The rider stopped to water his horse at the open creek. The animal whinnied. “Thought I lost you a few days back,” he said, warming his hands and lifting his face to the low, winter sun.
“You tried. Almost did,” the ghost said, as it hunkered down and dipped its ethereal hands in the water.
“Guess you knew I’d be coming this way?”
The ghost didn’t answer.
“Can’t you leave me be?” he asked, throwing his head back, as if to howl.
“No,” it said, placing a cold, heavy hand on the rider’s shoulder. “Not until you do what’s right.”