By Kristy McCaffrey
It’s October, my favorite time of year, and naturally all thoughts turn to thrills and scares and supernatural happenings.
I’ve had a few encounters with apparitions. Several years ago my youngest daughter came to my bedside in the middle of the night, which she often did, so at first I wasn’t concerned. But as I began speaking to her, her appearance faded away in a rippling wave. It kinda freaked me out! Thinking on it later, I decided she had somehow projected an astral image of herself while she dreamt in the room beside ours, however when I asked her about it the next day, she had no recollection of it.
Have you ever seen ghost? I’d love to know! Drop your experience in the comments if you’d like to share.
Don’t miss these short stories filled with chills and romance.
It’s Hallowtide in the Old West. Join three bounty hunters fighting dark magic and the women destined to love them.
The Crow and The Coyote
Among the red-rock canyons of the Navajo, bounty hunter Jack Boggs—known as The Crow—aids Hannah Dobbin in a quest to save her pa's soul during Hallowtide.
The Crow and The Bear
When no one will help Jennie Livingstone enter a haunted ravine to find her papa, she must accept the aid of enigmatic bounty hunter Callum Boggs, sometimes called The Crow.
A Murder of Crows
Eliza McCulloch is determined to reclaim her family book of
spells and her only hope is Kester Boggs, a manhunter named The Crow.
(These stories were previously published separately. Heat level: steamy)
Available in ebook and paperback at Amazon, Apple Books, Kobo, Nook and Google Play. Find all the links here.
Excerpt from The Crow and the Coyote
Jack Boggs came upon the camp in the blackness of night. A form lay near a smoldering fire. A quick perusal told him it was female. Disappointed, he rested his gun against his thigh from where he crouched.
He'd followed these tracks all day, but instead of leading him to Ignacio Lopez, they ended here. He had no interest in befriending anyone, but perhaps the woman might have seen Lopez in the area.
The end of a barrel jammed hard between his shoulder blades. “Do not move.”
Shocked by the sound of a gravelly, Indian-inflected voice, he couldn't believe a woman had crept up on him.
He let the Colt slide to the ground before him, then slowly raised his arms.
“Stand, and move away from that gun,” she said.
Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the second one still holstered. He stood. The metal dug into his back again—from the feel of it, likely a double-barreled shotgun—prompting him forward. He stepped over his weapon, and heard the Indian woman retrieve it.
“Hannah, wake up,” the woman said as they approached.
Jack chanced a glance over his shoulder. A short, elderly Navajo woman eyed him with suspicion.
The female on the ground stirred, then sprang to her feet.
With a gasp, her hand came to her chest. “Oh, my word, Sani.”
Forced closer by the persistent Sani, he could see Hannah's disheveled dark hair framed a youthful complexion.
“I told you we were followed,” the old woman said.
Hannah's gaze shifted to him. “Who are you, sir?”
“The name's Jack. I'm in pursuit of bounty.” He ceased inching forward, and the shotgun dug into his back once again.
“What bounty would that be?”
“A bandito by the name of Ignacio Lopez. I mean no harm to you and soft shoes back there.” He nodded over his shoulder.
Hannah considered him, then agreed. “Sani, put the gun down.”
To Jack's surprise, the Indian woman acquiesced. Carefully, he lowered his arms. “Would either of you by chance know anything about Lopez?”
Sani came to stand beside Hannah, gripping the shotgun in one hand and his weapon in the other. Even in the dark, he sensed her brittle glare.
“We might,” Hannah answered. “Would you care to join us at our fire?” She scanned behind her. “At what is left of our fire?” she amended.
He gave a curt nod. “Might I trouble you for the return of my gun?”
Hannah motioned for Sani to give it back, which the old woman did, her features schooled in a skeptical frown.
He wasted no time holstering the weapon, hoping to gain their trust.
They all settled around the barely-glowing embers.
Hannah stoked the fire, re-igniting a small blaze, then spoke in soft undertones to Sani. Jack caught snippets of Spanish mixed with a dialect he assumed to be Navajo. He knew only a smattering, the Navajo language far more complex than any he'd encountered in the past few years of hunting bounties in Texas and the territories.
Hannah turned her gaze upon him, now viewing him as sternly as old Sani. After a moment of contemplation, she murmured again to the Navajo woman.
“It's rude to talk behind someone's back,” he said, removing his hat and running fingers through shoulder-length hair.
“I agree,” Hannah replied. “Are you called Crow?”
Even in the darkness, his jet-black hair was hard to miss. That had to account for why she guessed the moniker frequently attributed to him.
“Yeah,” he replied.
Hannah took a deep breath. “Well, then, Sani and I would ask for your assistance—in exchange, of course—for our help in locating Señor Lopez.”
“You know his whereabouts?”
She nodded, but then amended, “Well, maybe not his location precisely, but we've some idea who he might be with.”
“And who's that?”
She regarded him in silence. For such a young and pretty thing, she was turning out to be a shrewd negotiator. “Do we have a deal?”
“I've no idea what you're asking me to do.”
“You tell him,” Sani said.
“We're after a Navajo called Hastin Yazhe.” Hannah spoke quietly. “He has something I want returned, a silver cross that belonged to my pa. If the man you trail is in these canyons, Yazhe will get him—if not now, then eventually.”
Pinpricks pierced the back of Jack’s neck, bringing his attention fully to the young woman across from him.
“Who is this Yazhe?” he asked.
“A sorcerer. A demon. Depends on your religious leanings, I suppose. I believe him to practice evil.”
“Why would you come after him alone? Are there no men aiding you? Where are your husbands?”
“I've no husband,” Hannah replied, “and Sani has long been without her love. I wouldn't pursue this man if it wasn't of utmost importance.”
“And why is that?”
“He murdered my pa and left his spirit in limbo. When I get that cross back, I'll be able to undo the dark works that have imprisoned my pa's soul. I'll be able to set him free.”
A foreboding of apprehension caught Jack by surprise, sending a shiver down his spine. He knew something of spirits and superstitions, but he also knew that men begat violence for no other reason than that they could.
He also knew that the two women before him, while spouting paranoia, were entirely lucid—and deadly serious.
That concerned him most of all.
8 comments:
Happy Halloween, Kristy, and what a scary image of your daughter. I think I would've had a heart attack. Hugs!
Haha yeah. I almost did!
I have been told I am sensitive. I am kind of resistant to that idea. But I have a couple stories. My mother passed away many years ago, a year before I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Once I was diagnosed, I began smelling cigarette smoke around me at different times. No one in my house smokes. I have had other people also smell it. My mother was a smoker.
Another time, I worked evenings in the basement of a bank alone, processing the checks received that day. All of a sudden, I smelled roses and tea. Tears came to my eyes, and I said out loud "Goodbye Grandpa." I went home that night and called my family. My mother told me that he had died 3 days before. He was a very popular man, lots of friends and family, and I lived on the east coast (while he was on the west coast of North America). I think it took him that long to get to me.
I saw some manner of entity once. First, you have to picture the house layout. The middle third wall area on the far side of our living room was a half wall with a shelf. So you could look into the room beyond it. Well one night I was lying on the sofa and I saw a black silhouette of my husband just standing there facing me. I sat up and said “Hey, stop trying to scare me.” When I did, it turned sideways and began walking to exit the room. I knew if I ran into the kitchen (beside the living room) I could see that exit into the dining room. So I jumped up and ran to catch him leaving the room… except no one was there. I ran upstairs to give him a talking to, but he was in bed sleeping. hmmmm Whatever it was, it took the shape and size of my husband.
Another time, I was living alone in a small one-floor apartment. I was in the bedroom on my computer chatting with someone when I heard a heavy thud sound in my kitchen. Then a rolling sound followed. I said to my friend on computer that a bottle just rolled across my kitchen floor and I was going to check it out. I went into the kitchen and saw nothing amiss. As I went to leave to get back to my friend, I decided to take a second look. This time I saw it. The Perrier bottle I left sitting on the counter now lying sideways on the floor under the table.
Christine,
Your encounters are so sweet. Your mom and Grandpa were trying to reach you. How comforting that must have been.
Linda,
Those are both chilling. Yikes!
My father's mother used to be a stickler for taking the Christmas decorations down right after Christmas, usually that evening if we grandkids were there to help.
After she passed away, my parents lived in her house for a while. We cousins were grown by then and couldn't get together until a few days after Christmas. We were all sitting around the formal living room, reminiscing about her and chuckling about how, if she were there, she would be fussing about the tree still being up and decorated.
A moment later, we heard a cracking sound, and the Christmas tree - decorations and all - fell completely over. Our eyes went wide, and we just stared at each other. Then we laughed and took down the decorations.
Melissa,
That's such a great story! Her spirit was definitely trying to tell you all something lol.
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