Chapter Two
Beth folded her hands in her lap and sat quietly. She carefully studied the old Indian. Raven’s eyes were wide and earnest. The corner of her mouth quirked up. Her breathing was steady and her muscles relaxed.
Hickok said to always watch their muscles, particularly their shoulders. “Those give you their intentions,” he’d said. “They have to tense up before they can draw a gun.” Then he’d given her one of his wide smiles. “And if they’re not about to draw, sometimes their face betrays their thoughts.”
Raven’s face didn’t.
Off to the side, Lieutenant Tompkins shuffled his feet. Then he coughed. Without looking, Beth could sense Mr. Weatherby’s tight coil. He was ready to spring into action, but not at her.
She put on a warm smile and nodded at Raven. “Go on.”
“We seek the ghost of one who fought against the Jotun giants in the Battle of Golden City.” Raven nodded her head east, toward the old battlefield. “Mr. Lake says you spend much time there.”
“There are some ghosts still,” Beth acknowledged. “Maria wasn’t able to persuade all of them to move on.”
Raven looked over Beth’s shoulder at Mr. Lake. “Who is Maria?”
“The witch that travels with Billy the Kid,” he replied, but then added, “I believe they’re in Texas now.”
“Maria taught me about ghosts," Beth interjected, “once I knew I could see them."
Raven made a small shrug of acknowledgement and returned her attention to Beth. “We seek the ghost of an Arapaho warrior. He would be tall, with a long braid of black hair. Have you seen him?”
Beth frowned as she thought. Then she shook her head.
“He was a scout for the Army of the West,” Lieutenant Tompkins said. “He might’ve been in uniform.”
“Most are,” Beth said. “At least on the battlefield.”
“Are there many?” Raven asked.
“Ghosts?” Beth said. “No. Maybe a half dozen.”
Raven pursed her lips. “We must speak with them all.”
Beth raised an eyebrow. She can talk with them? She’s a witch!
“Can you take us to the ghosts?” Raven continued.
“Yes,” Beth said. “But we should wait ’til dark. I’ve never seen any of them during the day.”
“That is the way of ghosts,” Raven said. She looked at Weatherby. “We will rest and then set out after the evening meal.”
He stared at Raven for a moment, as if asking a silent question. She met his eyes, but her expression didn’t change. Then he made a small nod.
Raven turned to Beth once again. “You will join us.”
“Right after supper,” Beth said with a firm nod.
“No,” Raven said, “I wish to hear about the ghosts, but after I have rested. Join us for the meal.”
Beth twisted to look back at Mr. Lake questioningly.
“Oh, go on,” he said with a flick of his hand. “Miss Chamberlin can manage serving supper on her own.” He grimaced. “Or perhaps Mrs. Archer can be persuaded to fill in.”
Beth fought to suppress a smile. Mrs. Archer always insisted on being paid with wine and Mr. Lake hadn’t received a new shipment in months. No doubt he was worried about his dwindling reserves.
“Rose—Miss Chamberlin—can manage,” Beth said. When she saw Raven raise an eyebrow, she added, “Rose can manage anything.”
“Ah,” Raven said. “Someone good to know.”
The old Indian made to stand and Mr. Lake quickly moved to help her with her chair. She smiled gratefully at him. “My room?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take you right to it.”
As Raven stood, Mr. Lake looked at Beth. “Perhaps you could assist in the kitchen?”
Beth forced a smile. There was always work to do.
Beth found Rose in the kitchen vigorously scrubbing pots. She’d filled a large copper tub with hot water and soap and set it on the little preparation table. Spots of grease splashed her apron but, as usual, not a hair was out of place. She looked up and smiled as Beth reached for her own apron on the nearby hook.
“What’d they want?” Rose asked.
“They’re looking for a ghost.” Beth finished tying her apron on. “A special one, apparently.”
“Aren’t they all special?” Rose said.
“To someone, I suppose.”
Rose shrugged. She gave the pot she was working on a quick inspection and passed it to Beth. “Rinse tub is down there.” She pointed toward the large basin on the floor.
Beth grabbed a towel and knelt next to the basin.
“Any idea why they want that ghost?” Rose asked. “I mean, it’s not the ghost of a Jotun or a magic wizard or something, is it?”
“There are no wizards and no magic,” Beth said, “and no one’s ever seen a Jotun ghost.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t one.” Rose dunked a baking tin into her tub. “Maybe there’s a Jotun wizard ghost! Who’s haunting the battlefield!”
Beth couldn’t help laughing a little, even as she rolled her eyes. She tried to glare at her friend, but the twinkle in the older girl’s eyes just made her smile even more.
“Better take your gun,” Rose said in mock seriousness, “in case you need to shoot the Jotun wizard warrior magic ghost.”
“Actually,” Beth said, “that’s a good idea. I don’t know these people, and that could mean trouble.”
“Or you could get to know them.”
“Or both,” Beth said. She finished rinsing her pot and began to dry it. “I’m joining them for supper.”
Rose’s smile faded. “Huh. So I’m serving by myself.” She passed Beth the baking tin.
“It’s either that or have Mrs. Archer help,” Beth said.
“By myself,” Rose said emphatically. “Mrs. Archer always spills the soup.”
At supper, Beth found herself sitting uncomfortably between Mr. Lake and Raven at the round parlor table in the back corner. He kept looking at Beth like she was some sort of cat. He’d smile and then nervously twist his spoon in his hand. It was like he expected her to jump on the table and lick the saucer.
She mentally sighed to herself. It was probably the trousers and gun belt. He knew she had them. He just hated that she wore them. The others had given her looks, but been too polite to say a word. Mr. Lake didn’t, because he knew it was pointless. As long as she wasn’t working, she’d wear whatever she liked. He wouldn’t fire her, and she knew it. She wouldn’t quit, and he knew it. Besides, other than her “unladylike behavior,” they got along fine.
Of the others, Raven was the one more amused than scandalized by Beth’s clothes. Except she annoyingly seemed to ask a question every time Beth’s mouth was full. The older woman waited patiently while Beth chewed and swallowed, even if her eyes did dart around the table. Beth noted that Raven kept her shoulders relaxed. That helped Beth relax too.
It also helped that the creamy chicken soup was delicious. The baked winter potatoes had just the right amount of salt too. And the smell of the cracked wheat bread—heavenly!
But to Beth’s disappointment, their visitors didn’t say much about themselves. Mr. Weatherby was something of a government representative to the Arapaho and a longtime friend of Raven’s. Lieutenant Tompkins had been attached as an army liaison. Raven revealed that she was an Arapaho and the three of them had come down from Fort Caspar. Beyond that, she politely deflected all of Beth’s questions.
And to Beth’s surprise, Raven also didn’t quiz her about her own life. She only asked after Beth’s ma, and was polite in asking Beth’s opinion of her ma’s new beau after Mr. Lake mentioned him.
“It’s been six years since Pa died,” Beth said. “She deserves to be happy.”
Raven raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on Beth’s non-answer.
Otherwise, the conversation was almost all about the battlefield and the ghosts. Beth described the four she’d clearly seen and where they haunted. Raven was disappointed that Beth didn’t know what they’d told Maria, if anything. None of their descriptions seemed to match the ghost Raven was looking for, either. But the older woman was heartened when Beth told her about a fifth ghost that she’d only kind-of-sort-of glimpsed a few times halfway up the North Table Mesa.
Near the end, Mr. Lake sent Rose to bring back a bottle of California whiskey. Mr. Weatherby lamented the loss of “the good stuff” now that the Jotun giants controlled Kentucky. Mr. Lake commiserated but they both drank more than one glass.
None was offered to the ladies, Beth thought sourly. Not that she liked the taste anyway. But shouldn’t they have offered a drink of some kind?
When Raven gave her an appraising look, Beth pulled the frown off her face. She tried to keep her own shoulders relaxed despite how anxious she was to be headed out.
Finally, finally, the meal was over. Mr. Lake said a few polite words to Rose and then their whole party made their way to the street.
Beth took a deep breath of the crisp night air. It held the hint of winter past. She shook her arms to keep them loose. Once everyone had left the Astor, Mr. Lake said his farewells. He said he’d have hot cider ready for their return.
She stepped close to him and a bit away from the others. She pitched her voice low so they couldn’t hear. “Raven and Mr. Weatherby enjoyed the bread. Perhaps you could serve some with the cider? With butter and the apple jam?”
“Thoughtful,” he murmured.
She smiled and returned to the others. Raven gestured to Beth to lead the way.
They strode down the dusty street into the heart of Golden City. Two of the saloons popular with the miners and ranchers were lit and boisterous with music and loud voices. Beth’s own party didn’t talk as they passed them by. They walked beyond the darkened shops and stables and soon were among the shacks along the east side of town.
All too soon, the old earthen barricade rose up before them. It stretched from the North Table Mesa to the South Table Mesa, except where Clear Creek cut through it. At ten feet high, it had been enough to slow the Jotun giants, but not enough to save the men. None of the ghosts haunted it, even though most of the men had died there. They’d been the easy ones to find and lay to rest.
Beth led their small party to the winding footpath over the barricade that Billy had shown her. She paused and looked back. They were single file now, with Mr. Weatherby behind her, followed by Raven and with Lieutenant Tompkins bringing up the rear. Mr. Weatherby and Raven carried small lamps.
Mr. Weatherby paused at the bottom of the climb. “What’s on the other side?”
“Uh … the battlefield?” Beth said.
He scowled. “Is there any cover on it?”
“No, not really,” she said. “There’s some small cottonwoods down by the creek. There’s some scrubby bushes too, but it’s mostly dirt and rock.”
“Nowhere someone could hide?”
“Not unless he’s a prairie dog. They’ve pretty much taken over.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “They’re small, but not that small.” He started climbing again.
“What are small?” she asked.
“We don’t know,” he said. “We saw what looked like fat children watching our camp two nights ago. It was too dark to see them clearly, though.”
That made her heart skip. Her hand drifted to her revolver as they crested the barricade and started down the other side.
The path wasn’t steep, but it was tricky in the dark. Sharp rocks and the ends of decaying wooden stakes stuck up at odd angles everywhere. In a half-dozen places, the dirt had eroded and made the footing tricky. Beth focused on her steps to avoid slipping.
About halfway down the path into the old battlefield, Beth caught movement from further north along the barricade out of the corner of her eye. She froze, and then slowly turned her head to look more closely at it.
The squat figure was silhouetted against the lighter sky behind it. She couldn’t make out any features, but it seemed to be holding something. It turned slightly and …
… it held a bow.
“Down!” she yelled, but an arrow was already in flight.
She threw herself to the ground, where a rock stabbed her ribs. Behind her, Weatherby cried out. Beth fumbled to draw her revolver and banged her thumb on the ground. She cursed and leveled the gun at the figure just as another arrow flew overhead.
She fired twice in rapid succession.
The figure jerked and then dropped behind the far side of the barricade.
Beth quickly scanned the area. She couldn’t see anything else moving. Keeping her gun pointed where she’d last seen the figure, she scrambled to her feet. She glanced back over her shoulder.
Weatherby was down. She couldn’t see Raven or Lieutenant Tompkins. Keeping her eyes mostly on where the figure—the enemy—had disappeared, she worked her way back to where she’d last seen Weatherby. She found him sprawled on the ground, an arrow through his chest. Dead.
She gasped, and her chest clenched.
No time to panic, she thought. No time to panic.
“Help!” Lieutenant Tompkins called. He knelt at the top of the barricade next to something. “Help!”
Beth scrambled back up to him as quickly as she could. She still didn’t see any signs of the enemy.
Lieutenant Tompkins was on his knees next to Raven. He was trying to pull the arrow out of her gut, but it was already too late. When he tugged, Raven’s head rolled against her chest.
“She can’t die!” Lieutenant Tompkins cried. “She can’t!”
Blood covered his hands as he tugged and twisted the arrow. The shaft broke in his hands. He cursed, his voice panicked.
Raven’s body went completely limp.
Beth sucked in her breath. Behind Lieutenant Tompkins, the air shimmered and then fogged. Slowly, it took shape.
Raven’s ghost looked down at her body. It frowned. And then it looked imploringly at Beth.