HAUNTED

HAUNTED
Excerpt One

A lot of bad things happened in the Wickedest Town in the West. Men died. Women were murdered. Some of their deaths left a haunting imprint in the very walls of the buildings. The Copper Star Saloon was one of them.

It was the year 1898. The plinkity-plink of an old piano seeped through the wooden floors of the rooms above the Copper Star Saloon. A woman sprawled naked on the bed, the big hairy body of Boris Koblinsky, one of the local miners, pressing her down in the mattress.

“You’re hurting me, Boris.”

“Ya know the way I like it,” Boris said, shoving himself inside her. “Say it. Tell me ya want it.”

What Sadie wanted was to push the big bastard off her, tell him to find someone else, but Boris paid three times what the other miners did. He’d taken a fancy to her nearly a year ago and though he liked it rough, it was worth a few bruises for the extra pay.

“Come on, say it, ya little whore.”

“I want more, Boris. You’re so strong and manly.”

Boris began to rut, making the iron headboard slam against the wall. Sadie closed her eyes. It would all be over soon and she could tuck the extra money away. In a year or two, she’d have enough to leave this hellhole, move to Tombstone or Bisbee, maybe even find herself a husband.

The bed kept hammering against the wall. He was hurting her, squeezing her breasts too hard. “Stop it, Boris!” She cried out at the pain, but the music and laugher muffled the sound.

“That’s enough, Boris–you pig!” Sadie sucked in a breath and tried to roll away from his big, calloused hands.

“Pig, am I?” Boris reared back and slapped her so hard her ears rang. “Well, yer nothin’ but a two-bit whore. It’s time I showed ya who’s boss.”

Sadie struggled as she felt Boris’s big hands settle around her throat, and her fury slowly faded, turning to fear instead. “Let…go…of…me!”

She thrashed beneath him and clawed at the thick, blunt fingers that were squeezing off her air supply.

“You’re mine, Sadie! Ya belong ta me!” Boris’ big hands gripped her tighter. His lust was building, his excitement reaching its peak.

Sadie’s vision began to blur. Her nails dug into Boris’s calloused hands, but she couldn’t pry his fingers loose. Darkness hovered behind her eyes.

Boris…. The silent word remained locked in her throat. Her vision narrowed and finally went black. Beneath Boris’ heavy weight, her body went slack.

Little whore finally got what she deserved, he thought.

Still, the sheriff might not see it that way. Boris pulled on his clothes, grabbed his floppy felt hat, strode along the hall and down the back stairs. Plenty of jobs around. Time he found himself a new one.

Plenty of whores around, too.

Boris smiled to think of the pleasure in store for him when he found himself a new woman.

Jerome, Arizona
October, Modern Day

The Copper Star Saloon and Hotel on Main Street buzzed with activity. Tourists came from all over the country to visit the remnants of the old mining boom town the New York Sun had once described as the Wickedest Town in the West.

A city of 15,000 at its peak, it was now an infamous ghost town with a population of less than five hundred. Built in the 1890s, the Copper Star had been ravished by fire four times but had always managed to survive. The molded tin ceilings, batwing doors, long wooden bar, and ornately carved back bar looked the same as they had more than a hundred years ago.

The owner, Jenny Spencer, worked behind the bar, comfortable in a business that had been family-owned for as long as she could recall. Setting two beers on the counter, Jenny looked up to see her tall, lanky brother shoving through the batwing doors.

She smiled as he arrived at the bar. “I didn’t know you were coming, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

“You look a little harried. Everything okay?”

“Unfortunately, no. The hotel’s full. It’s time to clean the rooms and I’m down to one girl. “Could you possibly take over till I get things worked out?”

Dylan just shrugged. “Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” Jenny went up on her toes and kissed his cheek, knocking his dark blue baseball cap askew, the words PRESCOTT FIRE gleaming in white letters on the front. She tugged the cap back down over his forehead. “I promise I won’t be long.”

As Jenny walked through a door to the original hotel lobby, one of the guests was on her way down the stairs.

“I want my money back!” the woman demanded. Short and round-faced, pretty-much round all over, Mrs. Friedman stomped toward her.

“What’s going on?” Jenny asked. “What’s the problem?”

Angry spots of color pinkened the woman’s cheeks. “The problem is I paid good money for a room and didn’t get a wink of sleep. People arguing in the room next door, footsteps in the hallway at ungodly hours. Either you give me my money back, or I go on the internet and give you a one-star review, warn people what they’re in for if they book a room at this hotel!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Winfried. All the rooms in that section were recently remodeled. We had them soundproofed. It shouldn’t have been noisy in there.”

Mrs. Friedman ignored her, just dug through her purse and pulled out her American Express card. “I paid for the room online. Please refund the amount on my card.”

Dylan walked through the door just then, and Jenny cast him a beseeching glance.

“Refund the lady’s money,” he said. “You don’t need a bad review.”

“Fine.” But Jenny wasn’t happy about it. As soon as the woman grabbed the handle of her carryon and marched out through the etched glass front door, she turned to her brother.

“There is nothing wrong with the rooms in the new section.”

“You just opened that section, right?”

Jenny nodded. “It’s only been available for a couple of weeks. Jerome has plenty of business. The hotel needed the income and you and I both thought the increased earnings would pay off the loan fairly quickly.”

“And it will,” Dylan said. “Just because some old bat of a woman…” He paused at the look on her face. “What? What’s going on that you aren’t telling me?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea what’s going on. Guests complain about hearing things. Footsteps when no one’s there. Chains rattling. People whispering in the hallway.”

“Chains rattling? Seriously? Come on, sis. You should be used to this stuff by now. Jerome is a ghost town, one of the most famous in Arizona. During its heyday, hundreds of people died working the copper mines. People come here specifically hoping to see a ghost. Hell, you can buy a ticket on-line for a ghost tour.”

“I know, but this is different.”

“Different how? The hotel is on the damned tour. There are stories of at least four dead people supposedly seen walking the halls upstairs.”

“Those are friendly ghosts.”

“Friendly ghosts?”

“Yes, well, I mean…if they’re actually real. These ghosts…these ghosts are different.”