“She’s right,” he concurred. “We learn that we see and hear what others don’t. Doesn’t mean we can’t be startled as hell. That really never changes. Ghosts. Sometimes they show up when you least expect them—and hide when you’re trying to reach them!”
“It’s just the right time,” Abby said quietly. And it was. The moon was rising; the sun had almost fallen below the horizon. The hills, the plains, the landscape—all had that magical quality of twilight.
They were still for a minute, until Dustin cleared his throat, and the sound roused them from their trance.
“Maybe the general’s at the cemetery,” Malachi suggested.
Olivia nodded. “Let’s forge ahead.”
They rode on and eventually came to the clearing that led to the small cemetery.
“This is one of Mariah’s favorite places,” Olivia told them. “The stories, of course, that go with the cemetery are tragic.”
“Ghost stories often are,” Malachi said
Dustin dismounted, lifting his lantern high. “Liv, do we leave the horses and walk along the trail?” he asked.
“No. There are coyotes in the area. We don’t want spooked horses. If we had to walk back, it would be a very long walk.”
“All right, this is your terrain, Liv. I’ll stay with the horses,” Dustin offered.
“No, I’ve been to the cemetery plenty of times,” Malachi said. “Olivia’s house belonged to our uncle when we were growing up,” he reminded Dustin. “I came out here—” he paused, grinning “—to the frontier often enough. You show Abby.”
Dustin didn’t argue. Olivia raised her own lantern high and led the way along the trail.
They came to the graves, and the old lichen-covered stones were haunting and sad in the moonlight.
“I’m surprised the general has been allowed to rest here—that someone hasn’t decided to dig him up for a memorial,” Abby said. She knelt down by the grave, dusting it off. “It’s nice here, though. Lonely.”
“Seems to be a Tennessee thing, respecting his right to this place,” Olivia said, getting down on her knees beside Abby. “There’s never even been any vandalism out here, nor do we ever find beer cans or any hint of frat kids fooling around. Not here, not in the cemetery.” She glanced up at them. “There’s an urban legend about the place—that in the 1960s or ’70s, some kids came out here, but there was a coyote prowling the area and they got scared and started to run. One of the boys got tangled in some vines. He was in a panic and he swore afterward that the general came and helped him. People believe that this cemetery is haunted—by more than coyotes. I guess it’s been tacitly accepted through the generations. The cemetery is maintained by local restoration groups, and no one interferes with it.”
“It’s a little forlorn,” Abby said. “And definitely out of the way.”
Olivia shrugged. “Maybe that’s why the general keeps riding.”
But the general wasn’t riding.
He was leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, watching them. Dustin watched him for several minutes without moving or speaking. He didn’t warn the women. At last he spoke, very quietly. “General Cunningham, we could really use your help.”
Neither Abby nor Olivia started. They looked over at him, where he stood by the trees. Olivia rose, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Sir,” she said. “I know you tried to save Marcus. We desperately need your help now.”
Abby rose slowly to her feet beside Olivia. The general stared back at all of them. He lifted his hand in a dignified greeting.
But then he disappeared.
Abby sighed. “I hope it wasn’t me,” she whispered.
“He just—he just isn’t a talker,” Olivia told her.
“Maybe he will be when he has something to say,” Abby suggested.
“Let’s get going. We have to pitch a tent for the night and then I want to go over everything that happened when Aaron fell into the stream,” Dustin said. “Every single thing we can recall....”
They returned to the horses, and Malachi instinctively seemed to know something had happened.
“We saw the general,” Dustin explained.
“And?” Malachi asked.
Abby shook her head.
“Well, we know he’s been here—watching,” Malachi said.
They rode on. When they broke into the clearing by the rocky hills, the sheer beauty of the area made them pause in unison. “We should get the tent pitched,” Malachi said once they’d reached the campsite. “Hey, Liv, this has been fixed up nicely over the years. The rocks around the fire pit—great! You can keep embers going at night without worrying that you’ll start a forest fire.”
“If it’s windy, of course, we still douse it completely,” Olivia said, dismounting. She untied the saddle pack she had on Shiloh. “Who has the tent supports?”
“I’ve got ’em,” Malachi called out.
They went to work erecting the tent. Soon it was done; Dustin was glad they’d chosen to bring one—it was getting too cold for sleeping bags alone. They’d take turns being on guard duty during the night.