Wild West Hauntings, page 13
“I’m sorry you won’t have a chance to visit with her over the holiday.”
“It’s all right.” Marianne shrugged. “She said she’d come visit once everything clears up.”
“Damn.” Billy, one of the older ranch hands that happened to be walking by during their conversation, stopped and shook his salt and pepper hair colored head. “Thought I was safe there for a moment.”
“Aw, Billy, does my grandmother make you nervous?” Marianne chuckled.
“Truthfully? Yes, she does. I’m not used to women being that blatantly open about their sexuality and what they want.”
“Perhaps you should just let her have her way with you.”
Billy’s cheeks, over his dark stubbled chin, paled. “I…” He gulped. “I don’t know about that. If you’ll excuse me?” He hurried off without waiting to hear their answer.
“Poor guy. Nonna has such a crush on him, and when she’s here, chases him relentlessly.”
“Sounds like something someone else I know would do,” Rachel joked.
“Ha, ha.” Marianne handed her a roll. “Let’s help get this place cleaned up.”
****
Later in the day, the recreation room—all put back together—looked as if nothing paranormal had happened in it that morning.
Bristol breathed a sigh of relief.
“See?” Damon murmured behind her. “Everything’s working out fine. Nothing to worry your pretty little head over.” He embraced her and rubbed his hands over the area that safely cradled their son.
“I just want the evening to be perfect.”
“I know you do, darlin’, and we’ll all do our best to make sure things go as you and I planned.” He looked around. “Shouldn’t the pastor be here by now?”
As his question hung in the air, the doors to the lodge opened. A short and stocky man with light brown hair strolled in. His powder blue polo shirt and tan trousers looked crisp and sharp against his slightly tan skin. Brown eyes twinkled. Laugh lines creased his face.
Bristol smiled. She felt blessed to have found such a personable man who was available for a Christmas Eve service. “There he is.” She strolled over to him, hand outstretched. “Pastor Ryan, so glad you could make it today. And, again, thank you for agreeing to perform our ceremony.”
“You’re quite welcome, Ms. Ashcombe.” He shook her hand and nodded at her man. “Damon.”
“Pastor.” He returned the head bob. “Bristol, I’m gonna go track down Cassie and Dak, and we’ll meet you in the conference room.”
“All right. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“So this is the space?” the pastor inquired as Damon walked away.
“Yes.” Putting the images of the room’s destruction that morning out of her mind, she concentrated on sharing her vision. “We plan to stand in front of the fireplace. Thought it would be a nice spot to exchange our vows. The chairs and couches will be rearranged for proper viewing and a center aisle for me to walk down. This room will be decorated in Christmas colors and real greenery. Then the dining room will be set up for the reception.”
“It all sounds lovely, Bristol. Shall we go into the meeting now?” He swept an arm out inviting her to lead while in his other hand he grasped a leather satchel.
“Please follow me.”
She led him down the hall near the office to the back of the building where the family’s private offices and a small conference room were. Cassie, Dakota and Damon were already in the last room in the hall, sitting at the round table. An empty chair sat to the left of Damon followed by Cassie, her maid of honor, on the end. Dakota, Damon’s best man, sat to Damon’s right. Another chair was available across from them. She directed the pastor to sit in it and then took her place between Damon and her best friend.
Sunlight streamed in through the one window in the room, highlighting the dust coating the bookcase filled with wide binders—years of business records from the ranch—that framed the pastor sitting at the table. Family photographs and plants lined the tops of the cases. Bristol shook her head. They should’ve had someone come in and clean the room. But then, one of the things about living in the Las Vegas area was living with the constant dust.
Pastor Ryan placed the briefcase he carried on the table and removed a book from it. He opened it to a marked section. “Bristol. Damon. Are you still interested in the traditional vows?”
“Traditional?” Cassie asked, glancing at Bristol.
She caught her friend’s puzzled gaze. “Yes. Damon and I thought using standard vows would be the easiest.”
“You mean as in love, honor, and obey?”
Cassie, not now. Please. She hoped her eyes as she stared in desperation at her friend conveyed the message.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Dakota shifted in his seat and tossed a narrow-eyed glare at Cassie.
“Nothing, as long as Damon has to say ‘obey,’ too.” Cassie matched her boyfriend’s expression and seemed to ignore her best friend.
“And why would Damon have to mind her?” Damon’s older brother jerked a thumb in Bristol’s direction. “After all, doesn’t it say somewhere in the bible that the woman has to submit to the man? Isn’t that right, padre?”
Cassie’s lips straightened into two thin, pale pink lines. Her blue eyes darkened.
Oh, no. Bristol put a hand up and tossed an I’m sorry glance to the pastor. She knew where their line of bickering was going. They’d been arguing for weeks about equality in relationships, gender roles and who should do what in partnerships and marriage. And considering what the two of them liked to do behind closed doors, it was no wonder they hadn’t solved their issues of dominance and submission, the give and take that occurs in a healthy relationship. “Guys, not now. Please.” With a deep sigh, she lowered her hand. “Damon and I aren’t going that traditional. Pastor Ryan, if you’d please let us know how the ceremony will go and read what we did pick, that’d be great.”
His perplexed gaze flitted from one of them to the other.
Bristol nodded, silently assuring him that everything was all right.
The pastor cleared his throat. “Damon and Dakota, you two will be standing on my left in front of the fireplace. The music will start. Cassie will walk down the aisle after Marianne then Bristol will follow. I’ll say some words welcoming the guests, two anecdotes from the stories you shared with me, a few passages about love, and then we’ll get to the good stuff. Damon, you’ll say your name and that you’ll take Bristol to be your wedded wife. Then you’ll follow me in saying to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness. Then Bristol, you’ll say his name, that you’ll take him as your husband, and repeat the same as he repeated after me. You’ll exchange rings. I’ll announce you husband and wife, and you’ll be able to kiss your bride, Damon.”
“Oh. Well, then.” Cassie sat back in her chair. “Good job on this, you two.”
“Damon picked out the passages and vows.” Bristol patted his knee, loving how considerate and thoughtful he’d been through the wedding process, and smiled.
Cassie, though, couldn’t seem to let things with Dakota go. She leaned forward, claimed Dak’s attention and pointed at Damon. “See? He gets it.”
“Damon gets it,” Dakota mocked in a falsetto voice. “Good for him.”
“Jesus Christ, guys.” Damon jumped to his feet. The chair fell and clanged against the floor. He faced his brother and Cassie then looked over his shoulder at the clergyman. “Sorry, Pastor Ryan.” Damon focused back on the pair. “But you two just need to give it a rest. Call a truce for a couple of days, will you? We have enough shit happening, we don’t need you two joining the fray.” Damon shot Pastor Ryan another sorry expression. “Forgive me for my cussin’.”
My hero. Bristol relaxed in her chair, thankful Damon had taken charge and stopped them from making a scene and doubly grateful the little one wasn’t awake and kicking.
“At least until after Christmas,” Damon continued, picking up and retaking his seat. “On the twenty-sixth if you two still want to go after each other’s throats, fine, but until then we have bigger issues to deal with. And you two know that. Cut the crap.”
“May I recommend a counselor?” Pastor Ryan went into his briefcase and pulled out a leather binder. Inside were sleeves of business cards.
“No,” Dakota barked.
Cassie shook her head. A faint shadow of sadness seemed to cross her face.
“Actually, Pastor…” Bristol swallowed hard, trying to think of the right words to say so he wouldn’t think she was crazy.
He took advantage of her pause and glanced between Cassie and Dakota. “Okay, if the two of you don’t wish for help right now, then how about I propose a solution to your other problem?”
“Other problem?” the four inquired in unison.
“When I arrived, I sensed a malevolent spirit lingering around here. My prickly sensations have since grown worse with my visit.” Pastor Ryan pulled out a card and handed it to Bristol. “My sister, Alicia, she can come, cleanse your home, rid the ranch of what ails it. That is what you were going to ask me about, correct? Find out if I knew of anyone to help with the spirits here?”
“Yes.” Staring at the card in her hand, Bristol nodded. Hopefully, High Priestess Alicia Ryan, Psychic Medium, would be able to assist them with their poltergeist problem. And fast! “Thank you but…”
Pastor Ryan chuckled, sat back and steepled his hands in front of him. “How is it that I felt the presence? That I’m a pastor and she a high priestess?”
They all bobbed their heads.
“She and I both have a second sight or sixth sense if you’d rather call it that. Alicia puts it best. She said we’re both serving God with our gifts. We’re just of different faiths and have different techniques. I’ll call her when I get to my cell phone in my truck and tell her to expect to hear from you?”
“Yes.” Damon rose and held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Pastor Ryan stood as well, accepting Damon’s hand. “You’re welcome. I believe we’re set for tomorrow night. I will leave you all to finish your preparations.” He put his binder back in his case and snapped it closed. “I’ll see myself out.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the four people in privacy. Bristol pushed her chair away from the table and hefted her weight out of it. It still surprised her Baby D wasn’t fussing, but she’d take the peace over him using her kidneys as soccer balls and her bladder as a spring board.
She put on her best I’m-not-happy-with-you mother’s expression. “Cassie. Dakota. That wasn’t very nice.”
“Sorry.” Cassie fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. “We promise to behave until after Christmas. Right, Dak?”
“Sure.” Dakota didn’t sound pleased. He rose and left the room.
“Good,” Bristol called after him then held up the business card to show Cassie and Damon. “Because we have more pressing issues to deal with.”
“Of course we do.” Cassie glanced at the open doorway. “I have to go see to Dak.”
Bristol nodded and tilted her head toward the door. “Go. We’ll be right out.” She laid a hand on Damon’s shoulder and squeezed. “Honey, do we really need to get a vote on whether or not we should call Alicia? Wasn’t the consensus this morning pretty clear that we needed to bring in someone?”
“Nah, I don’t think we need to vote. Here, give me her number. I’ll give her a buzz.”
She handed him the card.
He smiled then planted a kiss on her lips. “See, darlin’? Didn’t I say everything would be all right?”
Chapter Thirteen
The moment Bristol entered the main area of the lodge, Rachel studied the bride. A palpable look of relief settled on the bride’s face.
“Seems their meeting with the pastor went well,” Marianne supplied nearby then went over to Bristol as she neared a table. “Did you get a contact from him to help out with our little problem?”
Rubbing her stomach, Bristol navigated her way into a chair. “Yes. Pastor Ryan’s sister happens to be a high priestess. Damon’s calling her now.”
Relieved herself, Rachel let out a breath she barely realized she’d held.
Thank God they’ve found someone. It’d taken her all day to calm down and feel like her body temp went back to normal. She didn’t want to go through another night like the previous one and be rattled on Christmas Eve day.
The woman would come in, do her hocus pocus stuff, get rid of the spirits who hadn’t crossed over…
Get rid of the spirits?
“Rachel, are you okay?”
Her attention snapped to her sister. “Yeah. Sure. I’m happy someone was found.” Liar. What if that person gets rid of Dalton? “It’ll be nice once the poltergeist is gone.”
“You sure? Cause you’re looking a little pale.”
She nodded, and her gaze focused on movement near the office.
Shaking his head, Damon sauntered toward them. “Alicia said she’d love to help us, but after consulting her cards while we spoke, she realized she can’t. She told me the spirit here is too powerful for her, since she’s only recently become ordained and hasn’t done any exorcisms yet, and that we need to find someone stronger to fight him.”
“Just as Kane said this morning,” Marianne interjected.
“Right. Maybe he can take care of this. After all he helped us last night.”
“I’m thinking it’ll have to be him.” Damon stroked Bristol’s head then kissed the top of it. “I’ll go track him down.” Pulling out his cell phone from his jeans, he punched some buttons as he left the room.
“Let’s hope he’s up to the challenge.”
“Yes. Let’s.” Bristol appeared ready to cry.
Kane. Hope ran through Rachel. He’d been cryptic earlier, but now his words were starting to make sense. He’d said he knows things, that with the evil free, it placed him firm on his life’s path and journey. She figured he probably knew all along that battling the poltergeist would fall on his shoulders.
Should she talk to him before hand about her experiences and her connection with Dalton? No. He’d told her that her part in what was going on wasn’t a concern. Trying to keep Dalton’s spirit safe while banishing the bad spirit would probably impede Kane’s process and cause more harm than good. Rachel wondered if there was anything she could do to keep Dalton from disappearing. She needed to think of something and fast.
“Marianne, I’m going out for some air.” She tilted her head in the direction of the door that led out to the porch.
“Okay. You want some company?”
“Nah. I won’t be too long.”
The crisp winter air, which was warm compared to northeast standards, refreshed her. She was beginning to understand why her sister loved living out here. Close enough to the city for its amenities, but far enough away to enjoy the tranquility of nature.
Rachel leaned against a pole near the steps. She could even see herself living here.
Again.
“Oh, Dalton. What am I going to do?”
“Sugar? Something troublin’ you?”
Rachel turned. Dalton manifested into an almost solid form on one of the benches lining the outside wall of the lodge. His rustic, handmade shirt, vest and denims seemed out of place for modern times.
“Dalton. I was afraid you’d gone for good.”
“But why? This is my home. Our home.” He rose and strode over to her. When he reached her, he tried to brush a lock of hair off her face.
The arctic sweep of air across her skin sent chills racing down her spine. She hoped her unease didn’t show.
“Black hair? When did you…” Dalton stepped back, his brows raised in puzzlement as he looked at his hand then her. His face relaxed as he seemed to realize what was going on. “Oh. That’s right. I’m not a part of this time, your life, anymore.”
She shook her head in agreement. “No, you’re not.”
“You called me stubborn and stupid. Tell me, how’d I die?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t know? Don’t remember?”
He shrugged. “Nope. Don’t recall much of anything. I have the sense of certain feelings that I’d experienced once upon a time but not details.”
“Interesting.” Rachel indicated the bench, and they sat. She figured there’d be less chance of someone looking out the window and seeing her ‘talk to herself’ if she were sitting in front of the glass rather than standing at the steps. Breathing slow and deep, she attempted to corral her thoughts and feelings. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around Dalton, settle her head in the nook of his shoulder and her curves against his. She didn’t want to discuss how he died and follow up with the details of Rae’s demise, because she was sure he’d ask about her.
“Sugar?”
Might as well get the conversation over with. She shifted to face him. His face had a look of expectation and sadness that tore at her heart even more. “It was right before the Christmas holiday—the year you gave me, I mean Rae, the Appaloosa for her birthday. You two had just finished making love near the fireplace when a ranch hand came in and told you that some animals escaped. You made a big deal of needing to go out in the freezing cold and rain to help the men. Rae fought with you not to go. You won that battle but not the war. While you were trying to save a calf, you fell through the pond’s thin ice layer and then froze to death.”
“Oh.”
Typical male response. Why was she surprised? “Oh? I drop this news on you and all you can say is ‘oh?’”
“What? You want me to rant and rail against it? Wail my head off? There’s nothin’ to be done about it now so what’s the point of being riled up?”
Dalton’s icy calmness sparked her ire. How could he just sit there and not be disturbed over the news? On the one hand she admired his strength and laid back personality, but on the other, it would have been nice to see some emotion. “You’re right. No reason being upset over how if you’d listened to your wife when she asked you, no begged you, not to go out because she had a bad feeling about it all, you probably would have lived a long and wonderful life with her.”
