Page 6 of Ghosted Cowboy
She led me into the theater, still talking about lighting cues and stage positions and the importance of "finding the character." I barely heard her. My attention had locked on the stage where someone moved in the half-light.
Rainey.
Even from here, even in the dimness, I'd know her anywhere. She was Rainey. But different. Older. Harder around the edges. She wore jeans and a soft blouse, her chestnut hair falling in waves down her back, reading something—probably a script.
A knot formed under my ribs.
"Rainey!" Vivian called. "Come meet our Silas Black!"
Rainey glanced up. Froze.
Time stuttered. Recognition hit her like cold water—color draining from her face, then flooding back. Then something else flickered across her expression. Anger. Hurt. A wall slamming down so fast I almost missed it.
She walked toward us, chin up, shoulders back. She held herself like she was braced for a fight. When she got close enough, I could see her eyes—those luminous green eyes I'd memorized—were carefully blank.
"Ransom." My name came out flat. "I didn't know you were back in town."
That was a lie. In a town like Midnight Springs, she'd have heard by now. "Got in a few days ago."
"How nice." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "Playing the ghost, then?"
"Apparently."
"How fitting." The words had edges.
Vivian glanced between us, clearly sensing the tension. "Well! Why don't we start blocking the scene? Rainey, you'll be center stage, trying to contact Silas's spirit. Ransom, you'll appear behind her, drawn by her voice calling to you from beyond the grave. It's a pivotal moment—the first time the phantom and his love interact."
Other cast members had started arriving. I recognized a few faces—Knox Phillips who'd taught history when I was in high school, June Caldwell who still ran the diner, Bennett Cooperwho'd set my broken arm when I was twelve. Small town theater. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew our history.
Great.
But then I saw someone else. Brooke Whitfield, walking in like she owned the place. I remembered her from high school—pageant queen, drama club president, the girl who'd made a play for me before I'd started dating Rainey. I'd broken things off with her fast and clean. Apparently she'd gone to Hollywood after graduation. Apparently she was back.
She spotted me and her whole face lit up. "Ransom Hollis! Oh my God, I heard you were back in town!" She practically ran over, grabbing my arm. "You look amazing. Even better than high school, if that's possible."
"Brooke." I stepped back. "Didn't know you were back too."
"Just this summer. I'm teaching drama at the high school now." She flipped her blonde hair. "After my time in LA—I was on Baywatch, did you hear? It was incredible. But you know—service has always been so important to me—I wanted to pay it forward, mentor the next generation." Her fingers traced my forearm. "Anyhoo, we should catch up properly. Maybe dinner? For old times' sake?"
From the corner of my eye, Rainey was staring.
I stepped back again, putting real space between us. "I'm not interested, Brooke. Let's keep this professional."
Her smile tightened, but she recovered fast. "Of course. Professional."
Before the awkwardness could settle, Vivian called for places. Rainey moved to center stage, and I took my position in the wings, waiting for my cue.
Mason Davenport adjusted the overhead lights from a ladder on stage—I remembered him vaguely from high school, a few years older, always working on sets, mostly keeping to himself. Clay Burnett, the stage manager, called out positions. Thetheater had that smell of old buildings—dust and time and memories. Candles flickered on the stage, casting shadows that danced across velvet curtains.
"Remember," Vivian called, "Rainey, you're desperate to reach Silas. You loved him, and he died before you could tell him everything you needed to say. Channel that longing, that regret."
Rainey's shoulders tightened.
"And Ransom, you're drawn to her voice. She's the only thing anchoring your spirit to this world. Move slowly, deliberately. You're not quite human anymore."
The lights dimmed. In the candlelight, Rainey looked ethereal. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she'd transformed. She wasn't Rainey anymore—she was Evangeline, the grieving saloon girl calling to her lost love.
"Why did you leave me?" she whispered into the darkness.
