Ghost Talker by Robin D. Owens Page A

popular as, um, companions.” She didn’t want to call Enzo a pet. She frowned a little. “I’m sure they were developed as hunting dogs, because dogs usually were.”
    Jack nodded.
I’ve hunted with dogs. They can be valuable assistants.
    She looked at him, thought of the man she’d learned he’d been, cleared her throat, and said, “They can be good companions, too.” Tilting her head at Enzo, she said, “If you want to stay here with Texas Jack and spend some time with him, that’s all right with me.”
    But Jack was shaking his head.
He doesn’t have to.
His gaze went to the plains again.
It’s true that I was often incompany—my wife’s troupe, or my combination show, or the hunting parties. I like people, but I often scouted alone. I know how to be alone.
He shifted to a hip-shot stance.
I’ll be here until we get that new ghost sorted out, but he comes around sunrise and sunset, so I usually sleep in the meantime.
He nodded to her.
It’s enough to know that you’ll be helping me move on to whatever comes next when you’re done with the poltergeist.
    â€œI promise,” Clare said. “And, like you, I keep my word.”
    I can tell. You got that shine to you.
    Clare blinked. “Shine?”
    Texas Jack appeared a little embarrassed, shrugged.
It’s a color around you. I can just tell you’re an honorable woman.
    â€œThank you.”
    He dipped his head.
Like my wife. And I’ll be glad to get back to her again.
Pain welled in his eyes.
It will be good to see her again.
    Clare thought he meant more, to hold her again, and she returned his nod. “I know about you now,” she said. “And I care about your . . . situation. We’ll get you where you need to go.”
    My wife and heaven will be good enough.
His smile flashed beneath his mustache.
You’re a determined woman; I can tell that, too. So I’m sure we’ll work fine together to get me out of here.
    I can help!
Enzo offered.
    â€œGood,” Clare said. She cleared her throat and gave a dignified nod to Texas Jack, along with an offer she’d never made to a ghost. “You call me, or Enzo, if you have need.”
    Jack’s face stilled beneath the pleasant expression, and she knew he was the kind of man who wouldn’t ask for help easily. He’d suffer loneliness and whatever else without complaint before he called her.
    But if he called her, she knew he’d need her, so she’d come running.
    Voices drifted to her ears. She glanced down the hill to see people who must be staff members. A hint of grumbling laced their tones, and she thought they might be coming up here earlier than usual to tidy up the site.
    You call me, too, Mr. Texas Jack, if you want me to hunt with you!
Enzo gamboled around the man.
    Pretty place
, Jack said again. He angled his chin toward the buildings down the path.
What are those?
    â€œThe gift shop and café,” she said without thinking. Would Texas Jack know of gift shops? Well, self-evident, really. “And the museum.”
    Museum?
Jack looked surprised.
Bill’s got a museum
?

Chapter 6
    Clare lifted her brows. “He was a Congressional Medal of Honor winner for his bravery as an Indian Scout.” She gestured at the grave marker. “That still means something.”
    Lighter gray eyelids lowered over the dark smoke of Jack’s gaze. He’d been a famed Indian Scout, too.
    Texas Jack grunted.
I was in that same skirmish. Bill got a scalp wound
. It appeared as if he studied his cigar and when he spoke his accent went pure Virginian.
I fought for the wrong side in the Civil War.
He glanced at her, his jaw flexing.
I needed special dispensation to get me back on the U.S. payroll as a scout because I fought for the Confederacy
.
    â€œI know,” she said softly. “But, ah, that isn’t really why Buffalo Bill is famous.”
    The dime