"Final Night For Rosa's Cantina"
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dochermes"Final Night For Rosa's Cantina"
A Trom Girl Mystery
4/2/2005
I.
"Driving five solid hours and we're STILL in Texas," grumbled Archie McAllister. He reached behind him with a thick hairy arm and snatched his bottle of water from the back seat to finish it off. "If you asked me, they should have cut the territory up and made it into two states of a halfway reasonable size."
Sitting beside him as calm and detached as usual, the Trom Girl lowered her wire-rim tinted glasses down over her snub nose and studied his profile. "Texas is interesting in that it was a separate Republic before it joined the United States. To have asked its inhabitants to willingly be split-"
"Aw hell, honey, I know that," Archie interupted gently. Despite his bulk, the big bearlike man had a mild disposition and seldom raised his voice to anyone. "I guess I'm just blowing off steam."
Megan Salenger rinsed her mouth with a swallow from her own water bottle, rolled down the window on her side and primly spit out the window. Outside was nothing but the highway, hot dry dirt and sparse shrubs. Once in a while, a stunted post oak stood by itself. At twenty-five, the Trom Girl was slim and even boyish in build, only five feet three and not much more than a hundred pounds. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and khaki shorts, with hiking shoes and ankle-length socks. After a moment, she said in a sheepish tone, "To be honest, my love, I think I did not choose the airport closest to our destination. I was in a hurry."
Archie snorted and shook his head. "Well, we all make goofs, Megan. Anyway, I'd still rather be driving down the highway all day with a beautiful woman as company than another day working on bikes at the shop."
The Trom Girl reached over and rested a small hand on his arm. "I enjoy being with you for its own sake. Your boss will not expect you back for three more days, so we may have a little vacation for ourselves."
"Hey, more tumbleweeds!" Archie yelled. "Look at those things, I heard that if they get up under your hot engine they can start a fire."
"We are almost at Alto Paso. Another eleven miles, I calculate." Megan leaned back in her seat and gazed forward at the horizon which shimmered in the heat. "We will learn about the ghost of Rosa's Cantina."
"That's another thing," Archie muttered. He glanced over at her with gentle blue eyes in a wide face that bristled with three day's of black beard. "We already settled a ghost cowboy. That Phantom Owlhoot nonsense."
"It's an odd coincidence," she agreed. "The Phantom Owlhoot turned out to be merely a hoax concealing criminal activity but I am not so certain about the Rosa's Cantina ghost. Also called the Broken Neck Ghost."
"Yeah, well, we'll see. If I get within reach of a ghost and swing my arm through it, maybe then I'll believe it."
"It is good policy to be skeptical," she agreed. "See that farmhouse over there? We are nearing the town. Archie, are you tired of coming with me on these investigations?"
The big man laughed easily, reached over and patted her bare leg. "Naw. Not at all. I love going on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries.' They're so... unpredictable. We run into the damndest people and situations."
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "And there is no one I would rather spend time with on these cases. The Trom who raised me hoped to dampen all my emotional responses but obviously they failed. I still have Human feelings."
"And everyone who knows you is glad, honey. Here we go. Couple of buildings. Looks like an old bus stop where the road into town splits off. There's the sign. Alto Paso, population 1,877. Not counting dogs and chickens, I bet."
"Look!" she cried out as she pointed through the windshield. "That little wooden structure with the cars parked next to it. Rosa's Cantina."
Archie swung over into the gravel parking lot. The cafe was not large, a white-boarded structure with a flat tarred roof and a big picture window on the side facing the road. In red script was written ROSA'S CANTINA - LIVE MUSIC FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHTS. In one corner of the window was a blue neon sign COLD BEER ON TAP. A plank porch ran the length of the front, with a sturdy railing against which patrons could lean or even sit upon.
In the parking lot were a red Ford pick-up truck, a rusted Oldsmobile and two Harleys with helmets resting on their saddles. Archie pulled up some distance away and studied the scene. "What do you think, hon?"
"Nothing seems out of place," she decided at last. "These vehicles have appropriate plates and inspection stickers. They belong to local people. There is a shotgun in a rack inside the Ford, but I can see from here that it is safely locked in place. I see nothing to cause suspicion."
"Good enough for me," the big man grunted as he swung out of the Jeep and stretched luxuriously. "That cold beer sign gave me an idea."
Coming around to stand beside him, a full twelve inches shorter and more than a hundred pounds lighter, Megan tugged on a leather vest which she left unfastened. It had a dozen pockets, many concealed on the inside, which held the advanced tools and gadgets she used. A layer of the flexible Trom armor lined the inside of the vest as well. "Am I presentable?"
Archie grinned at her, with her thick tousled black hair and the tinted sunglasses emphasizing her inquisitive foxlike face. "You are all kinds of cute."
"That is what I wanted to hear," she answered with a satisfied smile. "Let's go inside and meet the person who requested our investigation."
From the open doorway, a tall handsome woman with glossy black hair wiped her hands with a washcloth. "That would be me," she called out. "I'm Felina Martinez."
II.
Megan and Archie introduced themselves, and were ushered over to a corner of the porch where some wicker chairs were arranged. As they settled down, Felina studied them thoughtfully with huge dark eyes that always seemed sad. She appeared to be in her late forties.
"I was hoping that Jeremy Bane would come," she said after a moment. "He was the one I knew. More than fifteen years ago, he came to Alto Paso to clean up a gang of bandits who were crossing the border at night. Ah, I was so much younger then. Jeremy left me a number to contact him with."
The Trom Girl shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Well, Mr Bane has stepped down from leading the Kenneth Dred Foundation. He runs his own detective agency now, but we have come in his place." Seeing disappointment on Felina's face, Megan added, "We are also knights of Tel Shai and were trained by Mr Bane himself."
"Of course," the woman said. She glanced back at the open door to the cantina, through which honkytonk music could be heard. "Pepe is tending bar, he can handle things for a few minutes. Miss Salenger... Mr McAllister, I called your organization because strange things are happening in this town again. The broken-neck ghost has been seen wandering the streets in the middle of the night. And a strange drifter, very much flesh and blood, is loitering in the area and making people nervous. He seems to start fights wherever he goes."
"How can these two factors be related?" Megan asked.
"There is a connection, I believe," said Felina. "But it is hard to believe. Here, let me show you something." She rose to go back inside and returned quickly with a large leatherbound photo album. Handing the album to Megan, she opened it to the end.
"Mostly of course these are pictures from my own wedding and of my sisters and their children," Felina Martinez explained. "But this album belonged to my grandmother. Here. On the very last page. This photo is from 1902. The Old West was settling down by then, but in a border town like this, frontier ways hung on until the First World War."
An 8x10 sepia photo, creased and stained in one corner, took up most of the page. It showed a couple, the woman seated in an overstuffed chair with the man standing behind her and both staring at the camera with stiff uncomfortable expressions.
The woman looked much like Felina, with the same thick black hair down to her waist. She wore a full-length dark skirt, a beautiful white brocaded blouse and had a decorative shawl across her shoulders.
"Yes, that is my grandmother. I was named after her," Felina whispered. "And there is my grandfather, Wai Cho-Lam. He was known by the American name John."
The grandfather seemed to be quite tall for a Chinese, standing thin and straight in simple work clothes of a long-sleeved shirt and pants, both dark. His head was shaven, and he had a long mournful face.
"Well, I see the family resemblance," Archie said as he peered from behind over Megan's shoulder. "You have the same beautiful eyes."
"Thank you. In old letters, my grandfather wrote that her eyes were 'blacker than night,' and that they cast a spell over him. People were more poetic then, I suppose."
"There is an untold story here," Megan said as she examined the photo. "In those days, a Chinese man and a Mexican woman...?"
"Yes. In fact, it's a bit of local folklore." Felina said in a low voice. She took the album back and closed it, caressing its worn leather cover. "Ah, where to start? My grandmother worked at the first Rosa's Cantina. That building burned down in 1958 and this one was built on the same site. Felina Martinez was a beautiful young woman from Sonora. She worked as a barmaid and cleaner, but what drew crowds of customers was the way she danced to the Spanish guitar. Apparently, she was quite something to watch. She had many admirers."
Megan and Archie said nothing, listening intently, and the woman went on, "In the first year of the new century, a man walked in from out of the desert. A Chinese laborer who spoke good English. That was Wai. He took odd jobs around town, and at night he would sit in the rear of the cantina and watch my grandmother dance. There is no reason to think she was more than merely polite to him, but he was smitten. Then one night, everything went wrong."
Felina placed the photo album onto the railing and looked up at her visitors. "A young cowboy came in. He drank with enthusiasm, sang and whooped and bragged about himself. According to the newspaper account, he shared a drink with my grandmother, which was something she never did. Wai was enraged, he slapped the cowboy in the face and challenged him.. in those days, that was taken very seriously.
"Since Wai was not armed, the cowboy- his name was Billy Harges- unbuckled his gunbelt and put it aside. He raised his fists to fight and Wai killed him by kicking him in the side of the neck. This was considered cowardly, men fought with their hands. Also, since he was Chinese and his victim was white, Wai Cho-Lam knew he was likely to be lynched without a trial. Here he made his biggest mistake. Wai ran outside and stole a horse to ride away."
"Oh, that WAS bad," Archie said.
"Yes. Horse stealing was a hanging offense and with good reason. If you took a man's horse out in the desert, you condemned him to death. Wai was gone for six months. Then, one night, evidently he felt he had to see my grandmother again. I think he just wanted to apologize but the town was convinced he intended to abduct her. A few horsemen saw him outside of town and chased him here. As he reached the door, one of the pursuers put a rifle bullet through his chest. Newspapers tell that he died there on the porch, with my grandmother Felina cradling him and give him one farewell kiss."
"What a sad story..." said Archie, completely touched by it and not being sarcastic at all.
"Ah, but that was not the end. That night, grandmother went to view his body, which had been left in a barn. Somehow Wai Cho-Lan stirred and came back to life, with blood on the front and back of his shirt and the bullet holes showing. And grandmother Felina went back to her room for a few things, saddled her own pony and ran away with him."
Felina paused for so long that Archie forgot his manners and blurted, "Well, then what happened?"
"Almost two years later, my grandmother came back with a newborn boy. She would not say what had happened to Wai Cho-Lan. It was quite a local scandal, but her family loved her and were gracious enough to take her back and welcome the baby as one of their own. In time, the boy grew up and married a girl from the Wainwright family.. their child was my father."
Megan finally said, "And what is the connection with the Broken Neck Ghost?"
"First, I think you should meet the drifter who showed up. He has been helping out at Larkin's General Store in exchange for meals. I think you should talk to him and then you will begin to understand."
"Very well." Trom Girl rose to her feet and gazed down the street. "Is that the store there, two blocks down?"
"Yes," said Felina, not rising or looking up. "Please come back and tell me what you think. I... well, I am so confused."
Megan touched the woman's shoulder very lightly and stepped down off the porch. "We will look into this," she promised. Followed by Archie, she went to the sidewalk and strode briskly down the street.
"I have a sort of theory..." he began.
"It is too early for that," Megan interrupted. Often, her manners were more blunt than they really should have been. "Let us collect more data first."
"Fine," said Archie. Under his breath, he muttered, "Be that way."
III.
They found Larkin's General Store was a slightly rundown old building on the main street. A staircase on the outside ran up to a door, suggesting at least one apartment was being rented on the second floor. On the sidewalk in front of the store was a stack of plastic lawn chairs and some fifty pound bags of grass seed. Archie reached up for the brass handle of the front door but Megan touched his sleeve.
"Wait a second," she said quietly. "I heard something behind the building." A rutted dirt area led to the back of the store and they walked along it to find the drifter.
An open gallon jar of white paint sat on some newspapers with a stick protruding up from it. Swiping a broad brush across the back wall of the store was a tall, lanky man in plain long-sleeved work shirt and pants, with heavy walking shoes that had seen a lot of wear. His head had been shaven but showed a five-o'clock shadow across it. The hair growing in was white. Hearing them approach, the man straightened to face them. He seemed Chinese, with a single eyelid fold and a long solemn face. His tawny skin was darkened by severe sun exposure.
Watching them approach, the man said nothing but waited for them to speak.
Finally, Megan began. "We were told the story of what happened in Rosa's Cantina a long time ago. The Chinese worker, the wild young cowboy and Felina, the girl they both loved."
Speaking slowly as if considering each word, the drifter answered, "It is a well known story in this area."
"And your name might be?" asked Trom Girl.
"My name?" He did not continue for what seemed like an unreasonably long time. "It does not matter. Call me what you like. Buddy, pal... these are often used."
Archie introduced himself and his partner. "We've come a long way to learn about the ghost sightings."
Without looking at them further, the drifter dipped the brush in the paint, wiped off the excess and began work again. "This world is full of ghosts," he said at last.
"We were shown a photo of a man named Wai Cho-Lan. To be honest, I can not see any difference between him and you," Megan told the man.
The drifter did not answer. He continued painting the wall slowly and carefully.
"Of course that picture had been taken in 1902," Trom Girl went on. "You couldn't be the same man. That would make you over a hundred and thirty years old."
The drifter paused and smiled very faintly. "We live as many years as are given to us, miss. It is not our decision."
"Well, suppose we call you Wai then!" Archie snapped a bit irritably. "You know, just for convenience. What exactly are you doing in Alto Paso?"
"A man must be somewhere. I work for food and a place to sleep. But then, who does not?"
"I can see you are not going to be much help to us," Archie grumbled.
Turning his head, the man they called Wai regarded them with a gentle expression. "I do not believe that you really need my help. I think you two are more than able to find the answers you seek."
Megan Salenger tried a winsome smile, which often worked but did not seem to have any effect here. "Is there anything you can tell us? Anything at all?"
Wai lowered his head and seemed to be studying the ground. "I would tell you... that there is nothing to fear. Shadows fade when it is their time to fade."
"I admit I'm disappointed with you," Archie said. "I think you could be a big help if you wanted to." He folded thick arms over a massive chest and glowered. Most people would have been at least intimidated but Wai seemed not to notice.
Megan touched Archie by the shoulder and indicated they should leave. Giving the drifter a parting glance, she said quietly, "We will be staying in town a few days if you change your mind. Standing by when people need help is not the way of Tel Shai."
That certainly got a reaction. The man they called Wai froze motionless, then turned his head to gaze at them with the first hints of emotion they had seen on his poker face. "Tel..Shai. I have not heard those words in a long time."
"The Order of Tel Shai still exists!" Trom Girl told him. "I myself am a knight. I study under Teachers Jathis and Chael."
Wai bent and dipped the brush in the can of paint again. The moment of response had passed. After a moment, he said, "I believe we will meet again."
With that, the Trom Girl tugged on Archie's sleeve and they both went back toward the front of the store and headed further into town. The drifter wiped the paint brush clean and stood there motionless for a long time.
IV.
Walking along the sidewalk, watching cars pass by, Megan and Archie got a feel for the town of Alto Paso. There was a hardware store, a pharmacy and a used clothing boutique. The post office stood back from the street in a little lot of its own, an American flag flying overhead. In the near distance behind a sparse trees, they spotted the spire of a church.
"What was that about Tel Shai?" Archie asked as they stood in front of a garage that advertising body work and state inspections. "What made you think of that?"
"I am not completely sure. It seems to have been some clue that my subconscious mind picked up but I cannot be more specific." She looked up at him with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "The longer I am in Human society, the more I develop Human traits. I have hunches and guesses. The Trom discouraged such practices."
Archie smiled and put an arm around her narrow shoulders. "Best of both worlds. Anyway, it sure seemed to get his attention. I figure we're going to be hanging out in Rosa's Cantina tonight?"
"That seems the logical step. You don't seem to like Wai."
"Ahhh... he just rubs me the wrong way. He acts like he's handing out deep wise thoughts but there's nothing there." Archie was gazing down the street and pointed to a three-story building with tan aluminum siding. "Looks like a hotel there."
Trom Girl followed his indication. "Good. We will find a base of operations convenient. Do you want to check in now?"
"Might as well." They strolled down to the CRESTWOOD HOTEL, with its porch that boasted potted plants and a bench swinging on chains. Megan used her KDF expense account to pay for a room for the next two days. The old woman behind the counter asked if they had luggage, and Megan answered that it was in their car and they would bring it over. The woman handed them a pair of old-fashioned metal keys and apologized for not going up to show them the room.
"Them stairs are hard on my knees," she said. "I'm not the young thing you are."
"That is quite all right," the Trom Girl said. "We are interested in a local legend. The Broken-Neck Ghost?"
"Oh, it's more than a legend. My brother-in-law saw the ghost walking on the street one rainy night. And my own father got a glimpse of the ghost thirty years ago, the night Louisa Martinez was killed."
"Wait, what? That's news. You mean the mother of the Felina Martinez who runs Rosa's Cantina?" blurted Archie. "We hadn't heard of that."
"Oh, it's all too true." The old woman shook her head and seemed genuinely sad at the memory. "Louisa was a decent woman. Everyone in town thought the world of her. She was found behind the bar of Rosa's after hours. With.. with her neck broken. Whoever did it must have been mighty strong."
Megan and Archie exchanged startled glances. "The murder was never solved?" asked the Trom Girl.
"I'm afraid not. No one in town had any possible motive. No likely suspects at all. The daughter, Felina, was living over in Palenville at the time. She moved back to take over the Cantina 'cause she inherited it but she had no interest in the business at all." The clerk gazed somberly at the faces of her customers. "That was the night my father caught a glimpse of the ghost walking away from town. It's not a happy story."
"No," agreed Megan. "It's not. Thank you, ma'am. We're going up to our room now."
No elevator was in sight. They walked up two flights of wide creaky stairs and found their room was plain but scrubbed clean. The sheets and pillows smelled fresh, the windows overlooking the back yard of the hotel had been wiped that day. Even the bathroom was spotless.
"They take good care of this place," Archie said. He dropped down in a chair and started unlacing his heavy work boots.
In the bathroom, Megan was scrubbing her face and hands with steaming soapy water. "We are both tired, my love. A plane flight and a whole day in a rented car. Perhaps we should rest here, get a meal and go to Rosa's after dark."
"Okay." The big mechanic went into the bathroom after she emerged and began scrubbing himself in turn. "Maybe I'm just crabby because I'm hot and tired."
After turning on the window AC unit, Megan hung her leather vest on the nightstand beside the bed. She took out an electronic device that fit within her hand and adjusted its control dials, then placed it on the nightstand within reach before stretching out gratefully on top of the bedspread.
Wiping his hands, Archie had watched her actions. "That beam projector of yours. Expecting trouble, hon?"
"Just a standard precaution," she answered. As Archie lowered himself on the bed and adjusted the pillows behind his head, Megan rolled over and cuddled up next to him. She placed an arm across his chest, mumbled something incoherent and was instantly asleep. Archie smiled at her affectionately, took a few deep breaths and drifted off himself.
V.
It was dark when they awoke and since they had not turned on any lights when they had entered the room, Archie was confused for a few seconds about where he was and what he was doing there. Then he felt Megan stir beside him. As she sat up, she said, "Oh that's better. I didn't realize how tired I must have been."
Archie stumbled to where he remembered the bathroom being, stubbing his toe on a chair along the way. When he emerged a minute later, he found a bedside lamp. "Okay. Well, should I run and fetch our knapsacks and bring them here? You want a shower and change before the mayhem starts?"
Megan stood up and stretched, adjusting her T-shirt back into her waistband. She looked out the window and frowned. "I don't think so, my dear. It's later than I expected. Maybe we should proceed directly to Rosa's Cantina?"
"I suppose," Archie agreed as he sat on the edge of the bed and started lacing up his work shoes. "Be a shame to get freshened up and miss the ghost because of it. Say, you know what I was wondering?"
"I have no way of knowing what you were wondering," she told him in complete seriousness.
"Just an expression, hon. What made you think that guy knew anything about Tel Shai?"
The Trom Girl watched him get ready. She had actually left her sneakers on and only had to snatch up her leather vest to get going. "I remembered the name. Wai Cho-Lan was a Tiger Fury in the 19th Century. Shiro told me about him once. Wai was supposed to have come to California to help protect Chinese railroad workers. No one knows what happened to him. He never reported back to the Order."
"Wow. Well, I've seen a lot of strange things since I started going on these Trom Girl Mysteries with you. But that guy we saw painting the store today sure didn't look like he was a hundred and thirty years old."
"More like a hundred and forty," Megan said. "I remember hearing Wai Cho-Lan was born in 1864. It's not completely impossible. Tagra tea does slow aging and the earlier in life a person begins the regimen, the longer their active lifespan."
"Still. A hundred and forty, come on." Archie went over to the hotel room door and waited there as she tucked the beam projector in a vest pocket and joined him. "What I think, I think he's most likely the grandson of the original Wai. The same way we met the granddaughter of the original Felina."
"That seems reasonable," Megan said as if avoiding a debate. They headed down three flights of stairs and she suddenly smiled slightly. "Oh it just occurred to me. We checked into a hotel, went in the room and are now coming out three hours later. The desk clerk will have formed an opinion of what we came here to do!"
Archie gave a sharp barking laugh. "Let her. Let her have her cheap thrill. And who knows, maybe there will be no ghost sighting tonight and we'll have some free time..."
"That would not be a problem," she said as she linked her arm through hers. But no one was in the lobby as they passed through and they stepped out in a night that had grown surprisingly chilly. Quite a few people were out and about, socializing and drifting in and out the shops. They passed two middle-aged men locked in a heated debate about Harry Truman, then three teenage girls discussing the boots displayed in a store window.
As they strolled through town, Archie said, "You know, this whole situation seems familiar. Like I heard about it before, except I think the fight was between two cowboys and one of them shot the other...."
"I did some research on the plane," Megan responded. "The incident in 1902 inspired many similar stories. It has been included in books on folklore, a few songs and an episode of a TV series about the supernatural." In a minute, Megan and Archie were approaching Rosa's Cantina.
Bright yellow light spilled out into the gravel parking light. More than a dozen vehicles were arranged in a rough line, about half of them pick-up trucks. From within, Country music and laughter poured out. And, standing near three motorcycles, three big bruisers surrounded the man called Wai. As Megan and Archie approached, one of them was jabbing Wai in the chest with a finger.
"Oh, this kind of thing gets me mad," Archie rumbled. "Weekend bikers thinking they're tough!" He started walking quicker but the Trom Girl held him back with a hand on his sleeve.
"Wait," she almost whispered. "I believe he is not the one in any danger."
The three burly men were wearing heavy boots, jeans with the knees worn, and either a leather jacket or a thick flannel shirt. Two had full beards, one had a bushy mustache that stretched down the side of his mouth. Standing calmly within the circle they made, Wai waited with head slightly lowered.
"You was warned before about hanging out here!" said the biker facing Wai. "Do we need to put a sign up?"
"Miss Martinez has said I am welcome in the cantina," Wai answered mildly.
"After what happened to her granny? Like hell." The man gripped the front of Wai's shirt with his left hand and drew a meaty right fist back up by his ear. To quickly for anyone but Megan to follow, Wai drove his own right arm up under the man's left, seized the back of the man's head and pivoted sharply. Completely unprepared, the biker whirled off his feet and around to collide with his buddy who had been standing behind the drifter. They both fell to the ground in a confused tangle of arms and legs.
Even as those two fell, the third charged in and was met with an open palm to the chest that stopped him cold in mid-step. With a hoarse wheeze, the third biker dropped to the ground in a seated position and struggled to catch his breath.
"Please," said Wai, "I do not wish any confrontation."
Behind him, the lead biker had gotten back up and took a single menacing step forward. He stopped short. The bottom of a worn work boot was just grazing his nose, and as Wai lowered his leg again, the biker realized a solid kick to the face had been pulled at the last fraction of an inch before contact. He gulped audibly.
"You got some sort of kung fu, is that it?" he asked.
"I will go inside now," Wai said in the same slow measured tone as always. "You men are free to do as you choose." With that, the drifter turned and headed toward the cantina. The three bikers got themselves organized and went toward their Harleys to leave the scene. The one who had been struck in the chest seemed to be all right, but he was rubbing where he had been hit.
"Did that chink have a hammer in his hand or somethin'?" he asked.
"Shut up, Keith."
Approaching the open door of the cantina, Wai found Megan and Archie waiting for him. He slowed as he neared them. "Not many know what you know."
The Trom Girl was standing with her arms folded across her chest. She nodded at his words. "I have studied under Teacher Chael for six years. I know Kumundu when I see it. You have not been his student within my lifetime, he accepts only a few and I have been told their names."
The drifter made no comment. He bowed his head slightly and went between them into the cantina. Left behind, Archie raised his eyebrows and whistled, "Can't say I'm too surprised at seeing that."
"We might as well go in and await developments," Megan said. "I am very hungry, Archie. I realize we have not eaten since last night. Do you like Mexican food?"
"I don't like it, I love it," he answered as he followed her in. Felina greeted them just inside and escorted them to an empty table. The cantina was not packed, but had enough patrons standing around drinking and chatting to make it seem lively. Almost all were men, with Megan and Felina being the only females. All the patrons were white, as well. When Wai entered unobtrusively and took a seat in a corner back almost out of sight, he received several unfriendly glares. Felina handed him a tumbler of ice water without being asked but then left him without socializing.
Megan and Archie ordered mixed beef and chicken fajitas with onions and bell peppers, as well as sour cream as a condient. As it arrived steaming before them, Archie also received a bottle of beer which had drops of condensation on it. He drained it almost in a gulp and ordered another.
"Oh, I was thinking about getting that all day," he sighed as he dug into his meal. "I'll go slower with the second one."
"That's up to your judgement," said the Trom Girl. She took a mouthful of the fajita and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. "Alcohol has no effect on me, because of my tagra regimen. I heal from its effects instantly."
"Your loss," Archie mumbled through a full mouth. After a minute, he said, "So, what about that guy over there? Do you think he's the original Wai Cho-Lan or a grandson or an identical stranger or what?"
It took forever for Megan to eat, which was something Archie had just gotten used to. Her Trom upbringing had given her many fussy habits. She did not rush while chewing, and answered a moment later, "I believe he is the same individual who killed that cowboy on this very spot more than a century ago."
Archie was careful to take only a sip this time. "So, uh, are you likely to live to be a hundred and forty, too?"
"It's possible," she said. "But in practice, we Tel Shai knights take so much damage that our lifespans are only slightly longer than usual. I've already been shot, beaten up, frozen, drowned and electrocuted, not to mention receiving gralic blasts. The tagra healing and the Kumundu training has enabled me to survive and come back to normal but there has to be some cumulative effect on my body."
"You don't have one scar. I've seen every inch of you."
The Trom Girl grinned unexpectedly, making her look much younger. "I know you have!"
They sat and ate, and their conversation drifted to more mundane topics. Archie's younger sister had given birth to her third child in three years, and they discussed what presents to bring when they returned to New York. Megan got a little melancholy as she reminded him that she had no family of her own, being an orphan raised by the cold dispassionate Trom councils.
"Yet you turned out so warm and loving," Archie told her quietly.
"You had much to do with that. I know I am lucky." She took a sip of her club soda and glanced around the cantina. "Archie.. where did everyone go?"
He looked up in surprise. Only one man was still at the bar and he was putting money down before saying goodnight to Felina. In the corner, Wai still sat silently, hands clasped before him and head lowered as if asleep.
"That's funny," Archie said. The big man sat up straighter, "Did it get kind of cold in here, you think?"
"Yes. I estimate it is fifty-six on your Fahrenheit scale. Yet the air conditioner is not on. Strange." The Trom Girl stood up, pushing her chair back behind her. "All of the people have left, but it is only eleven o'clock."
As she spoke, the jukebox clicked off and dead silence filled the cantina.
VI.
Felina came over, visibly nervous. She was taking off the apron she had worn while tending bar. In the full dark skirt and off-the-shoulder white blouse, she resembled her grandmother in that faded photo exactly. "Oh my God. What is going on?"
By now, Archie had also gotten to his feet and walked over to tower reassuringly over the two women. He placed a big heavy hand on Felina's shoulder. "Something's in the air, all right."
Felina kept stealing glances at the door. "I don't understand. Why is it freezing in here? It's seventy outside."
"I suggest that you all should leave now," said a calm voice behind them. Wai Cho-Lan had left the corner and moved on noiseless feet to stand almost within reach. "The wheel has fully turned. The balance must be restored."
"Oh, save the philosopy," Archie began but he stopped short as the door to the cantina opened and all the air in that room seemed to be sucked out into the night. Standing in the doorway was a young man wearing boots, Levi jeans, a blue denim shirt and a kerchief. He had long dirty brown hair and bushy sideburns, with blue eyes that glittered like ice.
His head was bent far to one side, the bones in his neck clearly showing at the curve. When she saw this, Felina Martinez gave a long ringing scream and stepped behind her guests.
"God-DAMN!" Archie McAllister said. "He, uh, he looks solid. You can't see through him or anything."
The Trom Girl was peering intently at the presence in the doorway, but she made no move toward it. When Archie started past her toward the door, she stopped him with an arm across his chest. "Wait. Observe."
Without a word, Wai walked over to the middle of the cantina and sank slowly to one knee. He placed his palms on the sawdust-covered floor and bowed his head. Moving in equal silence, the young cowboy strode over to stand in front of him. No one else took a breath.
"Ready?" asked the cowboy in a hollow distant voice.
"Yes," answered Wai Cho-Lan.
The apparition reached down and barely touched the kneeling man, yet Wai's head snapped violently to one side with a dull cracking noise. He fell to the floor and the cowboy was abruptly gone as thoroughly as a light being turned off.
"Jesus, save us! Blessed Mary, save us!" cried Felina in shock. She swayed unsteadily and Megan braced her up with both hands.
"Whoa. I have no idea what to say," Archie mumbled. "I honestly thought it would be just another hoax."
"You may need to sit down," Megan told Felina. "Breathe deeply and slowly if you can."
In an unexpectedly steady voice, the woman said, "I feel relieved somehow. Isn't that odd? But I only feel a sense of relief. As if a weight had been lifted."
Before the Trom Girl could comment, fire broke out on the floor along all four walls. It started without visible cause, yellow streamers that rose up toward ceiling eagerly as smoke swirled heavily toward them.
"What? What?" Felina yelled. She began to rush toward the bar. "Let me get the extinguisher....'
"Stop her, Archie!" snapped Megan. Her partner automatically obeyed and seized the Mexican woman around the waist, lifting her clear off the floor.
"This place is going way too fast," he shouted as he headed for the open doorway with Megan right behind him. As soon as they had raced out into the parking lot, the roof of the building fell inward in a geyser of sparks that shot up into the darkness.
Already, the townspeople of Alto Paso were rushing up from all directions. They formed a loose mass at a safe distance and all were talking over each other. One old man with a scruffy wite beard came up to the three who stood nearest the fire.
"Are you okay, Miss Felina? What happened? Look at that blaze!"
"I don't rightly know," she answered. "It just.. happened. Without warning."
"Never saw a building go up so fast. Here comes the fire truck." The old man gave Megan and Archie a dubious scrutiny. "I sure hope no one was inside."
"Wai was," Felina replied in a nearly inaudible tone.
"The Chinese fellow? Dang. Sorry to hear that. He's beyond saving now."
"No," Felina said. She smiled faintly. "Actually, he's finally been saved."
6/7/2016_
A Trom Girl Mystery
4/2/2005
I.
"Driving five solid hours and we're STILL in Texas," grumbled Archie McAllister. He reached behind him with a thick hairy arm and snatched his bottle of water from the back seat to finish it off. "If you asked me, they should have cut the territory up and made it into two states of a halfway reasonable size."
Sitting beside him as calm and detached as usual, the Trom Girl lowered her wire-rim tinted glasses down over her snub nose and studied his profile. "Texas is interesting in that it was a separate Republic before it joined the United States. To have asked its inhabitants to willingly be split-"
"Aw hell, honey, I know that," Archie interupted gently. Despite his bulk, the big bearlike man had a mild disposition and seldom raised his voice to anyone. "I guess I'm just blowing off steam."
Megan Salenger rinsed her mouth with a swallow from her own water bottle, rolled down the window on her side and primly spit out the window. Outside was nothing but the highway, hot dry dirt and sparse shrubs. Once in a while, a stunted post oak stood by itself. At twenty-five, the Trom Girl was slim and even boyish in build, only five feet three and not much more than a hundred pounds. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and khaki shorts, with hiking shoes and ankle-length socks. After a moment, she said in a sheepish tone, "To be honest, my love, I think I did not choose the airport closest to our destination. I was in a hurry."
Archie snorted and shook his head. "Well, we all make goofs, Megan. Anyway, I'd still rather be driving down the highway all day with a beautiful woman as company than another day working on bikes at the shop."
The Trom Girl reached over and rested a small hand on his arm. "I enjoy being with you for its own sake. Your boss will not expect you back for three more days, so we may have a little vacation for ourselves."
"Hey, more tumbleweeds!" Archie yelled. "Look at those things, I heard that if they get up under your hot engine they can start a fire."
"We are almost at Alto Paso. Another eleven miles, I calculate." Megan leaned back in her seat and gazed forward at the horizon which shimmered in the heat. "We will learn about the ghost of Rosa's Cantina."
"That's another thing," Archie muttered. He glanced over at her with gentle blue eyes in a wide face that bristled with three day's of black beard. "We already settled a ghost cowboy. That Phantom Owlhoot nonsense."
"It's an odd coincidence," she agreed. "The Phantom Owlhoot turned out to be merely a hoax concealing criminal activity but I am not so certain about the Rosa's Cantina ghost. Also called the Broken Neck Ghost."
"Yeah, well, we'll see. If I get within reach of a ghost and swing my arm through it, maybe then I'll believe it."
"It is good policy to be skeptical," she agreed. "See that farmhouse over there? We are nearing the town. Archie, are you tired of coming with me on these investigations?"
The big man laughed easily, reached over and patted her bare leg. "Naw. Not at all. I love going on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries.' They're so... unpredictable. We run into the damndest people and situations."
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "And there is no one I would rather spend time with on these cases. The Trom who raised me hoped to dampen all my emotional responses but obviously they failed. I still have Human feelings."
"And everyone who knows you is glad, honey. Here we go. Couple of buildings. Looks like an old bus stop where the road into town splits off. There's the sign. Alto Paso, population 1,877. Not counting dogs and chickens, I bet."
"Look!" she cried out as she pointed through the windshield. "That little wooden structure with the cars parked next to it. Rosa's Cantina."
Archie swung over into the gravel parking lot. The cafe was not large, a white-boarded structure with a flat tarred roof and a big picture window on the side facing the road. In red script was written ROSA'S CANTINA - LIVE MUSIC FRIDAY AND SATURDAY NIGHTS. In one corner of the window was a blue neon sign COLD BEER ON TAP. A plank porch ran the length of the front, with a sturdy railing against which patrons could lean or even sit upon.
In the parking lot were a red Ford pick-up truck, a rusted Oldsmobile and two Harleys with helmets resting on their saddles. Archie pulled up some distance away and studied the scene. "What do you think, hon?"
"Nothing seems out of place," she decided at last. "These vehicles have appropriate plates and inspection stickers. They belong to local people. There is a shotgun in a rack inside the Ford, but I can see from here that it is safely locked in place. I see nothing to cause suspicion."
"Good enough for me," the big man grunted as he swung out of the Jeep and stretched luxuriously. "That cold beer sign gave me an idea."
Coming around to stand beside him, a full twelve inches shorter and more than a hundred pounds lighter, Megan tugged on a leather vest which she left unfastened. It had a dozen pockets, many concealed on the inside, which held the advanced tools and gadgets she used. A layer of the flexible Trom armor lined the inside of the vest as well. "Am I presentable?"
Archie grinned at her, with her thick tousled black hair and the tinted sunglasses emphasizing her inquisitive foxlike face. "You are all kinds of cute."
"That is what I wanted to hear," she answered with a satisfied smile. "Let's go inside and meet the person who requested our investigation."
From the open doorway, a tall handsome woman with glossy black hair wiped her hands with a washcloth. "That would be me," she called out. "I'm Felina Martinez."
II.
Megan and Archie introduced themselves, and were ushered over to a corner of the porch where some wicker chairs were arranged. As they settled down, Felina studied them thoughtfully with huge dark eyes that always seemed sad. She appeared to be in her late forties.
"I was hoping that Jeremy Bane would come," she said after a moment. "He was the one I knew. More than fifteen years ago, he came to Alto Paso to clean up a gang of bandits who were crossing the border at night. Ah, I was so much younger then. Jeremy left me a number to contact him with."
The Trom Girl shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Well, Mr Bane has stepped down from leading the Kenneth Dred Foundation. He runs his own detective agency now, but we have come in his place." Seeing disappointment on Felina's face, Megan added, "We are also knights of Tel Shai and were trained by Mr Bane himself."
"Of course," the woman said. She glanced back at the open door to the cantina, through which honkytonk music could be heard. "Pepe is tending bar, he can handle things for a few minutes. Miss Salenger... Mr McAllister, I called your organization because strange things are happening in this town again. The broken-neck ghost has been seen wandering the streets in the middle of the night. And a strange drifter, very much flesh and blood, is loitering in the area and making people nervous. He seems to start fights wherever he goes."
"How can these two factors be related?" Megan asked.
"There is a connection, I believe," said Felina. "But it is hard to believe. Here, let me show you something." She rose to go back inside and returned quickly with a large leatherbound photo album. Handing the album to Megan, she opened it to the end.
"Mostly of course these are pictures from my own wedding and of my sisters and their children," Felina Martinez explained. "But this album belonged to my grandmother. Here. On the very last page. This photo is from 1902. The Old West was settling down by then, but in a border town like this, frontier ways hung on until the First World War."
An 8x10 sepia photo, creased and stained in one corner, took up most of the page. It showed a couple, the woman seated in an overstuffed chair with the man standing behind her and both staring at the camera with stiff uncomfortable expressions.
The woman looked much like Felina, with the same thick black hair down to her waist. She wore a full-length dark skirt, a beautiful white brocaded blouse and had a decorative shawl across her shoulders.
"Yes, that is my grandmother. I was named after her," Felina whispered. "And there is my grandfather, Wai Cho-Lam. He was known by the American name John."
The grandfather seemed to be quite tall for a Chinese, standing thin and straight in simple work clothes of a long-sleeved shirt and pants, both dark. His head was shaven, and he had a long mournful face.
"Well, I see the family resemblance," Archie said as he peered from behind over Megan's shoulder. "You have the same beautiful eyes."
"Thank you. In old letters, my grandfather wrote that her eyes were 'blacker than night,' and that they cast a spell over him. People were more poetic then, I suppose."
"There is an untold story here," Megan said as she examined the photo. "In those days, a Chinese man and a Mexican woman...?"
"Yes. In fact, it's a bit of local folklore." Felina said in a low voice. She took the album back and closed it, caressing its worn leather cover. "Ah, where to start? My grandmother worked at the first Rosa's Cantina. That building burned down in 1958 and this one was built on the same site. Felina Martinez was a beautiful young woman from Sonora. She worked as a barmaid and cleaner, but what drew crowds of customers was the way she danced to the Spanish guitar. Apparently, she was quite something to watch. She had many admirers."
Megan and Archie said nothing, listening intently, and the woman went on, "In the first year of the new century, a man walked in from out of the desert. A Chinese laborer who spoke good English. That was Wai. He took odd jobs around town, and at night he would sit in the rear of the cantina and watch my grandmother dance. There is no reason to think she was more than merely polite to him, but he was smitten. Then one night, everything went wrong."
Felina placed the photo album onto the railing and looked up at her visitors. "A young cowboy came in. He drank with enthusiasm, sang and whooped and bragged about himself. According to the newspaper account, he shared a drink with my grandmother, which was something she never did. Wai was enraged, he slapped the cowboy in the face and challenged him.. in those days, that was taken very seriously.
"Since Wai was not armed, the cowboy- his name was Billy Harges- unbuckled his gunbelt and put it aside. He raised his fists to fight and Wai killed him by kicking him in the side of the neck. This was considered cowardly, men fought with their hands. Also, since he was Chinese and his victim was white, Wai Cho-Lam knew he was likely to be lynched without a trial. Here he made his biggest mistake. Wai ran outside and stole a horse to ride away."
"Oh, that WAS bad," Archie said.
"Yes. Horse stealing was a hanging offense and with good reason. If you took a man's horse out in the desert, you condemned him to death. Wai was gone for six months. Then, one night, evidently he felt he had to see my grandmother again. I think he just wanted to apologize but the town was convinced he intended to abduct her. A few horsemen saw him outside of town and chased him here. As he reached the door, one of the pursuers put a rifle bullet through his chest. Newspapers tell that he died there on the porch, with my grandmother Felina cradling him and give him one farewell kiss."
"What a sad story..." said Archie, completely touched by it and not being sarcastic at all.
"Ah, but that was not the end. That night, grandmother went to view his body, which had been left in a barn. Somehow Wai Cho-Lan stirred and came back to life, with blood on the front and back of his shirt and the bullet holes showing. And grandmother Felina went back to her room for a few things, saddled her own pony and ran away with him."
Felina paused for so long that Archie forgot his manners and blurted, "Well, then what happened?"
"Almost two years later, my grandmother came back with a newborn boy. She would not say what had happened to Wai Cho-Lan. It was quite a local scandal, but her family loved her and were gracious enough to take her back and welcome the baby as one of their own. In time, the boy grew up and married a girl from the Wainwright family.. their child was my father."
Megan finally said, "And what is the connection with the Broken Neck Ghost?"
"First, I think you should meet the drifter who showed up. He has been helping out at Larkin's General Store in exchange for meals. I think you should talk to him and then you will begin to understand."
"Very well." Trom Girl rose to her feet and gazed down the street. "Is that the store there, two blocks down?"
"Yes," said Felina, not rising or looking up. "Please come back and tell me what you think. I... well, I am so confused."
Megan touched the woman's shoulder very lightly and stepped down off the porch. "We will look into this," she promised. Followed by Archie, she went to the sidewalk and strode briskly down the street.
"I have a sort of theory..." he began.
"It is too early for that," Megan interrupted. Often, her manners were more blunt than they really should have been. "Let us collect more data first."
"Fine," said Archie. Under his breath, he muttered, "Be that way."
III.
They found Larkin's General Store was a slightly rundown old building on the main street. A staircase on the outside ran up to a door, suggesting at least one apartment was being rented on the second floor. On the sidewalk in front of the store was a stack of plastic lawn chairs and some fifty pound bags of grass seed. Archie reached up for the brass handle of the front door but Megan touched his sleeve.
"Wait a second," she said quietly. "I heard something behind the building." A rutted dirt area led to the back of the store and they walked along it to find the drifter.
An open gallon jar of white paint sat on some newspapers with a stick protruding up from it. Swiping a broad brush across the back wall of the store was a tall, lanky man in plain long-sleeved work shirt and pants, with heavy walking shoes that had seen a lot of wear. His head had been shaven but showed a five-o'clock shadow across it. The hair growing in was white. Hearing them approach, the man straightened to face them. He seemed Chinese, with a single eyelid fold and a long solemn face. His tawny skin was darkened by severe sun exposure.
Watching them approach, the man said nothing but waited for them to speak.
Finally, Megan began. "We were told the story of what happened in Rosa's Cantina a long time ago. The Chinese worker, the wild young cowboy and Felina, the girl they both loved."
Speaking slowly as if considering each word, the drifter answered, "It is a well known story in this area."
"And your name might be?" asked Trom Girl.
"My name?" He did not continue for what seemed like an unreasonably long time. "It does not matter. Call me what you like. Buddy, pal... these are often used."
Archie introduced himself and his partner. "We've come a long way to learn about the ghost sightings."
Without looking at them further, the drifter dipped the brush in the paint, wiped off the excess and began work again. "This world is full of ghosts," he said at last.
"We were shown a photo of a man named Wai Cho-Lan. To be honest, I can not see any difference between him and you," Megan told the man.
The drifter did not answer. He continued painting the wall slowly and carefully.
"Of course that picture had been taken in 1902," Trom Girl went on. "You couldn't be the same man. That would make you over a hundred and thirty years old."
The drifter paused and smiled very faintly. "We live as many years as are given to us, miss. It is not our decision."
"Well, suppose we call you Wai then!" Archie snapped a bit irritably. "You know, just for convenience. What exactly are you doing in Alto Paso?"
"A man must be somewhere. I work for food and a place to sleep. But then, who does not?"
"I can see you are not going to be much help to us," Archie grumbled.
Turning his head, the man they called Wai regarded them with a gentle expression. "I do not believe that you really need my help. I think you two are more than able to find the answers you seek."
Megan Salenger tried a winsome smile, which often worked but did not seem to have any effect here. "Is there anything you can tell us? Anything at all?"
Wai lowered his head and seemed to be studying the ground. "I would tell you... that there is nothing to fear. Shadows fade when it is their time to fade."
"I admit I'm disappointed with you," Archie said. "I think you could be a big help if you wanted to." He folded thick arms over a massive chest and glowered. Most people would have been at least intimidated but Wai seemed not to notice.
Megan touched Archie by the shoulder and indicated they should leave. Giving the drifter a parting glance, she said quietly, "We will be staying in town a few days if you change your mind. Standing by when people need help is not the way of Tel Shai."
That certainly got a reaction. The man they called Wai froze motionless, then turned his head to gaze at them with the first hints of emotion they had seen on his poker face. "Tel..Shai. I have not heard those words in a long time."
"The Order of Tel Shai still exists!" Trom Girl told him. "I myself am a knight. I study under Teachers Jathis and Chael."
Wai bent and dipped the brush in the can of paint again. The moment of response had passed. After a moment, he said, "I believe we will meet again."
With that, the Trom Girl tugged on Archie's sleeve and they both went back toward the front of the store and headed further into town. The drifter wiped the paint brush clean and stood there motionless for a long time.
IV.
Walking along the sidewalk, watching cars pass by, Megan and Archie got a feel for the town of Alto Paso. There was a hardware store, a pharmacy and a used clothing boutique. The post office stood back from the street in a little lot of its own, an American flag flying overhead. In the near distance behind a sparse trees, they spotted the spire of a church.
"What was that about Tel Shai?" Archie asked as they stood in front of a garage that advertising body work and state inspections. "What made you think of that?"
"I am not completely sure. It seems to have been some clue that my subconscious mind picked up but I cannot be more specific." She looked up at him with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "The longer I am in Human society, the more I develop Human traits. I have hunches and guesses. The Trom discouraged such practices."
Archie smiled and put an arm around her narrow shoulders. "Best of both worlds. Anyway, it sure seemed to get his attention. I figure we're going to be hanging out in Rosa's Cantina tonight?"
"That seems the logical step. You don't seem to like Wai."
"Ahhh... he just rubs me the wrong way. He acts like he's handing out deep wise thoughts but there's nothing there." Archie was gazing down the street and pointed to a three-story building with tan aluminum siding. "Looks like a hotel there."
Trom Girl followed his indication. "Good. We will find a base of operations convenient. Do you want to check in now?"
"Might as well." They strolled down to the CRESTWOOD HOTEL, with its porch that boasted potted plants and a bench swinging on chains. Megan used her KDF expense account to pay for a room for the next two days. The old woman behind the counter asked if they had luggage, and Megan answered that it was in their car and they would bring it over. The woman handed them a pair of old-fashioned metal keys and apologized for not going up to show them the room.
"Them stairs are hard on my knees," she said. "I'm not the young thing you are."
"That is quite all right," the Trom Girl said. "We are interested in a local legend. The Broken-Neck Ghost?"
"Oh, it's more than a legend. My brother-in-law saw the ghost walking on the street one rainy night. And my own father got a glimpse of the ghost thirty years ago, the night Louisa Martinez was killed."
"Wait, what? That's news. You mean the mother of the Felina Martinez who runs Rosa's Cantina?" blurted Archie. "We hadn't heard of that."
"Oh, it's all too true." The old woman shook her head and seemed genuinely sad at the memory. "Louisa was a decent woman. Everyone in town thought the world of her. She was found behind the bar of Rosa's after hours. With.. with her neck broken. Whoever did it must have been mighty strong."
Megan and Archie exchanged startled glances. "The murder was never solved?" asked the Trom Girl.
"I'm afraid not. No one in town had any possible motive. No likely suspects at all. The daughter, Felina, was living over in Palenville at the time. She moved back to take over the Cantina 'cause she inherited it but she had no interest in the business at all." The clerk gazed somberly at the faces of her customers. "That was the night my father caught a glimpse of the ghost walking away from town. It's not a happy story."
"No," agreed Megan. "It's not. Thank you, ma'am. We're going up to our room now."
No elevator was in sight. They walked up two flights of wide creaky stairs and found their room was plain but scrubbed clean. The sheets and pillows smelled fresh, the windows overlooking the back yard of the hotel had been wiped that day. Even the bathroom was spotless.
"They take good care of this place," Archie said. He dropped down in a chair and started unlacing his heavy work boots.
In the bathroom, Megan was scrubbing her face and hands with steaming soapy water. "We are both tired, my love. A plane flight and a whole day in a rented car. Perhaps we should rest here, get a meal and go to Rosa's after dark."
"Okay." The big mechanic went into the bathroom after she emerged and began scrubbing himself in turn. "Maybe I'm just crabby because I'm hot and tired."
After turning on the window AC unit, Megan hung her leather vest on the nightstand beside the bed. She took out an electronic device that fit within her hand and adjusted its control dials, then placed it on the nightstand within reach before stretching out gratefully on top of the bedspread.
Wiping his hands, Archie had watched her actions. "That beam projector of yours. Expecting trouble, hon?"
"Just a standard precaution," she answered. As Archie lowered himself on the bed and adjusted the pillows behind his head, Megan rolled over and cuddled up next to him. She placed an arm across his chest, mumbled something incoherent and was instantly asleep. Archie smiled at her affectionately, took a few deep breaths and drifted off himself.
V.
It was dark when they awoke and since they had not turned on any lights when they had entered the room, Archie was confused for a few seconds about where he was and what he was doing there. Then he felt Megan stir beside him. As she sat up, she said, "Oh that's better. I didn't realize how tired I must have been."
Archie stumbled to where he remembered the bathroom being, stubbing his toe on a chair along the way. When he emerged a minute later, he found a bedside lamp. "Okay. Well, should I run and fetch our knapsacks and bring them here? You want a shower and change before the mayhem starts?"
Megan stood up and stretched, adjusting her T-shirt back into her waistband. She looked out the window and frowned. "I don't think so, my dear. It's later than I expected. Maybe we should proceed directly to Rosa's Cantina?"
"I suppose," Archie agreed as he sat on the edge of the bed and started lacing up his work shoes. "Be a shame to get freshened up and miss the ghost because of it. Say, you know what I was wondering?"
"I have no way of knowing what you were wondering," she told him in complete seriousness.
"Just an expression, hon. What made you think that guy knew anything about Tel Shai?"
The Trom Girl watched him get ready. She had actually left her sneakers on and only had to snatch up her leather vest to get going. "I remembered the name. Wai Cho-Lan was a Tiger Fury in the 19th Century. Shiro told me about him once. Wai was supposed to have come to California to help protect Chinese railroad workers. No one knows what happened to him. He never reported back to the Order."
"Wow. Well, I've seen a lot of strange things since I started going on these Trom Girl Mysteries with you. But that guy we saw painting the store today sure didn't look like he was a hundred and thirty years old."
"More like a hundred and forty," Megan said. "I remember hearing Wai Cho-Lan was born in 1864. It's not completely impossible. Tagra tea does slow aging and the earlier in life a person begins the regimen, the longer their active lifespan."
"Still. A hundred and forty, come on." Archie went over to the hotel room door and waited there as she tucked the beam projector in a vest pocket and joined him. "What I think, I think he's most likely the grandson of the original Wai. The same way we met the granddaughter of the original Felina."
"That seems reasonable," Megan said as if avoiding a debate. They headed down three flights of stairs and she suddenly smiled slightly. "Oh it just occurred to me. We checked into a hotel, went in the room and are now coming out three hours later. The desk clerk will have formed an opinion of what we came here to do!"
Archie gave a sharp barking laugh. "Let her. Let her have her cheap thrill. And who knows, maybe there will be no ghost sighting tonight and we'll have some free time..."
"That would not be a problem," she said as she linked her arm through hers. But no one was in the lobby as they passed through and they stepped out in a night that had grown surprisingly chilly. Quite a few people were out and about, socializing and drifting in and out the shops. They passed two middle-aged men locked in a heated debate about Harry Truman, then three teenage girls discussing the boots displayed in a store window.
As they strolled through town, Archie said, "You know, this whole situation seems familiar. Like I heard about it before, except I think the fight was between two cowboys and one of them shot the other...."
"I did some research on the plane," Megan responded. "The incident in 1902 inspired many similar stories. It has been included in books on folklore, a few songs and an episode of a TV series about the supernatural." In a minute, Megan and Archie were approaching Rosa's Cantina.
Bright yellow light spilled out into the gravel parking light. More than a dozen vehicles were arranged in a rough line, about half of them pick-up trucks. From within, Country music and laughter poured out. And, standing near three motorcycles, three big bruisers surrounded the man called Wai. As Megan and Archie approached, one of them was jabbing Wai in the chest with a finger.
"Oh, this kind of thing gets me mad," Archie rumbled. "Weekend bikers thinking they're tough!" He started walking quicker but the Trom Girl held him back with a hand on his sleeve.
"Wait," she almost whispered. "I believe he is not the one in any danger."
The three burly men were wearing heavy boots, jeans with the knees worn, and either a leather jacket or a thick flannel shirt. Two had full beards, one had a bushy mustache that stretched down the side of his mouth. Standing calmly within the circle they made, Wai waited with head slightly lowered.
"You was warned before about hanging out here!" said the biker facing Wai. "Do we need to put a sign up?"
"Miss Martinez has said I am welcome in the cantina," Wai answered mildly.
"After what happened to her granny? Like hell." The man gripped the front of Wai's shirt with his left hand and drew a meaty right fist back up by his ear. To quickly for anyone but Megan to follow, Wai drove his own right arm up under the man's left, seized the back of the man's head and pivoted sharply. Completely unprepared, the biker whirled off his feet and around to collide with his buddy who had been standing behind the drifter. They both fell to the ground in a confused tangle of arms and legs.
Even as those two fell, the third charged in and was met with an open palm to the chest that stopped him cold in mid-step. With a hoarse wheeze, the third biker dropped to the ground in a seated position and struggled to catch his breath.
"Please," said Wai, "I do not wish any confrontation."
Behind him, the lead biker had gotten back up and took a single menacing step forward. He stopped short. The bottom of a worn work boot was just grazing his nose, and as Wai lowered his leg again, the biker realized a solid kick to the face had been pulled at the last fraction of an inch before contact. He gulped audibly.
"You got some sort of kung fu, is that it?" he asked.
"I will go inside now," Wai said in the same slow measured tone as always. "You men are free to do as you choose." With that, the drifter turned and headed toward the cantina. The three bikers got themselves organized and went toward their Harleys to leave the scene. The one who had been struck in the chest seemed to be all right, but he was rubbing where he had been hit.
"Did that chink have a hammer in his hand or somethin'?" he asked.
"Shut up, Keith."
Approaching the open door of the cantina, Wai found Megan and Archie waiting for him. He slowed as he neared them. "Not many know what you know."
The Trom Girl was standing with her arms folded across her chest. She nodded at his words. "I have studied under Teacher Chael for six years. I know Kumundu when I see it. You have not been his student within my lifetime, he accepts only a few and I have been told their names."
The drifter made no comment. He bowed his head slightly and went between them into the cantina. Left behind, Archie raised his eyebrows and whistled, "Can't say I'm too surprised at seeing that."
"We might as well go in and await developments," Megan said. "I am very hungry, Archie. I realize we have not eaten since last night. Do you like Mexican food?"
"I don't like it, I love it," he answered as he followed her in. Felina greeted them just inside and escorted them to an empty table. The cantina was not packed, but had enough patrons standing around drinking and chatting to make it seem lively. Almost all were men, with Megan and Felina being the only females. All the patrons were white, as well. When Wai entered unobtrusively and took a seat in a corner back almost out of sight, he received several unfriendly glares. Felina handed him a tumbler of ice water without being asked but then left him without socializing.
Megan and Archie ordered mixed beef and chicken fajitas with onions and bell peppers, as well as sour cream as a condient. As it arrived steaming before them, Archie also received a bottle of beer which had drops of condensation on it. He drained it almost in a gulp and ordered another.
"Oh, I was thinking about getting that all day," he sighed as he dug into his meal. "I'll go slower with the second one."
"That's up to your judgement," said the Trom Girl. She took a mouthful of the fajita and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. "Alcohol has no effect on me, because of my tagra regimen. I heal from its effects instantly."
"Your loss," Archie mumbled through a full mouth. After a minute, he said, "So, what about that guy over there? Do you think he's the original Wai Cho-Lan or a grandson or an identical stranger or what?"
It took forever for Megan to eat, which was something Archie had just gotten used to. Her Trom upbringing had given her many fussy habits. She did not rush while chewing, and answered a moment later, "I believe he is the same individual who killed that cowboy on this very spot more than a century ago."
Archie was careful to take only a sip this time. "So, uh, are you likely to live to be a hundred and forty, too?"
"It's possible," she said. "But in practice, we Tel Shai knights take so much damage that our lifespans are only slightly longer than usual. I've already been shot, beaten up, frozen, drowned and electrocuted, not to mention receiving gralic blasts. The tagra healing and the Kumundu training has enabled me to survive and come back to normal but there has to be some cumulative effect on my body."
"You don't have one scar. I've seen every inch of you."
The Trom Girl grinned unexpectedly, making her look much younger. "I know you have!"
They sat and ate, and their conversation drifted to more mundane topics. Archie's younger sister had given birth to her third child in three years, and they discussed what presents to bring when they returned to New York. Megan got a little melancholy as she reminded him that she had no family of her own, being an orphan raised by the cold dispassionate Trom councils.
"Yet you turned out so warm and loving," Archie told her quietly.
"You had much to do with that. I know I am lucky." She took a sip of her club soda and glanced around the cantina. "Archie.. where did everyone go?"
He looked up in surprise. Only one man was still at the bar and he was putting money down before saying goodnight to Felina. In the corner, Wai still sat silently, hands clasped before him and head lowered as if asleep.
"That's funny," Archie said. The big man sat up straighter, "Did it get kind of cold in here, you think?"
"Yes. I estimate it is fifty-six on your Fahrenheit scale. Yet the air conditioner is not on. Strange." The Trom Girl stood up, pushing her chair back behind her. "All of the people have left, but it is only eleven o'clock."
As she spoke, the jukebox clicked off and dead silence filled the cantina.
VI.
Felina came over, visibly nervous. She was taking off the apron she had worn while tending bar. In the full dark skirt and off-the-shoulder white blouse, she resembled her grandmother in that faded photo exactly. "Oh my God. What is going on?"
By now, Archie had also gotten to his feet and walked over to tower reassuringly over the two women. He placed a big heavy hand on Felina's shoulder. "Something's in the air, all right."
Felina kept stealing glances at the door. "I don't understand. Why is it freezing in here? It's seventy outside."
"I suggest that you all should leave now," said a calm voice behind them. Wai Cho-Lan had left the corner and moved on noiseless feet to stand almost within reach. "The wheel has fully turned. The balance must be restored."
"Oh, save the philosopy," Archie began but he stopped short as the door to the cantina opened and all the air in that room seemed to be sucked out into the night. Standing in the doorway was a young man wearing boots, Levi jeans, a blue denim shirt and a kerchief. He had long dirty brown hair and bushy sideburns, with blue eyes that glittered like ice.
His head was bent far to one side, the bones in his neck clearly showing at the curve. When she saw this, Felina Martinez gave a long ringing scream and stepped behind her guests.
"God-DAMN!" Archie McAllister said. "He, uh, he looks solid. You can't see through him or anything."
The Trom Girl was peering intently at the presence in the doorway, but she made no move toward it. When Archie started past her toward the door, she stopped him with an arm across his chest. "Wait. Observe."
Without a word, Wai walked over to the middle of the cantina and sank slowly to one knee. He placed his palms on the sawdust-covered floor and bowed his head. Moving in equal silence, the young cowboy strode over to stand in front of him. No one else took a breath.
"Ready?" asked the cowboy in a hollow distant voice.
"Yes," answered Wai Cho-Lan.
The apparition reached down and barely touched the kneeling man, yet Wai's head snapped violently to one side with a dull cracking noise. He fell to the floor and the cowboy was abruptly gone as thoroughly as a light being turned off.
"Jesus, save us! Blessed Mary, save us!" cried Felina in shock. She swayed unsteadily and Megan braced her up with both hands.
"Whoa. I have no idea what to say," Archie mumbled. "I honestly thought it would be just another hoax."
"You may need to sit down," Megan told Felina. "Breathe deeply and slowly if you can."
In an unexpectedly steady voice, the woman said, "I feel relieved somehow. Isn't that odd? But I only feel a sense of relief. As if a weight had been lifted."
Before the Trom Girl could comment, fire broke out on the floor along all four walls. It started without visible cause, yellow streamers that rose up toward ceiling eagerly as smoke swirled heavily toward them.
"What? What?" Felina yelled. She began to rush toward the bar. "Let me get the extinguisher....'
"Stop her, Archie!" snapped Megan. Her partner automatically obeyed and seized the Mexican woman around the waist, lifting her clear off the floor.
"This place is going way too fast," he shouted as he headed for the open doorway with Megan right behind him. As soon as they had raced out into the parking lot, the roof of the building fell inward in a geyser of sparks that shot up into the darkness.
Already, the townspeople of Alto Paso were rushing up from all directions. They formed a loose mass at a safe distance and all were talking over each other. One old man with a scruffy wite beard came up to the three who stood nearest the fire.
"Are you okay, Miss Felina? What happened? Look at that blaze!"
"I don't rightly know," she answered. "It just.. happened. Without warning."
"Never saw a building go up so fast. Here comes the fire truck." The old man gave Megan and Archie a dubious scrutiny. "I sure hope no one was inside."
"Wai was," Felina replied in a nearly inaudible tone.
"The Chinese fellow? Dang. Sorry to hear that. He's beyond saving now."
"No," Felina said. She smiled faintly. "Actually, he's finally been saved."
6/7/2016_
