How the Ghost Was Won: A Paranormal Western Romance by Erin Hayes

Author:Erin Hayes [Hayes, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Erin Hayes Books
Published: 2016-10-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a social gathering such as this. Sure, there were plenty that I went to back when I was a saloon girl, but this is entirely different.

I’m either here as a prisoner or as Grant’s companion. And I can’t decide which.

After we left Maude’s room, Grant asked me to get ready for the festival, because we need to keep up the appearance that everything’s fine. If I said that I didn’t pick out my nicest dress to wear or carefully applied makeup, I’d be lying.

I agonized over it.

I wore my best dress, the one that hugs my curves and shows my breasts off to perfection.

I made sure that my powder enhances rather than hides my face. Except for the scar—I powdered that to blend with my fair skin as much as possible.

I want to be sure that I look good enough for Grant to take notice of me. Not as the stranger that came in from St. Louis, but as a woman. I know that has worked in the past with my other clients, but this feels different. It’s different when you care what he thinks about you.

What’s wrong with me? I hate dancing. I hate being around so many leering people. My past catches up with me at events like this. So why am I trying to impress one US Marshal here?

My nerves are shot. I have a hip flask filled with whiskey that I keep in the garter of my right leg. I keep sneaking sips of it to both calm both myself and another raging headache. I took laudanum earlier, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.

We’re in a barn on the opposite end of town, and everyone, it seems, has shown up for the town festival. Despite Maude’s state of health, Charlotte is here, and I’ve caught her dancing with a man whom I presume is Henry Earp. She’s sure smiling like it’s the case. There’s a four-piece band playing ditties, and the dance floor is full of everyone I’ve talked to over the past two weeks. From Mrs. McLaughlin to Stephen, the stable boy at the hotel. I’m glad for the respite it’s giving everyone.

Unfortunately, though, as it’s a full-town affair, I’ve also noticed that Luke and a few of the other men from the saloon earlier today are here, glaring daggers at me from across the barn. A few are sporting some bruises and swollen cheeks; I take a bit of pride in the fact that I’m responsible for that.

They deserved it.

“You’re not dancing.”

I look up to see Grant take his spot next to me on the hay bale, his expression curious. He looks dashing in a fresh button-down shirt and a pair of Levi’s. His badge is pinned to his chest and he’s wearing his Stetson, even indoors at night like this.

“No,” I say. “I usually like to just watch people. I never was one for dancing.”

“Why not?”

I swallow back the lump in my throat, memories pulling at me.

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