Chapter Three
Beth swallowed hard as she stared at the ghost. Her pulse raced and, for a moment, she felt pinned to the spot. It’s just a ghost, she reminded herself. It’s just a ghost.
“Noooo!” Lieutenant Tompkins cried. He had his hands pressed against Raven’s stomach over the wound. The blood still seeped between his fingers.
That shook Beth out of her trance. “She’s gone.” When Lieutenant Tompkins looked up, she gestured at the ghost. “She’s here.”
The lieutenant’s head whipped around. “Where?” He looked left and right.
“Her ghost’s right there.” Beth pointed more directly at the spot.
Raven’s ghost still looked at her with wide desperate eyes. It urgently gestured north down the barricade toward where—
“Down!” Beth cried. She threw herself into the lieutenant and bowled them both to the dirt.
An arrow hissed through the air nearby.
The lieutenant snapped out of his shock. Still pale, he scrambled to the side away from Beth and rolled onto his stomach. She shifted her weight and winced. Somewhere along the way she’d banged her knee hard.
They crouched near some foot-tall scrub bushes and a few large jagged rocks. Beth couldn’t see anything ahead other than the scraggled barricade. The lieutenant crawled forward behind one of the boulders and peeked over it. The night, at least nearby, was still.
Beth started to crawl forward on her stomach. The air in front of her fogged. Raven’s ghost had moved.
It pointed repeatedly over the barricade, toward the path they’d just climbed.
Beth bit back a curse. They were being encircled.
Lieutenant Tompkins shifted to his knees and drew his Colt. His focus remained on where the archer had been. Not the new threat.
Beth grunted in frustration. She twisted and crawled back up the path as best she could while keeping her gun pointed ahead. Small rocks stabbed her knees and hand. Dust stirred up and tickled her nose.
Raven’s ghost appeared in front of Beth and slightly to the right. It pointed steadily at something ahead of her, and low.
Beth shifted onto her elbows and aimed her gun at that spot.
Something moved. She couldn’t quite make it out other than it was dark and getting taller. Like someone coming up over the crest of the barricade.
She fired.
Something squealed and the shape dropped below the rise.
Beth scrambled to her feet. She advanced as quickly as she could safely walk. Sweat poured down her brow. Her pulse raced and she tried to calm her breathing. Her eyes darted everywhere—where is it? Where’s the next archer?
She looked to Raven’s ghost, but it now stared northward.
Beth let out a sigh of relief. It must’ve fled, she thought.
She reached the top of the barricade. She crouched at first, not wanting to make herself a target against the lighter sky like the archer had done, but she didn’t see anything. Raven’s ghost continued to look north.
Down below, something moved. She squinted. A dark figure ran north just below the lip of the barricade. She couldn’t make it out well, but it seemed to be fleeing. It was too hard to get a good shot, though.
Lieutenant Tompkins climbed up the barricade to her side. “You see them?”
She shook her head. “You?”
“No,” he said, “not anymore.” He looked down where Raven and Weatherby’s bodies lay and let out a ragged sigh. “It seems they did what they came to do.”
Beth peered around for Raven’s ghost, but it was gone as well.
“So now what?” Lieutenant Tompkins said. From his tone, it wasn’t a question.
But Beth answered anyway. “We go back to town and get Mr. Lake and the others to help us bring them back,” she tilted her head toward Raven and Weatherby.
Lieutenant Tompkins nodded in agreement.
Despite being nighttime, Mr. Lake had the bodies taken to the mortician’s shop down on Washington Street. He sent a messenger to the militia commander and quickly organized a sweep of the battlefield.
While they searched, Beth sat wearily at one of the back tables in the parlor at the Astor. Every muscle seemed drained of strength, now that the terror had passed. She fought back yawns and forced herself to take sips of her tea. Rose had made her “special healing blend” and gave Beth a disappointed glare every time she came in from the kitchen and saw Beth wasn’t drinking.
The parlor bustled with people coming and going. Mr. Lake had the cook making sausage sandwiches for anyone who wanted one, but Beth’s stomach was too turbulent to even try. Mr. Lake himself sat at the table closest to the main door. He took reports and sent messengers with news. He repeatedly told them there was a reward for anyone who found the killers.
Rose came in from the kitchen with a basket of hot brown bread. She set it in front of Beth, and then sank into the chair next to her.
“My, what a night,” Rose said as she fanned herself with one hand. “Are you sure you’re okay, dearie?”
Beth nodded. Her thumb ached, but she could move it. The bruise on her knee hurt bad when she walked. Otherwise, she was mostly just exhausted.
“It’s hard seeing people die like that, in front of you. It can be a real shock, a real shock.”
Beth made a sour smile. “I’ve seen it before.”
“So have we all,” Rose said. “So have we all. It doesn’t make it less of a shock.”
Beth nodded. She took a sip of tea and thought for a moment. “It’s not a shock when it happens. Not to me. I’m too busy thinking about how, or who. It’s only after that when the shock sets in.”
Rose nodded sympathetically. “Like now.”
“Yeah,” Beth said. “I barely knew Raven and Weatherby. I’m upset that they’re dead. But I’m not sure how I feel after that.”
“Why should you?” Rose placed a reassuring hand on Beth’s arm. “Death’s a hard thing to face.”
“True.” Beth smiled at Rose. She sipped some more tea. “I wish I knew what Raven wanted. She never told me.”
“You could ask that handsome lieutenant. I’m sure he knows. And I’m sure it was important.”
Beth nodded. If it was worth killing her, she thought, it had to be important.
“I’ll ask him,” she said, “when he gets back from the search.”
The militia hadn’t returned by the time Beth’s yawns had become contagious. Mr. Lake told her to go lie down in Room One, so she wouldn’t have to make the long walk back to her ma’s in the dark. He’d send a messenger so Ma didn’t worry. He didn’t exactly say he was concerned about her safety, but she knew.
She woke up late, with sunlight seeping in through the cracks around the door. She sat up and saw fresh clothes arrayed over the wooden chair in the room. Besides her unmentionables and old trousers, a new pretty red and brown wool dress was prominently spread out. It had ruffles on the long sleeves and flared below the waist.
A small white plate sat on the little nightstand with two brown sugar cookies on it, Rose’s specialty.
Beth shook her head in amusement. If Rose wanted her to have a new dress, she’d have a new dress.
As she pulled her clothes on, Beth realized that the dress could actually be worn over the trousers. She’d have to wear her gun belt on the outside. There was no helping that. She hesitated for just a moment. Everyone had seen her with the gun last night. There was no point in trying to hide it now. She buckled the gun belt over her dress and headed to the parlor.
She found Lieutenant Tompkins slumped at one of the tables with an open bottle of whiskey before him. It sat mostly empty. Half-nibbled bread lay tucked under a casually thrown napkin. His jacket hung over the back of the chair and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and cuffs. He stared toward the windows to the street, but without focus. When Beth approached, he barely glanced her way until she stood tableside.
“May I join you, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“Dear Lord, yes,” he said. He tried to stagger to his feet, but nearly fell out of his chair.
Beth sat before he had a chance to do himself harm for the sake of courtesy.
“You saw her ghost,” he said. “You saw her. Did you talk to her?”
“I can’t talk to ghosts,” Beth said. “Like some others, I can only see them.”
“I … I dunno.” He shook his head and then shook it again. It looked like he was about to cry. “We need … we need her. We need to talk to her.”
“Why?”
“She knew how to … how to … find it.” He grimaced. Then he stared out into nothing again.
Beth fought back her frustration. “Find what?”
“The monster. It … it killed a bunch of our men. A bunch of her tribe, too. But it flies. Too high to shoot. We …” He turned back to stare at her with wide eyes. “We have to find its lair. Kill it there.”
His face fell and his shoulders slumped. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re just a girl.” His eyes went out of focus again.
Beth stared at him. She took a deep breath to calm her fury. Then she stood and walked out.
Beth found Mr. Lake in front of the mortician’s office. He wore yesterday’s suit, though brownish dust covered it. His face was hangdog worn with dark circles under his eyes. His hat’s brim fluttered in the wind, making him look even more weathered.
When he saw Beth, his eyes darted to her gun and trousers. He let out an exasperated sigh. He’d just come out of the office and the door finished banging shut. He waited as Beth marched up to him.
“Did you find the killers?” she demanded.
He shook his head. “Some blood, but that was it. The army scouts weren’t able to track them.” His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know there was more than one?”
“I shot two,” she scoffed.
He nodded without arguing.
“Lieutenant Tompkins is drunk.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Mr. Lake turned to look at the mountains. “Hopefully he’ll sober up by the funeral.”
Beth blinked. A funeral already? she thought. “When is it?”
“When the militia commander gets back. We want it done before the storm rolls in.”
She glanced up at the dark clouds that gathered behind the mountains. It might just be a spring rain, or it might be more. Either way, it wouldn’t be long.
Still, the gathering gloom made her shiver. Ghost weather, at least on the battlefield.
“I should pay my respects,” she said. She nodded toward the mortician’s shop.
He nodded. “I’ll see you back at the Astor.”
The viewing room in the mortician’s shop felt tight and cold. A scattering of candles in wall sconces provided the only light, as the black curtains over the sole window had been pulled tight. It smelled heavily of linen oil and lilies. Beth couldn’t help wrinkling her nose.
The mortician, a kindly old man with stringy grey hair named Mr. Dooley, had let her into the room with the bodies. He hadn’t blinked at her trousers and she decided on the spot to bring him some muffins from the Astor after the service. Then he’d stepped back out to the main shop, but left the door ajar three inches or so. At first she just heard him whistling to himself, until someone else came in and they began to talk in low voices.
She stood there, hands clasped, and stared at the bodies. They looked so cold and rigid in their pine coffins. Weatherby’s hands lay by his side. His cheeks were collapsed in, which made him look like he was kissing the air. The wary man had been reduced to a clammy fish in a suit.
Raven looked more like she was asleep. Her chin tilted down as if she were taking a nap. Her hands relaxed on her chest. She seemed to be praying.
Beth took a deep breath, studying the woman’s face. Was there wisdom still within?
The voices from the other room rose. Only one seemed angry—the mortician. He told someone to leave. Beth turned and pulled the door nearly closed to block out the distraction.
When she looked back at the bodies, her breath caught. Raven’s ghost now stood opposite her.
Beth willed herself to be calm. She couldn’t hear ghosts. Could the ghost hear her?
“Thank you for your help,” Beth said to the ghost.
Its expression didn’t change. It just looked calmly at her.
“You saved us,” Beth said. “I … owe you my life.”
This time, the ghost slowly nodded. Its mouth moved, like it was speaking, but no sound came out.
“I’m … I’m sorry,” Beth said. “I can’t hear you.”
Raven’s ghost tried to say something again, but then stopped. Its eyes narrowed. Then it pointed at Raven’s corpse.
“You … you want something.”
It nodded and pointed again.
Beth slowly stepped to the edge of the coffin. “You want me to do something.”
It nodded, stronger this time. Then it pointed directly at a tiny pouch on the body’s chest, right over the breastbone.
Beth frowned. She hadn’t seen this pouch before. It was about the size of a thimble and made of soft deerskin. Thin leather cords looped from it around the corpse’s neck. Light tan, it had some symbols branded into it that Beth didn’t recognize.
The ghost jabbed its finger at the pouch once more.
“You want me to do something with this.”
It nodded its head up and down.
Beth reached out and put her hand on the pouch. When the ghost nodded again, she lifted it from the cold corpse. The ghost nodded once more.
“You want me to take this,” Beth said. “You want me to have it?”
The ghost smiled. It nodded its head yes. Then it faded away, leaving only cold air.
Beth hesitated. What was this thing?
Loud shouts came from the main room. More than one voice. Yelling.
Beth quickly grabbed the pouch and yanked hard. The cord cut into her hand but didn’t break. I need a knife, she thought. The back end was under Raven’s hair—it’d be hard to pull over her head. Beth tugged at the cord, spinning it around. A knot! The cord tied in a knot that was normally behind Raven’s neck.
Beth picked at it. It took some work to loosen it. Meanwhile, the yelling outside got louder.
The cord finally worked free! She lifted her dress and shoved the pouch in the right pocket of her trousers.
A gunshot thundered in the adjoining room.
Beth jumped in surprise. Then she drew her Colt and edged to the door.