Summary:  Eerie happenings in Virginia City.
Rated: K – Word count:  3158

Ghost Town

Darkness was just beginning to overtake daylight as two young men rode into Virginia City. It was a cold, windless Saturday night, with the promise of a full moon and a much stronger drop in temperature coming as the night progressed. It was not an atmosphere that either man found especially inviting for long rides between home and town, but because it was Saturday night, and because it had been a long week on the Ponderosa ranch, they did it anyway.

The two horses walked placidly along, seeming to be in no more of a rush than the men who rode them as they clopped along the main street. The younger of the two riders looked around the quiet town and frowned. “Geez, Adam, I thought sure there’d be more going on around here than this. We’ve hardly seen a soul since we crossed C Street.”

Adam Cartwright surveyed the empty streets and shrugged. “Probably just a little too early for things to really get going. Don’t forget, Joe, we usually don’t hit town until well after dark on a Saturday.”

Joe smiled, realizing that his brother was right. “Guess so. We’re usually stuck at home for at least another hour, waiting on Hoss to finish eating. Too bad he didn’t feel up to coming with us, though. It’s just not the same without him.”

“I agree. I did my best to persuade him, but you know how he gets when the weather starts turning cold. Grouchy as a bear pulled out of hibernation. He’ll be much happier spending the evening beating Pa at checkers in front of the fireplace.” Adam nodded, for once agreeing with his brother.

Joe’s bright laughter rang loudly through the quiet street. “Well, you know he doesn’t get much opportunity to win, ‘cause he’s usually playing against me! Pa ain’t nearly the checker-player I am, even if he did teach me.”

Reaching over, Adam tugged his brother’s hat down over his eyes. “That’s ’cause Pa’s got better things to do with his time than play games.”

“I do other things, too,” Joe protested. Eyes twinkling, he ticked off a few examples on his fingertips. “There’s trips to town for beer, poker games, flirting with all the pretty ladies at the Bucket of Blood…”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Of course, it would never occur to you to do anything else, would it? Like, say, reading a good book and expanding your mind?”

“Funny, I don’t see a book tucked in your pocket there, Socrates,” the younger man needled. “Nothing in there but a few silver dollars to use up buying whiskey for pretty saloon girls, and a beer for your poor, thirsty brother.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Joe. Let’s go inside,” Adam laughed, tipping his hat brim saucily in concession of his brother’s point.

Together, they tied their horses to the hitching rail outside of the Bucket of Blood saloon and stepped up on the wide boardwalk. Both brothers paused a moment, frowning as their ears picked up the faint sound of an animal’s howl somewhere in the distant darkness. Quirking an eyebrow at the sound, Joe said, “Huh! Now I know it’s quiet in town. Sound like that would normally get drowned out completely by all the shouts and music and stuff.”

Shrugging the moment off, they walked inside the bar.

“Evening, fellas,” greeted the bartender, smiling broadly at them as Adam and Joe entered his establishment.

“Hey, Bruno,” Joe greeted in return. “Kinda slow tonight, isn’t it?”

There was no one else in the entire bar, but Bruno merely said, “Yep, pretty quiet. Two beers?”

“Sure, and he’s paying,” Joe answered, his thumb jerking in Adam’s direction as he nudged his brother in the ribs with a grin. “Isn’t that right?”

Adam leaned on the bar and took a long pull of the beer that Bruno set in front of him. “Since Pa is still making baby brother here pay for all the windows he broke in town a while back, I’m the only one with money. So, yes, I am.”

Scowling at the cool teasing and the unwelcome reminder, Joe deliberately turned from his brother and began chatting amiably with the bartender.

“Where’s the girls at tonight, Bruno?” Joe queried, sipping at his beer and casting his eye about the empty saloon for one of his favorites.

His cloth wiping at non-existing spots on the bar, Bruno simply shrugged his shoulders and allowed that most of them had gone upstairs to their rooms since things were so slow. He assured Joe that they would be down when things picked up. For about an hour, Joe and Adam continued making small talk with Bruno but when no further customers showed up, the Cartwright brothers shrugged at each other.

“It’s a bit early to head for home. How about we head over to the Washoe club for a steak before we leave?” Adam suggested. “Maybe we’ll find some company over there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Joe agreed instantly, knocking back the last of his beer and bouncing up from his seat as though someone had released a coiled spring. “Sure ain’t much fun in here. This place is like a tomb tonight.”

Waving to the bartender, they headed outside, stopping short as an empty street met their eyes.

“Hey! Where are they?” Joe demanded hotly. “Somebody stole our horses, Adam!”

Though he, too, looked unhappy, Adam attempted to calm his brother. “Take it easy, Joe. It’s probably just one of your little friends playing a joke on us by untying the horses and letting them wander off. Watch.” Adam sauntered out into the dirt street and whistled sharply. Both brothers looked around expectantly, anticipating Sport’s return at the familiar call from his master.

Eyes narrowing, Joe lifted his fingers to his lips and uttered his own shrill signature call for Cochise. The street remained empty and silent and he kicked at the ground angrily. Raising his voice, Joe shouted into the stillness, “All right, this isn’t funny anymore! Come on out, whoever you are!”

The street remained empty, both of humans and horses. Still hoping to find the theft a joke, they waited a bit more, but when again nothing happened, both of them began to look a bit uncertain.

“Joe,” Adam said quietly, dark brows knitting together.

“What?”

“Look around you.” Adam swept his hand around the area, Joe’s eyes following the movement. Answering the question in the young man’s eyes, Adam said, “There’s no one here; no lights on, no music, no noise. Nothing.”

Almost whispering, Joe said, “But there has to be somebody. Doesn’t there?”

Glancing behind them, the two Cartwrights were startled to notice that the lights of the saloon they had just exited were also dark, no one in sight now behind the bar.

“I-” Adam started, then clearing his throat, continued, “I suppose Bruno must have decided nobody else was going to show up and turned the lights off while we were distracted,” he said, the excuse sounding hollow to both of them. Squaring his shoulders, he started walking, calling over his shoulder. “I still think this is some kind of joke. Let’s go down to the livery and see if our mystery thief has hidden the horses there.”

Taking comfort in his brother’s confident stride, Joe hurried along beside him, carefully eyeing both sides of the street as they went along, hoping to spot some sign of life in the shadows. When none appeared, he began to surreptitiously slide his hands along the legs of his jeans to remove the slickness of sweat from his palms. When he and his brother reached the livery stable and found that, too, completely empty, Joe gave up his show of confidence and began chewing his lower lip in open nervousness. “Adam, I don’t like this. It’s getting really creepy,” he stated, drawing the last two words slowly out.

“There’s a rational explanation for this, Joe. There has to be.” Adam waved away the comment, a frown of annoyance between his brows at what he viewed as a prank carried entirely too far.

Not appreciating the dismissal of his concerns, Joe’s voice dripped with sarcasm, as he demanded, “Then why don’t you tell me what that explanation is!”

With a shrug, Adam crossed his arms and peered around, squinting at the shadowed stalls as though expecting horses to magically appear. “Well, I don’t know right at this moment, but why don’t we both try to act like logical, thinking beings…for once… and go report this to Sheriff Coffee.”

“Let’s go,” Joe grunted, not wanting to admit that he had never even thought of doing that.

Stepping back up onto the sidewalk, they began to walk toward the jail. Their stride was brisk at first, but grew more hesitant as they became aware that there was no sound in the silent town other than the thud of their own boot heels on the weathered boards. Almost without thought, both brothers slowed to a light walk, trying to lessen the abnormally loud impact of their boots.

Suddenly, Joe grabbed Adam’s arm, his eyes wide and startled. “Did you hear that?”

Adam glanced around and shook his head. He didn’t want to admit to Joe that he had thought he heard a faint scuffle behind them, like someone sneaking along in their wake. If there had been anything, I would have seen it, he told himself, and resumed his course without a word.

Joe stood, staring hard at the darkness behind him in search of whatever had produced the soft scrape he had heard, then noticed he was alone and spun around, nearly running to catch back up with Adam. “What’s the rush?” he demanded.

Realizing that his hurried footsteps were betraying his own growing unease, Adam brusquely replied, “Sorry,” and fell back into step with his brother.

A sudden quick tattoo of boot heels running along the board sidewalks behind them made the Cartwrights spin as one to face it. There was nothing there, but Joe clutched at his brother’s black shirt and hissed, “You can’t pretend you didn’t hear that! Someone’s following us!”

Impatiently shaking off the grasping fingers, Adam gestured impatiently around the empty streets. “Joe, there’s nothing out here. I did think I heard something, but you can see for yourself that we’re alone.”

Joe was gearing himself up for an argument when a loud bang, like a door nearly being slammed off its hinges sounded right behind them. They spun around to look, and a second slam crashed from the opposite direction. Instinctively, Adam and Joe moved to stand back to back defensively, neither willing to be surprised again.

Out of nowhere the wind picked up with a howl, startling both young men into going for their weapons. Adam’s hand darted to his right, just as Joe’s flew to his left, and the resulting collision of elbows sent two half-drawn pistols flying into the air, to land with a loud clatter on the boards at their feet.

Shocked by the sudden disarming and seemingly rear attack, the brothers spun to face each other; each emitting a startled yelp at finding a face mere inches from his own.

Grasping his chest theatrically, Joe fell back a step, shouting, “Don’t do that!”

Embarrassed to realize what they had done, neither could meet the other’s eyes as they bent to retrieve the dropped handguns. Adam reholstered his with a sigh. “This is ridiculous, Joe. We’re jumping at shadows here.”

“Ridiculous,” Joe agreed uncertainly, wondering why he was repeating his brother’s words but still casting furtive glances into the night. “Guess Roy will get a pretty good laugh out of this, huh?”

“If we tell him,” Adam agreed. “I think our visit to the sheriff can wait a bit, though.”

“Where we going?” Joe demanded in surprise. “Aren’t we gonna report the horses missing?”

“In a while,” Adam grunted, stepping down into the street. “Right at the moment, I think I’d rather head back to the saloon and see if Bruno is back.”

“Why?”

Adam gave his brother a half smile, making as much of an admission toward the jitters his brother was exhibiting as he ever would as he said, “I don’t know about you, but at the moment, I think I need a shot of whiskey a lot more than I need my horse!”

Joe grinned. “I’m with you!”

By mutual consent, the brothers moved away from the sidewalk and the temptation of imaging more ghostly footsteps, and began walking side by side up the middle of the deserted street. Before they had gone more than a few steps, a sharp cold whoosh of air rent the air between them with a hollow pinging sound, one they thought they recognized instantly. Sure they were being shot at; Adam and Joe again went for their guns, spinning as they went. Due to their close proximity and the fact that they had spun towards one another, the two weapons collided, Adam’s flying through the air yet again. Maintaining a death grip on the barrel of his own gun, Joe clutched his left wrist, cursing at the pain of the impact.

Adam snatched the gun, pointed straight at him, out of Joe’s hand. “Give me that before you shoot me!”

“It wasn’t you I was going to shoot,” Joe sniped, the intense vulnerability he was feeling, particularly now that he had no weapon, manifesting in sharp words. “What the hell was that?”

Impatiently picking his gun back up out of the street, Adam grabbed Joe’s arm and dragged him out of the street to where they could both scan the area from the relative safety of an alley. “I don’t know what it was. I still don’t see anyone, though, so I want you to calm down.”

“Calm down!” Joe squeaked. “Somebody steals our horses, the whole population of Virginia City up and disappears, and now we’ve got ghosts shooting at us, and you want me to calm down?”

Grasping Joe’s shoulders, Adam stared his brother down and said, “We don’t know that was a shot. I didn’t hear a weapon report, did you?” Joe shook his head reluctantly. “Then it had to be something else. There is no one out there!”

Refusing his brother’s attempt at rational dismissal, Joe snapped, “I noticed that, Mister Pinkerton! That’s the whole problem. There’s nobody anywhere! We haven’t seen a soul all night!”

“What about Bruno?” Adam reminded. “Let’s go back to the saloon, just as we discussed, and see if we can’t get to the bottom of this. All right?”

Joe debated the offer, then nodded. At least they would be better protected inside the walls of the saloon than wandering around in the open. Stealing one last long look down both ends of the street, Adam stepped out and strode determinedly toward the Bucket of Blood. Joe followed, backpedaling up the street, one hand blindly clawing at Adam’s shirtsleeve, unwilling to lose track of his only company while he kept the rear guard.

Adam slapped away the plucking fingers. “Knock that off, will you?”

Reluctantly, Joe let go, increasing his stride as he faced front again until he was nearly running. It did not escape his notice that Adam seemed perfectly willing to match his rapid pace.

The light from the saloon glowed softly into the street once again as they drew near and both of them rushed toward it, hurrying toward the swinging doors with such enthusiasm that they nearly stumbled over each other to be the first one inside. Planting a firm hand between his brother’s shoulder blades, Adam propelled Joe inside.

Bruno stood polishing glasses behind the bar. He looked surprised as they crashed through the door, but merely said, “Forget something, fellas?”

Fighting to still breath that was panting more from relief than exertion, Adam slapped a dollar on the bar and croaked, “Whiskey. Doubles. Two. Now.”

The bartender gave them a confused look, but willingly set the drinks on the bar. Both men tossed back the shots in a single gulp, then more slowly sipped a second round. Trying to joke, now that the ominous mood of a few minutes earlier was easing, Joe asked, “How long you figure it’ll take us to get home?”

“You walking or running?” Adam quirked an eyebrow in his brother’s direction.

Joe laughed nervously. “Either way, I’ll beat you there.”

Adam clapped him on the shoulder and tossed back the rest of his drink. “Don’t bet on it!”

They waited a few more minutes, and finished another shot of whiskey each. They exchanged an uneasy look when Bruno answered their questions about why he had temporarily closed the bar with blank confusion and insistence that he had done no such thing.

“I think we’d better go find Roy now,” Adam said quietly.

Joe nodded and they pushed away from the bar. They exchanged another startled look as the sounds of laughter and talking filtered in through the swinging doors, and rushed outside to see. As he reached the hitching rail, Joe let loose a joyful whoop and threw an arm around the neck of his horse. “They’re back! Adam, everyone is back!”

“I can see that,” Adam observed dryly, but then he, too, gave in to his own feeling of relief, smiling at his brother as he walked up beside him and gave Sport an affectionate pat on the neck. “Let’s go home, Joe.”

“Home?” Joe repeated in surprise. “Aren’t we going to tell Roy about all this first?”

“You really want to be the one to tell him that the entire population of Virginia City, himself included, just blinked out of existence, only to reappear after we’d downed a few whiskeys at the saloon?” Adam raised an eyebrow.

Grimacing, Joe freed the reins of his horse and swung up into the saddle. “Let’s go home.”

They rode out of town and down the trail that led toward the Ponderosa. At the turnoff, Joe looked back over his shoulder and asked quietly, “Just what did happen to us back there?”

Adam shook his head. “I wish I knew. Whatever it was, though, I don’t think we’d better say anything about it to Pa and Hoss. They wouldn’t believe it, anyway.”

They rode on for a few moments, each with his own private thoughts. Finally Joe pulled Cochise to a halt and leaning towards Adam, asked uncertainly, “Do you believe it, Adam?”

Adam thumbed his hat back and resting his fist on his thigh, he smiled and asked, “Do you?”

Before he could answer, out of the silent night, a howl arose, twin to the one they had heard at the start of their strange evening. With a quick glance conveying complete agreement, the two brothers dug their heels into the sides of their horses and rode like hell for home.

The End