“You know,” Taylor said, piercing another marshmallow with the end of his stick, “St. Elmo is supposedly haunted.”
While they devoured every last marshmallow and bit of chocolate, he told them a story about poor Annabelle Stark, who was raised by her strict parents in St. Elmo during its rough and rowdy days as a mining town. They refused to let her meet men and wouldn’t let her attend any of the town’s social functions. Annabelle remained unmarried. Then the bust times hit, and the population dwindled. Annabelle’s parents died, leaving her alone in a hotel that rarely had guests.
“They say the loneliness eventually drove her mad. She died in the hotel where she’d lived all of her life, a prisoner of her parents’ fears. They say she’s still there, watching over the town. More than one sheriff’s deputy has reported seeing a woman looking out of the upstairs window in the ruins of that hotel, but when they go to check, they find the place empty and the stairs to the second floor gone.”
For a moment, no one spoke, the night silent apart from the crackling of the fire and the whisper of wind in the pines.
Eric saw Victoria shiver, whether from the story or from the chilly night air, he couldn’t be sure. He got to his feet, grabbed a blanket from his tent, then walked over to where she sat on a log and wrapped it around her shoulders.
He sat beside her. “That’s not very scary. All this ghost does is look out the window? She doesn’t even say ‘Boo’?”
Even Taylor laughed. “You got something better?”
“Nope. But Belcourt here does.” Eric had listened to him tell ghost stories from the reservation one night when they’d been camping in the backcountry, and he’d found it damned hard to fall asleep afterward.
“The difference between my sister and me and the rest of you is that we believe in spirits of all kinds—good spirits, evil spirits, trickster spirits.” Belcourt said. “These are not just stories. They are true things that happened to people we know.”
Here we go.
* * *
Vic listened, mesmerized, as Chaska shared his stories, barely able to breathe, his words—and the man who sat beside her—taking her mind off what had happened today.
“My grandfather is a hereditary Sun Dance chief,” he said, beginning a new tale. “One day I got a tape in the mail—an old cassette tape. My grandfather sent it with a note telling me he wanted me to learn the old songs so they wouldn’t be lost.”
Vic slipped her hand into Eric’s, his fingers threading easily with hers.
“My grandfather has lived alone since my grandmother made the journey a few years ago. He’s a strong man with a good voice for singing. My grandmother had a good voice, too, and the two of them did the pow wow trail together, driving around in an old camper, drumming and singing with Native people from all over this land.
“So I put the tape in an old tape player and listened, and there was my grandfather singing with a half-dozen other people, including my grandmother. I recognized her voice, though I didn’t recognize the others.”
Eric pulled his hand from hers and put his arm around her. She rested her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat steady.
How long had it been since she’d felt this kind of easy intimacy with a man? She hadn’t even slept with him, hadn’t even seen him naked, and yet sitting here beside him, she felt comfortable, protected, safe.
Chaska went on. “When I called him to thank him for the tape, I asked when he and my grandmother had recorded it. It must have been years ago. He said to me, ‘I just did that the day before I mailed it to you, and I was alone in the house at the time. Your grandmother is gone. Don’t play cruel jokes on an old man.’
“I told him it wasn’t a joke. His voice wasn’t the only one on that tape. I played it for him over the phone. He heard it, too—his wife’s spirit and those of his parents and grandparents singing the songs with him so that they wouldn’t be lost.”
Shivers ran down Vic’s spine. “That really happened?”
Winona nodded. “I’ve listened to the tape myself.”
“I’ll play it for you one day if you like,” Chaska offered.
“That’s okay. I believe you.” Vic wasn’t sure she wanted to listen to spirits singing, even friendly ones.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m beat,” Lexi said.
“Same here,” said Winona.
There was something Victoria had to say before everyone disappeared into his or her tents. “Thanks, guys, for what you did for me today. Standing up for me like that … I don’t think my own brother would have done that.”
“Hey, no worries,” Austin said.
“Happy to help,” said Chaska.
“Your brother must be a jerk,” Eric said.