Chapter Seven
Beth fought the urge to scramble down the mountain slope. Instead, they carefully picked their way around the rocks and scrub bushes. Once, the lieutenant slipped on the loose dirt, but caught himself before he fell. His swinging lantern flashed rays of light pell-mell but he covered it quickly.
As they drew close, Beth could make out more of the ghost. It seemed to sit on a small rock ledge that jutted out of the hillside. Its ghostly army cap sat askew and the sleeve of its jacket was torn. Its back was to them, and it didn’t turn.
She slowed, and Lieutenant Tompkins halted behind her. He gave her a worried, questioning look.
“On the rock,” she said quietly. She pointed at the ghost.
Lieutenant Tompkins squinted and frowned.
Beth made it down the rest of the slope. She slowly walked in front of the ghost. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to breathe calm, to breathe normal. It was only the ghost of a soldier with a long nose and scruffy beard. He didn’t look Arapaho at all.
The ghost didn’t look at her. It didn’t even seem to notice her. It just stared, forlornly, straight ahead.
“Hello,” she said.
The ghost didn’t react.
Lieutenant Tompkins stepped up to her side. He suppressed a shiver.
“Hello,” she said again.
Nothing.
“What’s going on?” Lieutenant Tompkins asked.
“I can’t get his attention.” She waved her hand in front of the ghost’s face. “Hello!”
Nothing.
“Is this … normal?” the lieutenant asked.
“I don’t know. Raven’s ghost responded to me. So did Jane’s.”
“Oh.”
She waved her hand again. Several times. Then she stepped close enough to feel its chill. She put her hand an inch in front of its vacant eyes.
It didn’t move.
Beth stepped back and sighed with frustration. “It must be one of the broken ones.”
“The what?” Lieutenant Tompkins asked.
“Broken ones. At least that’s what Maria called them.” She gestured for him to follow as she backed away.
The ghost still didn’t move.
When they were about ten feet from the ghost, Beth carefully looked around. Nothing. No other ghosts. Or anything worse. Lieutenant Tompkins’s eyes followed hers and he tucked the lantern loosely under his coat.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I’m not sure I entirely do either,” she said. “But Maria and I talked after I discovered I could see ghosts.”
Her gut tightened at the memories of Jane.
“Maria,” she continued, “said that most souls became ghosts for one of two reasons. Either they had unfinished business, or they refused to accept they were dead. They had to be persuaded to … ‘move on’ was what she said.”
“Ah.”
“The ones that refused to accept it—she called them the broken ones. Or lost souls. I thought they’d do more than sit there, but …” She gestured toward the still unmoving specter.
Lieutenant Tompkins squinted in the direction of the ghost. “So what now?”
She shrugged. “It’s late. We go get some sleep. Maybe the men will have found Mr. Dooley’s killers by the morning.”
Beth found Mr. Lake in the Astor’s parlor at breakfast the next morning. The smell of flapjacks on the griddle and fried bacon filled the air. Bright daylight streamed in the window and added to the freshness of the room. Beth quickened her pace as she approached.
He paused in wolfing down his scrambled eggs and looked at her. His eyebrows rose and he smiled happily at her. She’d changed into her gingham dress and tied her hair back. She’d also scrubbed her face and arms and left her gun behind. His appraising look told her he approved.
“Good morning, Mr. Lake,” she said. She made a small curtsey. “Would you like some more coffee? Or tea?” She gave him a bright-eyed smile.
He arched an eyebrow. “What do you want, Miss Armstrong?”
“What makes you think I want anything?”
“Really?” He set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. His eyes danced from her hair to her dress to her face. “What indeed?”
She took a deep breath. “Did you find Mr. Dooley’s killers? Did you catch them?”
“No,” he said. “We haven’t found the killers. We checked all the boarding houses and everyone’s accounted for. Besides, we figure they’ve left town. Two horses went missing from Mr. Boggs’s stable last night.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a bit of a shame,” he continued. “It means Mr. Boggs will have to remain behind when we all leave tomorrow morning.”
She blinked in surprise. “Leave?”
“With the army. Every man that can fight and can be spared is to be ready to ride tomorrow. We leave at dawn.”
“But …” she looked wildly around the parlor. It was nearly deserted. Only one merchant quietly ate at another table while he read the Bible.
“I’ll close the Astor House,” Mr. Lake continued. “I’m sure you and your ma will be fine while we’re gone. You’re welcome to help yourself to the pantry here if need be.”
“But … but what about Raven? And finding the ghost she was looking for? And all those folks up near Fort Caspar?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “They’ll have to do the best they can. We have duties elsewhere.” He glanced pointedly toward the kitchen. “The joint funeral is in an hour. I’m sure you have work to do until then.”
They held the service in the airy sanctuary of the Calvary Church. The sun streamed through the stained glass windows and gave the room a hallowed feel. The minister had ordered the side doors opened to allow the breeze in. It smelled of grass and the town’s cooking stoves.
Beth wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about how the bodies smelled.
The three simple pine caskets rested side by side in front of the altar. They’d moved the lectern all the way to the right and the portly minister stood behind it. He tapped the top, idly but loudly, as he watched the stragglers file into the back. There weren’t many—mostly merchant’s wives in their fancy dresses and a few men with shops near Mr. Dooley’s. Mr. Lake sat front and center, along with Colonel Mosby and his aide, but otherwise the only army officer in attendance was Lieutenant Tompkins.
Beth sat in the last pew. As the minister droned through the liturgy, she studied the mourners. No one acted unusual. She didn’t see any of the tells Hickok had showed her to watch for. No one fidgeted, or stared at the caskets, or avoided looking at them completely. And no one looked like a cowboy.
When the service ended, Boggs and five teamsters came in. They carried Mr. Dooley’s coffin outside to a waiting wagon with a high black awning covering it. Beth slipped out when they came in for Mr. Weatherby’s. She stood near the horses and couldn’t help smiling when one snorted and tried to nuzzle her face.
The men set Mr. Weatherby’s coffin in the wagon with a loud thud. The wagon rocked and the tack jangled. The horse jerked its head and Beth put a calming hand on its cheek.
Boggs saw her and smiled. “She’ll be all right, Miss Armstrong. She’s a bit skittish, but she’ll pull just fine when it’s time.”
“I’m sure she will, Mr. Boggs.” She continued to gently stroke the horse as she spoke.
He nodded and went back inside for the third coffin.
She waited until he was in the church before she let the smile fade from her lips.
He knows this horse.
It’s his horse.
Except he had two stolen.
It didn’t add up. She knew Boggs regularly stabled horses, but if this was one of his, he’d still be able to ride off with the army.
Maybe he’d promised it to someone else.
That was possible, but it still didn’t feel right.
The men brought Raven’s coffin out and added it to the wagon. Boggs climbed up onto the driver’s seat and took the reins. He gave her a friendly nod and then he and his helpers started down the street toward the edge of town and the cemetery.
Beth watched them go. Then she hurried back to the Astor.
Beth found Rose sweeping the upstairs hallway. She wore her plainer apron and had her dark hair pulled back and tied with a light blue ribbon. She’d propped the door to the balcony open, which let the sun and spring breeze in. The musty dust tickled Beth’s nose. As she approached, Rose smiled and raised her eyebrows.
“You’re loaded for bear,” Rose said.
“It’s Boggs. He said he had two horses stolen. I don’t think he did. I think he’s lying.”
Rose gave her a questioning eye. “Now why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he’s helping the killers.”
“No.” Rose propped her chin on the end of her broom and frowned. “He’s been here too long. He wouldn’t help strangers. Even if they paid him a lot of money.”
“Well, everyone knows he does love money.”
“Not that much.” Rose laughed and shook her head. “Boggs drives a hard bargain, but he’s fair.”
“Yeah,” Beth said with a deflated sigh. “Now that I think about it, I can’t see Boggs lying. If he said those horses were stolen, they probably were.”
“So why did you think he was lying?”
“He knew the horses pulling the wagon. Like they were his own.”
“The wagon? With the black awning that they drive to the graveyard?”
Beth nodded.
“Oh, dearie,” Rose said with a smile. “That’s Mr. Dooley’s. Or was. He kept it and his team behind his shop and Boggs drove it many a time for him.”
Beth’s breath caught. She narrowed her eyes.
“Mr. Dooley kept his team behind his shop?” she asked. “His horses?”
“He sure did. Though he may have moved them recently, I suppose. I don’t know why he would’ve, though.”
“So why would the killers steal Boggs’s horses? Mr. Dooley’s were right there!”
“That’s … that’s a very good question.”
Beth couldn’t help her satisfied grin.
“They didn’t!” she said. “The killers didn’t steal Boggs’s horses. Someone else did. The killers are still here!”
“Where?”
“Shantytown. They ran to Shantytown to get the gun they used to kill Mr. Dooley.”
“Hmmm,” Rose said. “I think you’re right.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lieutenant Tompkins asked quietly.
Beth nodded, but her hand still hovered over her holster as they walked. She’d strapped her gun belt over her dress after the midday meal. Mr. Lake and the other men had been too busy preparing to leave to notice. Rose had raised an eyebrow, but not said a word.
Instead, she’d decided to come with them as Beth and the lieutenant escorted Jeb back to his shack.
They walked through the main streets of town in a small cluster, with Beth and Lieutenant Tompkins slightly in the lead. She wore a broad brimmed hat this time, borrowed from the cook, which kept the warm afternoon sun off her neck. Other than the light breeze, yesterday’s storm seemed like a memory.
Behind Beth, Jeb kept up a running stream of conversation with Rose. He nattered about the gold panning in Clear Creek. He hadn’t found much yet, but he was sure it was there.
“It’s just a matter of time,” he said. “Just a matter of time.”
“We could bring more men,” Lieutenant Tompkins said.
“No,” Beth said quickly. “They’re all busy. Besides, this is mostly a hunch.”
“And how often are your hunches wrong?”
She smirked in reply.
When they reached the stretch where the solid stores and homes gave way to ramshackle dwellings and then outright sheds and lean-to’s, Beth slowed their walk to a stroll. She peered left and right and into every dwelling she could without being obvious. Many of the solid structures still hid their inhabitants, if any. After about fifty yards, she paused in frustration.
“Jeb,” she said. “Most of these people have been here a while, right?”
“Oh, right you are.” He pointed at a nearby shed with a tarp doorway. “Little Mike sleeps there. And the one to the right?” He pointed at what looked like half a teepee connected to an old outhouse. “That’s Georgie’s. He’s got a busted nose, so he don’t mind the smell.”
“Oh, the poor man,” Rose said as she placed her hand on her chest.
Jeb shrugged. “He says he don’t mind. But we don’t talk much. Mostly we keep to ourselves.”
“Where would the new people stay?” Beth asked. “The ones that haven’t been here a while?”
“Well, I don’t right know.” Jeb scratched his head. “Far from the creek, I suppose. Maybe that way?” He pointed south down a dusty footpath. It wound between some sturdier shacks and then turned downhill.
She looked at Lieutenant Tompkins.
He shrugged. “Lead the way.”
“But my place is that way,” Jeb said. He pointed north.
“My, it’s such a nice day,” Rose interjected. She hooked her arm inside of Jeb’s, to his shocked surprise. “Perhaps we could stroll south for a bit first? I don’t believe I’ve ever been that way.”
He stared wide-eyed at her and swallowed several times.
“Oh my, yes,” he said. “Oh my, yes. It is such a nice day. A nice day indeed.”
Rose gave him a warm smile and then nodded toward the southern footpath. “Shall we?”
Beth and Lieutenant Tompkins stepped aside and let Jeb and Rose lead. He started talking a mile a minute describing everything they passed. He even started wildly pointing at the scattered pines and the distant peaks, as he explained how he’d once seen an eagle.
They followed the footpath down and around and then up a small ridge. The gaps between the scattered lean-to’s grew and more scrub bushes and scraggly trees intervened. They swayed slightly in the breeze.
At the top of the ridge, Jeb froze. He clutched Rose’s arm and stared down the path at something. Beth rushed around to his side.
A tall man in a full coat and Stetson hat strode up the trail toward them. His ragged beard didn’t hide his shock.
“That’s him!” Jeb said. He pointed straight at the man. “The cowboy I saw before!”
With a snarl, the cowboy reached for his gun.