The Adobe Castle

by Inez Ross

Heather McMarley, who won a two-week vacation at the Adobe Castle in the mountains of northern New Mexico, gets off the train at a tiny station outside Santa Fe and finds herself in a predicament, with the hotel on the verge of closing, an arrogant hotelier, a group of film makers, and a ghost in her tower room.

This lighthearted modern gothic with a literary twist portrays the tri-cultural flavor of New Mexico and the ambiance of the high mountain forests of the Rockies.

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Chapter I: Traveling is a fool's paradise—Emerson

She would kill him right away, Heather decided. It was the best way to begin the entire scheme. She imagined the quick knife thrust, the agonized spastic reaction, the heavy slump of the body, the blood. Could she really stand a lot of blood? Any blood at all?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the conductor's call. "Lamy next! Lamy, New Mexico."

She had been waiting in the luggage bay corridor on the lower level of the Amtrak passenger coach behind a frazzled woman who was vainly trying to keep two children from climbing on the bags to see out the door. Already late, the Southwest Chief, enroute from Chicago to Los Angeles, had been delayed on a siding to let the eastbound Chief pass before they could pull in to the little station stop.

The first-class passengers, now disembarking closer to the station, were dispersed by the time Heather and the other coach passengers walked the bumpy brick platform from the rear of the train. She felt unsteady to be on solid ground after almost twenty-four hours on the swaying coach, but the dry air, the dazzling sunshine, and the expectation of two weeks of freedom brought a surge of happiness and almost made her forget she didn't need to carry her bag. She stopped to unfold the handle and set the bag on its wheels, taking in the picturesque view of the little station with its curved Spanish arches and the big cottonwood trees.

Before she reached the station at the end of the bumpy brick walk, the big silver gray Chief had slid away toward Albuquerque and Los Angeles. The frazzled woman with her children was swept up by a crowd of relatives, and except for two boys who were looking for the pennies they had left to be flattened on the tracks, the platform was deserted.

Under the arched portico opposite the station was a large white van parked behind a sign that said SANTA FE SHUTTLE. The driver had climbed out and was headed toward her to take her bag. "Santa Fe?"

"No. Adobe Castle. I think I belong in this one." She nodded toward a brown van parked in the next slot. The label on the door said ADOBE VANS and its driver was engrossed on the pay phone at the corner of the building. She parked her bag in front of the van and waited. The driver seemed engaged in an exasperating conversation. As he talked on the phone he alternated gesturing into the air with his baseball cap and slapping it on his knee. "But she didn't come by train. I'm at the station now. I was here yesterday. Are you sure she didn't fly?"

Heather tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you looking for me?"

He turned around and smiled, his face displaying confused relief. "Talk to you later, Harry. I think the problem is solved." He hung up the phone and extended his hand. "Linda London? I'm Brian Minter."

"Heather McMarley. Are you the transportation to the Adobe Castle? I just got off the Chicago train."

"Sorry. No. I'm with Du Von Films. My passenger was supposed to arrive on the eastbound from Los Angeles. But if you're headed for Santa Fe, I'll be glad to take you."