling out of the bedroom to go draw the
water, Shay heard a rustling sound behind her. She paused and peeked back
around the door into the room. Her heart skipped a beat.  The curtain on the
window waved like a flag, despite there being no breeze.

Seven

When Colt knocked on the door at five o’clock sharp,
Shay was not surprised. She’d guessed he’d be on time. It was refreshing to
meet a man who was punctual—not that she was keeping a list of things she liked
about him.

Her breath hitched when she opened the door. Dressed
in black Levis, a black and white plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a black
Stetson, he looked every bit the essence of western masculinity. When he smiled
and cocked his hat with the tip of his finger in greeting, she literally
thought she might swoon.

Feeling as nervous as a girl about to go on her
first date, she felt her face heat when his gaze slid up and down her body,
taking in every inch of her and apparently enjoying what he saw.

He winked. “You look fantastic, Shay.”

Not knowing what one wore to a chuck wagon supper,
she’d gone shopping after her bath and chosen a short denim skirt, a white
fitted t-shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots she’d purchased at the boot shop
down the street.  She was also wearing a western belt with a silver buckle and
rhinestones and dangling earrings. She didn’t want to stand out as the outsider
she knew she was and hoped this outfit was appropriate, and not over the top.

“Thank you. Do you think people will believe I’m a
local?”

“Yep. The only thing missing is a cowboy hat. We’ll
take care of that later.”

We? She wondered at his turn of phrase as she locked
up.

“Any more unusual occurrences after I called this
afternoon?” he asked.

“No. I guess the ghosts wore themselves out
earlier.”

He escorted her to his pickup truck and opened the
door for her. Nice. She noticed the name of his business printed on the side—
Morgan
Realty
.

“How long have you sold real estate?” She climbed into
the cab, taking care not to let her skirt shimmy up, and snapped on the
seatbelt. She was hoping to guess his age without coming straight out and
asking him. She believed he was older than she was, but she wasn’t sure how
much older.

“About ten years,” he answered after jumping into
the driver’s seat and had backed away from the curb.

“And before that?”

“I’ve been involved in my family’s ranching business
since I was a kid.” He kept his gaze focused on the road as he talked and
drove. “I graduated college with a business management degree, concentrating on
agriculture, and was a labor agency manager for a couple of years. Then my
folks lost their ranch manager, so I did that for about seven years before
deciding to get into real estate.”

“Hmmm.” She quickly did the math.

He slid a sly grin at her. “I turned forty this
year, in case you were wondering.”

There he goes again, reading my mind.
“Are
you sure you’re not psychic, Colt? I was putting the numbers together.”

He laughed. “If I was psychic, I wouldn’t be curious
about your age, Shay.”

She smiled. “You know it’s not polite to ask a woman
how old she is.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why you have to throw me a
bone.”

“I’m thirty-three.”

“And never been married?”

She shook her head, not wanting to get into all
that. “No. I came close, but that was a long time ago. What about you?”