Part 16 (2/2)

Brown knelt down, petted each dog on the head and around the ears, and then took off down the hall, with the dogs bounding after him.

”Come in,” I said.

”You have the best rooms in the city.”

”That is sad,” I said. ”The wind blows the dust through the walls.”

”One becomes used to it.”

”Not this one,” I said tiredly.

We walked over to a round table in the corner, not far from Eddie's cage, and I motioned for Kelley to sit. He did, and then removed fifty dollars in gold from his vest pocket. He placed the coins on the table.

I picked up the money and felt its weight.

”Is there any charity in Dodge City?” I asked.

”Of the biblical kind, madam?”

”I mean of the widows-and-orphans kind,” I said. ”Has there been a fund established to help the less fortunate, or to feed the hungry, or to do any other kind of work to relieve human suffering?”

Kelley thought a moment.

”There's the sanitary committee,” he said. ”Doctors McCarty and Galland head it up. They are always harping on the need to establish a hospital here in town, rather than being required to send the desperately ill five miles out to the infirmary at Fort Dodge.”

”Then I want to be an anonymous donor to that committee,” I said, and pushed the money back to him. ”See that Doc McCarty receives it for the purpose stated. And, Mayor, I expect to read about that donation in the next edition of the Times.”

”Of course,” he said, scooping up the coins. ”I will deliver it to Doctor McCarty the first thing in the morning.”

I had left the door ajar and Hoodoo Brown walked in, followed by Timothy, my polite tramp.

”You're late,” I told Timothy.

He put his hands together beneath his chin, begging forgiveness. Then he made a motion as if dealing cards.

”You'll lose all your money,” I told him, and he gave me a look that said, Well, hey, I don't need money. I'm a tramp.

Brown and Timothy took their seats at the table.

I went around the room, blowing out the lamps, and came back with a lit white candle in a bra.s.s holder. I placed the candle in the center of the table and took a deep breath; then I looked at the faces of the men around me. It had been a long time since I had conducted a session in earnest.

”Does anyone have the time?”

Brown opened his pocket watch.

”Five minutes after midnight.”

I nodded.

”It is Sunday, the Thirteenth of May,” I said. ”We will attempt two spirit communications this morning. The first will be to contact the ghost of the girl who walks the railroad right-of-way. In the second, we will endeavor to contact the spirit of Jonathan Wylde, my forever-young husband, killed on this day, thirteen years ago.”

Kelley and Brown made some small sympathetic remarks, which I ignored.

”Now there are a few rules to discuss,” I said. ”Once we touch hands, we cannot let go, no matter what happens. To do so is to break the bond of trust we have established. If an apparition appears, you may ask questions, but expect the answers to be circular or nonsensical, as ghosts are obsessed with their own unfinished business. Understood?”

The men nodded their understanding.

”Let us join hands.”

We clasped each other's hands. This was unpleasant for me, with Dog Kelley on one side and Hoodoo Brown on the other. As I've told you, I don't like to be touched. Kelley's hand was soft and sweaty, but Brown's was rough, like burlap.

We concentrated on the candle flame.

By and by, everything became very still, and even Eddie stopped fidgeting around in his cage.

”This is Ophelia Wylde,” I said in a soothing voice. ”I am here with some earnest men from Dodge City who wish to contact the spirit of the girl slain on the meridian marker. Can you show us some sign that you are with us?”

The candle flame rippled, as if we might have some success.

But then, nothing.

For another half hour, we tried. I kept up the appeals to the spirit of the dead girl, but nothing came through. Finally, admitting defeat, I brought the first portion of the session to a close.

”Let us take a short break,” I said.

We unclasped our hands and rubbed them to restore circulation.

”That was disappointing,” Kelley said.

”It often is,” I said. ”But the spirits choose their own time and place to appear. Are we ready for the second half?”

We clasped hands again, and this time we spent a longer time staring into the candle flame. I was reluctant to begin, knowing that this was the last time I would attempt to contact my lost husband.

”Jonathan,” I said at last. ”It's me, Ophelia.”

The flame did not waver.

”Today is the thirteenth anniversary of your death, and I so would like to make contact with you. Do you remember what you used to tell me, that love survives death? I'm asking now, for the last time, for you to send proof from the other side. We had a secret message. Do you remember? Could you communicate that to one of these men?”

Silence in the room.

Cowboys howled along Front Street.

Coyotes cried at the edge of town.

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