Ghosts of the Past Mag 7 ATF AU
"This is it." Vin said as he glanced down at the scribbled directions he held in his hand. Chris nodded and pulled the Ram over on the wide spot at the side of the gravel road. Putting it in park, the two men looked around in interest.
Tanner had been reading a book on old ghost towns and mines, etc. in Colorado, and had found a brief description of an abandoned ranch that he thought sounded particularly intriguing, so he and Larabee were spending their Saturday driving the narrow BLM road to see if they could find it. Since improving his skills, Vin had turned into something of a voracious reader and was always showing Chris or one of the others something he'd found or shyly sharing one of his poems with them.
The duo were now in a small valley between high mountains on each side. A few leaning wooden posts were all that remained of the old fence that had originally stretched just a few feet from where Chris had parked. A faded sign tacked to what had apparently been a gate support proclaimed that they had reached the Wild Horse Ranch. A barely discernable outline showed a rearing stallion that was pawing the air. When Vin mentioned that it looked like the figure had a brand painted on it, the pair got out to investigate.
The animal on the sign did indeed have a faint marking that appeared to be a Rocking M7 depicted on it's flank. Both men got out their phones and snapped pictures of the sign, thinking the brand was particularly interesting since they were informally called The Magnificent Seven as a team. They then leaned on the cross piece of the gate posts and peered around at their environs.
Waist high grass with scattered low rocks and occasional large trees led to the ranch compound probably a quarter of a mile distant. A better preserved wooden fence encircled the area, and a long building that was likely a bunkhouse rose to their left, with a big barn behind. The two-story ranch house sat on a small knoll on the right, with what appeared to be a well and privy to the side. Other outbuildings were spread around the enclosed section, and fruit trees were visible behind the structures.
On the far hillside, the sun glinted on a sparkling waterfall that spilled down among the rocks and then formed a creek that meandered across the valley not too distant from the buildings. A couple of corrals were located near the barn, and what looked like a pond gleamed further back. Willows and a few cottonwoods marked the course of the creek and indicated the presence of springs scattered around, and two huge Ponderosa Pines and a handful of other trees provided a somewhat shady setting for the gray-tinted ranch buildings.
Chris had an approving expression on his face.
"Good spot for a ranch. The mountains form boundaries on two sides, and the road curves on around to the right, with the valley widening out to the west for grazing. All they had to fence was basically the two ends, since the hillsides are too steep for most sensible horses to climb when there's little fodder there to attract them. Plenty of water and grass…"
Vin had his cherished antique spyglass out and was scanning the further reaches of the area.
"Ought'a be good huntin', too. I see a couple 'a deer trails. And looks like a nice swimmin' hole back where the waterfall comes down."
Larabee glanced over at his companion. "Wanna go check out the buildings? We've got plenty of time."
A big smile curved up the smaller figure's mouth. "Ya know it! The others are gonna be sorry they didn't come with us when they hear about this place."
A laugh escaped the lean blond. "The rest maybe, but Buck had a date with Sherry…or Sharon…or whatever her name is, so he's not going to be thinkin' about ghost ranches, trust me!" One tanned hand gestured to the opening where the gate once was.
With a bob of sandy brows, Tanner walked through, glad he'd worn his oldest jeans and boots. Looked like there might be stickers in some of that tall grass.
Chris thought the same thing as he glanced down at his faded ebony jeans and pale gray shirt. Was probably gonna get a little dusty, but that was alright. Wasn't like he wasn't used to a ranch environment.
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The two lean forms waded the tall grass, following barely discernable wagon tracks that led to the structures in front of them. They chatted as they walked, wondering idly about the owners of the ranch and how long the spread had been abandoned. While obviously not used any time recently, the buildings themselves appeared to be in rather good condition as the pair neared them.
The wooden gate in the second fence stood open, so they strolled through, snapping pics with their phones as they did so. Deciding to check out the bunkhouse first, since it was closest, the duo headed that way.
The wooden logs that made up the long edifice were weathered a silvery-gray color, and a bit of the chinking was missing at the front corner, but otherwise the structure appeared sound. Windows were cut into the sides to allow for breezes, and there was a door in each end of the building as Larabee and Tanner stopped to scrutinize everything, making sure it was safe to enter.
Deciding that it looked sturdy and that the roof was still firmly attached, the pair reached for the front door. Expecting a protesting squeak, they were both a bit surprised when the wood swung open almost soundlessly on the hinges. Sandy brows arched along with dark blond ones as they looked at each other, then they stepped inside the building.
It was indeed the bunkhouse, they discovered. Hand-planed pine boards made up the floor, and matching shutters covered the windows. Six built-in bunks were arranged down each side, the windows situated between every two beds to provide good ventilation and light when the shutters were open. Each bunk had its own shelves on the wall at the head of the bed, and trunks bound with cracked leather were neatly positioned under the straw-filled mattresses that still covered each set of boards that formed the sleeping sections. It didn't look as if all of the spaces were normally occupied, since a few of them had the bedding rolled neatly at one end.
The area at the front of the long room was set up for communal activities. Two large, round tables with six chairs apiece sat on braided rag rugs near the cast iron stove. A second stove was situated at the rear of the building to keep the whole room bearable when it was cold. Shelves lined the walls near the tables, and pegs were driven into the logs on each side of the front door. A couple of tins labeled 'coffee' and 'sugar' respectively sat on the shelves, along with empty flour sacks and a few other items covered in dust. A canvas duster hung on one of the pegs by the door, with a braided lariat coiled on another.
"Ez would like this." commented Vin as he paused to take in the partial deck of old Stutz playing cards and empty Remington pistol that were lying on one of the tables.
Chris nodded, snapping a quick photo as he looked around carefully. While everything was coated with an undisturbed layer of dust, nothing was as deeply covered as he would have expected after a hundred or more years. And it had apparently been that long since the building was occupied, or at least those living there had done without running water and electricity since there was no sign of any wires or plumbing that would indicate that the place had been modernized. Lanterns hung from the ceiling and there was a rusted pump outside with a tin bucket underneath it. Candle stubs sat in metal holders and a couple of glass oil lamps were situated in the middle of the tables, but nothing newer was visible at all.
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Since there wasn't much else to look at in the bunkhouse, the two friends made their way back out and carefully closed the door, making sure it was securely shut. They then wandered over to the huge barn that stood nearby.
The edifice was two stories tall, with a hay loft above and covered wings on each side that sheltered a wooden buckboard, a dusty black two-person buggy, and a surrey with gold fringe on top that would seat probably six or seven. Used, but well-mended harness tack hung on the walls under a light coat of dust. Once again, it wasn't as much as would be expected, but this time at least they could blame the wind for probably keeping the items relatively clean.
When the duo entered the barn itself, they discovered seven stalls on each side of the open expanse. Worn wooden steps led to the hay loft above, and a tack room and feed bins occupied the back of the space. The center aisle was wide enough to pull a wagon in, and an opening allowed hay to be pitched up to the loft above. Dried bits of oats and corn rested in the feed troughs, and straw still covered the floor in the corners of the stalls. Halters hung on nails beside the doors, and lanterns swung from hooks on the support posts as a breeze entered with the two men.
The stalls were spacious and well made, with a couple showing where they had been kicked or nibbled on by fractious horses. Since Peso occasionally chewed, known as 'cribbing', on his stall the sharpshooter recognized the signs. And both men knew hoof marks on the boards when they saw them, since several of the Seven's mounts were high-spirited and had left similar signs on the stable at Chris' ranch.
Making their way to the back, the pair checked out the feed storage area. Withered pieces of grain still occupied the bins, and there were tins and bottles of old liniment, salve, and other equine necessities on the shelves that lined the walls.
Moving to the tack room, they slowly investigated the saddles and other gear that rested on wooden stands or hung on pegs on the walls. Each was well made and seemed to be decorated in individual styles. One was a beautiful ebony set with silver trim that gleamed in the sunlight when Chris wiped the dust off of it. They were just discovering that there were seven full collections of tack, plus other assorted bits and pieces, when they both heard a whinny from outside, and what seemed to be the sound of hooves on the hard ground.
Exiting the room, they stepped to the double doors that occupied the rear wall between the tack area and the feed storage space. Hoof prints were visible in the dried mud just inside the opening when Vin went to slide one of the doors back.
"Do those look a hundred years old?" Larabee asked dubiously as he studied the unshod marks curiously.
Tanner knelt and examined them carefully, then shook his head.
"Should be a lot more faint seems like, but they have been protected by the roof and doors, so maybe…"
The slender form stood and finished opening the portal as he continued.
"Or reckon a rancher could'a used the barn since then, but had no reason to modernize it." speculated the soft voice. For some reason, it seemed to Chris like the Texan's accent had become a bit stronger since they'd arrived at the ranch.
When the door was open, both men stepped outside to look around. In the distance, near a copse of trees, stood a gorgeous white stallion. As they glanced his way, the horse pawed the ground with one forefoot and shook his head, causing his silver-tinted mane to sway majestically. Another whinny accompanied the movements.
"He's magnificent!" breathed Vin softly.
"Yeah, he is." agreed Chris, practiced eye taking in the steed's conformation. "One of the descendants of the original wild horses the ranch is named after maybe."
"Could be, 'specially if he's the one who made the tracks in the barn. Horse that left those prints wasn't wearin' shoes."
The blond nodded in agreement, having noticed that fact himself. Intrigued by the horse, he started walking slowly toward the animal, Vin following almost silently behind him. The stallion stood patiently, almost as if waiting for them to come closer.
When they were within a few yards of the beautiful creature, the gleaming form again pawed the ground and whickered softly. Instead of appearing angry or nervous, he almost seemed to be greeting them, one leg extended elegantly as he bowed his head. A bit of Arab blood showed in his wide forehead and intelligent dark eyes, but he was considerably taller than full-blooded Arabians. His coat was a pure, snowy white, but his flowing mane and tail were almost silver in the dappled shade cast by the leaves of the trees. Both men noticed that he was indeed unshod.
Speaking gently to him, as he had to the horses he had raised and trained, Larabee moved a few steps closer. The large ears swiveled toward the sound of the smooth voice, and the velvety muzzle reached out in interest as Chris extended a hand. Letting the whipcord figure get close enough to lightly brush his nose, the horse then neighed and backed up a step. Larabee let him go, not wanting to crowd the majestic form.
Vin had his phone out and was videoing the encounter between Chris and the stallion. As both men watched, the horse gave one last gesture with his forefoot and then turned to walk into the clump of trees. Both noticed the faint M7 symbol with the curving line underneath that was located on the shining flank, then the form disappeared.
Not disappeared as in slowly strode among the tree trunks, but disappeared as in was there one second, and totally gone the next!
Chris stood still and stared at the spot where the gleaming form had last been seen.
"Uh…Vin?"
"I saw it too, Cowboy. Even got it on video. He was there, and then just gone…" murmured the raspy voice in amazement.
"He can't have just vanished into thin air, Tanner!" protested the blond, though he had no other explanation at the moment.
The tracker put his phone in his pocket and slowly moved to where the horse had been standing. The marks where the animal had pawed the ground were visible, as were the prints where he had stood and the cropped grass where he'd grazed a bit while he waited for them.
Vin followed the tracks where the stallion had wandered into the trees, then came to a confused halt, Chris only steps behind him.
The hoof prints just stopped. There was no rock to hide the tracks, and the stream was nowhere close, so the horse hadn't walked into the water. He had just disappeared with no trace.
Bewildered blue eyes caught the hazel ones. "We ain't been near any peyote, have we pard? 'Cause that's the only reason I can think of for us to be seein' things."
Chris shook his head. "Nope, no loco weed, no pot…nothin' stronger than those sodas we had on the way here. Certainly nothin' to explain us both havin' the same hallucination at the same time."
When Tanner's eyes squinted at him a little, he realized that his own mild western accent was becoming deeper as well. 'What the hell?' thought both men to themselves, almost afraid to say anything else out loud.
The sharpshooter scouted around a few more minutes, but came up empty of both tracks and explanations.
Deciding to just let things be for the moment, the pair headed back toward the barn.
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Reaching the large building, the duo somewhat hesitantly moved through the doors. No eerie manifestations greeted them however, so Vin knelt to study the prints near the opening again.
"Looks like these were made by the same horse we saw. Prints match." the tracker informed his partner. Chris simply nodded.
They shut the door securely, and then strolled through the edifice to the front. Exiting, Larabee made sure the opening was carefully closed, then the pair angled toward the house on their right.
Weathered gray siding covered the two-story dwelling, and a wide porch encircled the first floor. Rockers were scattered along the space, and small tables rested among the seats as well. A wooden barrel sat next to the front wall with a well-used checker board and pieces on the top and stools at each side. Several other items could be seen, including an old gold pan with what appeared to be bits of real dust in the bottom, a collection of rough ores and gems, some wood carvings that looked handmade, and containers of dried herbs that they recognized from some of Nathan's home remedies that the medic occasionally used in place of modern pharmaceuticals.
Walking along the porch to check out the articles, both grinned a bit as they pictured Ezra's excitement over the gold dust and gem material, and the studious expression Jackson would get as he investigated the herbs. Chris himself was drawn to the wood carvings, slender fingers picking up the figure of a horse and turning it over carefully to examine it. Vin lifted an antique harmonica and blew softly on it, making a sound that somewhat resembled the wind whispering through the tall grass in the distance.
"It's almost like there's somethin' here for each of us…" commented the tracker idly as he returned the small musical instrument to its spot on one of the tables. Larabee was now brushing his hand over a wooden cross that somehow reminded him of Josiah, and eying a set of horseshoes that he could imagine Buck and JD pitching at stakes driven in the yard.
The blond nodded in agreement, then the duo ambled toward the front door of the house.
Turning the old-fashioned knob, they stepped into the living room. Their boot heels clicked on the wooden floors and a large stone fireplace took up most of the far wall. Well-made couches and chairs were covered with leather held in place with brass tacks, and tables held glass oil lamps and other artifacts. Once-colorful Indian blankets rested across the back of some of the furniture, and a set of impressive elk antlers graced the space above the mantel. Clear decanters that still held a few fingers of amber liquid rested on the wide sideboard that stood beside the fireplace, along with seven matching whiskey glasses and a couple of brandy snifters. An antler chandelier hung from the tall ceiling, candle stubs still visible inside the small, dusty globes.
Several rifles from the mid-1800s were standing in a well-made gun rack, and a collection of knives rested on a board that was hanging on the back wall. Vin angled toward the weapons, while Chris strode almost silently to a large case filled with leather and cloth-bound books. Of eclectic variety, he saw copies of old classics that included Homer and Dante, and what would have been considered modern works by Mark Twain, Jules Verne, and George Eliot, among others. There were slim volumes of poetry, religious and philosophical essays, books on travel, and stories of the frontier and 'wild west', which included a shelf that held what could only be called 'dime novels'. Also represented were works that were of a more practical nature and included animal husbandry, wood working, furniture building, etc.
Long fingers ran lightly over the titles on the spines of several of the volumes, pausing when the hazel gaze spotted a familiar phrase on one of the slim paper-back novels with slightly dog-eared corners. Pulling the book out, the tall form's brows rose as he took in the words in large letters across the top and the pen-and-ink drawing below it on the cover.
'The Magnificent Seven' proclaimed the faded type, with 'by Jock Steele' in smaller letters below. The illustration showed seven figures in old west clothing, led by a gunfighter in ebony who sported a black gunbelt and holster decorated with silver, and matching spurs. Next to the lean figure was a slender long-haired form wearing a cavalry hat, caped buffalo coat, and a cut-off rifle called a 'Mare's leg'. Also pictured were a dark-haired cowboy with a mustache, a suit-wearing young man in a bowler hat, a gambler in a fancy coat and riverboat hat, a large form in a ten-gallon hat with a wooden cross around his neck, and a dark-skinned figure with a cross-draw pistol rig.
"Ok, this is kinda odd…" murmured Larabee as the green-tinted gaze took in the front of the dime novel.
Tanner's sky blue eyes looked up from the Winchester he was currently caressing reverently.
"Ya mean odder than a disappearin' stallion?"
Chris gave the smaller man a slightly disgusted glance, accompanied by a soft snort.
"Well, maybe not quite that odd, but still pretty strange…" One hand held up the book and turned it so that the sharpshooter could read the title.
A low whistle showed that the tracker had digested both the name and the details of the illustration.
"Alright… this is gettin' a little…" the husky voice paused for a second. "…what's that word Ez used about that paintin' that the eyes followed ya around? The one like the big lake?"
Chris' brow wrinkled for a minute, then he nodded in recognition of what Vin was searching for. "Eerie. The lake isn't spelled quite the same, but close."
"Thanks. This is gettin' eerie." finished the sniper with a bob of his eyebrows and a wink.
"No shit." murmured the blond with a roll of his eyes. "I think that's what I was sayin'."
Vin motioned to the paperback Larabee still held. "Since it doesn't look like anyone's been here in ages, ya should take that with ya. The Kid will be thrilled with it."
The golden head nodded. "That's what I was thinkin'. We can always bring it back. Although, it might give Buck gray hairs if JD decides to imitate some of the stuff in here." The lean form thought a minute. "Hell, it might give me gray hairs if you decide to try some of it."
Tanner tried to look innocent, but the effect was ruined somewhat by him reaching for the book so that he could see what the story was about.
Chris just shook his head and handed the novel to the sharpshooter. Vin flipped through the pages, murmuring something about the names even matchin', then the slender figure laid it aside for later, so they could explore the rest of the house.
A large open dining room with a long table and eight chairs occupied the space to the left of the living area, with a nineteenth-century equipped kitchen behind it. What appeared to be an office, an entertainment room with billiards and card tables, as well as a small bar, and even a makeshift clinic took up the right side.
Wandering up the stairs, the pair paused to take in a painting of seven riders that resembled the figures on the front of the book. Dark clouds roiled behind the thundering horses the forms rode, and pistols were held steady in powerful looking hands. The artwork gave the impression that the bores of the guns were aimed directly at those standing in front of the painting, causing a tiny shiver to skitter up both men's spines at the uncanny effect.
"Is it just me, or do those boys look kinda like us?" asked Vin softly.
"They do." agreed Chris as he sucked his teeth in consideration. "Or what we'd look like if we lived in that time period."
"Eerie" said the sharpshooter, using his word again with another bob of his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I got it Tanner. It's a little spooky." murmured Larabee with a bit of a glare at the smirking tracker. They both took pictures of the painting, then Vin gave him a wink and proceeded the blond up the rest of the stairs.
Once on the second floor, they discovered that there were seven bedrooms, as well as a storage space. Each had a large bed and other pieces of handmade wooden furniture, including a wardrobe and chest of drawers. Every room had a least one window with a rocker, or in one case a velvet-upholstered settee, in front of the apertures. Oil lamps and fireplaces appeared to be the only sources of light and heat that they saw. Racks held more rifles and small cases in several of the rooms had more books and small mementos resting on them.
Feeling somewhat like intruders, the pair paused to open chest drawers and wardrobe doors in a couple of the rooms. One revealed several pair of ebony pants, a handful of shirts in assorted colors, including a black bib-fronted one with silver buttons, and a long black duster. A flat-crowned ebony hat hung on a peg, and when Vin slid one of the drawers open a black-and-silver gunbelt and holster with a bone-handled Colt .45 was revealed.
"Hey, Cowboy. Looks like somethin' you'd wear." commented the sandy-haired figure as he tossed the gunbelt and hat to the blond.
Chris caught the items and placed the hat on his head, then moved to buckle the belt around his waist so that the holster sat high on his hip in actual authentic style. The low-slung version that most Hollywood westerns portrayed was actually not historically correct in most cases.
Vin nodded in approval. "Suits ya, Pard." Throwing the other man the long coat, blue eyes watched as the tall figure slipped it on, tucking the right side back behind the handle of the Peacemaker. With the lean form's black jeans and boots, the effect was quite impressive.
"Shit, Chris. You're even makin' me a little nervous. Anybody faced ya like that, they'd be either stupid or blind. Ya look damn dangerous, Cowboy." The lips quirked up in a grin. "And it's not like ya don't look pretty intimidatin' on a daily basis."
The icy green gaze flicked over the sniper. "I can't tell if that's a compliment or an insult…" murmured the low voice as one hand absently pulled the Colt and checked to see if it was loaded. When he discovered that it wasn't, talented fingers began twirling the weapon in lazy circles and figure eights that appeared effortless.
Vin's eyes widened at the sight.
"When did ya learn to do that, Larabee?"
The blond looked down at the gun that now rested comfortably in his palm. "Didn't. It just felt natural."
Tanner opened his mouth to say something, then shut it without making a sound, just shaking his head instead.
Chris left the items on as the duo entered the room next door. This time the dark form uncovered a sawed-off rifle with a custom gunbelt and holster when he checked out the chest of drawers. A caped hide coat hung in the wardrobe, along with a couple of bib-front shirts in red and sapphire blue and several pair of tan-hued pants. The cavalry hat they were somehow expecting hung on a peg on the wall.
Larabee copied Vin's actions from earlier and tossed the coat and gunbelt to the smaller figure. Tanner buckled the belt on and settled the short rifle in the holster, then pulled the coat on over his tan shirt. Something about the items felt right as he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and struck a pose. Chris threw him the hat, and when the slender form had it on, he looked as authentic to the period of the ranch as Larabee did.
Long fingers pulled the gun out and checked it carefully. "Wanted to try one 'a these ever since I saw the character of Vin carry a Mare's leg on The Magnificent Seven. Know it ain't fast, but looked like somethin' I'd be comfortable with since I'm used to handlin' a rifle."
"I've delt with cut-off shotguns before, but this is the first time I've actually seen a sawed-off rifle used like a handgun." commented Chris as he watched how easily the sniper handled the weapon.
"Like ya said 'bout yours, just feels natural."
The pair took a few pictures, feeling almost as if their old west alter-egos were watching them or something. Then they noticed that the sun was getting lower in the western sky.
"Well, right as it feels, reckon we better take this stuff off and head back to the truck. It's later than I realized." Larabee remarked as he glanced out the window.
Tanner's eyes followed the hazel ones, and the sandy head nodded.
"Reckon you're right, Cowboy."
"Did you just call me a cowboy again?"
"Yep"
"Ya know that's an insult to a real gunfighter, right? Callin' a hired gun that could get ya shot." One hand absently toyed with the butt of the Colt as the soft voice spoke.
Vin bobbed his eyebrows in his patented move and gave his best friend a wide grin. "Yep. 'Cept ya need me Cowboy, so you ain't gonna shoot me."
"Not now anyway…" qualified the blond with a dangerous-looking smirk.
The sharpshooter just chuckled as he moved to take off the borrowed articles he wore.
"Hell, Chris. Ya threaten to shoot me or Bucklin, or even Ez, on a daily basis. Lookin' like an old west gunslinger don't make that anythin' different."
Larabee gave a somewhat put-upon sigh and then began divesting himself of the gear he wore. The duo put the items back where they came from, then lightly ran down the steps. The dust was undisturbed except for their footprints and where they had picked up a few things to look at them. They gave one last glance around and took the time to snap a few more photos. Then they exited the house, shutting the door securely behind them. Chris slipped the dime novel in his back pocket and the duo headed for the Ram.
They were about halfway across the field when they heard hoofbeats and a whinny behind them. Turning somewhat gingerly, they both searched for the white stallion. A flash drew their attention near one of the corrals. The horse threw his head up and pawed the ground once, then stepped toward the barn and disappeared just as he'd done before.
"Chris…"
"Yeah?"
"Let's get the hell outta here. Once was kinda cool, but twice is gettin' more than eerie."
At the blond's nod, the pair picked up their pace. Once they reached the pickup, they climbed in and shut the doors quietly, as if not wanting to anger any spirits lingering around. Just as Larabee went to start the engine, they heard a familiar nicker and more hoofbeats, yet nothing was visible this time.
Without saying a word, the blond rolled the windows up and put in a CD, dust billowing behind him as he put the Dodge in gear and made a U-turn to head back the way they had come.
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Next day…..
Chris' Ram and Josiah's Suburban squeezed into the wide spot on the side of the road next to the faded 'Wild Horse Ranch' sign. Seven men instead of two exited the vehicles this time.
"I still can't believe you guys saw a 'ghost horse'." said JD excitedly, head swiveling as he looked around as if expecting the equine apparition to materialize right beside them.
"I'd think you boys were sneakin' a smoke 'a somethin' besides tobacco if I hadn't seen Vin's video for myself." added Buck with a twitch of his mustache.
"It didn't have anything to do with the horse, but remember the dime novel too." put in Josiah with a shake of his head. He more than any of them was open to unexplained manifestations, but even he had to admit that disappearing stallions and books about old west versions of themselves was a little…eerie.
And the book had indeed been about what the men could only call their old west alter-egos. The names of the characters were the same, and the backgrounds were like nineteenth-century versions of their own. And even accepting that the exploits chronicled by the writer Jock Steele were probably exaggerated to a certain extent, they still sounded like actions the men would have engaged in had they lived in that time period. As fast and accurate as Chris was with a modern handgun, it didn't stretch the imagination at all to see him as a well-known gunfighter in the mid-1800s. In fact, Vin's description of how easily the blond handled the six-shooter without even realizing he was doing it seemed to enhance the vision of the lean form as what would have then been called a 'pistoleer' or 'shootist' instead of the more modern term gunslinger. And Nathan wore his service weapon in a cross-draw position, so hearing that his old-west counterpart appeared to carry his revolver that way made a certain sort of sense that the healer couldn't exactly explain.
Josiah was left-handed, and the knowledge that his old west character was also only confirmed the strange feeling of completeness that the former priest felt. Ezra was somewhat thrilled to find that his alter-ego was apparently a professional gambler. The undercover agent had been practicing with a deck of antique cards all morning, just to get his dexterity appropriately tuned so that he could try out the Stutz pasteboards that Chris and Vin said they had seen on the table in the bunkhouse.
JD wasn't so excited to learn that the figure that represented him was dressed as an Easterner, but Vin's description of the twin Colt Lightnings that the drawn and painted versions wore mollified the young brunet somewhat. Buck had no complaints about the depictions of him that Larabee and Tanner had shared, particularly since his old west incarnation also sported a luxurious dark 'stache.
Chris looked around him, half expecting to hear a whinny or hoofbeats himself.
"Everybody ready? Don't know what will happen this time, but be prepared for things to get a little…"
"Eerie" supplied Vin with a grin. Standish gave the language-challenged sniper a thumbs up, while Chris sucked his front teeth for a second and then continued.
"Be prepared for things to get a little strange. And if the stuff we saw isn't here, that will be odd in itself."
Nathan patted the blond on the shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Chris. The odds of two people having the exact same hallucination or 'vision' is really low. None of us think you and Vin imagined what you saw. Especially since Vin has video and pictures…"
"I might think they had both been drinkin' tainted spirits, if I hadn't seen the photographic evidence for myself." muttered Standish beneath his breath. The soft sounds weren't low enough however, and the chestnut-haired man found himself the recipient of twin glares, one sky blue and the other a distinctly icy shade of green at the moment.
JD decided to head off any physical violence that might be impending.
"I know, let's all keep a photo journal. That way if one of us sees something the others don't, we can share it."
Agreeing, the two original ranch visitors pointed out the unique 'brand' on the horse on the sign. They then led the way through the waist-high grass toward the ranch compound.
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The group was almost to the second fence when Chris and Vin heard the familiar whinny. Turning slowly, they spied the white stallion near the clump of trees where they'd seen him the first time.
The horse appeared pleased to have them back, again pawing the ground and then bowing gracefully to them with one front leg extended.
"Oh, wow!" breathed Dunne in awe.
"That is one magnificent animal." agreed Wilmington as cobalt eyes took in the excellent lines of the almost glowing form.
"Indeed. I've rarely had the opportunity to gaze upon his equal." commented Standish as he too looked the steed over. The rocking M7 brand showed up as a shadowy dark outline on the shining flank as the creature turned slightly.
"Do you suppose the seven gunfighters in the story actually founded this ranch?" asked JD with excitement at the thought.
Chris shrugged broad shoulders. "Don't know for sure JD, but from the stuff Vin and I found in the bedrooms, looks kinda like it."
"But how could we have the same names as them and not ever have heard about them?" queried the brunet with a wrinkle of confusion below his Red Sox ball cap.
It was Vin's turn to shrug now. "No idea, Kid. None 'a this makes a lot of sense."
"Maybe we can find something in the house that will shed a little light on the ranch's history." suggested Josiah, blue eyes and phone camera focused on the horse who was standing still watching them as intently as they were gazing at him.
"Yeah, maybe a journal or somethin'." added Jackson, afraid to take his dark eyes off the white stallion in case it wouldn't be there when he looked back.
The conversation dwindled to a halt as all seven took pictures and video of the horse. When the animal didn't move, Chris started slowly forward, the others stepping softly behind the lean figure.
The stallion let them get inside the compound, then he tossed his head and with a neigh turned and walked into the trees like he had before. As the men stopped and watched, the shining form went a few steps and then just disappeared into the dappled shade.
"Shit!" breathed Wilmington, eyes wide as his head swiveled trying to find where the animal went.
Tanner gave a little wry bob of his brows. "Don't bother lookin', Bucklin. I followed his tracks yesterday when he did that, and they just disappeared like he did…"
"Ok, I don't know if that's neat or spooky." offered JD with a bemused expression on his mobile face. Hazel eyes checked his phone to make sure he'd really seen the mysterious creature. Sure enough, the white horse was visible in several pics, then not there in the last one he'd snapped.
Shaking their heads, the group gave up trying to figure out the equine enigma and strolled toward the bunkhouse to see if it was as Vin and Chris found it the day before.
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When they walked in, everything seemed to be the same at first. The two sets of footprints were all that were visible in the dust of the floor, and nothing appeared to be disturbed. However when Tanner and Larabee drew close to the tables, they saw that some things were indeed different.
Instead of the partial set of old playing cards, there were now exactly 52 scattered across the surface. The Remington pistol still rested in the spot where Chris and Vin had seen it, but a pearl-handled derringer now accompanied it. A few loose, old-fashioned poker chips were thrown haphazardly around as well, and a slim cheroot rested in a brass ashtray at one spot.
Hazel eyes met blue ones.
"Uh…how did the rest 'a this stuff get here?" asked Vin softly, his voice a bit raspier than normal.
"Maybe this is like one of those living-history places, and someone saw you here yesterday and thought it would be neat to add some things." suggested JD as he looked around, wide-eyed.
Buck slapped the younger agent on the back of the head. "There's only Chris and Vin's prints, Kid. How do you think someone got in here without leaving their own?"
"Could be used for a movie set?" offered Nathan with a frown. "Set dressers could'a added more dust…"
Ezra shook his head. "Then they would have covered up Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner's prints as well."
Josiah glanced at the lean forms of the leader and sniper. "You're sure this other stuff wasn't here yesterday?"
Chris wordlessly pulled up the pictures he'd taken the day before and passed the phone to the profiler.
"Alright then…there definitely wasn't anything but some of the cards and the revolver here." rumbled the ex-preacher.
"Maybe they were invisible." suggested Dunne softly.
Wilmington reached to slap at the smaller brunet's cap again, but JD expertly ducked the long arm. "And they just became visible for the rest of us today? Ya hit your head, JD?"
"Well, makes as much sense as what's happening now!" muttered the electronics tech defensively.
Chris waved at the taller form to back down. "He's got a point, Buck. Nothin' makes sense right now, so just let it be."
Nodding, the lanky form moved off to look around.
Finding nothing else changed, Larabee led the rest out after a few minutes. Shutting the door, the lean figure strode toward the barn, his movements silent and somewhat resembling the prowl of a big cat. Tanner moved quietly beside the blond, eyes scanning their surroundings. The other five trailed along behind, heads swiveling this way and that to take everything in.
Once inside the barn, the group separated a little to explore individually. The stalls, tack room, and loft were all investigated, the men exclaiming approvingly over the well-made saddles, bridles, and martingales when they wiped the dust off to examine them.
Vin then showed them the hoof prints in the dried mud near the back doors. No whinny called them out this time, however. Chris opened the door, just to see if the stallion was visible, but no flash of white greeted the action. However the hairs on the back of his neck did stand up as he got a feeling that he was being watched. When he glanced Tanner's way, he could see that the tracker felt it too, but there was no sign of anyone being around except the seven of them. Not that it meant anything under the current circumstances, thought the blond to himself.
Instinctively, his fingers moved to brush the handle of the automatic pistol he wore at his waist, just for reassurance. He knew Vin, Ezra, Buck, and JD were also discreetly armed, so felt certain that they could handle any corporeal threat that might manifest itself. As for any spirits or ghosts that might be hanging around, he just hoped they were friendly.
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Seeing nothing actually spooky at the moment, the group left the barn and moved on to the house. As they approached, a curtain in one of the upper rooms seemed to move briefly, but that they could…mostly…convince themselves was just the result of a gust of wind through a crack or something.
Once again, the marks of Chris and Vin's boots were all the prints that were visible in the dust. But when the duo led the rest into the living area, they noticed that the seven glasses now sat on the long table between the couches and over-stuffed chairs. A decanter of what looked like whiskey was on the dusty wood as well, but one glass had a filmy appearance to it, almost as if it'd had milk or something in it instead of alcohol.
"Mmm…weren't those on the sideboard in the pictures you took yesterday?" asked Josiah softly.
The pair just nodded. The profiler picked up the square bottle and sniffed experimentally. Liking what he smelled, he grabbed a glass and wiped it out. Pouring a finger of the amber liquid, he took a tiny swallow. White teeth gleamed in a huge grin and the well-muscled form threw the rest of the drink back in one swallow.
Jackson eyed him in surprise.
"What do ya thing you're doin', Josiah? No tellin' what that was."
The former priest bobbed his eyebrows teasingly. "What that was Brother Nathan, was some damn fine Scotch! Apparently a hundred years or so makes whiskey mighty smooth."
Chris, Vin, Buck, and Ezra procured their own glasses at that comment and poured themselves a small libation, as Standish termed it with a glint of his gold tooth.
The medic just shook his head, knowing that lectures on alcohol poisoning and other dangers would be wasted. And if Josiah recognized it as Scotch…and the profiler did commune with the 'spirits' rather frequently…then it wasn't likely to have been homemade.
When the others smacked their lips in approval as they downed their drinks, the healer was tempted to try it himself. Deciding that he needed to be able to treat them if they got sick though, he declined when Sanchez held out the decanter inquiringly.
Settling themselves on the comfortable leather furniture, the five men who were drinking allowed themselves another finger of the aged liquor, while JD and Nathan wandered around looking at the books and weapons and other items in the room. Chris again had a vague feeling of someone else being nearby, but this time the effect didn't make him nervous. In fact, it was just the opposite… there was an air of companionship and acceptance that actually put a contented smile on the handsome face. When he looked over at the sharpshooter, he could tell that Tanner felt the same.
Finished with their whiskey, they wiped out the glasses and put them back on the table. Josiah wandered over to the books to see if he could find anything that looked like a journal or that told about the history of the ranch. The rest investigated the other rooms, Larabee checking the drawers of the big wooden desk in the office to see if there was anything of interest there.
Finding a couple of leather-bound ledgers, he flipped through them. Apparently the 'other' seven had founded the ranch, or at least acquired it. There were detailed entries listing all the supplies bought, the horses rounded up and sold, etc. And all were initialed with a CL that looked quite like his own handwriting.
Another drawer held more account books, these pertaining to investments and other holdings, that were noted in a much more elaborate script. The flourishes in fact resembled Ezra's expansive penmanship.
Chris took pictures of some of the pages and then neatly replaced the items where he found them. Joining the others, they all headed upstairs. Josiah had come up empty in his quest for more on the ranch history, but hoped that they might find something in one of the rooms on the second floor.
They all paused to stare in awe at the painting of the seven riders that hung on the stairway wall. For some reason, the phrase 'ghost riders' came to mind as they gazed at the scene that was done mostly in shades of black, white, and gray.
"The horses even look like the ones we have at your ranch, Chris." commented JD with a bit of a shiver. Hazel eyes left the painting for a moment to look guardedly over his shoulder.
The blond nodded, as did the rest. The two blacks, the dapple that the mustached figure rode, the chestnut that resembled Standish's mount…they all looked very similar to the horses that the team members stabled at Larabee's.
Again phone cameras flashed as the group took photos of the piece of impressive artwork, then the seven of them proceeded on up the stairs. Chris thought he caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye as they got to the top, and noticed that Standish was also peering the same direction with a puzzled frown on his face.
"Ez?" asked the blond quietly.
"I thought I perceived…" The chestnut head shook as the normally verbose gambler found himself suddenly at a loss for words. "…I don't know what I saw, to be honest. Just what appeared to be movement of some sort. But there is nothin' there now that I can discern."
The lean figure patted the shorter man on the shoulder in understanding. "I saw it too, Ezra. Don't know what 'it' was, but I detected movement as well."
"Perhaps we should join the others." suggested Standish, even as he nodded at Larabee.
The leader agreed silently, gesturing for the other man to precede him down the hall.
When the pair reached the others, the seven figures each took a room to examine. Chris once again had the one that contained the ebony gunbelt and clothing, his feet just seeming to find their way there without conscious thought.
This time there were more articles of clothing in the wardrobe and a pair of silver spurs on black-and-silver harness matched the silver-trimmed belt and holster that now hung on one of the bedposts. A pair of ebony leather boots similar to the blond's own rested at one side of the bed as if they had just been pulled off and a handful of old coins and a folding pocket knife now occupied a spot on the bedside table.
Feeling as if it was the right thing to do, the lean form buckled the gunbelt around his waist and fastened the rawhide tie down at his thigh. Dexterous fingers pulled the bone-handled Colt out and gave it a twirl, then returned it to the holster with a little flip as if he'd been doing the actions all his life.
Bending, he placed the spurs on his boots with practiced ease. He'd always trained his animals well, so the rowels were never needed for more than a gentle touch, but he liked the sound and had worn the items as much for that as anything when he was raising horses. A small smile crossed his face as he remembered the look Sarah would always get when she heard the spurs chiming as he walked. He'd added extra jingle bobs just to please her. Green eyes sparkled for a minute and he moved to the pegs on the wall with smooth strides that caused the spurs to make a musical sound at the motions.
Settling the hat on his head with the stampede string loose under his chin, the dark figure then added the black duster. Feeling somehow complete, he strode purposefully to the dusty mirror that hung above the dresser.
Cool hazel-green eyes looked back at him from under the flat-crowned hat. A faint stubble covered the chiseled cheeks and the sculpted lips were tilted up at one corner in what was technically a smile, but one that was more likely to produce fear than joy in the eye of the beholder. The reflection was him, but somehow more than just him…
In the room next door, the sharpshooter was having the same experience. The slender figure had fastened the Mare's leg in place and then pulled on the cavalry hat and caped coat. Spurs jingled softly as he moved to peer into the surprisingly intact mirror.
His own sky-blue orbs looked back at him above a strong jaw covered with a five o'clock shadow. White teeth gleamed in a wide grin as he reached up one finger to touch his hat brim. Absently picking up a slim sliver of wood that was lying on the dresser, he stuck it in his mouth and began chewing on it in a way that felt familiar. Eying his image critically, he thought that he looked like himself, but at the same time like a distant version of Vin Tanner…
Buck was standing in front of the mirror in 'his' room, preening. The tan plainsman hat and coat and walnut-handled .45 in its brown leather holster gave the tall figure quite a dashing appearance, if he did say so himself. Spurs like the ones he used to wear when he was helping Chris raise horses were fastened to his boots, and he'd felt an urge to tie a colorful blue bandana around his neck over the indigo checked shirt he wore.
"Looks like ya had that animal magnetism no matter what century ya were in, pard." commented the lanky form to his reflection. Cobalt eyes sparkled back at him, and the thick black mustache stretched above the mobile lips as he ginned at the image in the silvered glass. The figure looked like him, but there was also something that made him look like he truly belonged in an earlier time…
In another room, a form in a scarlet coat and brocade waistcoat was taking in his own reflection. A white ruffled shirt gleamed even through the dust covering the mirror, and one elegant hand was flicking a tiny derringer in and out from the left sleeve as a grin displayed a flash of gold at the actions. Pushing the small hideout gun back into place, Ezra P. Standish raised two fingers to the brim of his black riverboat hat and saluted the mirror image that faced him.
While it was most definitely him, it seemed to the emerald eyes that the sideburns were a bit longer and the hair a tad more curly on the handsome face that looked back at him. Almost as if there was a different version of himself standing there…
JD was eyeing his reflection with a bit of a frown next door. While he liked the twin ivory-handled Colt Lightning pistols his image sported, he wasn't so thrilled with the brown herringbone suit that went with them. But that, another brown tweed suit, and several shirts were all that occupied the wardrobe of the bedroom he'd been drawn to. The items were his size, so he'd tried them on just to see how he looked. Deciding that the dark bowler hat might improve things, he slapped the item down on his straight black hair. Well, he still looked like an Easterner, but resembling Bat Masterson wasn't so bad he decided as he eyed the young-looking face that stared back at him.
Dang, he didn't look like much more than a teenager! This wasn't the way the others saw him, was it? One hand came up to finger the fine peach fuzz that covered his chin. The image that looked back at him from the mirror seemed to resemble the kid Buck called him more than he remembered noticing before, almost as if it was a different JD that he saw…
In one of the end rooms, Nathan was staring at himself in wonderment as well. A plaid jacket now covered his white shirt, and a knife sheath that held three throwing blades was strapped to his back underneath it. He had the dark leather gunbelt on in the cross-draw position that he preferred, and a black hat covered his closely-cropped hair.
As he eyed his reflection, it seemed like the form facing him had signs of a harder life than he'd experienced…maybe scars that couldn't be seen at the moment. The tall figure looked like him, but a bit more careworn, while at the same time seeming to have an air of gratitude for what he had that the medic had to admit he was possibly missing sometimes. The image he saw truly appeared to belong to an earlier time…
Across the hall from Jackson, Josiah was giving his own likeness some serious scrutiny as well. A long coat with striped blanket-material yolks rested over a cotton shirt and a vest. A leather gunbelt was fastened for a left-handed draw, and a wooden-handled pistol rested in the well-worn holster. A ten-gallon hat sat on his head, mostly covering the salt-and-pepper curls. Piercing blue eyes looked back at him from the mirror, a wooden cross on a leather cord hanging around his neck.
Those eyes looked like they'd seen a world of things, some of them not so good. There was a hint of sadness in the glowing gaze, as well as knowledge and a thirst to learn even more. The wide smile on the granite-like jaw hinted at a sense of humor, and the bulging biceps under the coat seemed to say that the well-muscled form could break a man's back if he decided to go 'old testament'. The former preacher had to say that the image resembled him, but it also seemed to show an older, perhaps wiser version of himself too…
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After analyzing their reflections, the seven took turns taking pictures of each other and exploring the various rooms. Each space seemed to suit the figure who had changed there, the clothes all in the right sizes, the guns fitting each man's hand like they were made for them, and the mementos all being things that attracted each individual's attention. JD felt like there should be journals in 'his' room written by the old west Dunne, but couldn't find any in a relatively quick search.
The group moved downstairs for a few more photos, each getting a feeling of completeness as they posed in front of the fireplace, at the card tables in the billiards room, etc. There was another deck of Stutz cards lying on the felt of the poker table, so Ezra sat down and showed off his shuffling prowess and repertoire of card tricks while the others snapped pics and took a little video. They even set Standish's phone camera on self-timer and leaned it against a stack of books so that they could get a group shot.
When the gambler checked to be sure the picture came out, he was surprised to note that it seemed almost as if it had been taken by someone standing a bit further back, since the seven figures were all visible and the focus was extremely good. A flash of emerald green seemed to flit at the corner of his eye, but when he looked around, there was nothing visible that color.
Suddenly realizing they had been occupied for several hours, the men headed back upstairs to change. Each carefully put the items they had worn back where they came from, then they trouped back to the first floor.
Exiting onto the porch, Vin made sure the door shut securely. Nothing had been locked though, so they left things as they had found them, even though it seemed odd that all the furnishings and weapons were still in place when there was nothing to keep thieves out of the buildings.
Stepping off of the porch, they heard the distinctive whinny of the white stallion again.
Looking toward the west, they saw the horse standing by the first corral. As they watched, shadowy human forms came out of the barn and moved toward the animal, one carrying what appeared to be a bucket of feed. A tall, lean figure in mostly dark hues led the group, the lowering sun seeming to glint off of bits of silver as the shape strode with cat-like grace across the ground. The smallest of the entourage turned as if looking at the seven. One hand rose in what could only be called a wave, then he trotted after his companions.
Vin wanted to follow the other figures, but since it would be dark soon that deep in the valley and Chris wasn't sure quite what to expect, the tracker was overridden. The force of Larabee's personality usually caused even the most contrary of his adopted brothers to give in, especially when the lean blond was genuinely worried about their safety.
Pacifying the inquisitive sharpshooter, Chris added that they could all come back another time. Several of the men wanted to try out the weapons they'd used for the photos, and all of them were curious to see if anything was different the next time they showed up.
Everyone satisfied, Chris led the way toward the vehicles. The others followed behind in a loose group, Tanner bringing up the rear as he watched their backs.
They were a little more than halfway to the parking spot when they heard the sound of rapid hoofbeats behind them. Turning somewhat warily, they saw the white horse cantering up. The stallion paused a few yards away and tossed his head. He then gave his bow, neighing as he did so. Walking up to Chris, who had moved to meet him, the gleaming head reached out and let the former horse trainer stroke his nose a couple of times while several of the others took pictures and video. The magnificent form then backed up a few steps. Turning, he trotted back the way he had come.
As the seven men watched him go, an equal number of riders came from out of nowhere to join the glowing figure. This time the shapes weren't so shadowy, those standing able to make out the shining hazel, blue, green, and brown eyes under the low hat brims and the emerald of the gambler's coat as the mounted forms drew to a halt. Each old west figure captured the gaze of their modern counterpart.
No words were spoken, but a sense of understanding passed between the two groups. After a few minutes, the dark-garbed gunfighter on the ebony gelding touched his fingers to his hat brim. The rest of the riders copied the gesture in individual fashion, then they all turned their horses. Kicking them to a trot, and followed by the white stallion, they rode forward. After a few yards, the whole group just disappeared into thin air.
Their modern incarnations waited for a few moments in silence, then when nothing else happened, they turned and resumed their trek to the parked vehicles.
"That was so cool!" suddenly burst out JD.
"I think we all had some bad food and are hallucinatin'." mumbled Wilmington, somewhat unnerved by the abrupt disappearance of his alter-ego.
"You cooked, Buck." reminded Vin of the hamburgers that the ladies' man had fixed for lunch.
"Don't discount what you don't understand." cautioned Josiah as he pulled out his keys to the Suburban.
"Indeed, my friends. Especially when we have photographic evidence to prove that we are not collectively losing our minds." added Ezra as he waved his phone at the rest of the group.
JD was looking a bit upset at Wilmington's dismissal of the amazing experience they'd all just had.
"Don't tell me you think this is all a bunch of hooey, Buck." Dark eyes looked around at the other men. "We all saw it…"
Chris moved to squeeze the kid's shoulder gently.
"I have to believe in spirits, JD. If I denied they exist, then I'd be saying that it isn't Sarah and Adam I feel guiding me sometimes. And Buck still talks to his mom… I think we all have seen and felt things that can't be explained in ordinary terms. Doesn't mean they aren't real."
"Amen" intoned Sanchez as he fingered the simple silver cross that hung around his neck.
The rest nodded, and then slowly climbed into the pickup and SUV. They all looked back toward the ranch buildings one last time, and then Chris and Josiah put the vehicles in gear and drove off.
In the shadows near the barn, seven other figures looked at each other as they dismounted from their horses.
"They'll be back." murmured the slim form of the tracker as he patted his black on the neck.
"Yeah." nodded the lean gunfighter, turning to lead his own dark gelding to its stall.
"They already feel the connection." added the gambler as he fed his steed a bite of apple.
"Seven men, one destiny…" finished the big figure of the former priest. All the heads nodded in understanding, then they slowly disappeared into the ether.
by DMA