Chapter 13
Haylee finished making coffee from the in-room coffeemaker. She offered a mug to Tyson with a smile. She had such a sweet smile that lit up his world. “Here you go.”
He gave her a soft kiss, then took the mug she offered him, his fingers brushing hers. “Thanks, hon.”
Tyson opened the French doors that led to the small balcony. He caught the wildflower scent of her shampoo as he held the door open, and she swept past him, her slippers pattering on the stonework.
She set the mug on the small ironwork table and settled onto her seat, adjusting her robe, a sexy candy apple-red like the lipstick she’d worn last night. The silky robe clung to her curves and the generous swells of her breasts.
Steam rose from his mug as he sat in the other chair, which creaked as he settled in it. He managed to tear his gaze away from her to take in the scenery.
An extraordinary mountain view spread out before them. Early morning fall mist crawled up the canyon, clinging low to the ground and hugging the mountaintop.
“It’s so beautiful here.” She blew on her coffee then sipped it. She lowered her mug, her hands wrapped around the toffee-brown stoneware. Her chest rose and fell as she inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” Her voice had a musical quality that resonated with him.
He breathed in the scents of fall and pine trees. He turned to look at Haylee, her blonde hair tousled and tumbling over her shoulders. “You smell even better.”
She flashed him a smile. “So, the plan is Tombstone today?”
“Yep.” He sipped from his coffee. “Whenever we’re packed and ready to go, we’ll grab something for breakfast, then head to ‘the town too tough to die.’”
Silence fell between them as they took in the beauty. Birds twittered, and the sound of brush rustling told him something larger moved through the forest. A cottontail hopped out of the greenery and continued below the balcony, where they couldn’t see it any longer.
“I had a wonderful time yesterday.” She turned her gaze on him. “Last night was special.”
He gave a slow nod. “It was, hon. Very special.”
They enjoyed their coffee and the morning for a while longer. He drained his mug first. When she finished hers, she shivered. “I’m chilled. I’m not used to the cool weather yet.”
“It doesn’t help that you’re wearing silk instead of terry cloth.”
She laughed and gave him a wicked grin. “But terry cloth isn’t nearly as enticing.”
He grinned. “On you, anything is sexy.”
She got up from her chair, and he saw the goosebumps on her arms. “I’m hungry.”
He was hungry forher, but he kept that to himself.
They returned to the room, and Tyson showered. Haylee took a quick shower, dried her hair, and put on a bit of makeup that Tyson didn’t think she needed, but she looked as incredible as ever.
When they were ready, they headed back to the truck, him helping her into the passenger side before going to his own and starting the vehicle.
Tyson and Haylee grabbed a quick breakfast at a drive-thru, planning to have something more substantial in Tombstone for lunch.
A sense of excitement built inside Haylee on their way along the scenic backroad to the Wild West town. “I’ve grown up hearing about Tombstone, but even with it in the same state, I’ve never managed to make it here before.”
“I went years ago, back in high school,” Tyson said. “I wonder if it’s changed much.”
She glanced from the grassy rolling lands filled with mesquite trees and cholla cacti and looked at Tyson as he drove. “I’ve grown up with cowboys, but I’ve always had a fascination with those who lived back in the 1800s.”
He gave a nod, still focused on the road ahead. “Old Westerns were the best when it came to movie watching when I was growing up.”
“I still like the spaghetti Westerns.” She spotted part of the town ahead. “Looks like we’re here.”
Tyson guided the truck past Old West storefronts and down a street between small businesses and a park. They reached a designated parking area, and he found a spot on the dirt lot.
A few minutes later, they walked hand-in-hand to Allen Street, the town’s historic main street. Worn wooden storefronts lined the streets, with tourists walking along the wooden walkways.
The air was still as a horse-drawn wagon trundled down Tombstone’s main street. The cowboy driver whistled at his horses to hurry them along, their hooves clopping along the dirt road.
Two gunfighters stepped away from the crowd of people in period clothing and drew their guns simultaneously. Only one remained standing after the shots stopped ringing out. Smoke curled from the barrel of the gun of the cowboy still on his feet.
Haylee looked at Tyson and grinned. “I feel like I’m in that old movie, Tombstone.”
He smiled and met her gaze. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
Hand in hand, they made their way further down the street lined with countless shops. Leather goods, western hats, pottery, antiques, vintage clothing, and Western art—all interspersed with souvenirs.
They changed direction and went inside one of the ancient hotels to watch a show about the Wild West.
After leaving the hotel, she squeezed Tyson’s hand. “This is all like being in a movie.”
A sign advertising a ghost tour caught her eye. “We could go on a tour this evening.”
Tyson looked in the direction she pointed and read the sign. “That sounds like fun.”
“I’ve never been on a ghost tour.” Haylee stepped beside him on the creaking wooden walk as they passed in front of a store with turquoise jewelry, cowboy hat pins, and bolo ties. “I can’t wait.”
They spotted Big Nose Kate’s Saloon, which appeared to be straight out of a bygone era. Haylee had to blink until her eyes adjusted to the dimness as the aromas of tobacco, beer, and bar food greeted them. Along the right side was an impressive bar, the bottles of alcohol glinting beneath the lights. A bucking bull-riding machine was trying to unseat a cowboy, and men and women played at poker tables nearby.
On the left, an older man dressed in an old-fashioned vest played the banjo. Further back, a woman in a boa and saloon girl costume sat at a piano while having her picture taken beside a tall man wearing a duster and western hat.
Directly in front of them was a spiraling staircase that descended to what the sign proclaimed as “the Shaft.”
The hostess, dressed like a saloon girl, escorted Tyson and Haylee to a table near the piano. They ordered mugs of beer and perused the menus before a server, also dressed as a saloon girl, came to take their orders. They both chose burgers with steak fries.
As they waited for their food, they linked their fingers on the tabletop and talked about their gold hunting trip and Warren’s treasure box.
“I wonder if he ever came to Tombstone.” Her gaze drifted around the saloon. “For all we know, he could have sat on one of those barstools and had a glass of whisky at the bar.”
Tyson squeezed her fingers in his. “He just may have had a drink or two here.”
Their drinks arrived, and they drew apart and enjoyed the music and atmosphere. They plowed through the tasty food when it arrived, both hungry. By the time they exited the saloon, Haylee was pleasantly sated.
Tyson took her hand and led her to a photography studio across the street. The window featured images of men and women wearing Old West garb.
He looked down at Haylee. “How about we get our pictures taken?”
“I’m in.” Haylee beamed and followed him inside the studio. The photographer happened to have an available appointment that had been canceled earlier.
“I want to be a saloon girl,” Haylee stated when asked by the photographer.
Tyson opted for gambler’s duds, and they changed in separate rooms. When she came out, she slinked up to him, taking in his get-up. He looked striking, dressed all in black with a black felt hat and a belt bearing a revolver with a pearl-handled grip.
“Hiya, handsome.” Haylee put her hand on her hip and batted her eyelashes. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Tyson looked so damned sexy, dressed all in black with a black gambler’s hat. He had a black gun belt slung at his hips and a revolver with a pearl-handled grip.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a sexy grin. “Hello, beautiful. I’ll take you up on that offer.”
The photographer, wearing an old-fashioned shirt that puffed at the wrists, a striped vest, and a black armband, ushered them to an old upright piano.
He draped a red feather boa over Haylee’s shoulders and gave her a small bag with a dollar sign motif. She kicked off her shoes and perched atop its closed lid. She adjusted her skirt to reveal a good deal of skin on one thigh.
The photographer had Tyson lean his hip against the piano, arms crossed, with his revolver resting on one bicep.
Haylee giggled while Tyson smirked before composing himself for the photo and putting on a severe expression.
The photographer got behind what appeared to be an old-fashioned camera from the 1800s, but likely contained modern technology.
In a few minutes, they were done. They examined the photos of themselves—one option was sepia, while the other was in color. After selecting a package with sepia-toned pictures, it took only a few moments for the printouts to be ready and for Haylee and Tyson to pay before they left.
“Let’s go to the OK Corral,” Haylee said as they left the photographer’s studio. “I want to see where the Clantons and Earp brothers fought it out.”
He nodded. “Afterward, we can get the truck and drive to the Boothill Cemetery.”
They arrived at the OK Corral then stood in the same spot where that legendary gunfight had occurred so many years ago. The thrill of the reenactment made her skin tingle.
After traveling to and viewing Boothill Cemetery and walking amongst its old tombstones, they drove to the parking lot near the courthouse.
Tyson glanced at the blazing sunset as they made their way from the lot. “Time for our ghost tours.”
“I’m ready.” She grinned.
The old courthouse had a clock tower, and tickets were sold inside. Tyson purchased two for the courthouse tour and a separate pair for the ghost adventure they planned to go on later.
Their courthouse guide took them throughout the building, and they soon learned about famous town marshals and some of the lawless men who had been housed in the century-old building.
Haylee and Tyson enjoyed themselves so much by the time they finished exploring the courthouse that she was eager to participate in the upcoming ghost tour. They returned to Allen Street, where the courthouse desk clerk had told them to meet up.
Haylee leaned into Tyson as they neared the meeting site. Standing before them was a man in clothing from the 1800s, their probable guide for the evening. He had a pointy gray beard and mustache that ended with twirled tips.
After everyone quieted, he began talking about the area’s more gruesome history.
“Follow me.” The guide turned away. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t get left behind—you might never find your way back.”
Tyson grasped Haylee’s hand and leaned close. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you get lost.”
Haylee smiled up at him. “I’m not letting go of you.”
After hearing the guide, a few of the five people standing before him snickered while others murmured to each other before falling in behind their guide. One of the women gave a nervous giggle and said in a loud whisper to her partner, “I’ve heard this tour is spooky as hell.”
“You may end up regretting your decision to come here.” The guide’s voice quavered in the night. “We may see and hear things beyond imagination.”
As they walked, he pointed out old buildings that had been abandoned for decades and related stories about murders, mysterious deaths, and other strange happenings.
Haylee could almost swear she heard ghostly whispers at one point when the guide was going through his routine.
They walked along a deserted street close to a saloon, and Haylee shivered as an eerie feeling came out of nowhere and slithered over her skin. It was as if a presence was hovering nearby. A chill rolled down her spine.
A glowing orb appeared in front of them.
The guide made a startled sound and stepped back as the glow grew brighter until it took shape—a young woman in an old-fashioned dress floated in front of them and pointed her finger at the guide. “It was you.”
The guide took another step back, and his voice trembled. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
The phantom of the woman flickered and shimmered in the air, and her face grew darker. “You will pay for what you have done.”
The ghost screamed an eerie, drawn-out, shuddering wail.
She vanished, leaving behind a deafening silence.
The others in the group started speculating about the image and how real it looked.
“The ghost was real.” A woman with long dark hair and large black eyes spoke emphatically. “I’m a sensitive—she is here because she was murdered in this alleyway. She seeks vengeance that can never be granted.”
Haylee leaned into Tyson, and he settled his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him. Their gazes met.
“Ready to go?” he murmured in her ear.
“I’ve had enough of ghosts.” She shivered as they walked away and kept her voice low. “Even if that woman was merely an actress.”
“I hear you, honey.” He kept her close as they walked through the dark streets back to the truck parked near the courthouse.
Once they returned to the truck and headed home to King Creek, Tyson linked his fingers with Haylee’s on the console. “Did you enjoy the day as much as I did?”
She turned to look at him and studied his strong features in the amber glow of the dashboard lights. “I’ve had such a terrific time with you this entire weekend, Tyson. Thank you.”
He flashed her a quick smile and turned back to the highway. “You made our time together wonderful.”
She leaned back against the seat. “It’s a long way home.”
“Only three hours, give or take.” He cast her a glance. “I don’t mind the extra time with you.”
“True, there’s that.” She smiled. “This has been the best weekend ever.”
“Yep.” He gave a nod. “But you know what, hon? I think things can only get better between us.”
Haylee studied him. At that moment, with perfect crystal clarity, she knew the truth.
She was truly, absolutely, madly in love with Tyson.