Chapter Six
Raven’s ghost floated a few feet away, just at the foot of Tompkins’s bed. In the light from the oil lamp on the nightstand, Beth could see partway through it. Like gauze or loosely knitted wool. It shifted slightly, fuzzing up the view. Apparently, the ghost could not stand perfectly still.
“Know what?” Rose prompted.
Lieutenant Tompkins’s head snapped around, but he didn’t see the ghost.
“She’s here, isn’t she?” he asked.
“Who?” Rose asked.
“Raven’s ghost,” Beth answered. “She’s at the foot of the bed.”
Both of the others stared that way. Rose grew very still. “Where?”
“Right there.” Beth gestured toward the spot where the ghost still stood. Its hands were clasped and it continued to smile warmly.
“I …” Rose began. She trembled slightly, her eyes wide.
“You can’t see her,” Beth finished. “Most people can’t. See ghosts that is. But she can’t harm you.”
“What does she want?” Rose asked.
“I don’t know,” Beth admitted. “I can’t talk to her. I’m not a witch or a shaman. But I know why she’s here.”
“To finish the mission?” Lieutenant Tompkins asked. He looked a lot more sober than he’d been a few minutes ago. Somber too.
“Probably,” Beth said. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant here, in this room. She didn’t die here, so she shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t understand,” Rose said. Her voice still had an edge as her eyes darted back and forth through the space where Beth had pointed.
“Maria—” She spotted Lieutenant Tompkins’s furrowed brow and added, “she’s the witch that travels with Billy the Kid. Anyway, Maria told me that ghosts either stay where they died or with the body.”
“Which means …” Rose began.
“Right,” Beth said. “It’s her bone. Probably her little toe.”
Lieutenant Tompkins chuckled, long and dark and full. When he’d finished his eyes filled with amusement.
“Clever, clever woman,” he said. “She knew she might die. She knew she might become a ghost.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Beth said. Her blood raced with excitement. “And this way she can travel with us.”
Raven’s ghost clasped her hands together and nodded several times. She smiled happily and looked from the small bone to Beth’s face and back again several times.
Just like Calamity Jane when she gave me the gun, Beth thought. Her chest tightened. She forced a smile, and then looked the ghost in the face.
“Yes,” Beth said solemnly. “I will take you with me.”
Raven’s ghost nodded, and then faded away.
Beth slipped the bone back into the pouch, pulled it tight, knotted the cord, and hung it around her neck. Then she tucked it inside her dress. It hung cold outside her chemise.
“But where are we taking her to?” Rose asked.
“The battlefield,” Beth replied. “The men don’t want us looking for the killers, so we’re going to find that ghost she was looking for.”
Lieutenant Tompkins asked for a few minutes to freshen up. Despite having slept most of the day, he was still badly hungover and didn’t want to go out in his uniform until he was at least passably presentable. Rose promised to have more tea when he came down to the parlor.
Rose and Beth found Jeb snoring in his chair. He’d pushed it against the wall and his head lolled to the side. His shirt was damp with dribbled alcohol. His half-empty bottle lay on its side in front of him.
Beth stopped short, put her hands on her hips, and stared at him. “Really?”
“Oh, dearie,” Rose said. “Let him sleep. He’ll be safer here anyway.”
“What is it with men and drink?”
“Not all men,” Rose admonished. “And not all the time, either.”
“True,” Beth admitted guiltily. She took a deep breath. “I’m sure Jeb’s had a hard life.”
“So best let him sleep.”
“What about when Mr. Lake returns? He won’t like Jeb sleeping there.”
“I’ll handle Mr. Lake. You and the lieutenant go find that ghost.”
A handful of torches lit up the street in front of the mortician’s shop. They gave just enough for Beth to make out faces. The lieutenant had brought a small oil lamp, but not yet lit it. He wanted to save the oil, he’d said.
At first, she didn’t recognize any of the men in the small crowd. They dressed well—long coats, bowlers and the occasional top hat. Merchants, not cowboys or miners. Then she spotted Boggs, the blacksmith, next to the door. His face looked grim.
She and Lieutenant Tompkins halted their quick walk. She gestured toward the crowd. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
The lieutenant nodded. She let him get a two step lead and fell in behind him. I can tell Mr. Lake I’m only here because of Lieutenant Tompkins.
The crowd parted as the lieutenant pushed forward. When he and Beth reached Boggs, the man looked up.
“The army’s east of town,” Boggs said when he saw the lieutenant’s uniform.
“I’m assigned to Fort Caspar,” Lieutenant Tompkins crisply replied. “I have work here.” He gestured toward the shop. “And those were my friends.”
Boggs barely blinked.
“So what’s going on?” Lieutenant Tompkins asked.
Beth silently marveled. Despite being still clearly worn, with a touch of hangover, the lieutenant came across as cool and calm. A true officer instead of the drunk she’d seen earlier.
Boggs seemed to think so too. His tone became less surly. “Mr. Lake and the others are looking for clues. Then we’ll clean up the place. The funeral will be first thing in the morning.”
“We can help,” Lieutenant Tompkins said. He included Beth with a gesture.
“There’s plenty of men inside already. Besides, it’s …” He frowned at Beth. “… an ugly sight for the girl.”
Beth clamped her jaw hard to avoid saying a thing.
Lieutenant Tompkins furrowed his brow. He glanced sideways at Beth. “Well …”
“I’m sure they don’t need our help,” she said as sweetly as she could manage. “We should be on our way.” She nodded in the direction of the battlefield.
Lieutenant Tompkins’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. Yes, indeed.” He turned back to Boggs. “We’ll see you at the service. May God speed your search for the villains.”
“God speed indeed,” Boggs said.
Lieutenant Tompkins turned and Beth followed him back through the crowd. They walked silently until they turned a corner, out of sight of the crowd. He slowed, until they were side by side. His stride was measured, his face firm.
“I apologize, Miss Armstrong,” he said then, “for my behavior earlier today. It was unbecoming and irresponsible for me to have become intoxicated. I can assure you it will not happen again.”
“Uh … okay.”
“I thought all hope was lost,” he continued, “once Madame Stormchaser died. I should have known things were never as simple as they seem.”
“Did you know her well?”
“No. But her mission …” He broke off, grim-faced. They walked a dozen strides before he spoke again.
“We almost went to war with the Arapaho,” he said. “They blamed us for the deaths of the buffalo herds, and for the wildfires that swept the plains. And when all the men in one of our patrols were killed, we blamed them. We were ready to fight.”
They slowed their pace as they entered the shantytown. Beth breathed hard. She wasn’t much shorter than the lieutenant, but he set a quick pace. She kept up, though.
“Our commander ordered us to prepare for battle,” Lieutenant Tompkins continued. “But then Madame Stormchaser showed up with one of the Arapaho chiefs. She said our troubles were not as we thought. She said a ‘monster from the sky’ was responsible for the deaths.”
“They saw it,” Beth surmised.
“No, actually, they did not. She’d talked to a ghost. But our commander didn’t believe her.” At that, he did slow so that he could watch her reaction.
“It is hard to believe,” she said. “The only dragon that came through the rift from Jotunheim was killed a long time ago.”
“The only dragon we know of. Who’s to say there weren’t more?”
“But if no one’s seen it?”
“Oh, but we did, much later. Or at least Private Johnson did, God rest his soul. He died … slowly.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
They walked in silence the rest of the way to the barrier.
Lieutenant Tompkins halted before they started the climb. While the rain had pushed on, a chill had descended with the evening. He shivered, which, like a contagious yawn, caused Beth to shake as well. The lights from town in the distance teased at warmth beyond reach. The moon and stars remained hidden behind the clouds. Over the barrier, it’d be black beyond black. They’d have only the lieutenant’s small oil lamp for light.
“What if they’re waiting for us?” he asked. “Like last night?”
She looked at the lamp. Without it, they’d risk treacherous falls. With it, they’d be easy targets.
“They won’t be,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “The army searched the battlefield this morning, so they had to have left. Why come back? They know they killed Raven.”
He bit his lip, but then nodded. “Good point. But perhaps we should cross the barrier at a different location.”
“Of course,” she said. “There’s a path further south, where the barrier meets the South Table Mesa. It’s a bit of a walk.…”
“I’d feel much better.”
She shrugged. “We’ll want to search that area anyway. We might as well start there.”
“Lead on.”
The night grew cold. Even the lightest breeze pricked at Beth’s face and exposed wrists. She clenched her jaw and focused on picking her way up the slope past the boulders and broken timber. It was quiet, though. Only her own labored breathing and that of the lieutenant’s broke the stillness.
They climbed further up the mountain’s slope than she’d first planned. The South Table Mesa wasn’t the largest mountain around and in most places it was a gentle climb.
But not where it met the barrier.
She’d never spent much time on its slope. She’d also never seen an Arapaho Indian ghost, so maybe the two went hand in hand.
Lieutenant Tompkins let her lead. He held the lamp low, almost at his knees. It lit their path, but not much more. He also shifted it from hand to hand, irregularly but deliberately. He always kept his body between it and the battlefield.
To make it harder for anyone else to see, she realized.
They stopped several times. He’d watch the battlefield while she slowly scanned the local area. She didn’t see any greyish glow of a ghost at any of their stops. Once they were halfway to the top, she led them sideways, east along the edge of the mountain, away from Golden City. A few pinpricks of light shone from the Denver City ruins. In the distance they looked like stars scattered on the ground.
Still no ghosts.
After about an hour, they stopped for water from Lieutenant Tompkins’s canteen. He stared out over the battlefield while she drank.
“Hard to believe so many died here,” he said. “It must have been a heckuva battle.”
“It was,” she said. “At least according to Hickok.”
“I can only imagine.” He put his hands on his hips as he looked out over the valley. “It must’ve been glorious.”
“Not to Hickok. At least not in private.”
“Oh?”
“He’s …” She bit her lip as she picked her words. “He knows how important it is to have heroes. They … don’t tell most of us how they really feel.”
“He was scared, huh?” Lieutenant Tompkins said. “That’d be embarrassing to admit.”
He didn’t look her way, so he didn’t see her sour shake of the head. Hickok hadn’t been scared.
Fear is not the enemy, Hickok had told her all the time. Fear is just doubt with fangs. Fix the doubt, fix the fear.
That’s why they’d practiced shooting under so many circumstances—in the rain, at night, sitting, even lying down. You never—never!—want to doubt you can hit your target, he’d said. That should be the one sure thing in a fight. You shoot at it, you hit it.
She placed a comfortable hand on her gun. Then she stepped up to Lieutenant Tompkins’s side.
“He wasn’t afraid,” she said. “He was sad. He ordered men to the barricades, knowing they were going to die. But he knew he had to. This,” she swept her hand across the battlefield, “was our last chance.”
“Oh.”
It was all he said.
They took in the dark battlefield together. The lieutenant kept his thoughts to himself. Beth’s mind drifted back to Hickok. Just scattered memories of their conversations.
The breeze pricked at her face.
She glanced down to the right and froze. About a hundred yards away the night shimmered grey.
“C’mon,” she said to the lieutenant. “We’ve found a ghost.”