“Good,” she murmured. “That’s good.”

So he held her as twilight deepened into night and crickets whirred their syncopated songs.

 • • •

Enzo’s rapid yips woke her. She jerked to sit and reached for Zach’s hand. He stiffened beside her and though he didn’t draw his fingers away, neither did he intertwine his with hers. Glancing down, she saw that his eyes were open and alert and revealed no emotion, which struck her as part of his cop manner. She couldn’t tell whether he’d just awakened and did so fast and ready for anything, or whether he’d been awake thinking private thoughts.

Jack Slade is here! Enzo barked. He’s come at last!

TWENTY-NINE

“GREAT,” CLARE SAID as Zach grunted.

She watched as the apparition walked through the shut door of the master suite, into the conversation area, then to the end of the bed. He didn’t look around or show that he was aware of the change in her surroundings. How much did a ghost know of those? The cowboy had known of the EZ Loan, but Clare understood that he’d been a ghost tied specifically to a location. Too many aspects she still didn’t understand.

She was glad she wore a nightshirt; still, she wished she had on underwear.

The ghost appeared to be a little . . . worn, not as substantial. Clare stiffened. Had something happened to him? Or was it something in her, the warning that if she didn’t “work” harder at her gift, she might go mad?

Good evening, ghost seer, the apparition said.

Zach’s fingers tightened around her hand. She turned her head toward him. He nodded, mouth flattening.

“Hel . . . Hello, Jack.”

I have found the exact location of the second ear I cut off Jules Beni. The ghost lapsed into silence for enough beats for Clare’s mind to wing to the puzzle box and its contents, in the house safe in the living room.

“Where is it?” she asked.

It is buried in an old depression that held a post of the corral behind the barn at Virginia Dale. There is no barn or corral now.

Jules Beni had been tied to a corral post.

Jack Slade’s lips twisted. And that hole is close to a post holding a large sign reporting lies about me.

“What lies?”

That I robbed the stage. He grew more dense, the angles and shadows of him more defined. Betrayed my employer. I might have been bad when drinking, but I was an honest man in my work! His chest actually seemed to rise and fall with agitated breath. He turned his glittering eyes on Zach. And I led no robbers in Montana, you who upheld the law, there.

Zach sat, grimaced, lifted a hand. “I’ve never been in Virginia City, Montana. I worked south of there.” He hesitated. “And I’m a law officer; I don’t believe in the vigilante ‘justice’ that condemned you.”

Jack Slade inclined his head. Thank you. He seemed to actually pace along the end of the bed, not drift. I don’t like people thinking I was so bad as to rob gold going to pay soldiers at Fort Laramie.

Again the ghost looked at Zach. Needed my reputation to keep order. That was the only thing that worked with the roughnecks under my direction, with outlaws and horse thieves like Beni, with the damn French ranchers and the Sioux. You know about rep.

Zach grunted, but Clare saw him nod.

The ghost continued, Then I got to liking my bad reputation too much. He moved his hand in a smooth gesture. Things happened. When drunk, I turned into a different person. And after Beni shot me—his image rippled—the pain never quit, and I drank more and I lost control.

The apparition lifted pale hands, waved them. But that is all past. We must hurry. The date of my wrongdoing is in three days. We must be ready—YOU must be ready to help me right the ill I caused. We should leave shortly, go to Virginia Dale, Colorado, then on to Cold Springs.

She supposed that was more efficient, but she’d just gotten her own home and she’d been traveling a lot lately and didn’t want to spend another night on the road. “They aren’t in the same direction,” she pointed out. “But they can both be day trips from here.”

The ghost scowled.

“I don’t ride horses,” she said. “And our vehicles are very fast.” She scraped her mind for other reasons. “I’d like to be rested and . . . and prepared. It will be a long day tomorrow, digging up . . . doing what needs to be done, and an even longer day”—she swallowed—“the day I help you . . . transition. Let me get some rest in my own bed in between times.”

Pacing faster until he blurred, the specter said, It comes near, my time; we cannot linger. I MUST go on. My Virginia waits for me. I can’t bear to be trapped any longer!

Sucking in a breath, Clare strove for more logic.

But Slade vanished.

She was cold, cold, trembling with it.

Zach drew her under the covers and gave her blessed warmth and mind-destroying release.

 • • •

She rose at dawn after a restless sleep . . . even the two times she and Zach had made love hadn’t released all the anxiety she had about digging up something on land that didn’t belong to her.

She dressed in jeans and a thin long-sleeved cotton shirt in a pastel pattern and hiking boots. The jeans and boots would help with rough ground, cactus, any snakes. The shirt would keep her arms from burning at high altitude. She stuck a small blue bandana in her pocket and laid out a straw cowboy hat.

One last time, she studied the location of the former Overland Stage Virginia Dale Station on several different 3D world maps on her tablet, but they could only give her two dimensions for this out-of-the-way place.

What she wanted to do was call someone who belonged to the Virginia Dale Community Club to ensure that the gates would be open. If they were standard country gates they’d prevent cars but not people from going in. The place was on the historic register list, after all. She’d even found a site for people leaving small caches for others to find by GPS, so it was probably open to the public. Of course the building itself would be locked. The next event of the club wasn’t until September.

She didn’t recall ever driving up that way, off the interstate. Well, there was a first time for everything.

Enough of soothing paperwork. On one of her moving trips she’d dropped by a sporting goods store and purchased a sturdy camp shovel that she’d left in her car.

Now to prepare for the rest of the day. She began packing lunch in a small cooler: cold chicken strips, hard-boiled eggs, iced tea, and beer . . . just in case Zach wanted to come. She thought he might.

He clumped into the kitchen in his boxers. That she’d heard him told her he was still groggy.

“Coffee?” he grunted.

She’d put it on earlier, had gotten involved on the computer and hadn’t even had a cup, so she poured for two.

Zach let the taste of premium coffee lie on his tongue, really good, and Clare looked equally good, though her appearance as Cowgirl, or maybe Hiking Girl or Mountain Girl, was a new side of her.

Seven A.M. and she seemed to be heading out. He blinked at her. He’d hoped to have more time to think about this whole business, especially since she’d kept waking him during the night with her tossing and turning. The sex had been amazing, though.

But the whole woo-woo thing had ruffled his nerves, begun to wear on him. He knew she hoped he was joining her. He had the time, both of them knew that, but he sure didn’t think he had the desire.