Chapter 5

“Nancy!” Hal Gladstone rushed into Mysti’s shop, panting as if he had run the four blocks from City Hall. His orange polo shirt and blue running pants with the word BRONCOS stitched down the leg contrasted his usual Mayoral three-piece suit and almost made Mysti chuckle. There was no way he had been jogging. His overly abundant girth suggested too many patty melts from his diner that his daughter, Leanne, now ran.

“I’m so sorry about Reverend Begley’s breakdown yesterday.” —Hal’s eyes darted across her trinkets— “I know you must be hurt and humiliated, Honey. But, listen, I’ve got a plan that’ll not only help this town, but it just might help you get a little revenge on ol’ Obadiah as well.”

Mysti sighed. “What are you talking about, Hal?”

Chief Gibson lifted his Stetson and set it back properly on his head. “Well, I’ll be going, Mysti. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. All right?”

“Sure.” Mysti dismissed the Chief. Her Uncle was so much more of a problem, than the abusive treatment in church, that the Chief’s words just skipped across her mind and were quickly forgotten. Trent extended his hand toward the Mayor, who passionately gripped his. “Good job, you’re doing, there Chief Gibson. Mighty proud of ya.”

The chief’s eyebrows lifted toward his cowboy hat. “Well, thank you, Mayor.”

Mysti’s hands balled into fists as she planted them on her hips. “What makes you think I want any kind of revenge? I think time and karma will take care of everything.”

Gibson glanced a knowing look at her. A slight smile on his mouth revealed he understood as he turned away and left her store.

“Nah!” Hal looked around and pulled out a loopy wire chair, the kind typically found in an ice cream parlor. He flopped down with his right arm draped over the back of the chair and his left ankle across his right knee. “Make me some that famous tea of yours, and let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, sure you do. We’re blood and blood’s thicker than water, baby girl. We may have our differences, but when someone comes down hard on any one of us, the Gladstones stand united. Come on, I’m serious. I’ve got a great idea and I promise it’s right up your alley.”

Mysti stared at her Uncle as he fidgeted with a small bowl of polished stones and flicked a wind chime. Apparently, she wasn’t getting rid of him any time soon.

She sighed and set herself to making Chai tea. A white glazed pot somehow seemed appropriate to this tea-time discussion.

Hal proceeded to tell Mysti about his bright idea to bring a Paranormal TV show to Gladstone and make Grandpa Harold’s legacy famous. Déjà vu clawed at Mysti’s throat. She struggled to breathe. The steamy tea helped some. But her Ham Chakra threatened to close up completely. She remembered all too well the first time Uncle Hal told her about the Phantom Horse and Rider.

Samantha and she were camping with their parents. It had just gotten dark and Dad had started a nice fire in the pit. They would roast marshmallows soon and make s’mores. But Momma felt sick and then she vomited. Dad told Nancy to watch her little sister, while he took momma into their tent. Nancy had been fascinated by the fire and its sparks. She ran a long stick through the orange and blue flames, pushing embers around and making the fire dance in the ever-darkening camp spot. Soon, Dad emerged from the tent and bellowed, “Where’s Sam?”

Shock and terror flashed through Nancy’s gut. She had been so mesmerized by the fire, she had not paid any attention to her baby sister. Sam had wandered into the trees. Nancy couldn’t even tell them which way she had gone. It was horrible. She wanted to throw up herself, but she had to help look for Sammy. Soon her Aunt Susan came and brought her to the bridge where several adults were talking on walkie-talkies. Dogs bayed in the distance, echoing through the dark forest. It was creepy and she could only imagine how horrified Sammy must be.

Nearly the whole town had turned out to look for Sammy. Did the whole town know it was Nancy’s fault? She couldn’t stop crying. Her Uncle gathered her with her cousins, Harry and Leanne (Heath wasn’t even born yet), Lucy Christine, and other local children of the searchers. She thought Hal was just telling stories to keep the kids distracted, but then she realized he was telling them there was nothing to fear, Grandpa Harold’s ghost would protect Sammy. “He always protected the innocent of Gladstone,” Uncle Hal said.

As if the story itself had drawn Sammy out of the woods, she came running across the bridge. Her feet were bare and bloody. Dried leaves and twigs stuck out of her matted blonde hair. She was terrified and cried hysterically. “He’s after me! Make him stop!” she screamed over and over.

She said Grandpa Harold had chased her. She had run blindly into the arms of one of the volunteers who grabbed her up and hugged her fiercely. Nancy watched helplessly as her sister collapsed into a dead faint.

She felt so guilty. It was all her fault and she would never forgive herself—Ever.

The fear in her sister’s eyes had haunted Mysti’s dreams for twenty years.

She set a cup of tea in front of her uncle who placed both feet on the floor and sipped gingerly at the hot tea. “Umm. You do have a magical touch.”

“Look, Uncle Hal. This sounds craz—How can a Paranormal Investigation possibly improve this town’s economy? Won’t we just be a laughing stock to the rest of America. Like we’re a town full of nut jobs who rely on some phantom and his horse to keep us all safe? It kind of sounds like a Night What-ever-his-name-is sort of movie.”

“Nah. You got it all backward, baby girl. This is going to put Phantom Horse on the map.”

“What?” She turned her head but her eyes stayed on her Uncle. “You mean, ‘The Phantom Horse on the map’, right?”

“Nope. We’re changing the name of our town to Phantom Horse!”

“You’re not really wanting ... to change Gladstone to Phantom Horse, Colorado? How do you even do that?”

He nodded with a huge grin.

“Uncle Hal, do you hear yourself? This is crazy!”

“Crazy like a fox! Sweetheart!”

“I-I don’t know—what to say.”

“Say, you’ll be part of the investigation. We’ll play up your psychic skills and have you show the investigators where Grandpa Harold’s hot spots are. It’ll be great and I’m telling you, your little shop will be busting at the seams with customers. In fact, you better start thinking about buying the next-door bay of this building and hiring more help.”

“Uncle Hal, you own the rest of this building. I only bought this one bay with my inheritance from Grandma Diana.”

“Even better,” Hal shrieked.

Mysti stiffened.

“I’ll make you a great deal. But you better hurry and make that Real Estate transaction. This property is going to go sky high once Grandpa Harold’s Ghost is known across the U.S. of A.” He winked over his teacup as he took another sip.

Mysti stared at her uncle. He had lost his mind.

Finally, she uttered, “What does any of this have to do with Begley?”

“Once this show airs” —he swallowed quickly— “this town and your little shop will be flooded with tourists. People love ghost stories. Amateur ghost hunters will flock here like geese on a wheat field. The effects of the good Reverend’s speech yesterday will be so benign. What he intended as destruction of your business will be countered with such enormous success. It’ll rip his shorts and frankly, I can’t wait to see” —Hal bent at the waist laughing— “his face ... when—” He slapped the table and her ceramic teapot rattled. “Don’t you worry none about your business either. You’re Uncle Hal will take care of that, soon as I get back over to the diner. You’ll have customer’s out your ears. Just you wait and see. So you get ready for a rush, here in a little bit.” Hal winked at her and stood up.