The Haunting of Autumn Lake (9 page)

There were other kinds of people that nice people tried to ignore too, and Gentry’s heart knew an angry moment for the sake of his own memories. Still, the soothing sound of Autumn’s voice softened his anger quickly enough.

“Ritt and Cat were happy lovers and for a very long time,” she sighed. She looked at him again, and he saw her eyes go from blue to gray as her smile faded. “They were happy, that is, until Elliot Tyler rode into town lookin’ for Ritt. You see, Elliot Tyler was the boss man that had sent Ritt away in order to keep him away from his daughter. But you see…somethin’ had gone on back at the ranch where Ritt used to work.”

Gentry smiled as he watched Autumn’s cheeks pink up. “What went on?” he prodded. Oh, he’d figured what had gone on—it hadn’t been hard. But for some reason he liked to make the girl squirm.

“Well, something,” was all she said. “Somethin’ that found the rancher’s daughter to bein’ in the family way,” she managed. She blushed a deeper shade of red, and Gentry’s smile broadened.

“Oh,” he said. “You mean
that
kind of somethin’,” he chuckled.

“Yes,” she admitted, glancing away quickly. “
That
kind of somethin’. But that wasn’t the end of everything. You see, Cat Russell knew Elliot Tyler! You know, the rancher who had sent Ritt away? It seems that when she had been a young girl, Elliot Tyler had…you know…it seems that Cat Russell had found her own self in the family way because of Elliot Tyler. Her baby had died at birth, but her love affair with Elliot Tyler had ruined her all the same. But Elliot Tyler didn’t want anyone knowin’ about his past where Cat Russell was concerned. So one night, he snuck into the room that Cat and Ritt were sharin’.” Autumn lowered her voice, leaned forward, and whispered, “Cat and Ritt were sharin’ a room…and a bed…even though they’d never married.”

Gentry shook his head, feigning astonishment. The girl was too entertaining! Her eyes were as big supper plates—and as sparkling with mischief as any diamond ever was.

“Elliot Tyler snuck into the room where Cat and Ritt were sleepin’…and while they slept…he slit their throats with a big knife!” Autumn told him. Running her hand across her throat, she made a noise like a throat slitting and exclaimed, “Slice! Just like that! He slit them ear to ear and then watched them both bleed out on their bed and die!”

Gentry again shook his head, but this time he was truly amazed. “That’d be a gruesome way to go, wouldn’t it?”

“It would, Mr. James,” Autumn agreed. “And that’s why they hung Mr. Elliot Tyler. They didn’t even give him a trial. You see, even though Cat had taken up with Ritt when he’d arrived in town, all the men in town still loved her too. So they lynched Elliot Tyler. They strung him up in a big oak tree, slapped his horse on the haunch, and hanged him. The only thing was Elliot Tyler’s neck didn’t break.” Autumn shook her head. “No, sir. That mob of men who lynched him? They just stood there and watched Elliot Tyler strangle to death. They watched him kick and struggle and choke for near to ten minutes before he finally died. Then they cut him down and buried him in the old graveyard just outside of town.”

“So…this Elliot Tyler…he’s this ghost you were talkin’ about?” Gentry asked.

But Autumn shook her head. “No, sir…he is not. Ritt Houston is the Specter, Mr. James. He and Catherine Russell are buried out there in the old graveyard too. But it seems that since Ritt died first, he somehow doesn’t know that Elliot Tyler was hanged. And every two years—every other harvest season—he rises from his earthen grave…and rides his black horse hither and yon, lookin’ for Elliot Tyler…lookin’ for his revenge. Folks say he’s lookin’ for Cat too. Some say when he sees a woman with long dark hair, the Specter mistakes her for Cat, his lover…and tries to spirit her away with him.”

Gentry watched as Autumn braided her hair, tied it with a small ribbon she’d pulled from her apron pocket, and left the long raven braid hanging over her left shoulder. She was such a pretty girl, such an innocent girl. For a moment, Gentry James wished he was worth something—instead of being worth nothing.

“Have you ever seen him?” Gentry asked.

Autumn sighed with disappointment. “No. Never,” she admitted. “Though I sometimes think I’m the only girl in town who hasn’t. And that’s not at all fair, since I’m the one who most wants to.”

“You want to see this cowboy ghost?” Gentry asked, obviously astounded. “What in the world for?”

Autumn shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Because he’s a ghost, I suppose. Not that I believe in ghosts. But then again…too many strange things go on in the world for me not to believe in them.”

Gentry smiled, and his dimples caused Autumn to sigh.

“So you all have your own legend here…like the headless horseman in a book I read once,” Gentry offered.

“Oh, no!” Autumn countered, feeling very protective of the local specter. “Our ghost is vastly different than Mr. Irving’s headless horseman.”

“Sounds the same to me. Your ghost rides around town, scarin’ the waddin’ out of folks and lookin’ for someone to spirit away,” Gentry said.

“Oh, they’re vastly different, Gentry James,” Autumn argued, however. “For one thing, our ghost has a head.” Gentry chuckled, and Autumn was glad she’d made him happy. “Furthermore, he only rides out every two years. And usually, then, it’s only if someone disturbs his rest.”

“Oh, I see,” Gentry mumbled.

“Yes…when the sun sets and the moon is high in the dark night sky, folks see the Specter sometimes. Sometimes they seem him out in a cornfield…or near the old covered bridge.” Autumn leaned forward once more. “If you happen to be lucky enough to be near the old bridge when the Specter is about, you’ll know he’s comin’…for the bullfrogs will quick croakin’…and the wind will moan through the old bridge, warnin’ you that the Specter is ridin’ your way.”

Gentry smiled at the girl—tried to ignore the desire his body was feeling. “You tell a mighty fine tale, Miss Autumn Lake,” he said.

“Why thank you, Mr. Gentry James,” she giggled.

She smiled at him, and an odd thought traveled through his mind as he was suddenly distinctly aware of all the tastes and scents and scenes of the harvest season—apples and cinnamon, pumpkin pie, a big yellow moon low in the sky, the scent of piñon and cedar burning in the hearth, lending a soothing, smoky aroma to the air. And as his mind and senses reflected on all the beauties harvest gifted the senses, he wondered if Miss Autumn Lake tasted as divine as the season she was named for did. He wondered if she smelled as warm and alluring. Just as autumn itself was stunning—with its warm and vibrant colors of orange, crimson, gold, and plum—it was obvious Autumn Lake was just as beautiful. Her hair was the color of an autumn midnight and her eyes the color of an autumn sky. Her smile soothed him in much the same way the cider her daddy had brought to him days ago had—and Gentry James wondered if Autumn Lake tasted as sweet and delicious as the apple roll her mother had sent for his breakfast.

“I just hope I get to see him someday…if he really does exist, that is,” she said. “I think it would near stop my heart cold, mind you…to look off in the distance and see the Specter cowboy ridin’ over the horizon…his long, white, bloodied death rags flowing behind him in the breeze.”

“Bloodied death rags?” Gentry asked.

“Mm hmm,” Autumn said, nodding. “Ritter Houston and Catherine Russell bled out on their bed. It was such a mess the townsfolk simply wrapped them up in the bloodied sheets and buried them that way. It’s said the Specter tore the sheet he was buried in to shreds when he escaped his grave the first time. But since they were bloodied, the blood had soaked to his skin and bones…and therefore his restless soul.”

Gentry shook his head and chuckled. “And just how old were you the first time someone told you this story?” he asked. It was a rather gruesome tale, and he didn’t like the idea of young children been privy to such a thing. He’d spent his entire childhood being scared into behaving. He hoped the parents in town didn’t use the story of the Specter to keep their children in line.

Autumn shrugged. “Oh, maybe eight the first time…though my mama and daddy would have had a fit if they’d caught me eavesdroppin’ on my brother Cole when he was tellin’ his girl about it one night while he was sparkin’ her on the back porch.” She looked to him and smiled again. “I was twelve when I heard it the first time from my daddy…but he only told it to me because I kept beggin’ him to.”

Again Gentry James smiled, revealing the deep dimples in his cheeks—and again Autumn sighed with delight.

“Well, Miss Autumn…that sure is quite a story,” he said. “The Specter, huh? And you thought you saw him at the window a while ago…in broad daylight?”

“Um…um…yes. I suppose my imagination is playin’ tricks on me again,” Autumn stammered. Her smile faded a little—her joy having been squelched by the memory of Riley Wimber looking in through the window at her.

“Well, it was a good story all the same,” Gentry said as he struggled to stand. “But I’m feelin’ a bit stiff, so I best be takin’ a turn around the room.”

Autumn glanced to the window once more, relieved to see that Riley Wimber and his friends were no longer loitering on the other side of it.

“I’m so glad to see you’re feelin’ better,” she said as she watched Gentry walk to the other side of the room. “We were all so worried that you’d…” Autumn paused, not even wanting to think of the death of Gentry James.

“You were all worried there’d be two cowboy specters hauntin’ around town?” he teased.

“Well, no…of course not,” Autumn assured him.

He chuckled and sighed, “Nope. I’m afraid I’m well on the mend. Though I might be winterin’ around here somewhere if William Jones don’t keep his word and send me some wages.”

“Well, if you do winter here…we have a lovely harvest season,” Autumn told him, as hope that he would stay leapt in her heart. “And the county fair is worth stayin’ for all by itself. Autumn is beautiful here, Mr. James.”

“I can already see that it is,” he said, grinning at her. “Now tell me some more about this cowboy specter. I have half a mind to sit out in the cornfield and wait to see him myself.”

Autumn sighed with pleasure. She’d do nearly anything to linger in Gentry James’s company a little longer—and away from Riley Wimber’s.

Chapter Six

Autumn could see that Gentry was weary. Even though he was mending well, and quickly, he need as much rest as he could get while he could get it. She’d been with him for nearly two hours, during which she’d told him not only the story of the Specter but also other little tidbits about the town, its people, her family—so many things. She knew she’d probably talked his ears to ringing and kept expecting him to just settle down in his bed and drift off to sleep the way he had the other times she’d lingered in keeping him company.

He didn’t lie down in his bed, however, but rather kept pacing the room like a caged animal. Still, Autumn knew his body needed rest. Therefore, she knew she had to leave him to it. It was obvious he was not going to be able to rest with her in the room. The realization saddened her, for she so loved to watch him sleep and to sketch him without his knowing. But she was glad that he was regaining his strength—healing. And for that reason, she knew she must leave him.

“Well,” Autumn said, gathering her sketchbook and rising from the chair she’d been sitting in for some time. “I suppose I should be on my way so you can rest now. You’ll wear yourself out pacin’ the room like that.”

His deep blue eyes did reflect a great fatigue. Thus, inhaling a deep breath of resolve to do what was best for him, Autumn started toward the door.

It was a strange feeling that rinsed over her the moment she closed the door behind her. Autumn was suddenly awash with disappointment and a sense of loneliness. It was ridiculous, of course—for she had everything she’d always had before she’d met Gentry James. She still had her family, her friends, her Uncle Dan and Aunt Myra. She still had Jethro and her lovely walks through September’s early autumn splendor. But something was changing in her. She sensed it very strongly. Furthermore, whatever it was that was changing in her was leaving her with a feeling of being unsettled—rather the same sort of feeling of being wound like a top, as Gentry had put it. She wondered if a visit to the old oak to collect acorn hats would prove restful to her soul. Or perhaps she should make another sketch of Jethro. Whichever she chose, Autumn knew she needed to walk—to walk and meander until the feeling of disquiet began to lessen.

“Well, hey there, pretty Autumn Lake.”

Instantly the hair on the back of Autumn’s neck prickled. At the sound of Riley Wimber’s voice, Autumn’s stomach began to churn.

“Good mornin’, Riley,” she said, however, looking up to see Riley Wimber, his brother Fletcher, and Carter Owens standing in front of her. She straightened her posture and tried to look unaffected as the three young men surrounded her on the walkway in front of Doctor Sullivan’s house.