A Haunted Twist of Fate (7 page)

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. “I know.
I’m not looking to be involved in a permanent relationship, but I’m not going
to say I regret kissing you.”

She was glad to hear that, about the kissing part. She
hadn’t regretted it either. But what did he mean by not being interested in a
relationship? That he’d only wanted to sleep with her tonight? No strings
attached? She wasn’t like that. A one-night stand years ago had been one too
many.  Two disastrous relationships after that were exactly why she couldn’t
let this go farther. Colt was nice, but Gary and Tom had seemed nice, too. Both
of them had fooled her into thinking they loved her when all they’d cared about
had been her father’s money. She wouldn’t open her heart to that kind of
betrayal again.

Colt stepped back.  “On second thought, I withdraw
the invitation to stay at my place tonight.”

She tilted her head. That had been a quick change of
mind. Probably because she hadn’t jumped at the chance to hop into bed with
him.  Nevertheless, she chuckled and felt her body relax. “Is that so?”

He smiled a lopsided smile. “Yeah. I do have a guest
room you could stay in, but the first time you spend the night with me, it’s
going to be
your
idea. And you
won’t
be sleeping in the extra
room. You’ll be in my bed with me all night.”

Shay stared at him for what seemed like an eternity.
What a cocky son of a gun he was. The look behind those green eyes was one of
confidence and pure determination. He was obviously a guy who knew what he
wanted and had the patience to wait for it. He came on strong, but his honesty
was refreshing. A burning sensation spread through her torso, and her heart
picked up its pace. Without thinking, she lifted the Stetson off his head and
plowed her hand through his hair. “You’ve got yourself a deal, cowboy.”

Colt took the hat from her hand and set it back on
his head.  Then he put his hands on her hips and gave her one more peck on the
lips. He turned and strutted to the front door.  “I think we’d better call it a
night, darlin’ before I do something I
will
regret. I’m going home to take a cold shower.”

The joke was the perfect ending to the evening. She
laughed and gently pushed him out the door; confused, because she was relieved
the pressure to make love was off, but also sorry to see him go.

“I did have a good time tonight, Colt. Thank you.”

He tipped his hat. “As did I.”

“Ghosts and all?”

He hesitated before answering, “Ghosts and all. I’ll
see you again soon.”

“All right.”

“Promise you’ll call if those . . . well, if you get
scared. Anytime, day or night. I’ll come runnin’ if you need me.”

She liked that and had no doubt he meant it. “I
promise.”

“Night.”

“Good night.”

After sauntering to his truck, he opened the door
and stood on the running board staring back at her. She was thinking about how
he’d called her darlin’. No one had ever called her that before. His intense gaze
pulled her from her ruminations.  “What?”

“You’re awfully pretty standing there in the
moonlight.”

A thrill of emotion coursed through her. She smiled
and waved goodbye.

After watching his taillights disappear down the
street, she locked up and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.  Her head
was dizzy with conflicting sensations. She’d had a great time tonight and had
enjoyed meeting Colt’s family, who seemed absolutely normal and fun. But she
knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. She’d learned that the hard
way, having been engaged twice, only to learn the truth about the intentions of
both men, just in the nick of time.

Something hinted Colt was nothing like either Gary
or Tom, but his good looks and pleasant temperament would not be enough to make
her want to take another chance on love. Or to crawl into bed with him.

She flipped on the kitchen light. This room was also
in need of a modern update, but it was functional and included the basics,
which was all she required right now.  After filling a glass with tap water,
she exited the kitchen and walked past the piano. Stopping, she plunked a few
of the keys with her finger. It was obviously out of tune, sounding tinny. She
wondered whether the piano had been here as long as the saloon.

“Which one of you spirits was playing this a while
ago?” she asked rhetorically.

Her gaze drifted across the room. Both she and Colt
had smelled the cigar smoke and heard poker chips clinking together on the
tables. It had been just like last night when she’d heard the shuffling of
cards out here. It was obvious the gambling hadn’t stopped in this saloon
simply because the players were dead. The game playing by those spirits who
minded their own business didn’t bother her.  The bad guy was another story. What
were his intentions?

Sensing no further danger tonight, and feeling calm,
she switched off the saloon lights and carried her glass upstairs to the
bedroom. Even though he hadn’t admitted it, she knew Colt had seen the young
woman in her window.

Would she still be inside waiting for her?

Eleven

With no more paranormal activity as distraction,
Shay had gone to bed early, as she didn’t have a television yet and had been too
wound up to read. Along with being haunted by thoughts of ghosts, dreams of Colt
and his kiss had kept her tossing throughout the night.

Although not refreshed, she woke the next morning
anxious to begin delving into the mystery of the ghostly woman’s identity. She
decided to begin her search at the historical society. Having called the
Visitors Center as soon as it opened, someone there had told her where the
historical society was located, in a circa 1900 schoolhouse at the end of the
street.

After coffee and a bagel, she started the short
hike. The morning was crisp and sunny, which might have been the reason so many
people had bounces in their steps. As strangers smiled and nodded good morning
while passing her on the sidewalk, she had no regrets about the decision to
settle here.

Of course, it wasn’t just the friendly people that
had her smiling. She’d had no idea she’d meet a man like Colt when she made the
side trip to this town. Now that she had, she couldn’t help but wonder if their
meeting had been happenstance, or if there was more to their connection as he’d
suggested. Even though she tried, and knew it would be for the best, she
couldn’t get him or his kiss out of her mind.

Realizing she didn’t even know which end of town
Colt’s office was located, she began paying attention as she passed by
storefronts, hoping it was on this end of the street. Three blocks down she
stopped in front of it.

Printed across the door was his name—
Morgan
Realty
. No lights were on inside. His pickup wasn’t parked on the street. She
glanced at her watch. Eight-thirty. Maybe he was at the Golden Spike having
pancakes. That image made her grin. She considered leaving a note but decided
against it. She didn’t want to be pursued. However, if there ever were going to
be any pursuing, he’d be the one to do it, not her.

Two more blocks down, the schoolhouse came into
view. It was a charming two-story structure with Victorian architecture. Painted
white, a bell tower protruded from the roof and a wide bank of stairs led to
the front door, with a sign above it reading:
Historical Society and Museum
.

A curly-headed woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses, a
lavender blouse, a long denim skirt and stodgy looking shoes greeted her once
she was inside. The lady looked to be of retirement age and was eager to be of
assistance.

“Welcome. My name is Doris Rockwood. Are you here to
visit the museum, or can I help you with something else?”

Shaking her extended hand, Shay introduced herself. “Hello.
My name’s Shay Brennan. I’m new in town. I just purchased the Buckhorn Saloon
and I’ve come to see what kind of information I can find on the history of it.”

“The saloon, you say?” The woman seemed intrigued. “Follow
me, dear. I can steer you in the right direction.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. Rockwood.”

“Please, call me Doris.”

Shay had hoped finding some history on the saloon
would be a fairly straightforward project, but this might be even easier than
she’d expected. Her ribcage inflated with eagerness. But when Doris led her
into a large back room, her lungs deflated. Stacks and stacks of books filled
floor-to-ceiling shelves. How would she ever find what she was looking for in
here?

Doris chuckled, evidently noticing Shay’s dropped
jaw. “Don’t worry.  I’ll help you track down what you’re looking for. Believe
it or not, there’s a method to the madness in here, and I’m one of the few
people who knows how to decipher it.” She moved to a wooden cabinet that was
sitting under a stained glass window and began pulling out small drawers.

“Is that a card catalog?” Shay asked, stepping to
her side.

“It sure is. There aren’t many card catalogs in use
anymore these days. Not since computers came on the scene. But this is a small
town, and our organization is a non-profit, so we don’t have a lot of money to
work with. We’re supposed to be updating to computers within the next year or two,
but for now, this is what we have to work with.”

Shaking her head, Shay thought her desire to learn
the history of the Buckhorn was a lost cause, but Doris started thumbing
through cards and setting them on the table top next to her in quick order. “I was
a librarian for forty-three years in Springfield, Illinois before retiring here
five years ago. I know what I’m doing.”

“I grew up in Illinois, too,” Shay said. “In a
suburb near Chicago.”

Doris stopped and cocked her head. “You don’t say? Isn’t
that a coincidence?”

Guess it didn’t matter much to Doris how Shay had
come to reside in this town or why she’d wanted to buy the saloon, because she
asked no questions and offered no further details on her own life in the
Midwest. Her eyeglasses were perched on the tip of her nose, which was buried
deep in the drawers of cards.

A half-dozen cards later, Doris slammed the drawers
shut, snatched the cards off the table and said, “Come with me.”

Shay was amazed when Doris started pulling material
off the shelves and filling her arms. “You can sit at one of these work
tables.”  She referred to two long wooden tables. “There’s a lot of light in
this room, and the chairs are fairly comfortable.”

Books about the history and early residents of the
town were unloaded onto the table where Shay had dropped her purse.

“Be right back,” Doris chirped, trotting into an
adjoining room. A few minutes later, she returned carrying a large binder in
her hands. “This is full of newspapers dating back to the late 1880s. Eighteen
eighty-five was the year the Buckhorn was built, if memory serves.”

“That’s correct.”  Shay was thrilled with Doris’s
efficiency and helpfulness, and her knowledge about her adopted hometown.

Doris dropped the binder onto the table and it
landed with a thud. Just like in a movie, dust spiraled into the air, causing
Shay to sneeze. Doris laughed. “As you can see, this binder hasn’t seen the
light of day in years. This one has newspaper articles from the years 1885 and
1886, so I figured it’s a good place for you to start. Good luck finding what
you’re looking for. I’ll be in front if you need me.”

Shay stopped her before she could leave the room. “Thank
you so much for locating this material for me. It should keep me busy for a
while. I wonder if I can bother you with one more request.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. What is it you
need?”

“Would you know if there’s any information on local
ghosts?”

Doris didn’t bat an eye. “It’s common knowledge that
there are ghosts roaming all over the Black Hills. Which ones are you
specifically referring to?”

“Those haunting the Buckhorn Saloon.”

Doris placed a finger on her lips and tapped while
she contemplated. “Hmmm. I don’t know anything about spirits in the saloon. Our
local authors haven’t written any books about them that I know of. Brenda
Preston would probably be the person to talk to. Or Frank Averill. He could
probably tell you some stories. His father owned the place, and his father
before him, I believe.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. I hope to meet Mr. Averill
when he’s feeling better. I understand he’s elderly and ill. I’m curious about
Brenda Preston. Who is she?”

“A psychic medium. Quite a good one, from what I
hear. I’ll give you one of her business cards. I have a few in my desk.”

Twelve

A psychic? Shay chuckled and took a seat at the
table as Doris walked briskly to the front room. She returned and handed Shay a
colorful business card.  “Brenda lives right here in town.  Her cell phone
number is listed there.”