GhostTown B&B

By Edward Charles and Anne Charles

GhostTown B&B takes place in Tombstone, Arizona. Jim and his wife, Vadoma have decided to leave the large city of San Diego and open a bread and breakfast in Tombstone. The night before they open, there's a knock on the door. Vadoma opens the door and a young man greets her. He say's he's the marshal, Marshal Fred White, and vows to protect their B&B from any riff-raff (undesirable people). She thanks him and he leaves. Vadoma is in shock as she tells Jim she's just met the marshal - the very first marshal of Tombstone from 1881! Marshal White revisits and discovers, while inside the walls of their B&B, he is again human. He’s amazed and relishes in things he could not experience as a ghost, like drinking a cold beer or smoking a cigar!

Word quickly spreads around the ghostly community of Tombstone, and soon other spirits begin showing up, like Doc Holliday and Big Nosed Kate. The non-living are having poker parties with dance hall girls and a piano player late into the night. Our hosts soon realize they have something fun going on with the non-living, and enjoy their company – except for one thing: The ghosts have no way of paying for the massive quantities of food and drink they’re consuming. Jim and Vadoma are going broke. There just aren’t enough living guests to pay for the dead ones!

Read how, with the help of their non-living friends, Jim and Vadoma are able to keep their new venture solvent. Find out how Vadoma comes to understand that it’s her the ghosts are attracted to, and why. Vadoma must venture off into her own psyche to discover who she really is and why this is all happening.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward Charles
• Release date: Apr 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370345014

Edward Charles

Edward Charles was born in South Wales in 1941 and brought up in North London. He studied economics and law at the University College of Wales and then earned a PhD in corporate finance at Manchester Business School. After a short period as an academic, he began a career in finance and management consulting, working in Europe, the United States, and Asia. He retired from international business in 2006 and has published several novels. Edward lives in Devon, England, with his wife.

Book preview

GhostTown

B&B

By

Edward & Anne Charles

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9780463732106

Copyright 2017, Edward & Anne Charles

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author.

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Chapter 1

The Opening

Everything was perfect. We’d just spent two months cleaning and reconstructing a beautiful historic building on Toughnut Street in Tombstone, Arizona. An old, run down warehouse was now converted into a stylish bed and breakfast, something very much needed in this historic town. Tomorrow, giving building department approval, my husband James and I would hang the Vacancy sign out front and start welcoming guests to GhostTown B&B. Six months prior we had made a very risky move from southern California and were anxiously anticipating the opening of our new business. Everything was set for the next morning.

Around midnight, after putting the final touches on the property, my husband and I were finally finished. We were seated in the parlor enjoying a glass of wine at a small table. For ambiance, Jim had turned off all the lights, lit a small kerosene lantern and placed it on the fireplace mantle about ten feet away. It created a lovely dance of shadows against the walls and made for a very romantic setting. Even after thirty years of marriage he was still wooing me. I loved him for that. I lifted my glass of merlot. Here’s to you, proprietor James Butler Hickok. The glasses clinked.

And here’s to you Proprietor Vadoma Lovell Hickok. We both laughed and took a sip from our glasses. After reviewing the day and finishing our wine, Jim went to the kitchen and brought back the rest of the bottle. He refilled our glasses, set the bottle down and started wiggling his jaw.

What’s wrong? I asked.

Nothing. My tooth is acting up again. No big deal. I lost a filling and need to get it refilled when we get back to California.

A moment later I was startled to hear a sharp rap at the front door.

Do you want me to answer that? questioned Jim.

I stood up. No, let me see who it is. But you can keep your hand on the shotgun, just in case.

Okay. Gimme a sec. He went to the closet, took out the twelve gauge, hid behind the adjacent wall and then motioned for me to open the door.

I opened it slowly. Yes? I peeked with one eye through the crack.

Good evening, ma’am.

I found myself looking at a very handsome young man, probably in his early thirties. He stood about five foot ten and held his hat in front of him below his waist with both hands. He had dark hair that was well trimmed and parted a little off to the left center of his head, a slim handlebar moustache, and bushy eyebrows. He was dressed in the manner of many of the 1880’s re-enactors in Tombstone and had on a white shirt with a small black bowtie, an almost double breasted black coat and black pants. Two pistols dangled on a holster from his waist. He had a pleasing look to him and did not look at all threatening.

I relaxed and opened the door a little wider. May I help you?

Well, ma’am, not really. I saw you were getting ready to open this here establishment and wanted to come by and welcome you to Tombstone, Arizona Territory.

Why, thank you. That’s very nice of you.

I also wanted to let you know you’d be safe with me around here.

I was confused. What do you mean? I asked him.

Well, ma’am, he flipped the left lapel of his jacket. I got just enough of a glance to see a badge marked Marshal, Tombstone AT. Under the star was the number, 1. As Marshal, I’ll keep an eye on your property and make sure no riff-raff comes around.

Well, thank you very much.

You’re welcome.

He turned and started to walk away. When he was half way to the street I called to him, Sir? I questioned, or should I say Marshal?

He halted and turned back toward me. It’s Marshal, ma’am. His hat was on his head. He doffed it to me out of respect.

Marshall what? I asked.

Marshal Fred White¹, ma’am.

Thank you again, Marshal White. Goodnight.

Goodnight Vadoma.

He turned the corner and was gone. I stood there with my mouth agape gazing at Toughnut Street thirty feet out front. It was quiet with no cars or extraneous sounds except for crickets chirping and the faint sound of western music coming from Big Nose Kate’s Saloon on the next street over. Finally, I turned and slowly shut the door. I locked it. Twice.

Who was that, honey? I couldn’t see him.

You couldn’t?

No. I heard him speaking to you, but the door kept me from seeing what he looked like.

I’ve got to sit down. I made my way to the table where we had been seated and picked up my glass of wine. My hands were shaking. I swallowed half of the glass in one chug, set it down and looked at my questioning husband. I just met Fred White, the Marshal.

I’ve met the Marshal. His name is Bob Randall.

"No, you don’t understand. I just met the very first Marshal of Tombstone, Fred White. I polished off the rest of my wine in one gulp and set the glass down. Got any whiskey?"

Chapter 2

A Vacation

Five years earlier

After many years of marriage and a lifetime living in various suburban areas in and around Orange County and San Diego, my husband and I fantasized about quitting the rat race and finding some place in the country where we could live a more peaceful lifestyle and still make some kind of a living. We looked into many towns within hours of where we lived that were off the beaten path, like Temecula and Julian. They all had the flavor of being rural and remote, but were really just trendy retreats where urban couples or families could flock to for a vacation or the weekend and pretend they were somewhere else in time. In a word, they were tourist traps. After about a year of searching we gave up looking.

Three years later our youngest son graduated from college and we suddenly became the proverbial empty nesters. One evening my husband James was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me to get dinner ready. He had just poured us each a glass of chardonnay and was seated on the chair at the head of the table while I was busy chopping some salad ingredients at the counter five feet away.

Put the knife down, he demanded.

Why? I questioned, setting it on the cutting board and turning toward him.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to him. Sit on my lap I did so. He took my face between his two strong hands and pulled me to him, giving me a very sexy kiss that lasted at least thirty seconds.

I pulled back a little. Wow! That was nice. Shall I throw the dishes off the table and have wild sex on it right now or could we wait until after dinner?

I love your attitude Vadoma. I think we should get away to some exotic places where we can have wild, crazy sex together all the time.

Where did this come from? I asked, rather surprised.

He looked me in the eyes. I lost three patients in the ER today. I’m sick and tired of a job where I sometimes lose more than I save. And this Obama Care bullshit is turning my ER into a political arena.

You need a break, I told him, handing him his glass of wine, Here, drink. Medicine for my Doctor Jim.

It’s more than that. He paused and took a sip of his wine. You remember how a few years ago we flirted with moving out of southern California?

Sure.

I’ve been thinking, maybe we should take a road trip around the southwest and see if there’s anywhere other than here where we might like to settle down.

Wow!

My husband laughed. "That’s two wow’s I’ve gotten out of you in the last sixty seconds."

I took a sip of my chardonnay and then set it down. It’s just this came up so quickly.

So, whaddya say? Does a road trip sound appealing to you? Can you clear your patients for awhile?

Actually, I’ve been cutting back on my patients lately. There are three new psychotherapists in my practice and I’m trying to get them new referrals. Come to think of it, I could use some time off, too.

Well, I’m tired of emergency room surgery and need to get away. What do you say after dinner we look at some options.

Totally surprised at myself I blurted out, I’d like that.

* * * *

After dinner and dessert we made our