Nightfall (Grim Gate 1) - Page 7

He never looks at me, never speaks or moves more than that one step he takes from the woods. A deep sadness resonates from him, and he surveys the pasture with a pained expression as if he’s looking for a lost love. I’ve fallen deep down the rabbit hole trying to figure out who he is and why he’s tied to this place, but have come up empty-handed, making me think his body was buried somewhere in the woods. I’ve considered going to the police because if his body is in the woods, it deserves to be found.

But what would I say? Hey, I think there might be a body in the woods because a ghost haunts the barn where my horse lives? I’d sound crazy for sure and wouldn’t get taken seriously.

“Hey!” I call back, pulling the hair tie from my wrist, raking my hair into a messy ponytail as I walk. Bob slowly fades from view and Sundance settles back down. The barn is busy, as it always is on Saturdays, and it’s one of the rare places I enjoy the hustle and bustle of people. After hanging my purse up in my tack locker, I head out to the pasture to get Charlie, the pony I use for riding lessons.

I’m unhooking the pasture gate when I get the feeling of eyes on me. I turn, looking through the arena behind me for Bob. I watch Leslie and Sundance, half expecting him to spook again. He canters around the arena twice, not so much as looking at the spot where Bob usually stands.

I turn back around and am suddenly face to face with Bob. My heart jumps into my throat and my lips part as I gasp in shock. Bob never moves from his spot. Never. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Twenty-four years of being a medium should have trained me for this, yet I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the dead man that stands in front of me.

Say something. Right. I should say something. I suck in air, preparing to speak, but get hit with the sickening smell of death. I recoil, eyes watering, and then it’s like Bob is suddenly stuck in reverse, reaching out for me right as he’s yanked backward. His head jerks to the side and a noose appears around his neck as he’s lifted into the trees. His body sways with the wind for a moment and then he disappears.

“The fuck?” I mutter, still not able to move. I blink rapidly, looking up at the trees. Nothing is amiss, and the half-dozen or so horses in the pasture before me are still grazing as if everything is normal.

And maybe it is—to them. But for the last seven years, Bob has stayed in exactly one spot and has never reacted to me, no matter how hard I tried, and I threw things at him before. They passed right through him, of course, but I felt guilty for days.

I let my eyes fall shut, shaking myself. I have to get Charlie and get him ready for a lesson. Focus, Anora. Bob is dead. My student isn’t, and she’s rather difficult. I can’t lose her and risk having to choose between groceries or Mystery’s board next month.

I’d choose Mystery over myself anyway, of course, and speaking of my white Arabian, he nickers softly when he sees me, and then gives me the stink eye when I go to Charlie, not him.

“I’ll be back for you,” I promise, and have to chase after the stubborn pony before I’m able to catch him. I hurry back to the barn and get Charlie ready just in time for Heather to arrive. It’s a bit of a mental fight to keep my attention solely on her for the next hour, and it’s only once she’s gone, Charlie’s back in the pasture, and I’m leading Mystery toward the barn that I can relax.

“You know what?” I tell my horse, stopping halfway between the pasture and the barn. “Let’s just go for a walk in the woods.”

Mystery gently nudges me, wanting me to turn around so he can rub his head against my back. White fur sticks to my sweaty skin, thanks to the late-August heat. I tie his lead rope to his halter, making a makeshift bridle, and hop up on his back.

There are a few miles of winding trails through the forest behind the pastures, and it’s always been my happy place. I relax as I feel Mystery move beneath me, knowing the path and needing little direction from me. I keep the lead rope loosely held on one hand and absentmindedly twist his mane through my fingers of my free hand.

Letting my eyes fall shut, I tip my head up once we get into the woods. Sunlight filters through the trees, warming my face every few paces. I love being out here, alone with my horse. I can let everything bad slip away for a little while.

Tags: Emily Goodwin Grim Gate Paranormal
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