TNOT Little Girl Lost

[California gal]

The Night of Little Girl Lost

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. Paradise Lost (bk. IV, l. 678) — John Milton, English poet (1608-1674)

Artemus Gordon whistled tunelessly as he eased himself down the gently sloping embankment toward the small spring-fed pond. They were lucky to have found this spot to camp, with water, after the all-day ride over the desert area. Possibly because of the spring, some trees, though not exactly robust specimens, would provide some shelter from the cool night winds here in this high desert Nevada area.

Dropping to his knees on a flat rock beside the broad pool, he pulled the canteen straps from off his shoulder, setting the coffee pot aside for a moment as he held first one canteen then the other underwater while they filled, the water bubbling. Behind him he could hear his partner’s movements as Jim settled the horses and gathered some dry wood for a fire. Yes, this was an unexpectedly fine place to camp after a long, weary day of riding. They still had another more than half a day before they would reach the Wanderer waiting for them in Elko.

“Mister.”

The small, timid voice jerked his head up. Artemus could only stare across the six or so feet width of the pond at the little girl standing there. She was probably seven or eight, with long golden braids spilling over her shoulders, the calico dress well worn and often washed and mended, feet bare. Big blue eyes gazed back at him, filled with sadness as she clutched a very faded and tattered rag doll to her thin chest.

“Well, where did you come from?” he asked aloud, climbing to his feet, water momentarily forgotten. Someone lives around here? Where?

“I want my mama.” Tears began to spill out of the sky blue eyes.

“Where is she? What’s your name?” Artie started to move around the pond then halted, as the child seemed to shrink from him. He did not want to scare her off. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Mary Lee,” she replied in that small voice. “Do you know where my mama is?”

“I’m afraid not, but we’ll help you find her.” Artemus looked around, expecting to find that Jim had approached the water. But he saw his partner standing with his back to the spring, looking down at the fire he had started, his shoulders hunched forward. Something was odd in his stance. “Jim!” Artie called. “Jim!” he repeated when Jim did not move.

“Wait here…” Artie said, looking back toward the child. His words froze and he gaped. She was gone. His gaze darted around. Where in the world could she have gotten? Beyond the spring here was all bare land, almost desert, with a few low shrubs and some even lower rocks. Cautiously now, he walked around the spring, and looked down at the sand.

Of course it’s possible she’s so lightweight she didn’t leave any tracks… He saw no signs that anyone had been standing there a moment ago. Artemus walked a dozen feet out into the barren area, still looking around, still seeing nothing. He whirled and strode back to the campfire. Jim had not moved.

“Jim, we’ve got to find her! She can’t wander this terrain alone!”

Now Jim glanced up, studiedly casual. He saw the concern on Artie’s face. “Find who?” he asked.

Artie stared at him. “Didn’t you see her? The little girl! Mary Lee!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim muttered, dropping down to one knee to needlessly move some of the firewood as though trying to enhance the flames. He kept his eyes away from his friend’s.

Artemus was flabbergasted. He stared toward the spring, back at his partner, the spring and its surroundings again, before finally reaching down to grab Jim’s shoulder. “Didn’t you see her?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Jim replied flatly, ignoring the strong grip.

Artie straightened. The two canteens and the coffeepot still rested alongside the spring. Everything else seemed normal. Yet… He took a deep breath and silently got to his feet, going back to the spring to fill the containers and bring them back. Neither spoke until the coffeepot was placed against the flames. Jim was slicing some bacon.

“You saw her.”

Jim West’s knuckles whitened around the haft of the knife. “I didn’t see a damn thing!”

Artie dropped to his haunches, facing Jim. “Then why are you so upset?”

Jim’s head jerked up. “I’m not upset!”

Artemus gazed at him. Jim West was the most courageous man he had ever known yet he was certain his partner was on the edge of panic. He saw it in the green eyes. “Jim,” he said softly, “what did you see?”

A long minute passed as Jim continued to keep his eyes down, sawing away at the slab of bacon. The breeze in the trees made the only sound, a gentle sighing. They knew from experience that that soft breeze would strengthen by evening and grow much cooler. Finally, Jim’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and he lifted haunted green eyes.

“I looked back to see how you were doing with the water. You were alone… and then she was there.”

Artie frowned. “She was there? What do you mean?”

Jim got to his feet, the knife and several slices of bacon in one hand, the remaining slab in the other. “Just that. She… she just suddenly was there.”

Now Artemus was silent a long moment. “She didn’t… walk there?”

“No.” Jim’s word was clipped as he turned away to put his knife and the bacon slab back in a saddlebag and pick up the small heavy cast iron pan, into which he laid the slices then placed the pan on the fire.

Artemus Gordon was speechless. He knew that the idea the child had been a figment of his imagination had been in the back of his thoughts. Even a mirage. But if Jim saw her… materialize? Was that the word?

He finally spoke in a choked voice. “Are you saying she… is… was a ghost?”

Again Jim was not meeting his gaze. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

And there’s the rub! James West was a very literal man. He had imagination, but he did not allow it to stray into the unknown, the unnatural. He had accepted Colonel Vautrain’s incredible powers because he himself had experienced them. But he did not, could not, believe in ghosts and goblins. Now he had witnessed something… something he could not and perhaps did not want to understand. No wonder he’s panicky!

Artie silently went to his own saddlebags for a couple of potatoes, which he took to the spring to wash and brought back, tucking them into the hot ashes. He was careful not to look around too much at the spring, quite aware that he was feeling very unsettled. She had seemed so real! Not translucent. The tears had sparkled in the late afternoon sun… But I don't think I saw a shadow. She should have had a shadow!

Neither man spoke much as they finished preparing their supper of potatoes and bacon, with a can of peaches for dessert, and hot coffee as the evening air began to cool. Artemus found his gaze continually drawn toward the area of the spring. He was unsure whether he feared she would return, or that she would not!

I don't think I believed in ghosts either. I think I always felt the possibility was there. I’ve heard accounts from people who seemed sane and believable. Could we have both have seen a mirage? But she spoke. I spoke to her. She told me her name…

Jim forced himself to volunteer to wash the utensils. Every fiber of his being told him to stay away from the spring. He wanted to pass the incident off as a product of their fatigue. They had been on the trail for three days now, riding up from southern California after chasing a band of train robbers to that area and successfully capturing the men, retrieving the stolen government bonds. However, they both saw the girl. Joint hallucinations seemed improbable regardless of how tired they were.

They had been able to have a few days of rest in the small town of Los Angeles before heading back, after deciding that having the Wanderer make the journey to fetch them was ridiculous. And while they had not pushed themselves, they had not dallied either. The comfort of the parlor car and their own beds called.

Now he knelt by the spring, scrubbing the tin plates and rinsing the coffeepot. The spring appeared to be an active one, and would clean itself rapidly. Jim cursed his own timidity as he realized he was keeping his gaze pinned on his chore, not glancing around as he might have usually.

I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t want to believe in ghosts. If ghosts exist, maybe… He quickly shook that thought from his mind. He had his memories of her green eyes and fiery hair, softly wound through his fingers. The silken skin… he did not need to see a ghost. Yet… (*See TNOT Shattered Heart.)

“Jim?”

Artie’s voice was a soft, urgent call from the campfire area. Jim did not need to look back toward him. Instead, he looked to the other side of the small pond. She was there again, still holding the ragged doll, still with the large, unhappy blue eyes. In the dimming twilight, her figure was as clear as though standing in bright sunshine.

“I want my mama,” she said.

Jim swallowed hard, and did not move as he spoke quietly. “Where is she?”

“I don't know. I’m so hungry and thirsty. Papa said Uncle Ray went to get help…”

“Here’s water,” Jim kept his voice as quiet as he could, though he felt like yelling. Like screaming. “Drink some of this water.” If she knelt down to get a drink and actually touched the water…

“I’m so thirsty,” she said again… and was gone.

Jim was unaware that seconds were ticking by, and also that his partner had come down the shallow decline to stand by him until Artemus spoke. “My God, Jim!”

He also had been holding his breath. Releasing it in a heavy gust, Jim came to his feet. “I don't know, Artie. I just don't know. Did we both somehow get dosed by a… a hallucinogenic drug like Loveless used on me?”

“She was there, Jim. She’s… real… or as real as a ghost can be. But who is she? Why is she out here in the high desert country alone?”

Jim shook his head, now reaching down for the cleansed utensils he had unconsciously dropped. “A lot of travelers died off the wagon trains making the trek for California, especially during the Gold Rush when the trails were unknown.”

Artie nodded. He knew the story of the Donner Party, the ill-fated travelers who had blundered into the Sierra during the dead of winter, during one of the worst winters in history. “But this area is well off the usual trail,” he said then. “From what I’ve always understood, the trains stayed south or north of here as much as possible.”

“We may never know,” Jim replied, starting up the incline. He glanced back as Artemus started to follow. “I always heard that ghosts were transparent.” Jim tried to add lightness to his tone, but failed.

“Yeah. Me too.”

What was there to say? Neither wanted to openly admit he had seen a ghost. But what was it? Who was she? What could have caused them both to hallucinate, if that’s what it was?

Artie looked up into the trees as the breeze began to strengthen, and its song in the trees became louder, eerier. Another night I might not have thought that. Not “eerier.” But what else can I call it? The whistling through the pine needles is like a soft, and sometimes not so soft, moan. How the devil am I going to sleep tonight?

W*W*W*W*W

“Mister…”

Artie’s eyes snapped open. At first he stared up into the crystalline blackness of the starlit sky above him, vaguely conscious of the glow of the fire to his left. No… the fire is on the other side. He turned his head slightly. She was standing alongside his bedroll. So close he could have touched her if he had had the courage to reach his hand out.

“Hello, Mary Lee,” he said softly. “What can I do for you?”

“I want my mama.” She snuggled the obviously beloved doll closer to her chest, dropping her chin down on the yarned hair.

“Of course you do. Do you know where she went?”

She sniffled. “She said come on… but I needed to get Becky.”

“Becky… your doll?”

The girl nodded. Artie heard a very slight sound and knew that Jim was awake in his blankets a few feet away. “They didn’t wait for me.”

“Who didn’t wait?” The question came from Jim, gently. Artie barely glanced over and saw that his partner was up on one elbow.

“Mama… papa… Ruth Ann… grandpa… all of them. They didn’t wait for me. Mama said hurry!”

“But you had to have Becky.”

Mary Lee sniffled again. “I love Becky.”

“Of course you do.” Good Lord, what do we do? How can we possibly help this lost child? It’s not as though we can put her on the back of a horse and take her to the nearest town!

“Where did you come from?” Jim asked. “I mean… what town or state. Do you know?”

She nodded vigorously. “Alton, Illy-noise. We’re going to have a big farm and grow peaches. I’m going to have my own pony!” The brief joy in her little face faded. “I wish Uncle Ray would come back. He would help me find mama.”

“Uncle Ray went to find help?” Jim urged.

“Uh-huh. I’m so thirsty. There’s no water. Everybody is sick. Even the horses.”

Suddenly she was gone. As before, one instant she was standing there, a fully formed, seemingly solid child, then nothing. Artemus released a slow sigh then sat up, looking toward Jim. He was startled to see his partner sitting up pulling on his boots. “No more sleep?”

“How could I? Artie, let’s get the hell out of here. We can ride at night.”

Artie came up to his knees, throwing his blankets back. The chill nighttime air struck his body and he grabbed for the leather jacket he had placed at the foot of his blankets. “Jim, we can’t!”

Jim glanced up. “Why not?”

“Because we have to help her.”

Jim jerked the second boot into place, got to his knees. “How, Artie? How are we supposed to help her? Hell, we don’t even have a… a medium, if it’s possible for any of those types to be legit!” He was angry, unreasonably so, but he could not help it.

Artie ran fingers through his rumpled dark hair. “I don't know, Jim. I really don't know. I just know I have to do something. You know it too.”

Jim had taken a step toward the campfire, now he stopped short, looking down at his still kneeling partner. “What do I know?”

“That we have to help her. We can’t desert her, Jim. You know that’s not something either of us can do. You of all people. You can’t leave a child lost and alone.” (*See TNOT Murderers Sons.)

Jim glared at his partner for a long moment, then his shoulders sagged. “I know. But Artie, what the devil can we do? Take her by the hand and lead her… somewhere? To the promised land?”

Artie sighed. “I wish I had an answer. Let’s go back to sleep. I doubt she’ll come back tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” Jim sat down on his blankets again, began tugging at his boots.

“I don't know. Just a… a feeling. I’ve heard a theory that ghosts possess only a certain amount of energy. A small one like that can’t have much. Just short bursts. Little surprising she appeared in the daylight, isn’t it? I’ve always understood ghosts appear only at night.”

“But how many of the people who offered those theories ever truly saw, and talked to, a ghost?” Jim grinned suddenly.

Artie smiled back, glad to see that Jim was apparently feeling more relaxed. Maybe more relaxed than I am for some reason. “True. True indeed. Good night, Jim. Whoever wakes up first, start the coffee.”

W*W*W*W*W

“Odd,” Artemus commented as he sipped his second cup of coffee and looked over to where the two horses were grazing on some clumps of tough grass that grew alongside the stream, seeming to be content to supplement their ration of oats with that forage, “I’ve always heard that animals were sensitive to ghosts, too.”

Jim looked at the animals, and shrugged. “Maybe they aren’t worried about a small ghost like that. She couldn’t harm them.”

“Or maybe again the stories about animals and ghosts were spread by folks who never actually encountered a spirit. I… Jim, someone’s coming. I think.” He added the last suddenly aware that he was unsure whether the figure he saw in the distance was real or not.

Jim got to his feet, following his partner’s stare. He saw a man on a horse, leading a pack animal. Noting the dust raised by the animals’ hooves, he concluded that the figure was human. “Looks like a prospector, perhaps.”

Both stood and waited, seemingly casual, but ready for anything. Experience had taught them to always expect the unexpected. The fellow looked completely harmless, as Jim said, appearing to be a desert rat. His clothes were worn, as was the tack on his animals. The burro carried a large bundle, presumably his supplies and tools, and included a small water keg.

With a friendly wave, the man dismounted and led both animals to the spring before he spoke. “I thought I smelled a campfire… and coffee.”

“Help yourself,” Artie invited.

The newcomer reached into his own saddlebags for a tin cup and came around the spring. He was probably in his forties, though with his sun-leathered skin, age was difficult to determine. The dark blond hair and beard were both tinged with gray, and his squinted eyes were sky blue.

“Passing through?” he asked, bending down to take the coffeepot’s handle with the folded neckerchief that was laying nearby to fill his cup.

“More or less,” Jim replied. “You?”

“More or less,” the stranger grinned, straightening. “I come through here pretty often, actually.” He shifted the cup to his left hand, holding out his hand. “Name’s Denison, Ray Denison.”

What a strange coincidence! Artie gripped the extended hand. “Artemus Gordon, and this is my partner, Jim West.”

“Gordon and West,” Denison echoed. “I know those names. Government men?”

“More or less,” Jim smiled. “You a prospector?”

“Somewhat. I do some panning, some digging. Don’t expect to find anything. Just… a hobby, kind of. I actually own a store in Elko, but time and again, I need to come out here to the desert. Draws me out.”

“You didn’t need to pick the hottest time of year!” Artie exclaimed.

A shadow washed through the blue eyes. “Yeah, sometimes I do. Mind if I sit?”

All three men settled down on the ground. “Don’t suppose you run into many people out here,” Artie commented.

“No. This is not a part of the desert that people like to pass through. You found the only spring for fifty miles. Luck?”

“Pretty much. We were told it was here, and saw the trees, which led us to it.” Jim reached over for the pot to freshen his coffee.

Denison glanced at the surrounding trees, once again sighing softly in the gentle daytime breeze. “We planted them nearly twenty-five years ago for that very reason.”

“We?” Artie asked.

“My brother and I, and another man. If the trees had been here then…” Ray Denison sighed and shook his head.

“What do you mean?” Jim asked rather sharply, his intuition kicking in. This man knew about Mary Lee.

Denison looked at both men and his words confirmed Jim’s sense. “You’ve seen her haven’t you?”

Artie glanced at him. “Who?”

“Mary Lee.”

Both agents drew in sharp breaths. “What do you know about her?” Jim inquired.

“She was my niece,” Denison replied sadly. “My older sister’s daughter.”

“So you’re Uncle Ray.” Artie’s voice was very soft, almost inaudible. “She’s waiting for you.”

“I know.” The words came out in a sob. “That has haunted me all my life. We just could not get back in time.”

“What happened?” Jim encouraged. “Why is Mary Lee still here? What happened to her family?”

“They all died,” Ray Denison replied, getting more control of his emotions. “Everyone. Only my brother, me, and another man survived.”

“Want to tell us?” Artie asked.

Denison nodded. “It was the year forty-five. My family—me, my younger brother Joseph, older brother Walter, his wife and two kids, my sister Nancy and her husband and three children, our parents—we left Alton, Illinois in the spring, bound for California and the promised land, where all you had to do was drop a seed and a fruit tree sprouted with no work needed. After a life on a small farm, barely making ends meet no matter how hard we toiled, paradise summoned.

“We had five wagons, and we joined a larger group near Saint Joseph. About twenty wagons in all as I recall. Maybe a hundred, hundred and twenty-five people, all with the same idea. California bound. We had heard all the stories about that land of milk and honey, and believed them.” Denison shook his head, smiling now at their gullibility.

“Hundreds did,” Jim assured him. “Perhaps thousands eventually.”

“I know. In any case, we had a pretty good trip across the prairies. Our guide seemed to know where he was going, what he was doing. But there came a time the other side of Utah when the party needed to split up. Some were going into the northern part of California, others of us wanted to try our luck south, figuring everybody was going north and we’d have better luck finding unclaimed land in a less tried spot. The guide decided to come with us, after giving the other group a map and good instructions.

“Again, things were moving along quite smartly, with no problems, until maybe just after we crossed the salt flats in Utah. We used up a lot of water, of course, and needed more. The guide assured us he knew where more was to be had. Then he got bit by a rattlesnake. Nothing could be done. He died and we were on our own. He had tried to give us some instructions before he died, but he was delirious, and not much made sense. We were ten wagons at that time, and some contention arose about who understood best what he had said.

Finally, our family split off from the other group. One man, a young bachelor, named Fred McQuinn, decided to come with us. My father was a strong-willed man and he was certain he understood the guide’s instructions, that there were two waterholes in this direction. And in the end, seems he was right, only we couldn’t find either of them. It was July, the sun was blistering, and we were fading fast, including the animals.

“My mother died first. She wasn’t the strongest person and should have never made the trip. But she wouldn’t be left behind. Then my sister-in-law and one of her babies. We got weaker and weaker. Finally, it was decided that Joseph, Fred and I should head out alone to find help. I was seventeen at the time, Joseph fifteen, and Fred maybe twenty-four or five. We were in the best shape.”

Denison paused to take a long drink of his cooling coffee. Jim and Artie waited silently. Both thought they knew the rest of the story, but they said nothing. Then Ray Denison continued.

“We took two-thirds of the remaining water with us. The three of us argued against it, but Pa and Walter said it had to be that way. Even Nancy, my sister, agreed. We needed the best chance possible to find water or some other help, and we could not do it without sufficient supplies. I recall that my brother-in-law wasn’t too keen on the idea, but he was outvoted.

“As you likely know, settlements in this part of the country were few and far between back then, much worse than now even. We just hoped to find that spring that the guide told us was around here somewhere. I honestly cannot tell you how many days we walked. We actually tried to do most of our walking at night, but even that was difficult. We had not had much water in the first place—probably less than a quart apiece—and then it was gone. Finally we came upon another group of wagons, heading back from the Truckee area on a trip to pick up supplies in Salt Lake or somewhere.

“We were in such shape by then that we had to rest up a couple of days before we could try to lead a party back with water. Of course, we had no idea how far we’d walked, or even the directions for sure. We were easterners… tenderfeet. And… when we finally found the wagons… it was too late. Everyone was dead. The horses were dead. It happened about a mile east of here.”

That last sentence caught both Jim and Artemus by surprise. “A mile!” Jim exclaimed. “But…”

Denison nodded sadly. “So close… so far. If the trees had been here, someone likely would have seen it. But it was just flat land, with rocks. Nothing to indicate freshwater was located here. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the springs the guide wanted to reach, but I don't know if he told anyone how difficult it would be to see, or whether there were any other landmarks to watch for. By then, we were in such bad shape that I’m not certain anyone would have had the sense to follow any landmarks.”

All three were silent for long minutes until finally Artemus knew he had to ask. “Why… why is Mary Lee still here?”

Ray Denison shook his head. “I don't know. Over the years, a number of people have told me they saw her, talked to her.”

“Have you…?” Jim asked.

“No. I’ve camped here any number of times over the years, but she has never showed herself to me. I don't know why. She was my favorite, and I like to think I was her favorite uncle.”

“Perhaps… you failed her.” Jim’s words were quiet.

“Yeah. Like I said before, I’ve been haunted for years. I promised Mary Lee I’d be back with fresh cold water. And I failed her.”

Again a silence fell. Again, Artemus was the one to break it. “Have you ever been here with strangers, people who have seen her?”

Denison shook his head. “No. Why?”

“I don't know. I just… she’s appeared to us with no provocation three times now. I’m just wondering if she might again.”

The other man looked at the agents. “You’re not moving on?”

Jim’s smile was wry. “My partner won’t let us go off and leave her.”

“You’re the first I’ve heard say anything like that. The others, the people who know my story and claim to have seen her, even talked to her, always said they were spooked.”

“Don’t worry, we were!” Artie admitted. “But after awhile… she’s just a little girl, after all.”

“Yeah. She had just turned eight on her birthday, July 2.”

“That’s my birthday,” Jim said quietly. Suddenly he felt an even stronger connection with the child. They would have been pretty close to the same age had she lived.

“Ray,” Artie spoke up, “unless you have somewhere pressing to go, why don’t you stick around with us. We planned to remain here at least for the day to see what would happen.”

“I can do that,” Denison replied, “but I warn you, seeing as how she doesn’t want to see me, she might stay away.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. To your knowledge, has Mary Lee appeared more than once to any other visitors?”

“Well… no. But from the tales I’ve heard, those folks hightailed it after the first time!”

Artie laughed. “I can imagine. Somehow Jim and I always seem to be perverse about things like that. Trouble and unanswered questions tend to cause us to stick around rather than run!”

Ray pushed himself to his feet. “Well, the one thing I can do is share my supplies. I tend to travel with too much, gleaned from my store. I may look like I’m traveling rough, but that’s not necessarily the case.”

For the rest of the morning, things were pretty quiet. Denison unloaded his burro and Artemus exclaimed ecstatically over the “supplies” the merchant was toting. “No bacon and potatoes for dinner, James!” he cried happily.

Turned out Denison enjoyed a friendly game of poker, so they settled in after awhile to play a few hands for pennies. Artie had just mentioned that he needed to get the midday meal started when he saw Jim’s gaze. He turned his own toward the spring then put his hand on Ray’s arm.

Ray Denison drew in a harsh breath, his face working with the emotions that threatened to overcome. “Mary Lee, Mary Lee!” he whispered.

Jim got to his feet swiftly. He thought he saw a changed expression on the child’s ghostly face, and it seemed her image was fading slightly. “Mary Lee, please don’t go. We want to talk to you.”

“He lied to me,” she whimpered, pulling the rag doll close.

Jim walked slowly, carefully, toward the spring, stopping at the top of the incline. “No. Uncle Ray did the best he could, Mary Lee. He tried very, very hard to bring help. But it was a long way he had to go. It was hot. Do you remember how hot it was?”

She nodded mutely.

Artie indicated for Denison to stay put as he rose and joined Jim. “Mary Lee, Uncle Ray loves you very much. We all want to help you find your mama.”

“I want my mama! I want to see Ruth Ann!”

“We know you do,” Jim said gently. Now what? What do we do? We need a preacher here!

“We’ll try to help you,” Artie said. “Don’t go!”

But it was too late. She vanished. After waiting a few seconds, both turned back to the crestfallen Denison. “She may be back,” Jim said quickly.

“If theories are right, spirits like that have only a limited amount of energy. She may need to build it up again,” Artie added. “Yesterday she came after several hours intervals. The longest visit was at night, after we had not seen her since just after suppertime.”

Denison climbed to his feet. “I don't know. Maybe I should leave.”

“No,” Artemus said. “Somehow you have to help us find her mother. Any ideas?”

“Well… the pastor at the church is always talking about folks going into the light. There was a woman I knew who came close to drowning, and was brought back. She said she saw bright lights, like a gateway, with people on the other side. She thought she heard her father call her name.”

Artie was nodding. “I’ve heard that. She needs to find that light. How do we explain that to an eight-year-old?”

“Hard to make a kid that age understand,” Jim murmured.

Artie glanced at his partner. He knew what Jim was thinking. He had not been much older than that when he had been “abandoned” by his elder brother after losing both his parents in one fashion or another. “Well, first of all, we need to have her come back and I have no idea how to accomplish that except to wait. Living children have little concept of time, usually. I imagine a ghost child has even less.” He looked at the stack of supplies next to the fire. “We won’t starve at least.”

“Yeah,” Jim concurred. “But Artie, how the devil do we explain to the colonel why we were late reporting in?”

Artie’s grin was wicked. “We always think of something, James.” He was glad to see Jim apparently feeling better about this entire episode, no longer denying what he was seeing with his own eyes. With Ray Denison’s story, things made more sense; at least sense to the extent as to why the child was lingering in this area. About there being ghosts… At times, Artemus wondered if he was going to wake up at any moment, finding himself on the Wanderer heading east.

Jim and Ray played gin rummy while Artie busied himself happily among the supplies. Using the Dutch oven he found among Denison’s belongings, he came up with a more than decent stew, using canned and desiccated fruits and vegetables, some tinned beef, along with passable dumplings.

Denison shook his head in amazement as he ate. “I had no idea this could be done with what I packed! I usually open a can of this, a can of that, and eat them.”

“Artie has become quite a cook,” Jim said. “I tell him that if we ever get kicked out of the service he can support us both by being a chef at some fancy restaurant.”

“I’m sure I could!” Artie sniffed haughtily, then grinned.

As the afternoon wore on, nerves became more on edge. Jim could not keep his attention on the poker game, constantly looking toward the spring in the hopes of seeing the child. He finally gave up, suggesting that Artie and Ray play gin rummy instead. He was not surprised when both said they would rather just quit.

Jim was standing above the water when Artemus joined him. “Artie, why do you suppose Mary Lee appears here rather than where she actually died?”

Artie was silent a long moment, then he turned around. “Ray, where were the remains of your family buried?”

Ray came up alongside the pair and pointed off to the east, the direction from which he arrived. “About two hundred yards that way. I had spent some time there before I headed here today. I can’t bring flowers. They die before I can get them this far from Elko. But I… I just spend some time with the folks and talk to them. I’m the only one left, you see. Joseph died of fever about ten years after we settled in Elko.” Denison paused a moment. “He’s buried there too.”

“Mary Lee’s spirit is the only one that lingers. She told us earlier than she went to get Becky, her doll.”

“She loved that doll. Grandma made it for her. Mary Lee wouldn’t go anywhere without it, not even to church, though her ma made her hide it in a cloth sack when it started looking so tatty.”

“What happened to the doll?”

“We buried it with her.”

“Uncle Ray?”

None had been watching, and now they looked around to find Mary Lee on the opposite side of the water again. Ray Denison’s breath caught in his throat and he had to force his voice out. “I’m here, Mary Lee.”

“Did you really try to come back?”

“With all my might, darlin’. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to help you. But it was so far to go, and it was so hot. Uncle Joseph and Mr. McQuinn and I got sick too, just like you and your mama and daddy and Ruth Ann and all the others did.”

“They went away. I wanted to go with them, but I had to get Becky.” Her little mouth turned down unhappily.

“Of course you did. And now Becky is with you forever.”

Jim dropped down on his haunches. “Mary Lee, when you look around, do you see anything?”

“Huh?”

“What do you see?” Artie asked gently, he leaned over, hands on knees. “The ground? The rocks?”

“Well, sure. That’s what’s there. And the door.”

“You see a door?”

“Well, sure! Right there!” She pointed off to her right. “Over there by that big fence.”

“Have you… ever tried to go through the door?” Jim asked.

“Oh no! Mama always said we weren’t to go on Mr. Hummel’s property! Isn’t that right, Uncle Ray?”

Ray Denison gasped, swallowed, before he answered. “That’s right, honey. Mr. Hummel didn’t like for folks to trespass on his land. Only…” he swallowed again, glancing at the two men beside him. “I don't think that’s Mr. Hummel’s property. Remember? That was back in Illinois.”

Mary Lee’s image began to waver a bit, but she responded. “I’m not sure.”

“Don’t leave us yet, Mary Lee,” Artie begged. “Please.”

“Come back when you can,” Jim said quickly.

And she was gone.

“I think… I think maybe she’s decided to forgive me!” Ray Denison used his shirtsleeve to wipe the moisture off his face. “I can’t believe it. I feel like… are you sure this is real?”

“I’m not sure of anything lately,” Jim replied.

“Who was this Hummel?” Artie asked.

“Big property owner in our county. Rich as Croesus and mean as sin. He owned so much land he practically surrounded our little piece, and built a big fence. As kids, our parents told us in no uncertain terms to never breach that fence, and of course Nancy and Walter passed along those orders to their children. We knew we would be doubly punished, by our parents and by Hummel. We finally sold out to him when we struck out.”

“We had one of those landowners where I was a kid,” Jim said. “Only with us, it was a trophy moment to climb that fence and bring back one of Van Zorn’s prize roses!”

“And I expect you brought back a few,” Artie said archly.

“A few,” Jim grinned. His smile faded. “We have to convince Mary Lee it’s all right to go through that gate.”

Ray sighed. “That’s going to be difficult, I’m afraid. We were raised to obey our parents, and so were Nancy’s and Walter’s kids.”

“She won’t listen to you?”

“Even though Joseph and I were addressed as ‘uncle,’ we were really just more of the kids. We played the kids’ games. We weren’t the order givers. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me.”

“Possibly the seventeen-year-old she knew,” Artie nodded. “So she would obey her parents… and her grandparents?”

“Yep.”

“Ray, what did your father look like?”

Denison blinked. “Well, a lot like me, only he had dark hair when he was young, and it was mostly silver by the time we made the journey. Brown eyes. I have a picture back at home, but not with me. He wore a short beard, similar to President Grant’s. Why?”

Jim was nodding with approval. “Artie, it might work. Just so she doesn’t notice you are missing!”

“Just so she comes back!” Artie returned, going to pick up his saddlebags.

W*W*W*W*W

A couple hours later, Ray Denison was staring in total astonishment at the silver-haired man standing before him. “What do you think?” Jim asked superfluously.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Pa just came back from the dead! It’s… unnerving.” Without much extra wardrobe along, Artemus had borrowed one of Ray’s shirts because Denison said it was close to what his father would have worn, a faded blue chambray, along with black suspenders.

“Artie has other talents besides cooking,” Jim grinned. He looked around. “Now if only Mary Lee returns.”

Again, they waited. This time, no attempt was made to do anything to pass the time. All three men knew they would not be able to concentrate on cards. The shadows began to lengthen and Denison in particular was edgy. While talking to Mary Lee would probably work in the darkness, they knew they themselves would feel more comfortable if she appeared during daylight. They had no idea what she was seeing in the darkness. Would she be able to see “Grandpa” as well?

For supper, they just heated up some beans and ate some coarse bread Denison had packed. “I’ll fix omelets for breakfast,” Artie promised, eyeing the eggs carefully protected with straw in a wooden box.

Ray had taken the dishes to the spring to rinse them off when the child appeared again. “Uncle Ray,” she said, “I wish you hadn’t gone away.”

“I had to, Mary Lee. Uncle Joseph and Mr. McQuinn and I had to try to find help. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back in time. I miss you and everybody so much.”

She sighed, laying her cheek against the yarn hair of her doll. “I do too.”

Jim moved up above the spring but did not go down to the water. “Mary Lee, do you still see the door in the fence?”

“Oh yes. It’s always there. But I can’t go there. Mama said I’d be punished if I did.”

“Will you listen to me if I tell you it’s okay?” Uncle Ray asked.

She shook her head vigorously, pigtails flying. “No, ‘cause Papa told me once you got your backside burned on account of you snuck over there and stole some apples!”

Ray had to laugh. “That’s so true, honey. That’s so true.” He took a breath, glanced at Jim, who nodded. “Suppose Grandpa was here and told you it was okay to go through that door.”

Mary Lee’s face grew sad. “Grandpa went away too.”

“I’m right here, little one.” Artie had also practiced changing his voice until Ray said to the best of his memory it was extremely close to the way his father spoke.

“Grandpa!” Mary Lee’s face lit up with delight. “Where have you been? Is mama with you?”

Artemus stepped alongside Jim. “No, dear. She’s waiting for you on the other side of the fence. You can go there. I’ll join you there.”

She frowned. “But mama said…”

“Mary Lee, pumpkin, that’s not Mr. Hummel’s fence. That one was back in Alton, Illinois. Don’t you remember? This is a good fence. There’s all kinds of wonderful things waiting for you on the other side. Mama and Papa, Ruth Ann and Willie.” Ray had told Artie the names of Nancy’s oldest child. “I’ll be there too.”

She was doubtful, staring off to one side for a long moment. “It sure looks like Mr. Hummel’s fence!”

“I know it does. But you can believe Grandpa, can’t you?”

“I guess so. Uncle Ray? Are you going to come too?”

“I can’t come now, darlin’, but I hope to one day. I want to see everyone again too.”

“Do you want me to go away now?”

Ray sighed heavily. “I don’t want you to ever go away. But it’s important that you do. So I can’t be selfish. Your mama is waiting for you. She might be crying. Can you… can you hear her?”

Jim had thought his imagination was playing tricks on him, or perhaps the sound he was hearing was a bird, even the bubbling of the spring, though he had not noticed it before. A soft sound, half happy, half sad. Then he heard it plainly.

“Mary Lee! Mary Lee! Come home!”

Jim glanced at the other two men. They did not appear to notice anything. Denison had simply asked about hearing voices to prompt the child to listen. Mary Lee, however, was staring toward the gate, her eyes widening. Then she looked back. “Grandpa, come with me now!”

Artie swallowed. “I can’t, pumpkin. I have some things to finish. But I’ll be there before you know it. I might even beat you in there.”

“Oh, I don’t think so!” She smiled mischievously. “I always beat you to the apple pie!”

“Indeed you did. Now… why don’t you say goodbye to your grandpa and Uncle Ray. Mama wants you.”

“Goodbye, Grandpa. Be sure you hurry. I know Mama will want you to come home, too.”

“I know that, dear.”

“Uncle Ray? I know you tried hard. I’m sorry I was mad at you.”

“You never could stay mad at me long, could you, darlin’?”

“No. Not usually. Hi, Mama! Papa!” She was facing the other direction down, her little face alit with pure joy. One glance back. “Bye Grandpa. Bye Uncle Ray. Bye, nice man. I’ll see you soon too.”

And then she was off. Instead of instantly vanishing this time, she seemed to fade away, slowly evanescing into nothing in the growing twilight. Suddenly all was silent. The breeze, which had been increasing, appeared to stop. Even the spring quit burbling for what seemed like an eternity. Then all was normal again.

Ray Denison was on his knees, sobbing. The two agents moved away from him, knowing he needed this personal moment. Artie looked at his partner.

“You all right, Jim?”

“Yes, why?”

“I don't know. You seemed… what happened?”

“Did you hear Nancy call for her?”

Artie slowly shook his head as he carefully pulled off the beard. “No. When?”

“Never mind. I probably imagined it.”

“But Mary Lee heard it. You did too?”

“I guess I heard something. I’m not sure. Crazy business.”

“Crazy indeed. Now for a good night’s sleep under the stars.”

“And come up with some idea of what the devil we’re going to tell Richmond about why we’re late reporting in.”

“Oh, James, you always spoil all the fun!”

To live in hearts we leave behind,
Is not to die.
Hallowed Ground (st. 6) — Thomas Campbell, Scottish poet (1777-1844)