Within a couple of hours, Lucy turned her own car off the main road and back up the dirt driveway. She'd signed the lease, paid the rent, picked up some basic food supplies and cleaning products, and also some new sheets, pillows and towels. For better or worse, she was now the proud owner of a genuine 19th century ranch house for the summer. One that apparently came with it's very own ghostly resident!

As the house came into view again, she couldn't hold back the excitement. She was ready for whatever challenges the house had in store for her. Perhaps she'd be writing a ghost story instead of a western. She tried to laugh but it came out as a nervous giggle.

She'd just survived living with a self-centered, self-absorbed control freak for five years, surely she could handle one cranky, old ghost?

Once she was inside, Lucy busied herself opening up all the windows and doors to get fresh air through the place. She put on an old smock and took to cleaning off the furniture, sweeping the floors and dusting the rugs. She also put on some oil scented candles to freshen up the air.

Then, she moved into the kitchen. By the time she'd cleaned every surface in there, it was getting dark. She stored her few groceries in the fridge, then went out to get some wood.

He'd said the fireplace had been cleaned recently and she'd be able to use it. Even though it wasn't cold, Lucy decided it would be advantageous to light it for the night. The wood smoke smell would permeate the house, as well as give it a homely feel. It was such a feature of the house; she wanted to get the sense of how it had been in its heyday.

There was a woodpile at the side of the barn. She carted several pieces into the house and then set a fire. She hadn't built one since she'd been a child growing up in Oregon. Colder up there, they'd needed a fireplace in the winter and sometimes in the summer too. Lucy felt at home as she watched the kindling spark into a small fire. The smoke didn't back up which pleased her.

Soon, she had a roaring fire and her microwaved TV dinner on her lap. She sat down on the couch to eat. It was totally dark outside now. Even though busy, she'd kept one keen ear tuned to the floor above, but she'd heard nothing. Weren't ghosts supposed to rattle chains and walk about making the floorboards groan?

She smiled to herself, trying to make light of the days events in her mind. She ate slowly and considered setting up a makeshift bed on the couch for the night. After all, she hadn't cleaned the bedroom yet. But as she grew tired, Lucy scoffed at her hesitation. If someone was living in this house with her, best she confront the situation sooner rather than later.

She carried her suitcase and linens up the staircase a short time later. She opened the door to the bedroom from which she'd been chased and went in. All seemed quiet. She lit an oil lamp that sat on the desk and then went back down to retrieve her laptop computer.

By the time she returned Lucy half expected to see something moved but nothing was. Perhaps she'd imagined it all. Therefore, she set about stripping the bed and remaking it with her fresh sheets. The mattress looked fairly new, something the owner must have replaced to keep renters happy. She was glad of that – those old spring and horsehair mattresses didn't sound too appealing.

She set up her computer and was grateful to find a power point that worked.

She got up from the desk, yawned and stretched. A story was starting to form in her mind as she turned around to get her pajamas from her suitcase.

And there he was!

Lucy froze as in the corner of her room leaning against the fireplace mantle stood the man in the painting. Tall and darkly clad, he looked younger than in the painting. No beard, dark neatly trimmed hair, lean but powerful body, but it was definitely him.

She blinked a couple of times but it didn't dislodge the image. She stood frozen for a long time not sure of what to do. Then she gathered her courage.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said boldly.

"Why not?" came a booming reply.

Lucy took a step back, her bravado diminished.

"This isn't your house, it's mine. And you'd better leave me be," she said with more bravado than she felt.

"This will always be my house," the apparition said as he pushed himself away from the wall and walked slowly toward her.

Lucy took another step backward. "I've got news for you, you're dead. You can't own anything anymore."

"I can and I do. I'll scare you out of here like everyone else!" He was close to her now, within a few feet.

Lucy looked up at him. He was way taller than she was, taller and broader than even Mark. She felt the temperature around her drop. She also smelt traces of bay rum and horses. Was he really an apparition? He seemed so real. "You don't scare me. Why are you still here in this house?" she asked bravely.

"Why shouldn't I be? It's my home."

Lucy felt as if she were going mad. She was talking to a ghost; a dead man who apparently used to live on this ranch. She glanced around. This must have been his room. As she looked back at him, she suddenly stuck out her hand. Instead of hitting solid chest, her fingers felt like ice.

"You're not really here, you're a ghost. You see, I can't touch you," she said boldly.

"That doesn't mean anything. My spirit is here, my mind, my memory. My will."

As if to prove his point, a painting of a ship that hung on the opposite wall fell off and crashed on to the floor.

Despite being scared silly, Lucy liked the tone of his voice. It was deep and rich. He had an old fashioned type of accent. That's the only way she could describe it.

"What year were you born?" she probed.

"Year? Does it matter?"

She watched the expression on the ghost's angry face turn to confusion with the change of subject.

"I want to know more about you."

"I was born in 1830. Why?"

Lucy swallowed her gasp and continued on with her questions. "And what year did you die?"

The ghost remained silent for several moments.

"It didn't happen like they said. It was an accident."

"What year?"

The ghost swiveled and paced the room in an unsettled way. "1912 – the winter. It was an accident." He walked to desk where she had the lamp glowing. It lit up his face, a handsome face filled with sadness. Lucy felt a pang of sympathy.

"What happened?"

The ghost turned and frowned down at her. "I don't want to speak of it any more. Now, get out!"

"No."

He strode up to her in a swirl of icy wind. "I can't share my house with a stranger."

"That makes two of us. So what's your name?" Lucy asked bravely.

He looked at her for a moment, a scowl on his face that gradually got replaced by a confused frown. Then it faded. He bowed slightly and answered.

"My name is Cartwright, Adam Cartwright, Ma'am. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Please excuse my rudeness; I should have introduced myself."

Lucy's nerves calmed as his mood turned. She enjoyed his old fashioned turn of phrase. She thought that if he'd been wearing a hat he would have removed it with his greeting.

"And mine is Lucy Muir. So now we're not strangers any more."

"And may I ask what year it is now?" He looked at her modern hipster jeans and form-fitting shirt with puzzlement.

"It's 2010. We're in a new millennium."

"Almost a century on," he murmured. He turned and paced to the fireplace and back before speaking again.

"What do you want with my house, Miss Muir?"

"I want to write a novel here. I like your house; it's got a lot of charm and history. Not like the city."

"It's better than the city," Adam agreed, and again walked back to the darker end of the room.

"You lived in the city?"

"For a time - in San Francisco."

"That's where I'm from."

"What kind of a novel are you writing? I suppose it will be one of those sickly romances such as Jane Austin wrote?"

"Oh no! Not at all." Lucy walked over to him and watched as he lifted a curious brow. "It's going to be a western. It will be based on history and will be full of adventure, excitement and heroes. I plan to write about the mountain men of the Sierra Nevada."

"Humph," Adam replied with a touch of disdain.

"What's wrong with that?"

"The mountain men weren't the true heroes of this land."

"Oh no?"

"No. You'd be better off writing about the settlers, the pioneers who crossed the country and really made something of Nevada."

"I suppose I could try something like that. It would take some time to do the research though."

"Good, go do it and come back next year!"

"No chance," Lucy replied, tipping her nose up in defiance. "Now, I'm tired, so I trust you'll leave me alone while I change and get ready for bed."

The frown returned onto his brow. "But this is my room."

Lucy's cheeks heated with the thought of such a virile man watching her change, even though he was just a spirit. Perhaps he was stuck in this room!

"Can't you go downstairs or next door?"

"I can go anywhere I please. I just choose to stay here. This is my room after all."

"I'm sure in your day you didn't spy on ladies getting changed did you?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then you won't do it now you're a ghost, will you?"

Adam frowned and leaned against the wall again. "You're much more stubborn and determined than women of my time."

"That's what it's like now. We women have equal rights. We no longer have to rely on a man for everything. We even vote!"

"Hmm, doesn't sound too good to me. What about your protection? It's dangerous for a lady to live on her own on a ranch."

"I'm only a few minutes away from town and I have a cell phone."

"Virginia City is further away than that."

"No, Incline Village. It's just along the lake a

little bit."

"The only thing there are rotting timber flumes from an old logging operation we had stopped."

"There are many more people living around the lake now. Incline is now a town."

"On Ponderosa land? They have no right!" The

angry scowl returned to his face.

Questions ran through Lucy's mind about what Adam might not understood of the modern world. Did he know his ranch lands were practically gone? She didn't want to be the one to tell him.

"No, I'm sure they are not on your land. The Ponderosa?"

"It's the name of our ranch. Due to the many Ponderosa pines of course."

"Yes, they are lovely trees." Lucy recalled the few trees left along the driveway.

"And what's a cell phone?"

This question took her aback. How should she respond? This man had lived in a completely different time. There were many things about the modern world he wouldn't understand. Perhaps she shouldn't tell him too much. She didn't want to disrupt the space time continuum. She remembered those rules well from "Back to the Future."

"It's just a form of communication now. Like a telegraph only faster."

"Well, whatever it is, you're still in danger out here on your own. I think it's foolish of you to put yourself at risk."

"But I'm not alone now, am I?" You're here to protect me."

She watched his face process that idea. She'd read that men of the western era were very protective. Adam appeared to be that kind of a man. This could be a way to get on his good side. At least so she could get some sleep.

"You've effectively scared off every other person that came out here, haven't you, Mr Cartwright?"

"Yes but,"

"Then I'm safer here than I would have been in San Francisco. Here I have my very own ghost for protection. Now, how about you give me a little privacy."

"All right. I'll agree to go to a different room when you retire for the evening. Until you leave, that is."

She smiled and went to her suitcase. "Thank you very much. You might even enjoy having some company for a change." She turned back and realized she was speaking to an empty room.