Chapter Four
Knox
The morning sun casts a warm golden light across the open field.
This property was the first big purchase I ever made.
I got it on a land contract when I was eighteen from a guy who was desperate to get out of Colorado and away from the cold winters that shut this place down eight months of the year.
Some days, I don’t blame him. Others, I wonder how he ever gave all this up.
Two hundred acres of wild, untamed property in the open wilderness. White-capped mountains, rolling hills, wildflowers, pine trees as far as you can see, and a creek that runs through it all.
“This place is insane,” Juniper declares, spinning in a slow circle like she’s trying to absorb it through her skin.
“I swear the energy here is off the charts. I can feel it buzzing, especially near the creek. Water always amplifies residual activity. Plus, there were a ton of miners up here back in the day. There used to be a camp. You know that, right?”
I grunt. “Sure. I got a box full of old mining tools that’ve washed up over the years. The guy that owned the land before me started it.”
“Oh wow. That’s so cool. I bet there’s a ton of trapped emotion here.
Land like this holds memories, especially if something traumatic happened.
I read online that drifters used to come through and,” she sucks in a deep breath through her teeth as though the story is about to turn gruesome, “they stabbed or shot people to take whatever gold they’d found. ”
I ignore how much I’m enjoying her chatter this morning. She knows a lot of weird shit, but it’s interesting. “Makes sense. The old west was ruthless.”
I keep my eye on the trail, pretending I’m not interested, though for some reason I am.
She hums, crouching near a patch of moss. “I’m getting something. Not a full presence, but like… echoes. Maybe from the gold panning, or maybe it’s just the land itself. Some places are naturally thin.”
“Thin?”
“Between worlds,” she says, like it’s obvious. “You know, the veil. Spirit realm, ghosts, energy signatures… you really don’t know any of this?”
“I know trees,” I say, “and how to keep the roof from caving in.”
Her smile is sweet, cutting through my chest in a way it shouldn’t. “I guess that’s useful, too.”
I turn away and focus on the trees, the mountains, and the creek. Anything but that smile, her long dark hair, and those hips.
The water’s higher this time of year with all the rain we’re getting. I don’t come down here much. There’s always so much shit to get done, but I should. It’s peaceful… even if there are ghosts haunting it.
Juniper runs her hand over a smooth stone beneath the water’s surface. She stays there for a while, her eyes closed, her full, pink lips slightly parted as though she’s waiting for a radio signal.
I gather she’s not getting one.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Shh… I’m trying to concentrate.”
Concentration, right. I lean against a nearby pine, watching her as she works. There’s a bit of chill in the air, but the sun is still shining bright. All too soon these fall days will turn into an unforgiving winter.
“How long do you give it before you concede that there are no ghosts up here?”
She rolls her eyes to the side and grins playfully. “If you told me to hold a flashlight, would you want me to hold it or ask you a bunch of questions about why I’m holding it?”
I tilt my head to the side, giving her credit for that very clear explanation, then go back to trying not to watch her work. Try being the keyword.
She’s got this way of being still that makes everything else louder. My heartbeat, the wind, the guilt gnawing at the back of my skull.
I had a dream last night I can’t stop thinking about. Not sure why it happened. When we went to bed, I was ready to haul her down the mountainside myself.
Sure, she’s cute, I don’t think anyone would deny that, but that doesn’t change reality, and reality says she’s my dead buddy’s daughter.
Reality says I have no fucking business having dreams of her naked body on top of mine.
Reality says I have no business waking up to her name on my lips, her curves on my mind.
I’ve been wrestling with this all morning. Trouble is, that dream also has me feeling like I’m starved, and she’s the last warm meal on Earth.
Enough, Knox! She’s his kid.
That thought hits me hard again, like it has continuously since last night at dinner.
The thought that’s supposed to keep me in line, but doesn’t stop the way my eyes drift to the curve of her waist, the way her hair catches the light, and the way her fingers move like she’s coaxing secrets out of the land.
I shift against the tree, arms crossed tight, trying to hold myself together, trying not to think about what it would feel like to touch her. Can I let go and forget, just once?
The forest shifts. It’s a low rustle, not from the wind or her. I straighten, instinct kicking in before reason. Across the creek, half-shadowed by the brush, it’s massive… and watching.
I’ve seen that grizzly around a few times this month, which is strange. Grizzlies aren’t usually seen in Colorado anymore, and this time of year most of the bears are tucked into the high hills for hibernation. There’s a reason this one isn’t and I’m guessing it’s not good.
I take one slow step forward, my hand resting on Juniper’s shoulder gently as not to startle her. “We need to move.”
“No,” she grins swatting me away, “I’m close. I can feel someone’s energy. They’re angry.”
“I think the energy you’re feeling is the nearly half ton bear that’s moving toward us. We need to go.”
She freezes as the EMF reader in her hand crackles, a sharp spike of static.
Her smile falters. “That’s… not normal.”
“No shit,” I whisper, eyes locked on the shadow lumbering through the trees across the creek.
The bear’s fur glints like wet bark, its breath visible in the crisp October air. It’s not charging, not yet, but it’s watching us like it’s still deciding.
Standing slowly, her voice barely a breath, she says, “My dad used to say… late bears mean restless spirits. We shouldn’t go far. Something is here with us.”
I glance at her like she’s crazy. “Honey, we’ve got a massive man-eating animal a hundred yards from us. We move, or we become the restless spirits.”
She glances toward the bear sobering toward us then back toward me, her eyes wide now, the bravado gone. “Okay. Let’s move.”
I don’t wait for her to gather her gear. I grab her small, warm, trembling hand and start backing us toward the ridge. We need to move slowly, keep our eyes on the bear. If we run, he’ll charge. If we turn our backs, he’ll charge.
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Juniper glances up at me. “He’s huge.”
“He’s already filled his food storage. I don’t know why he’s out here,” I say, backing toward the truck that’s parked to the west of the creek.
The bear lumbers closer, slow but deliberate, like it’s sizing us up.
Juniper’s breath hitches, and her fingers tighten around mine.
I keep my voice low as I say, “Eyes on him. No sudden moves.”
She nods, but her gaze flicks past the bear and toward the trees behind it.
“There’s something else,” she whispers. “I feel it. Like the bear’s not alone.”
I don’t look, not yet, because the bear is real.
We reach the edge of the ridge, the truck still forty yards out.
We’re too far, it’s too open, and there’s nothing to put between us and the massive animal now sniffing the air.
I have my gun, but I’ve shot at this bear before.
It only entices him, like he’s looking to prove himself better than some bullet.
The bear stops, sniffs the air again, then turns its massive head toward the woods.
I scan the terrain. No boulders. No trees thick enough to climb. The open ground I’d been so happy to own is now a game trail for this bear, and our truck salvation is out of reach.
The bear takes another slow, heavy step forward.
Juniper whispers, “He’s not hunting.”
I glance at her. “What does that mean?”
She swallows hard. “It means something’s using him.”
“What? Using him? We need to focus.”
The sky churns above us, low and gray, clouds dragging like wet wool. A gust cuts through the clearing, sharp and cold, rattling the leaves and kicking dust. The bear takes another slow, heavy step forward, its muscles rippling beneath a coat matted with rain and dirt.
“I am,” Juniper whispers. “I think there’s a spirit using the bear. He’s trying to warn us of something. It’s just like my dad said… late bears mean restless spirits.”
Her voice is barely audible over the wind that’s picked up
“I knew your dad for most of my life. If he said that, he meant something else by it. He wasn’t a spiritual guy.”
I stare at the bear, its massive frame shifting just beyond the tree line.
Juniper’s eyes don’t leave the animal. “He’s not here to kill us. He’s here to deliver a message.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “Yeah? Is the message get the fuck away from my creek, ‘cause he’s delivering it pretty well.”
She steps closer to me, her tiny hand still lost in mine. “Something is coming. Believe me!” The EMF reader in her pocket starts to whine, and almost simultaneously the bear snorts, turns its head toward the creek, then lumbers into the forest like nothing happened.
I take the opportunity to get us back to the truck in one piece. Juniper doesn’t speak, but I feel her pulse racing through her palm.
The EMF reader keeps grumbling louder now, like it’s protesting our retreat. Apparently, it picks up on electromagnetic energy. I don’t want to tell her that the spikes are probably the old mining equipment buried out here.
The truck is just ahead, parked crooked between two dying aspens. I shove her inside, then circle to the driver’s side, sighing a breath of relief when we’re both safe.
Wildlife is nothing to fuck with up here. The later the season, the more desperate the animal, and there’s no doubt this rogue grizzly is desperate.
Juniper stares out the window, eyes wide, lips parted. “I think we woke something up.”
I start the engine, eyes scanning the tree line. “Let me guess. The bear was possessed… by a ghost who’s mad we took his parking spot.”
She doesn’t seem amused by my joke, but this is serious shit. Hell, part of me thinks she’d have stayed and put her life at risk to see what that bear’s ghost had to say.
I shake my head. “It’s a coincidence. You’re chasing shadows, Juniper. That bear’s real. His teeth are real. And if we’d stayed, we’d be real dead.”
She turns to me, eyes wide and serious. “You didn’t feel it?”
I grip the wheel tighter. “I felt fear. That’s what happens when a massive predator sniffs the air like you’re dinner.”
“Seriously, I think there’s a spirit using the bear,” she says, voice low but steady. “He’s trying to warn us.”
I scoff, the truck idling. “You ever consider maybe the bear’s just a bear?”
She leans toward me defiantly. “You ever consider that your reality isn’t the only one that matters?”
I glance at her, jaw tight. “I deal in what I can see, what I can shoot, what I can survive.”
She doesn’t blink. “And what about what you feel?”
“I don’t need to feel. Feelings aren’t real. Feelings are static meant to confuse you. The sooner you realize that, the faster you’ll see how ridiculous all this ghost stuff is.”
She stares at me, her eyes burning. “You think it’s ridiculous that I want to feel like my parents are still out there somewhere? That my dad is with my mom someplace and they’re still in love? You think that’s static?”
Fuck! I keep stepping into this shit! Why didn’t I see this? Of course she’s hunting ghosts to feel close to her parents!
I shake my head and stare down at the wheel before glancing back at her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I…” I don’t know what to say.
“Why are you like this? What happened? What made you stop feeling, or were you always this way?”
I stare at her. “What’s the point? What feeling have you ever had in your life that felt good? Not simply for a minute, but long term.”
She doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at me like she’s trying to decide whether to fight me or forgive me, then she says, “Love. Even when it hurt, even when it ended, it was still… everything.”
I scoff. “Love is the worst of them all. It has you believing in shit you can’t control, and when it’s gone, you’re bleeding in places no one can see.”
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “Maybe bleeding means it mattered,” she says, voice low.
Her hand finds my collar and her lips crash into mine, warm and urgent, like she’s trying to prove something, like she’s daring me to feel. Her fingers tighten in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer, and for a second, the world narrows to the heat between us.
I don’t move for a moment, frozen with my thoughts, but it ends as quickly as it started. She pulls away leaving my heart pounding and the taste of berries on my lips. “Did you feel that?”
I reach up, fingers brushing her jaw. “Yeah,” I say, “I do.”
She exhales, her breath shaky, like she’s been holding it since the creek. And I know, in this moment, we’re both haunted, just not by the same things.