Ghost of Christmas Past

An 11th Hour Rose Novella

The Christmas Ghost

Melissa Lynne Blue

 

Prologue

 

Nevada Desert

December 15, 1869

 

Tense and uneasy, Bobby Foster reclined against a bolder, staring stoically into the low burning fire. The hour was late and there was a chill to the desert air, but he paid no mind to either as he softly fingered the sidearm rested in his lap. He was ready for any sign of trouble—or the law.

“Have a drink and relax, Bobby.” Dell, one of his most trusted gang members, rounded the fire with a drunken grin and a bottle of whisky. “We had a good take today. Cash and a few gold bars. This is better than holding up trains.” Dell held out the liquor bottle.

“We could have done better,” Bobby grumbled, scowling. He ignored the proffered bottle in no mood for drink and revelry. His gaze shifted over the members of his gang, all laughing and counting their loot.

“You worryin’ about the law again?” Dell dropped down beside him and took a long drag of whisky. “Ain’t no way anybody’s gonna find us in this canyon. This is the best hideout we’ve ever had.” They’d been riding together for over two years.

Bobby wasn’t so sure. “Marshal Langston isn’t going to let this drop. He’s like an animal on the hunt.” Ever since U.S. Marshal David Langston had come to these parts, he’d been steadily narrowing in on the Foster Gang. Bobby had discreetly asked about the lawman and learned that he’d been a West Pointer before leaving the U.S. Army to serve the Confederacy in the war. Langston had a warrior’s background, and he was proving far more tenacious than the average lawman.

Hoof beats and rustling rocks echoed off the canyon walls.

Blood chilling, Bobby leapt to action. “Riders comin’!” Palming his pistol, he spun around and crouched behind the boulder more than ready to shoot any man who appeared in the canyon.

His gang fell silent, and only the sound of five hammers cocking broke the stillness.

“It’s just me, Bobby!” A familiar voice called.

“Jackie? Damn, boy, you scared the livin’ hell out of us. We thought you were the law.”

Jackie, the final member of his gang, rode into the canyon. “Not a chance.” He dismounted. “I led them on a merry chase though. Marshal Langston will be riding in circles for days.”

“Marshal Langston is a real problem,” Bobby said, standing and holstering his weapon. “It’s time to put an end to him.”

Jackie met his gaze seriously. “What do you want me to do, boss?”