Olivia dismounted and walked the few feet back to Malachi and Abby.
She didn’t have to say anything. “This is where Marcus died?” he asked.
She nodded.
Dustin, down from Chapparal, joined Malachi at the ravine’s edge.
“It’s obvious, even at night—and Marcus died during the day—that this ravine is here, that there’s a drop. And,” Malachi said, hunkering down at the edge, “if you did fall in, you’d roll and brace yourself and—”
“But Marcus had been knocked out and then shot up with heroin,” Olivia reminded her cousin. “He wouldn’t have been able to stop his fall.”
Malachi nodded. “Someone could have died under those circumstances, even if he was trying to save himself, but...”
“The general came. He looked down at me when Marcus was in my arms and tapped me on the shoulder at the same time, and...and I passed out,” Olivia said, embarrassed.
Dustin was glad that Abby laughed. “Trust me!” she said. “That kind of surprise would get to the most hardened of us.”
“She’s right,” he concurred. “We learn that we see and hear what others don’t. Doesn’t mean we can’t be startled as hell. That really never changes. Ghosts. Sometimes they show up when you least expect them—and hide when you’re trying to reach them!”
“It’s just the right time,” Abby said quietly. And it was. The moon was rising; the sun had almost fallen below the horizon. The hills, the plains, the landscape—all had that magical quality of twilight.
They were still for a minute, until Dustin cleared his throat, and the sound roused them from their trance.
“Maybe the general’s at the cemetery,” Malachi suggested.
Olivia nodded. “Let’s forge ahead.”
They rode on and eventually came to the clearing that led to the small cemetery.
“This is one of Mariah’s favorite places,” Olivia told them. “The stories, of course, that go with the cemetery are tragic.”
“Ghost stories often are,” Malachi said
Dustin dismounted, lifting his lantern high. “Liv, do we leave the horses and walk along the trail?” he asked.
“No. There are coyotes in the area. We don’t want spooked horses. If we had to walk back, it would be a very long walk.”
“All right, this is your terrain, Liv. I’ll stay with the horses,” Dustin offered.
“No, I’ve been to the cemetery plenty of times,” Malachi said. “Olivia’s house belonged to our uncle when we were growing up,” he reminded Dustin. “I came out here—” he paused, grinning “—to the frontier often enough. You show Abby.”
Dustin didn’t argue. Olivia raised her own lantern high and led the way along the trail.
They came to the graves, and the old lichen-covered stones were haunting and sad in the moonlight.
“I’m surprised the general has been allowed to rest here—that someone hasn’t decided to dig him up for a memorial,” Abby said. She knelt down by the grave, dusting it off. “It’s nice here, though. Lonely.”
“Seems to be a Tennessee thing, respecting his right to this place,” Olivia said, getting down on her knees beside Abby. “There’s never even been any vandalism out here, nor do we ever find beer cans or any hint of frat kids fooling around. Not here, not in the cemetery.” She glanced up at them. “There’s an urban legend about the place—that in the 1960s or ’70s, some kids came out here, but there was a coyote prowling the area and they got scared and started to run. One of the boys got tangled in some vines. He was in a panic and he swore afterward that the general came and helped him. People believe that this cemetery is haunted—by more than coyotes. I guess it’s been tacitly accepted through the generations. The cemetery is maintained by local restoration groups, and no one interferes with it.”
“It’s a little forlorn,” Abby said. “And definitely out of the way.”
Olivia shrugged. “Maybe that’s why the general keeps riding.”
But the general wasn’t riding.
He was leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, watching them. Dustin watched him for several minutes without moving or speaking. He didn’t warn the women. At last he spoke, very quietly. “General Cunningham, we could really use your help.”
Neither Abby nor Olivia started. They looked over at him, where he stood by the trees. Olivia rose, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Sir,” she said. “I know you tried to save Marcus. We desperately need your help now.”
Abby rose slowly to her feet beside Olivia. The general stared back at all of them. He lifted his hand in a dignified greeting.
But then he disappeared.
Abby sighed. “I hope it wasn’t me,” she whispered.
“He just—he just isn’t a talker,” Olivia told her.
“Maybe he will be when he has something to say,” Abby suggested.
“Let’s get going. We have to pitch a tent for the night and then I want to go over everything that happened when Aaron fell into the stream,” Dustin said. “Every single thing we can recall....”
They returned to the horses, and Malachi instinctively seemed to know something had happened.
“We saw the general,” Dustin explained.
“And?” Malachi asked.
Abby shook her head.
“Well, we know he’s been here—watching,” Malachi said.
They rode on. When they broke into the clearing by the rocky hills, the sheer beauty of the area made them pause in unison. “We should get the tent pitched,” Malachi said once they’d reached the campsite. “Hey, Liv, this has been fixed up nicely over the years. The rocks around the fire pit—great! You can keep embers going at night without worrying that you’ll start a forest fire.”
“If it’s windy, of course, we still douse it completely,” Olivia said, dismounting. She untied the saddle pack she had on Shiloh. “Who has the tent supports?”
“I’ve got ’em,” Malachi called out.
They went to work erecting the tent. Soon it was done; Dustin was glad they’d chosen to bring one—it was getting too cold for sleeping bags alone. They’d take turns being on guard duty during the night.
They gathered firewood and got a blaze going. By then they were all famished and eating became the next order of business. Even the canned food tasted delicious at that point.
While they ate, Dustin and Olivia relayed everything that had occurred when Aaron had nearly drowned. Malachi and Abby nodded, asked questions and, after they’d finished eating, were shown the routes taken by the different players during the event.
“Tomorrow we should act it out. Count the seconds each movement takes, and so on.” Abby yawned. “I wouldn’t mind if I got to sleep first,” she said.
“Everyone go ahead. I’ll take this shift,” Dustin told them.
Olivia rose with Abby, obviously feeling a little awkward. She turned to face Dustin; he gazed back at her, meeting her eyes.
It’s up to you, he tried to tell her silently. I’m not afraid of Malachi. He’s sleeping with his partner—well, beside her, anyway. In separate sleeping bags.... So I think it’s okay if we do the same thing!
She didn’t say anything, but joined Abby and they entered the tent.
Malachi studied him across the fire. “Don’t underestimate my cousin’s strength,” he finally said. “She may not carry a weapon, but she’s a powerful personality.”
“I never doubted that for a minute.”
“And she’s beautiful. She might be my cousin, but she’s still one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree. I... Well. Hell. I care about her. A lot.”
Malachi said nothing further, but he grinned. Maybe that was what he’d wanted to hear. “Okay. I’m going to get some sleep.”
He got up and went into the tent. Dustin shifted, wrapping his arms around his chest. It was chilly. He didn’t want a blanket, though; he wanted to stay awake.
The flames grew small. The embers barely burned anymore. There was still light above him from the moon, and in the distance, a coyote howled. A branch snapped on the fire.
He stared out into the dark woods, but saw nothing.
He could hear the trickle of the nearby stream.
And then, walking toward him out of the trees, came the general.
General Rufus Cunningham.
He stopped across the fire from Dustin, then sat down to join him.
His voice was gruff when he spoke. “I’d help you—God knows I’d help you. But I didn’t see enough!”
“Thank you. I understand,” Dustin told him. “But, please, tell me whatever you did see. Anything— anything at all might help.”
The general sat back, gazing into the darkness.
And then he began.
16
Olivia wasn’t sure what had awakened her.
At first she’d thought she’d never sleep, but she’d closed her eyes and drifted off with surprising ease. Maybe it had been a release of tension; so much had happened. Aaron had almost died and been saved—and now he was actually dead. The Horse Farm was falling apart. But two armed agents rested nearby and Dustin was just outside. She felt...safe.
But just as easily as she’d slept, she awoke.
She lay there for a minute, trying to ascertain what had wakened her, her heart beginning to beat too fast. Fear set in so quickly these days.
But then she realized she heard Dustin’s voice and that it was calm and relaxed. She saw movement near her; Malachi had risen and crept to the opening of the tent. Abby was awake, as well, watching Malachi.
Olivia inched silently toward Malachi. He turned to her in the darkness. She could barely see his features but he whispered, “Move slowly.”
She nodded. Malachi eased himself out of the tent. She saw that he stood motionless for a few seconds and then moved toward the rock-circled fire, where the embers still burned with a soft glow.
