Knockin' on Heaven's Door

By J. P. Bastin

Flagstaff Sheriff Matthew Keeney never wondered what happens if you die on a day you're not fated to die. Then he found out.

 

Matt has since spent nearly a century and a half in the Shadow Lands hauling hellish escapees back to where they belong. Now he's been thrust back into the world of the living only to discover he'd been accused of a crime he didn't commit back on that fateful day in 1890.

 

Today, horse trainer Kayce Winters, isn't sleeping well because she knows something is outside at night. Yet there's no proof. At least not until the morning Matt stumbles down the steps in her barn.

 

As they work to solve the more than century old robbery, desire flares between them. And with it comes a growing fear. If they discover the real thief, will Matt disappear up to his promised reward.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. P. Bastin
• Release date: Sep 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223232179

J. P. Bastin

Judith “J.P.” Bastin started writing stories back in grade school. Unfortunately, things like a busy career as an OB nurse and living in places as varied as Kentucky, southwest Texas, and northern Germany pushed that to a way back burner. With three previous novellas under her belt, she jumped back into publishing in ’22 with the start of her Bourbon Legacy series. A native Hoosier, she lives in central Indiana with her husband.

Book preview

Prologue

1890, the Arizona Territory

Matthew Keeney wasn’t supposed to die that day out at Walnut Canyon.

At least that’s what he’d been told, not that it mattered much now. But as he lay there on the ground, slowly bleeding to death from a bullet meant for another man, he saw things. Things that made his boyhood nightmares pale by comparison. Things that no man, living or dead, should have to see. Things of such pure evil, surely they must have been confined to the depths of some deep, dark hell.

And as the vision slowly faded from Matthew’s sight, he heard a voice.

Sheriff, I have a job for you.

Chapter 1

Today, Winterhaven Farm, the outskirts of Flagstaff, AZ

Never let the living see you move.

The warning echoed in Matthew Keeney’s his head as he climbed up and over the sturdy board fence that surrounded the property he still called home. The new owner had built it after moving in last year.  Good thing, too, with all the snow they’d gotten this past winter. None of her horses had gotten out of the barn lot during the storms.

He dashed to the small copse of pine trees, but they provided little concealment. However, to his advantage, tonight’s full moon hid under a covering of clouds, because it was in these last few yards that his risk of discovery was highest. With one cause.

Kayce Winters.

For a woman who bred and trained saddle horses, she sure kept odd hours. Back in his day, a stockman went to bed with the sun. Got up with it, too. But it was nothing for Miss Winters to still have the lights on at all hours of the night.

Damn and blast. Wouldn’t you know it, tonight was one of those nights.

As he slipped from tree to tree, he could see her through the kitchen window, her chestnut hair pulled back in the braid she wore most days, her hands cupped around an earthenware mug. There’d be hot tea in it from the conversations he’d overheard. Maybe if he had any luck at all, she’d put a bit of whiskey in there to help her toddle back to bed.

Did the woman never sleep?

She had to. Matt knew how hard she worked to keep this place running. It had to be tough, just her and that part time boy she hired.

He’d have the devil’s own time making it back to the barn without her seeing him. One day last week she’d been suspicious enough to open the back door, step outside, and jack the slide of her shotgun.

So tonight, Matt watched and waited.

Watched her finish the drink and then go through the motions of rinsing out the cup and putting it to drain. Waited as she stretched, giving him a peek at the top of the lacy camisole straps over her freckled shoulders before she turned away from the window.

And he remembered. Remembered what it was like, the pleasures in watching the twitch of a woman’s skirts, in breathing in her lilac-scented hair, in holding her hand. And remembered too, the sweet ache of desire.

The kitchen light flicked off, followed a few minutes later by the one he’d figured was her bedroom. Give it time.

Finally, Matt couldn’t take waiting any longer. He needed the rest for tonight’s fight had taken its toll. At least he didn’t hurt. Hadn’t since that day back at the canyon.

He left the relative concealment of the trees and dashed out toward the barn. Thirty yards and then twenty. Fifteen. Finally, he made it. He flattened his shoulders against the outer wall, catching his breath.

Yup, he needed the time the black oblivion would give. Time to recuperate. So he could return to the fight once again.

One final look over at the house. Goodnight, Miss Winters.

With a last deep breath, Matthew Keeney faded back into the shadows once again.

# # #

Kayce pulled the back door closed behind her and stifled a yawn as the early morning sun filtered through the trees. She hadn’t slept a full night through in over a year and still didn’t know what caused it. Chamomile tea, valerian, melatonin, even good old-fashioned hot toddies—she’d tried them all without any real success. At her last visit with Dr. Taylor, he’d suggested a prescription sleeping medication which she’d adamantly refused.

Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe the lack of sleep was finally taking a toll. For weeks now, Kayce couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was prowling around outside her house at night. But there hadn’t been any unexplainable tracks, human or otherwise, even in the mud caused by the recent snow melt. She’d found nothing missing and none of the horses had so much as a scratch on them.

Come on, Tildee. Time to head to the barn. Kayce patted her thigh. Here, girl. She smacked a palm against her thigh two more times.

From the far corner of the yard, over by the fence, streaked a brown and white four-legged blur in the form of one three-year-old Australian shepherd. The pup had been Kayce’s way of finding something to love and care for when her brother James had been killed in the mountains of Afghanistan.

We gotta turn the horses out, girl. She grabbed up the slim thermos of hot tea and headed off, sprinting toward the gate. She raced Tildee every morning. Most days Kayce lost and today was no exception.

Heading to the barn door, she passed the black silhouette of a cowboy leaning against the corner. It had been there when she bought the property, and now this spring had a fresh coat of paint. 

Mornin’, Sheriff. She patted the figure on the shoulder as she walked past. Most would think of it as a simple cowboy, but from the very start, Kayce saw him as one of the old west’s steely-eyed lawmen. A man of quiet honor and sense of duty.

You see anyone out here last night? She swung one of the heavy barn doors open. Guess not, huh.

She had a full house, and appreciated the dog’s speed and innate intelligence as she and Tildee worked as a team—Kayce opening each stall door and the dog prodding each of the big saddle horses out into the fenced pasture. The last three horses were her own, two for riding and her big Friesian for both riding and driving.

The morning passed as she mucked out stalls and refreshed each with new wood shavings. Once the high school got out for summer break, Zach would handle this chore. Right now, he got paid for doing the evening pass of refilling water buckets, doling out grain and sweet feed, and then restuffing hay boxes before gathering the animals up and into their proper stalls for the night.

Today, once she finished the barn chores, her two newest borders got sessions in the round pen before she saddled up Wil Thompson’s new horse and took the three-year-old gelding on a final test ride. She signaled Tildee, letting the dog know that she was on guard duty before nudging the horse off at a gentle walk out the pasture’s back gate. They swung around in a wide circle, Kayce putting the young animal through all the pleasure riding gaits.

She loved being out here, with just her mount for company. With the city behind her, she could almost imagine how it must have been to live here in the old west. A gentle tap with her heel, and the horse started to gain speed. Soon they were galloping northward toward the boundary of her land. They passed it, heading to the shallow canyon up ahead, to the spot where she always rested her mount before heading back.

After securing the reins since the youngster wasn’t ground tie-able yet, Kayce took her usual stroll along the canyon walls. They weren’t especially tall—twenty, maybe twenty-five feet at the most. Just enough, she imagined, for one to set up a decent ambush.

It woulda been so fun to play here as a kid. She grinned to herself. The games she and her brothers had played would be thought way too violent and decidedly un-pc today.

She kicked at a few stones, sending them scattering in a puff of dust, when something metallic caught her eye. After bending down, she used her pocket knife to pry the object from the dirt.

Wow. She held it up. Even though dulled with age and grime, it was easy to tell this was an old silver dollar.

I’m surprised someone with a metal detector never found this.  Once she’d rubbed off more of the dirt, the 1879 mint date became visible. She shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans and then walked back to the horse.

Her afternoon flew by and before she knew it, she heard the gravel crunch of Zach’s car pulling up her drive. The high school senior had been accepted at Tempe for college this fall, so she’d have to start looking for a replacement soon.

She gave him a run down on what still needed to be done and then the two of them hitched up the trailer and got Wil’s horse loaded for the drive. By the time she returned home, the sun had long disappeared behind the mountains. The house stood dark, but Zach had left the barn light on for her.

Effortlessly, Kayce wheeled the truck and trailer around, backing in so she could get the trailer unhitched in the morning. She grabbed her purse and the tin of homemade peanut butter cookies Wil’s wife, Kate, had sent home.

By this time, Tildee had bounded out of the barn. Kayce reached down and scratched between her furry ears. Hey, girl. Everything all right?

The dog followed her to the small stoop outside the back door. Yeah, yeah, I know. We need to lock up the barn. Tildee pranced around in circles. Just let me put this stuff down first. Okay?

Her hands empty, Kayce set out across the graveled drive toward the big barn. Things were finally starting to pay off for her and Winterhaven Farm. The place wouldn’t make her a rich woman, but if her reputation continued to grow, she’d never have to worry about making ends meet.

She walked down the barn aisle, checking on all the occupants with a stop here and there to dole out ear scratches or muzzle rubs.  The air smelled faintly of disinfectant from where Zach had cleaned out the newly vacated stall and left the door latched open. Tomorrow she’d check her waiting list to see if anyone on it still needed boarding space.

At stall three she poked her head inside. Doin’ okay, Windy girl? Winsome Lady, Windy for short, was in foal to Kayce’s stud Zorro and due to drop in about two weeks. Windy’s owner, one of the local firefighters, had moved the mare into the barn a week ago.

Just in case, he’d said as he and Kayce unloaded the mare from his trailer. This is her first and with my schedule being so erratic, I’d feel better about her being out here.

She ran her hand over Windy’s distended belly. Won’t be long now, sweetheart. Just a few more days. This was going to be a good sized foal. Kayce made a mental note to check the supplies in her medical box. Just in case.

After turning off the aisle light, she swung the barn’s big double doors closed and then slid the locking bolt in place.  But once she and Tildee had taken just a few steps toward the house, the dog stopped suddenly, hackles up, her growl deep and throaty.

Paying attention now, Kayce felt it too. Something or someone was out there in the darkness.

Tildee growled again.

Who’s out there? Kayce stepped forward and gripped the dog’s collar. Show yourself. I’m armed, she bluffed. Her shotgun stood in the kitchen corner well over fifty feet away. I’ll let my dog loose.

As if she understood, Tildee pulled against Kayce’s hold, letting out several determined barks. Then, just as suddenly as she’d alerted, Tildee stopped, sat, and cocked her head to the side.

What the... Kayce stared hard into the darkness. In an instant, the night itself stilled, as if someone had pulled the cord to its cosmic energy source.

But something had been out there. She’d sensed it. So had Tildee. Kayce hadn’t imagined it.

Let’s go, girl. Back to the house. She gave a gentle tug on Tildee’s collar but the dog just sat there. Tildee, come. Kayce tried again to no avail.

She took a few steps toward the house hoping Tildee would follow. Then a few more. And more still, until Kayce was almost to the stoop.

With a sharp clap of her hands, she used her most commanding tone. Tildee, now. Come.

Tildee looked over at her, and then back out into the darkness. Finally, the dog stood back up and walked half way across the drive before turning to look back toward the barn. Seemingly satisfied now that whatever had been out there was gone, she trotted over to the back door.

Kayce scooped up her purse and the tin of cookies before she, too, looked back out into the darkness. It might be gone now but she knew, just as sure as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow morning, that this