Chapter 12

The next morning just before dawn, a tap on my shoulder woke me. On high alert, I jumped from bed. “Who’s there?”

I switched on the bed lamp, saw the chaos, and screamed.

The furniture was clustered in the center of the room. The desk stood at the foot of the bed, which was wedged between the hope chest and table, with the chairs stacked on top.

Who or what moved everything?

Teddy barked as a shadowy figure crossed the room and floated through the fireplace.

I ran to the window, searching the dark for the shadow.

Only the moon peered back like a giant eye.

Hyperventilating, I called Luke’s cell phone as I glanced at the time—nearly six.

He answered with a sleepy grunt.

“Can you come over?” I scanned the room, still not believing the mayhem.

Five minutes later, he knocked on the door, yawning. “What’s the matter?”

“Tell me what you think of the décor.” I gestured to the furnishings as I closed the door.

A scowl settled on his face. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Someone or something made this mess.”

“Any idea what?”

“No clue.” I gave him a twisted smile. “Just don’t tell me air vents caused it.”

“Forced air can blow feathers or rock chairs—but rearrange furniture?” Scowling, he shook his head. “This morning’s incidents are outside the laws of physics.” He started moving the chest. “Let’s put the furniture back, while we decide what to do.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” I lifted a stacked chair off the desk. “I don’t want stay in this cabin.”

“I don’t blame you.” He picked up the heavy end of the desk, while he waited for me to lift the other. “We have two choices. You can either stay with me, or I can bunk here.”

The heat rose to my cheeks. “You mean—”

“That came out wrong. You could sleep in my bed, while I camp out in a sleeping bag, or I could sleep on the floor here…” He worked his jaw, as if thinking over the options. “Or if it’s only for a night or two, I could bring the rocker back and sleep in that.”

“None of your ideas sounds that comfortable but sitting up all night sounds the worst.” The idea of Luke being nearby calmed my fears, but recalling a cramped, red-eye flight, I shook my head at his sleeping in the chair.

“According to her diary, Marianna slept in it.” He met my gaze. “Besides, I’ve napped in it, and it’s not bad.”

“Maybe it didn’t bother you for an hour or two, but all night? Your back would kill you the next morning.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not. What do you say we try this arrangement tonight and see?”

****

“Until now, everything that’s happened could be explained by natural causes, but the rearranged furniture’s different.” I poured an after-dinner cup of coffee. “Let’s call a spade a spade—a ghost a ghost.” I grimaced. “We’re being haunted, but by whom?”

“Marianna would be my guess, but why?” His forehead wrinkling, he stirred his coffee. “What does she—or whoever it is—want?”

After we put away the dishes, Luke hauled the rocker to my cabin.

“You’re really going to sleep there tonight?” I unlocked the door as goosebumps broke out on my arms. The image of a woman rocking a baby in that chair still haunted me.

“I’ll try, but I’ve got my sleeping bag just in case.” He set the chair near the fireplace.

As if hypnotized, the dog sat in front of the rocker, cocking his head with his right ear raised. Then he tilted his head the other way, raising his left ear.

“I hate to say this—”

“Then don’t.” He set down his duffle bag.

“Teddy seems to be listening to someone.” A shudder slid down my spine. “It’s creepy.”

“He hasn’t seen the chair lately. He’s probably refamiliarizing himself.” Luke’s face warmed in a slow grin as he reached into his bag. “Hey, I brought a bottle of tempranillo. Want a glass?”

“Great idea.” I eyed the chair. “Might help me relax. I’ll get the glasses and a bottle opener.”

“I also brought a deck of cards. Do you play canasta?”

Several hands later, the lights flickered.

I flinched. “Power outage?”

“I hope not.” He ran a hand across his brow.

My cell phone rang and buzzed simultaneously. Caller ID read Unknown, and I pressed the decline button. Immediately, the phone rang again. “Same caller.” I silenced the ringer, but the vibration continued.

After the third consecutive call, Luke glanced from his cards. “Maybe it’s important…”

“Probably a telemarketer.” But I answered on the fourth call. “Hello.”

Dead air.

“Hello…?”

Silence. Then from across the room came a faint squeak…squeak…squeak, followed by Teddy’s whine.

Though the air vents were closed, and the dog was nowhere near it, the chair teetered back and forth, squeaking as it rocked.

“Do you see that?” My gaze riveted on the chair, I tucked my phone in its holster.

“Yup.”

“Good, I’m not crazy.” I gave a nervous laugh.

The air shimmered like a 3D projection as a hologram appeared in a burst of light.

Dressed in a soldier’s uniform, the translucent figure wore a blue campaign shirt, bandanna, double-loop ammo belt, and rusty-brown trousers with suspenders.

I recognized the uniform from the library’s photos of Rough-Riders. Then I remembered the blur from my first visit. I didn’t imagine it!

The figure was so transparent, the hearth showed behind it. It stared as if transfixed, its penetrating eyes seeming to bore through my flesh and into my genes.

In a blinding flash and deafening explosion, it disappeared in the fireplace.

Instinctively, I grabbed the puppy, closed my eyes, and took cover, shielding the pup with my body. My ears still ringing from the blast, I peeked.

The wooden mantle’s veneer dangled from the masonry.

I drew a ragged breath as I turned to Luke. “Did you see that?”

“The flash…the explosion? Yeah.” Busy inspecting the damage, Luke spoke over his shoulder. “What was it? Ball lightning?”

“No, the gho…” Weaving on my feet, I grabbed his arm to steady myself. I moved my lips, but my words couldn’t keep up with my thoughts. “I…I think I saw a ghost…”

“You’re pale enough to have seen one.”

I attempted a smile. “For a split second, an image appeared in a Rough-Rider’s uniform. Who’d have worn that outfit?”

“Both Ramon and Mateo fought in the Spanish-American War, but since Mateo once owned this cabin, I’d guess—”

“Mateo, my thoughts exactly.” I reached for Luke’s hand. “Now what?”

“Beats me. Your vision, the flash, the explosion—none of it makes sense, but whatever it was, it exposed a concealed compartment.” His hand shaky, he pointed to the fireplace.

“What?” Still cuddling the pup against my chest, I examined the partitioned shelf. “I thought that thin strip was part of the mantle, not a wall safe.”

“It’s such a tight fit, a master craftsman must’ve made it.” He fingered the hinge and shallow drawer. “I had no idea this mantle hid a false bottom.”

“Think anything’s inside?” My imagination grappling with the possibilities, I peeked inside the narrow slot. “I see papers and a small box. Sorry, Teddy, but I need both hands.” I set him on the floor and removed the safe’s contents.

“Let’s examine this under a better light.” He strode toward the counter’s track lighting.

Carrying the cache, I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.”

He grinned. “Open it.”

I held my breath as I lifted the cover off the tiny cardboard box, yellowed with age. Inside was a delicate ladies’ watch with a folded note. “…until doomsday.” With a gasp, I unfolded the paper to read the other side. “I’ll love you for all time, from now”—catching Luke’s gaze, I flipped over the note—“until doomsday.”

“Marianna read only one side.”

“This note wasn’t a threat. Mateo loved her.”

“But she never knew.” He bit his lip. “What a shame.”

“I wonder if she misinterpreted his other actions. We’ve read Marianna’s side.” As the implications sank in, I grabbed his arm. “Do you think—”

“Mateo’s giving us his side of the story.” Luke echoed my earlier words as his slow smile spread across his face. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Finishing each other’s sentences, we sound like an old, married couple.” I chuckled as I returned his smile. Then without warning, a physical sensation gripped me—a visceral ache to mold my body to his, sternum to sternum, heartbeat to heartbeat.

The physical pull from my solar plexus to his was so compelling, it seemed magnetic. With the electrical energy surging through my body, I was an open circuit impatient to complete the loop.

Get a grip. I breathed slowly, catching my breath. This is the second time I’ve felt this way…why? What’s causing it? I eyed the watch and note, afraid to raise my gaze to his. If he feels the same way…I swallowed, refusing to finish the thought. Instead, I opened the tri-fold documents, fingering the embossed seal on the first page as if it were Braille.

“Is that a deed?”

His words jolted me from my reverie, and I read the print aloud. General Warranty Deed. The State of Texas. County of Abe Lincoln. January 7, 1899. Know all men by these presents…

“Read that paragraph.” He pointed to the words.

“To have and to hold…” From this day forward…I squirmed at the familiar phrasing. “…the property belonging unto the said Mateo Ramirez. Grantor does hereby bind itself, its successors and assigns the said premises unto the aforementioned Marianna Rodriguez Ramirez and her successors…”

“Do you realize what this is?”

Too agitated to grasp the significance, I shook my head.

“It’s the deed to the Ramirez ranch. Look at the address.” He ran his finger beneath the property description and embossed notary stamp. “Mateo deeded it to Marianna, and he had his signature notarized. I wonder if he recorded the deed with the county clerk.”

“What difference would it make?”

“Recording it would make it public. Look at the date. My guess is this document precedes any later transfers or sales of the property.” He pointed out the words Grant, Bargain, Sell, Assign, or Convey. “Without this deed, would the Ramirez family have owned the land, let alone have had any right to sell it?”

“So what? The point’s moot.” I shrugged. “Even though you’d inherit the land as Marianna’s descendant, you already own it.”

“Not quite.” As he unfolded the second page, he shook his head. “From the legal description, I believe the Ramirez ranch included twice as much land as this vineyard. Look at this drawing.”

“A vintage map…” My mind raced. “Can you tell the modern boundaries from these landmarks?”

“This looks like Dry Gulch Creek, that intermittent stream at the edge of the vineyard.” He drew his finger along a squiggly line, then laughed as he pointed out three small circles. “Yes! These must be those three cottonwoods.”

“You’re right.” I glanced at the three rings, recalling our hike around the vineyard’s perimeter. “But the map shows the creek flowing through the center of the ranch, not along the edge.”

“Exactly.” The corners of his eyes creased in a smile.

Squinting, I wracked my brain. “What am I missing?”

“This deed to the Ramirez ranch includes not only this vineyard, but Bea’s, as well.”

“Ah, now I see the legal repercussions.” As I grasped the document’s scope, Bea came to mind. “This outcome should prove interesting.”

“Even if I’m reading this legalese right and if Mateo recorded the deed, I wouldn’t follow through on it.” He shook his head. “I’d just like to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Where would you start?”

****

“The county clerk’s office might be a good place.” He crossed to the fireplace’s yawning compartment and jiggled the drawer. “For now, I’m more interested in how this safe works.” He closed the drawer, then pressed, pulled, and pushed every inch of the mantle. Finally, he tugged at the corner’s barely noticeable rise, and the drawer fell open. “How ’bout that?” Shaking his head, he chuckled. “That safe’s been Mateo’s secret for over a hundred and twenty years.”

“What did you touch?” Maeve moved closer. “I don’t see any difference between that corner and the rest of the mantle.”

“Place your finger here.” He patted the cedar beam.

“Where?” Her green eyes searched the mantlepiece.

“Here.” Taking her hand in his, he gently rubbed her finger over the wood’s bulge. “Feel that slight swelling?”

“That’s the lever? I thought it was just the wood’s grain.” Her hand still in his, she turned toward him. “Clever to hide it in full view.”

“Ingenious.” He turned her hand, so their palms touched. Then interlocking his fingers with hers, he rubbed his thumb across her palm in a circular motion, pulling her closer until the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest. His heart rate increasing, he gazed into her dilated pupils. Does she feel the same way?

Her breath hitched as her lips parted.

His groin aching as his jeans tightened, he wanted her. No longer able to block the impulse, he wrapped one arm around her back as he cradled her head in his other hand.

Her eyelids fluttering, she threw her arms around his neck and, with a muffled moan, pressed closer.

Their bodies silently communing, he ran his lips over her throat, sucking at her supple skin and moving his lips along her collarbone.

Encouraged as she shuddered and tilted her hips against him, he nudged open her shirt’s top button and nuzzled her breasts. Then he drew her to him in a deep kiss that left him wanting to slip off her clothes and feel her warm, soft skin against his. The urge to take her overpowering, he eyed the bed.

Whoa. What am I doing? As if shot with a water cannon, he pulled away, breathless.

She regarded him through wide, shellshocked eyes.

Like the lights coming up in the theater, the feverish mood broke. His arms fell to his sides as he stepped back. “Sorry, I—”

“No, I’m as much to blame—”

“I don’t know what came over me.” A nervous, self-conscious laugh escaped his lips.

“So suddenly, right?” Nodding, she met his gaze. “Like an outside force took over…” She swallowed, took a deep breath, and glanced away. “This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.”

“Me, neither.” He gave a wry chuckle as he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “And that blast in the fireplace should’ve scared me out of my wits, but I was too…distracted.”

“It’s been one thing after another: the flickering lights and phantom phone calls, the chair rocking, the ghost, and then the secret compartment opening.” She gave a frustrated cry. “We didn’t have time to get scared.”

“But more than those bizarre events, what disturbed me the most were the”—he groaned—“physical urges.”

“You, too?” Her pupils dilated. Her shoulders dropping, she leaned toward him and parted her lips. Then clearing her throat, she stepped back and pressed her hand to her chest as if to collect herself. Her fingers connected with her shirt’s open button, and flinching, she fastened it.

“So, we were each attracted to the other…” Good to know.

“What if these feelings aren’t our own? What if some external force is causing this sudden, mutual attraction?”

“Why do you ask?” He stared into her face, noting her shifting expressions.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this.” Wincing, she hunched her shoulders. “We’re moving so fast. We met just a few weeks ago, yet it seems I’ve known you forever…almost as if we’d loved each other before, and now we’re back together again.”

“You’ve heard of love at first sight.” He tilted his head. “Maybe that’s what this is.”

“Maybe.” She pursed her lips. “But I think it’s more than just that.”

“Just that?” He caught her gaze and grinned, remembering her responsive lips all too well.

“You know what I mean.” She playfully punched his arm.

“The funny thing is, yes, I know exactly what you mean because I thought the same thing. Is something controlling us?”

****

The next morning, Luke visited the county clerk’s office. Unfolding the document, he handed it to the clerk. “Can you check if this deed was ever recorded?”

“Of course, but the search may take a few minutes.” The clerk called from the adjacent annex as he checked the file cabinets. “Unfortunately, our computerized records only go back to 1980.”

“Take your time. That deed’s been patiently waiting since 1899.” Luke grinned. “And honestly, I’m not sure it matters whether the deed was recorded.”

“Let me assure you it matters quite a bit.” The clerk gave a deep nod as he fingered through the files, then glanced up from his search. “Texas is a ‘notice’ state, which means recording a document gives notice—legally notifies the public—of a property transfer.”

“And that’s important because…” Luke shrugged.

“Because it establishes priority. If an unscrupulous dealer ever tried to sell or convey the property twice or if anyone ever contested a recorded deed with an unrecorded document, he wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

Luke recalled Marianna’s diary entry about her in-laws forcing her from the cabin. What roles did Bea’s ancestors play in their claim to the land? And how important is that ownership to Mateo’s peace of mind?

“I’m no lawyer, but I’ll tell you this. Nothing establishes ownership in a chain of title like a recorded deed. In court, it’s irrefutable proof of proprietorship.” The clerk closed the file drawer, opened the one below, and arched his brow. “But this is the last drawer. If the deed’s not here, it was never recorded.”

Despite his earlier nonchalance, Luke held his breath as the man searched through the folders, their brittle papers crinkling.

Finally in the hush of the empty building, the metal file drawer squeaked close.

“Here it is.” Returning to the lobby, the clerk showed him the record.

“So, the deed’s valid?”

“Absolutely. A warranty deed guarantees the owner holds title to the property.”

“Good.” Luke breathed a sigh of relief.

“But only to the date listed.” The clerk bunched his lips. “In a hundred and twenty years, the property must’ve changed hands several times, so if a more current warranty deed is found, that would take precedence.”

Luke digested that information. “But what if the later owners never had clear title? What if they kept the property ‘in the family’?”

“You’re talking about a quitclaim deed that’s used to transfer property informally among family members.”

“What’s the difference?” Luke tilted his head. “Is one better than the other?”

“In lieu of a warranty deed, a quitclaim deed legally transfers the property, but it doesn’t guarantee title or ownership.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Let me put it this way.” The clerk looked into space, seeming to gather his thoughts. “A warranty deed says, ‘I guarantee that I own this property, and the title is intact,’ while a quitclaim deed says, ‘I give you whatever interest I have in this property, but I make no promises. My title might or might not be good, and someone else may even own the property, but whatever I have is now yours.’ ”

“So, in case of a challenge…”

“The warranty deed wins in court.”

“Thank you.” Luke shook his hand. “You’ve been a wealth of information.”

“My pleasure.” The clerk’s eyes twinkled. “But listening between the lines, I suggest you get an attorney.”

“Why?”

“In Texas, squatters have rights.” The clerk gave a wry laugh. “If a person’s lived on the property in question for at least ten years, he could gain legal ownership through a process called adverse possession.”

“Which is what?” This deed is a can of worms. Luke smothered a sigh.

“The short answer is if he meets five requirements—hostile claim, actual possession, is open and notorious, exclusive, and continuous—the property’s his in the eyes of the law.”

“What’s hostile—”

“Interpreting these legalities is beyond my paygrade and best settled in court.” The clerk held up both hands as if warding off more questions. “Do yourself a favor. Hire a lawyer.”

****

Waving goodbye as Luke left, I glanced at the drizzly sky, then checked the weather app on my phone. With an eighty-three percent chance of rain for the next two hours, I decided to wait before pruning vines.

“It’s a sleepy morning, anyway, Teddy.” Yawning as I pet the dog, I eyed the rocker. Luke said he slept all right. Wonder if it’s comfortable.

I eased onto the cushioned seat, rested my elbows on the chair’s arms, leaned back, and gently pushed off with my feet. My eyelids closed as I rocked, and within minutes, I slipped into a deep sleep.