“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing just free advice,” the waitress said.
“What are you saying?” Ruth asked with great concern. “Is there a ghost living up here?"
“I don 't know what you are talking about, but a few years ago, a crazy man told the story of the ghost of the miners killed up here, it wasn 't true There has never been any ghost seen up here. There is nothing wrong on up here, she said before she went to take care of three men dressed in flannel shirts and old denim jeans who had entered the diner. After serving their breakfast, she returned to the counter, sipped her coffee while keeping an eye on Ruth.
Ruth finished her coffee and started to leave when she overheard one of the men say. “Now, would you look at those tight jeans, blonde hair and that gorgeous face? I have never seen her around here. Have you guys?” He asked, shaking his head. “She has never been here. I would remember her. What do you think, she’s doing in town?” He asked.
Removing her wallet, Ruth heard laughter as one of them called out, “Hey, Phyllis, don’t take her money. Bring me her check.”
She turned around, smiled, strutting toward their table, “Thank you, for the coffee,” she said, and winked.
“You are welcome. My name is Dennis,” he said staring at her.
“I wonder if one you brave men would be interested in going hiking this afternoon.”
“Where do you plan to hike?” Dennis asked.
“I’m hiking on Putney Mountain and picking wildflowers. My name is Ruth Bishop,” she answered and shook hands with each of them. “...
... middle of paper ...
...ing off the mountainside. “If they think the ghosts of the miners are up here and I can prove it’s something else. That would be an amazing story for me to write,” she whispered returning to her car.
Later that afternoon while driving home she was thinking of the people, she met who warned her to stay away from the mountain but refused to say why. Especially the two women who were in such a hurry to get to the Luncheon at the Women’s Club before her Highness arrived. “I should check on interviewing them. Women love to talk.” She smiled but changed her mind.
“I will visit Grandpa tomorrow,” she said anxious to get home and organize her thoughts and notes.
“It might take time to learn how much of the screams were in Grandpa’s mind and how much was real, but someday, I’ll write the story and expose the Secrets of Howardsville,” Ruth promised.
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