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“Well,” she said, eyeing the crowd taking up most of the lobby’s seating, “you’ve come in the middle of one of our ghost-hunting conferences. However, I just got a last-second cancellation, so I have a room with a street view and its own bathroom if you want it.”
“Sounds perfect,” Lyssa said.
Dorothy leaned in conspiratorially. “There’s one hitch. That pesky varmint Wild Bill McCutchen was killed in the bed in Room 8.” Her tone was suited to the deep, dark midnight of a scary haunted house.
Cal had never heard of the varmint Wild Bill McCutchen. “Wouldn’t a ghost hunter want that room? It could be a wild night.” Beside him, Lyssa stifled a laugh.
Dorothy explained solemnly, “It’s our most terrifying room. Over the years, we’ve had guests almost frightened to death.” She leaned closer to whisper, “One even thought he’d had a heart attack.”
Lyssa put a hand to her chest. “Oh my.”
With the hint of a smile, Dorothy added, “It’s also our most expensive room, and this crowd is a thrifty bunch.”
Cal handed her his credit card. “We’ll take it.”
She smiled, showing her teeth like a shark who’d trapped a big one. “Right next door, you’ll find our world-famous restaurant serving the best steaks west of the Pecos.” Then she cackled. “We’re also the only game in town, so even if you don’t like the food, it’s all you’ve got.”
He signed the register, and Dorothy rang a bell. A man as tall and thin as the concierge but much, much older rushed over.
“Abel,” she called in a loud voice. “Take this couple up to Wild Bill McCutchen’s room.”
The entire lobby fell silent, every eye on them, mouths agape at what audacious spendthrifts they were.
Lyssa couldn’t quite hold in her laughter this time.
“I’ll get your bags.” Abel bent down, his back creaking.
“It’s no problem, I can carry them,” Cal said.
Abel allowed the help, taking them up wide wooden stairs to a narrow hall that led to the front of the hotel, where the dimly lit corridor opened on a large public area filled with tables. Unlocking the door to Room 8 with an old-fashioned skeleton key, Abel waved them in.
A crocheted coverlet enveloped the big brass bed, while the hardwood floor was covered in braided rugs. Two rocking chairs with needlepoint cushions sat by the long front window. The bathroom sported a claw-foot tub and a toilet topped by a hanging cistern with a chain to flush.
Lyssa clapped her hands. “I love it!” She pointed to the bed. “Did Wild Bill actually die right there?”
Cal hoped not, or the ancient mattress would be very uncomfortable.
Abel turned animated. “He sure did, ma’am. But don’t you worry, those sheets aren’t the ones he died on.”
Lyssa couldn’t hold back a smile as she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have a ghost tour we could join, would you?”
“Well, ma’am, we don’t have an official tour.” Abel affected an Old West drawl. “But I’d be happy to give you the lowdown.” His eyes twinkled. “Dorothy can ring the bell real loud if she needs me.”
They spent the next hour with Abel. A couple had been murdered in Room 12. Room 2 had seen a wife murder her husband. And Room 16 boasted a deadly squabble between two cowboys over a saloon girl. Evidently, the ghosts of them all haunted the hotel, day and night, along with Wild Bill McCutchen.
They were chilling, thrilling tales. Lyssa asked question after question, giving Abel ample room to embellish his stories.
“So tell me, Abel, have you seen any of these ghosts in person?” Her eyes bright, it was clear she hoped the answer was yes.
“Why, no, ma’am, I’ve never seen a thing. That’s why I can work here, because I don’t have sensibilities. People who can see spirits are far too sensitive to the emotions of the ghosts who wander these halls to stay on for more than a night or two. But there will be a séance in the parlor outside your room tonight. And you might get some knocks on your door from people asking if you’ve seen Wild Bill McCutchen’s ghost.”
Once Abel left them alone in their room, Lyssa threw herself at Cal. “This is going to be so much fun.” Standing back, she deepened her voice. “Is it just me, or do you feel an icy cold in this room?”
“Now that you mention it, I’m suddenly feeling bony fingers down my spine.”
Lyssa collapsed on the bed in giggles. “We absolutely have to watch the séance.”
God, how he loved the way she enjoyed life. Until he’d met her, he’d forgotten about having fun.
Now, all he wanted was to laugh with her—and love her—for the rest of his life.
* * *
They had dinner in the hotel dining room crowded with ghost hunters, all jabbering excitedly about tonight’s upcoming séance. The menu featured Wild Bill McCutchen 16-ounce Steak, Butch Cassidy Prime Rib, and Wyatt Earp Beef Stew.
