Immortal Cowboy. Alexis Morgan
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Blessing, so she grabbed her purse and stepped out on the porch. Locking the door seemed a bit silly considering she was the only one around, but city habits died hard.
Besides, she never quite lost the feeling that she wasn’t alone here on the mountain. Crazy, she knew, and the last thing she’d admit to anyone, but it felt as if someone was out there watching over her. She liked to think that some part of Uncle Ray had remained tethered to the mountain after all the years he’d spent taking care of it.
Her parents would never understand why she’d find that thought comforting, but she did. She stared in the direction of the trail to Blessing, fighting the whimsical urge to roll down the window to yell that she’d be right back.
Then she cranked up the stereo and sang along with the music all the way down the mountain.
* * *
“Where’s she off to now?”
Not that it mattered. Rayanne would be back because she hadn’t taken anything with her other than her purse. Probably going after supplies. Too bad. It would be better for both of them if she’d packed her suitcase and left the mountain.
He’d been spending way too much time lurking near the cabin, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her. All he could think about was the color of her skin, the fullness of her breasts and the way she would have smelled of rain and woman. He’d felt guiltier about that, but it wasn’t his fault that she’d revealed all the creamy skin right in front of him.
What would she do if he were to return the favor, even fully clothed? She’d seen him twice before, once as a young girl and on her first morning back. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Would she faint again or finally realize that he was more than a figment of her imagination? Thanks to that god-awful picture she had of him, she had to know he’d been real at one time.
No one in the hundred-plus years he’d been stuck here, straddled between life and death, had ever done more than caught a glimpse of him, except when he lay dying in the dusty street of Blessing. He suspected it was like catching a movement out of the corner of your eye, just a hint of something being there but just out of sight.
A sound deeper in the woods drew his attention away from the clearing and back toward town. Something was stirring or maybe someone. By his reckoning, it was far too early in the summer for most of the townspeople to put in an appearance. That left two people most likely causing the disturbance, the ones responsible for his being in Blessing at all.
Sometimes Amanda, the schoolteacher, and her son, Billy, showed up early with no warning. They never stuck around for long, leastwise not until later in August, right before the whole nightmare started up again. Even when they were there, they only rarely acknowledged his presence. For some unknown reason, he was the only one who truly haunted the mountain year after year. Maybe because it was all his fault.
But even if Amanda and Billy didn’t speak to him, he’d seek them out, anyway. Even just a glimpse of Amanda gave him a sense of belonging, a belief that he wasn’t truly alone. Her boy, Billy, served as a reminder of the price paid for innocence lost.
Wyatt watched as Rayanne drove out of sight before making his way back toward Blessing.
On the way, he stared up at the sky and muttered, “Someone up there has a hell of a sense of humor. I’ve got one woman who shouldn’t be able to see me but can, and another who should be able to, but can’t. Where’s the sense in that?”
He paused for a second, tilting his head to the side, hoping against hope this time would be different and someone would answer. Instead, he got the same response he’d always gotten whenever he begged, pleaded or just plain asked for some kind of explanation for this ongoing hell he lived in: absolute silence.
* * *
The old general store hadn’t changed much since the last time Rayanne had been there. A few different brands on the shelves, but the same old, faded sign out front advertising gas, groceries and postage stamps.
She grabbed a basket on the way in and made her way up and down the three aisles, picking up the items on her list and a few impulse purchases, as well. For the moment, she was alone in the store. If Phil, the proprietor and postmaster, didn’t make an appearance by the time she was done, she’d ring the buzzer by the register to summon him from the small apartment attached to the back of the building.
More than once she and Uncle Ray had been invited back there for a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and root beer floats. Ray enjoyed the occasional game of chess with his old friend and hadn’t minded her hovering over his shoulder while they played.
She smiled, grateful for another happy memory of her time on the mountain.
The shuffle of feet announced Phil’s arrival. She snagged an extra pack of gum off the shelf and tossed it into the basket before making her way to the register. The passage of fifteen years had added a few wrinkles to Phil’s face, and his hairline had receded a bit more, but she would’ve known him anywhere.
She coasted to a stop just short of the counter, waiting to see if he recognized her. It didn’t take long. His welcoming smile brightened considerably as his faded blue eyes crinkled at the corners, leaving little doubt about her welcome. He charged back around the counter to sweep her up in a huge hug.
“Rayanne, girl, it has been too damn long. We’ve missed your pretty face up here on the mountain.”
Tears stung her eyes as she hugged her uncle’s old friend back. “I should have been here for him, Phil.”
Phil held her out at arm’s length. “Now, listen here, missy. Your uncle understood that your life was down in the city. He knew you loved him just like he loved you. If you don’t believe anything else, believe that.”
His words, spoken with such quiet authority, eased the knot in her chest enough so that she could breathe again.
“I’d like to think so, Phil. Thanks for saying so.”
“It’s no less than the truth.” His own eyes looked a bit shiny as he held out his hand for her basket. “Let’s get this stuff rung up for you. Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet.” And realized she hadn’t eaten already because she’d been subconsciously hoping Phil would make that offer.
“Great! We’ll have cheese sandwiches and root beer floats, just like old times.”
A shaft of sharp grief shot through her chest. Just like old times except that Uncle Ray wouldn’t be there. But his memory would be, and that would suffice.
Phil was still talking. “Don’t let me forget that I’ve got a package I’ve been holding for you. If you hadn’t come in today, I would’ve brought it to you on Sunday when the store’s closed.”
Really? Her local post office had said it could take a week or more for her mail to catch up with her. She wasn’t expecting any more book deliveries, either. She knew better than to rush Phil. He did things in his own way and at his own speed.
At least he made quick work of her groceries. He added the last can of soup to the bag and then hit the total button on his old-fashioned cash register. “That’ll be fifty-five dollars and forty-seven cents.”
She handed him the cash and then took the bag with her perishables and stuck them in the cooler at the back of the store. Another habit she’d learned from Ray. With that done, she followed Phil into his apartment.
* * *
Two hours flew by as he caught her up on all the changes in the area since her last visit. A few old-timers had passed on; some new folks had moved in. All the usual gossip, only the names changed. She didn’t mind hearing about people she didn’t know, not if it made Phil happy to talk about them.
Finally, she finished the last of her float, enjoying the combined flavors of vanilla ice cream and root beer. She’d have to live on lettuce for a few days to make up for the calories, but the guilty pleasure of the sweet treat was