Haunting Danielle 27 The Ghost and the Mountain Man Bobbi Holmes (best pdf ebook reader for android .TXT) 📖

“I was thinking about our mystery ghost and how he probably got stranded up in the mountains somehow and died. And how that could have been our fate too.” Heather shivered at the thought.

“If Walt’s father really was responsible for his death, then him being stranded up there probably didn’t get him killed.”

“Maybe. But he didn’t have any visible wounds. He looks more like someone who got stuck up there and died, considering his beard.”

“Visible wounds? Ghosts have wounds?” Brian asked.

“Sometimes. A disoriented spirit often takes on the same appearance he had right before dying. Which is why you might see a ghost with a meat cleaver imbedded in his bloody head if that’s how someone killed him.”

“Lovely imagery,” he said dryly.

“I thought you would appreciate it.”

“Have you seen a ghost like that?” he asked.

Heather shrugged. “No. But it’s possible. Although I did see one with a piece of broken glass sticking out of his back. Scared the crap out of me.”

Brian cringed. “I can imagine. Maybe our ghost got bit by a snake and died. Since he didn’t have Walt to save him. A snake bite you probably wouldn’t see.”

“We were lucky to have Walt with us. Made fishing easier.”

“Amen to that,” Brian agreed and took another swig of beer.

“You know what I read when researching Oregon mountain men?” Heather asked.

“What?”

“During the gold rush, the prospectors often carried sourdough starter with them so they could make their own bread. According to some articles, they would sleep with the starter to keep it warm and alive.”

“I’m sorry, what is sourdough starter?” Brian asked.

Heather frowned at Brian. “Don’t you like sourdough bread?”

“Sure. But what does that have to do with sourdough starter?”

“It’s what you need to make sourdough bread. Bread needs some sort of leavening agent, like yeast or baking powder, or sourdough starter. You can make sourdough starter by mixing flour and water, and somehow it collects the yeast from the air,” Heather explained.

“Wouldn’t they need some sort of oven to bake this bread?” he asked.

Heather shrugged. “I don’t know what they baked it in. I didn’t read that far. But I think I should try making some.”

“Why?”

“To be more self-sufficient. And the next time we get stranded in the mountains, I can make homemade sourdough bread to eat with our fish,” Heather said.

Brian cocked a brow at Heather. “So the next time some crazy witches kidnap us, you’re going to make sure you have sourdough starter with you?”

“It only takes flour and water,” Heather reminded him.

“Oh, so you’re going to make sure you have a bag of flour with you?” he teased.

“A glass jar too.”

Brian laughed.

Together Walt and Danielle sat on the front porch swing, a blanket draped over their laps to ward off the chill of the evening. Walt sipped brandy while Danielle enjoyed a glass of wine. Looking up to the moonless sky, Danielle said, “We’re lucky it’s not raining. According to the radio, it’s raining in Astoria tonight.”

“It feels like we may get some later.” While holding his brandy with his right hand, Walt wrapped his left arm around Danielle and pulled her closer.

“You think he moved on?” Danielle asked.

“Very possible,” Walt said. “You know, I’ve been thinking of those mountains since talking to our mystery ghost.”

“In what way?”

“I remember my father used to go fishing with Teddy and Bud up in the mountains. They would ride horses up there and camp. I’m not saying it was the same place they took us. But it could have been. I remember wanting to go, but Mom said I was too young, and Dad would tell me he would take me with them when I got a little older. Of course, that time never came.”

“I’m sorry,” Danielle whispered.

Walt shrugged. “That was a very long time ago. Maybe I never made it up to the mountains with them, but I remember going fishing on the pier, and Teddy and Bud were there. It must have been that last year. I have this memory of us standing on the end of the pier and Dad fixing my fishing pole. Uncle Teddy and Uncle Bud were arguing.”

“Arguing? About what?”

Walt considered the question for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I just remember my father telling them to knock it off. And they stopped.”

“What were your uncle Bud and uncle Teddy like?”

“First, they weren’t my real uncles.”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“I remember Uncle Teddy would sneak me candy, and Mom would get annoyed. But aside from that, I don’t recall anything specific, just that they were around a lot when I was little. I assumed they really were family. But after my parents died, and my grandfather asked Teddy to leave the funeral and Bud didn’t even show up, I felt abandoned. Looking back, they were flashes from my early childhood memories, before my parents died.”

A meow interrupted their conversation. Both Danielle and Walt looked down to see Max sauntering toward the swing.

“Max, what are you doing out this late?” Danielle asked as the cat jumped up on the swing with them.

Walt looked at Max and arched his brows. “Really?”

Max made himself at home on Danielle’s lap and stared up into Walt’s eyes.

“What is he saying?” Danielle asked.

“He was just over visiting Bella. Seems Heather had another visitor tonight.”

“Really?” Danielle looked down at Max and stroked his back. “Gee, Max, you and Walt are becoming a pair of gossips.”

Ten

In her last years of life, Marie Hemming Nichols grew reliant on her grandson, Adam, for transportation. She understood Adam had his own life and a business to run, so she had tried not to be a burden, and when possible, she found alternate forms of transportation, such as procuring rides with friends. Yet as the years moved on, more and more of her friends found themselves in the same situation as her, no longer driving. Or they had moved to the other side, where they no longer needed an automobile.

Almost three years