*As far as I know, I've just made this ghost town up. If it was ever actually on the show, I have missed it. If a town with its name exists, I don't know it.
Chapter One
The wind felt like it was whipping through the trees at a hundred miles an hour, as he pushed his horse forward. The rain that was falling hit the ground and splashed back up, or at least it felt like it. When he saw what looked to be an old abandoned town off to his left, the rider pressed his horse forward even harder. By the time he reached the old run down livery stable, he was sure he would never be warm again. C…r…e…a…k The livery stable's hinges cried out in pain as the rider opened its door, even if the wind did come close to totally ripping it off the building. Wasting no time, the man led his horse into the stable and then, using all his strength, shut it. The whole time unaware he was being watched from the loft.
Elizabeth F. McArthur, a twenty four year old, blue eyed blond haired widow, and her young daughter, Mary, who looked just like her mother, froze where they stood when the door began to open. They watched as the man who was soaked from head to toe removed his bedroll and other items, and then set them down up against the outside of a stall, before he led his horse inside. Once the horse had been taken care of, he removed his hat and hung it on a nearby nail. From the moment she'd seen him, Elizabeth had went into shock as she recognized the man who she had not seen in a number of years. A part of her wanted to rush down from the loft and tell him he was trespassing and would have to leave. The rest of her told her to leave him, and the past, alone. After all, he'd had no choice but to seek cover from the unexpected storm; only when she felt a tug on her arm did Elizabeth looked down at her daughter, whose eyes were full of concern and worry. She simply put her finger to her lips. The young girl nodded and said nothing.
Elizabeth and her daughter watched as the man then picked up his bedroll and headed into the next stall, probably because the stalls were the only place that had any straw left in them. The rest of the old livery stable looked rather bare. Well, all but the loft. She glanced behind her and sighed. The two make shift beds and the wood burning stove were not exactly what most people would expect to find in a stable. Once again her attention was taken off her thoughts when young Mary pulled urgently upon her arm. When she looked at the gentleman who her daughter was now pointing too, Elizabeth could see the man as he stepped outside the stall and pulled out some beef jerky from his saddlebags before he began doing what he could to create a safe place to build a small fire.
If it weren't for the fact that she didn't want to take a chance the fire might go wild, thus burning the stable down, she would have remained hidden. Groaning inwardly, Elizabeth stepped forward and spoke up. "There's no need to build a fire of any size. I have a small one going up here in my wood stove. I can build it, and you keep warm by it." She wasn't surprised when the man, who had stood up and taken a step backwards, looked rather startled as he looked around, until he saw who was talking to him. His eyes widened as he saw the medium sized woman standing on the stairs leading the loft. However, due to the fact that the lighting where she stood was not all that great, he could not see her clearly. Though, her voice…He was troubled as he knew he should know that voice from somewhere. "I didn't think anyone was here." He said glancing around once more. "In fact, I didn't think anyone even lived in the town anymore."
That was a fact that did not surprise Elizabeth in the least, over time the majority of *Ottersville's citizens had either died or moved away. Things might have been different if it weren't for the fact the nearby mine had shut down. When that had happened, Otterville had the first of many nails hammered into its coffin. One by one families started moving away. Her husband had wanted to go, but she'd been begged him to stay and 'give it just a little while'. If only…she sighed. All the 'if only's' wouldn't bring her dead husband back.
"Not many do," she answered without much emotion in her voice as she pointed behind her. "Come on up; I'll stoke the fire and warm you up some soup." She then turned and disappeared up the stairs, making sure her daughter who had been undetected by their visitor, went with her.
As Elizabeth threw some more wood into the wood stove, she could hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs that led to the loft. She couldn't help but sigh as she realized just how long it had been since she'd heard anyone's feet, but hers and Mary's feet upon those steps. Though, she had to admit, she hoped what she was doing the right thing inviting him up to the loft she shared with her young daughter. Then again, she'd never been able to turn away anyone who stood in need and, with the storm raging outside, she was sure he could use a hot meal.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth could see Mary sitting on her bed which sat up against the south wall. The small child's face was forward, her eyes still full of concern. Elizabeth bit her lip with concern and couldn't help but sigh again. Mary was only six years old; she had no real memories of the man she'd have called father and was leery of any man who happened to cross their path due to the fact that they, the many of the men who had stumbled though town, had not exactly been the type one would want to hang around. In fact, Elizabeth dared say; if it wasn't for the fact that she handled a gun well, and always carried a pistol on her side, many of those men would have tried to have her way with her.
When Elizabeth heard their visitor step into the 'room' she'd made for her and her daughter did, she turned her head and looked at him. The moment she did her visitor felt his heart jump into his throat, and he had to sit down.