Stampeded. B.J. Daniels

he came out of the trees, he got his first close-up view of the house. He’d never paid much attention to the old place. Truth is, there was something about it that had always put him off. That and no doubt the stories he’d heard over the years.

      Even up close, the mansion still didn’t draw him. There was nothing in its design or the size of the place that made him want to stop and look. It was the three vehicles he’d seen here that had him curious. He wondered where the black SUV had gone.

      As he circled around the place, he looked up at the blank windows, thinking he should probably just go knock at the huge front door and introduce himself as the only neighbor.

      He was chewing on that idea when suddenly a young woman with long, dark, curly hair, wide violet eyes and the heart-shaped face of an angel appeared on a second-floor balcony.

      But it was what he saw behind her that startled him. His horse suddenly snorted and jerked her head, eyes wild as she reared up. His western hat fell off as he fought to stay seated. He’d never seen the mare react like this before and knew he was lucky he hadn’t been bucked off.

      As he regained control of his mount, he glanced up again. The young woman was still standing there, but the image he’d seen behind her was gone.

      She stood in the morning light, lithe, wraithlike against the darkness behind her. A vision. Her hair floated around her face, falling about her shoulders in stark contrast to the white of the blouse she wore.

      His dog, Angus, barked, making him start again. Everything about being here was making him jumpy as hell. He told himself he was letting his imagination run away with him. That and the stories he’d heard about the mansion—even though he’d always said he didn’t believe a word of it.

      “Hang on a minute, Angus,” he said, glancing at the impatient mutt before looking back at the mansion window. The woman was gone.

      Marshall felt a knot form in his belly as he continued to stare at the window for several long moments, trying to assure himself he hadn’t imagined her any more than he’d imagined that other image standing behind her.

      He wished to hell she would reappear just to prove to himself that she’d been real though.

      You don’t really believe that was a ghost you saw.

      Of course, he didn’t. But still there had been something about her, something ethereal, angelic. While what he’d seen behind her … He spurred his horse, chuckling at the strange trail his thoughts had taken. He didn’t believe in ghosts or haunted houses. Or evil spirits.

      But as warm as the summer morning felt with the sun hot on his back, he felt a chill.

      “ALEXA, DID YOU HEAR what I said?”

      She stepped back into the room, but she couldn’t shake the rush of sensations she’d felt when she’d seen the handsome cowboy’s face. A strange, wanton desire—and darkness.

      Both frightened her by their intensity. She recalled how desperate she’d been to see his face. How she had needed him to look at her.

      She shuddered, shocked by what she’d felt as much as by the force of it. Often she got sharp first impressions, but she’d convinced herself that other people got them too and often didn’t recognize them. Everyone met people and in an instant decided if they liked them or not, and never questioned why.

      Plain old intuition. She’d even convinced herself that her mother had probably merely been good at reading people, so of course her daughter had picked it up as well. Alexa wanted to believe that rather than the other possibility.

      Since she was a girl she’d been haunted by the memory of waking to find her mother standing over her, telling her to look at something at the end of her bed.

      Just the thought of it after all these years gave her chills, but she’d convinced herself that what she’d seen was nothing more than her imagination. Or part of a bad dream.

      Unfortunately sometimes she felt things, sensed things, she didn’t want to know about. She’d found it easier not to get too close to anyone. As long as she kept her distance and her defenses up, she could live blissfully oblivious about the people around her and their fates.

      None of her earlier sensations, though, had ever been as powerful as what she’d felt when she’d seen the cowboy’s face. Desire and darkness.

      “Are you all right?” Landon asked as he touched her arm and she flinched.

      “Yes.” She shook her head as if she could shake off what she’d felt moments before. It had been so potent. “I’m just tired. It was a long drive.”

      “I hated to ask you to come….”

      “No,” she quickly reassured him. “I’d been wanting to come for a visit.” Her brother reminded her of light. There was something so pure and innocent about him. He was loving and devoted, open and trusting.

      Unlike her brother, she had never been open or trusting.

      “You sounded strange on the phone,” she said as she drew him over to the loveseat between the two highboys. “I was concerned.” Alexa still worried why he had invited her here, almost pleading with her to come.

      “I didn’t mean to trouble you,” he said, but looking at him she could tell something was wrong and said as much.

      “Like I told you on the phone, it’s the house.”

      “If you don’t want to remodel it for a bed-and-breakfast then—”

      “It’s not that.” He seemed to hesitate, his gaze locking with hers. “You’re the only person I can tell this to who won’t think I’m crazy. The house is trying to hurt me,” he said dropping the words like stones into the room.

      “What?” Alexa said, thinking she must have heard him wrong.

      “You asked about my arm? A cabinet fell on me, but there have been other near misses since we got here.”

      “Landon, do you realize what you’re saying?”

      He nodded. “Do you remember when we were kids and Mother used to ask you if you saw … things that the rest of us couldn’t see?”

      As if she could forget. Alexa got up and moved to the open French doors again. There was no sign of the cowboy she’d seen earlier. “Landon, I’ve told you. I don’t have the sight.”

      “Mother was convinced that you blocked it. That you were simply afraid of it but that if you let yourself—”

      “Mother was wrong,” she said, turning to face him. “This is all her fault,” she continued with a wave of her hand that encompassed the house. “If not for her beliefs, then you would never be thinking that because of some isolated accidents …” The rest of her words died in her mouth as she saw her brother’s crestfallen face. “This is why you got me here? To tell you whether or not this house is haunted?”

      Her brother suddenly looked so young, so vulnerable, her heart nearly broke for him. “Something is wrong in this house,” he said with obvious fear.

      Before she could question him further, there was a knock at the door.

      “Please don’t say anything about this to my wife,” he whispered hurriedly.

      Alexa felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t believe this is why he’d gotten her here.

      “So how do you like your room?” Sierra asked as she stuck her head into the doorway.

      “It’s lovely,” Alexa told her, though still upset from her conversation with her brother. She was angry with him for getting her here under false pretenses and, at the same time, worried about him. Landon was scared. But he also had enough of their mother in him that he was prone to overreaction and flights of fantasy. His hasty marriage to a woman he barely knew and getting involved with this white elephant of a house were two perfect examples.