“Maybe it isn’t . . . what did you say his name is?”
“Relámpago. It means lightning.” Bowdry moved towards the stud, one hand outstretched. “Hey, boy. My great granddaddy told me about you.”
“What about him?”
“He’s a ghost horse, you know, magic.”
“A magic horse?” Macie said with a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. Legend says he appears to those in need, that he’s as swift as lightning, as sure-footed as a mountain goat and as reliable as the sun.” Bowdry patted the stallion on the neck. “My people believe if you treat him right, he’ll always carry you away from danger.”
Macie frowned. Had Relámpago brought her here to save Bowdry? But that was silly. If saving Bowdry had been the horse’s mission, wouldn’t Relámpago have just come here? There was no reason for the stallion to come to her. She hadn’t been in any danger . . . except from herself.
“You all right?” Bowdry asked. “You look a little pale.”
“What? Oh, I’m fine.”
“Well, whaddya say we get going? We’re gonna get mighty wet if we stay here.”
After gathering what gear he could carry, Bowdry swung on to the stallion’s back. Macie thought he looked a little pale himself when he reached down to offer her a hand up. She couldn’t blame him. Even though the wound wasn’t serious, it probably hurt like the devil.
Once she was settled behind him, Bowdry clucked to Relámpago and the stallion moved out at a brisk walk. A short time later, the horse broke into an easy lope.
Macie wrapped her arms around Bowdry’s middle, careful to avoid the wound in his side. It was rather pleasant, riding behind him. His broad back blocked the wind and made a nice pillow for her head.
Strange, she wasn’t more upset about finding herself in the Old West with a complete stranger, one who had recently killed a man. But then, there was no reason to be upset. She was only dreaming, after all.
Three
The ghost town rose up out of the prairie like a mirage, shimmering in the light of the setting sun, only to fade to dull grey as the sun dropped below the horizon.
Macie shivered as Bowdry reined the stallion to a halt in front of a dilapidated building. The sign over the door readTHE PALACE HOTEL. She thought it a rather pretentious name for a hotel stuck out in the middle of nowhere.
The town itself was little more than a block long. Judging by the number of saloons, the inhabitants had had quite a taste for whiskey. Besides the saloons and the hotel, the only other businesses were a blacksmith and a barber.
Swinging his leg over the stallion’s withers, Bowdry dismounted.
Macie slid off the horse’s back. “Is it safe to stay here?”
Bowdry shrugged. “I reckon so. I don’t see anybody else around, do you?”
“No, but . . .” She shivered as a chill wind blew a tumbleweed down the middle of the dusty street. “It feels, I don’t know, eerie.”
“Well,” Bowdry said with a grin, “itisa ghost town.”
“Maybe our ghost horse will protect us,” Macie muttered.
“Maybe so,” Bowdry said, chuckling.
“Shouldn’t we tie him up or something?”
Bowdry shook his head. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Puzzling over his reply, Macie followed Bowdry into the hotel. As was to be expected, the floors were covered with dust, as were the chairs and the registration desk.
The steps creaked as they made their way up the stairs. Bowdry opened the door to the first room they came to.
“I’ll take the next room,” Macie said, though she wasn’t looking forward to being alone with night coming on.
