CHAPTER 1
“Hey, are you ready for the weekend?” Mary Jo asked when I answered the phone.
“Hell, yeah! Are you?” I asked.
“I’m ready now! Big John gets off work at noon today. When will Dusty be in?” Mary Jo asked.
“He will be here within the hour. He got off today and left Santa Fe this morning heading this way. We can be out of here by late afternoon! I can’t wait!” I said. “I’m already packed! Yee-haw! This is going to be fun.”
Within the hour, Dusty, Mary Jo and Big John were at my house. We loaded my luggage in the car, and headed to Cripple Creek, Colorado and some of the smaller towns surrounding it. Excitement filled the air as we drove the long highway headed north. I, as always, am ready to find some ghost. Although, I have never been on an official ghost hunt and one of these days, I’m going to. Right now, I don’t look to hard. They just seem to find me. Mary Jo says I’m a ghost magnet.
As we head toward our destination, I’m riding shot gun, daydreaming as we make our way. I can picture the article in all of the newspapers across the nation, ‘The wannabe ghost hunter, Dixie Rhode, a slender woman in her late twenty’s, long brown hair, green eyes and with her trusty companions, Dusty Lane, Mary Jo and Big John Burns, have tackled some more of the evil ghost lurking around unsuspecting corners. The good ghost stand around, cheering Dixie and her crew on as they manage to take control of the situation rather quickly, disposing of the evil ghost that give the good ghost a bad name.’
Seven hours after leaving my home town of Dalhart, Texas, we pull into Cripple Creek and check into our hotel. We soon hit the casino’s, trying our hand at lady luck and grabbing a bite to eat at one of the many eating establishments. None of us are big gamblers, except when it comes to horse racing. We are actually here for the history on the town. We all like history and that is what keeps us going. The historical sites always seem to have some kind of paranormal activities going on, with or without an audience.
In 1849 gold seekers headed for California following routes to the north or to the south of Cripple Creek and Pikes Peak causing the areas to be missed during the California Gold Rush. The Pikes Peak gold rush of 1859 brought miners to the eastern base of Pikes Peak but only the miners who headed north to Cherry Creek found gold. Pikes Peak gained a poor reputation as a potential mining area. The presents of gold was noted on the west side of the Peak in 1874 by H. T. Woods, with little observation given because of the reputation it had already earned.
Adding further doubt, a man called ‘Chicken Bill’ salted a claim on Mt. McIntyre, which is 10 miles west of Cripple Creek. Chicken Bill, barely escaped hanging when the scam was discovered. Causing the district to lay dormant, except for farming and ranching and the part-time prospecting by Bob Womack.
Bob Womack was a ranch hand on the Broken Box Ranch. Being known for his tall tails, no one believed him when he told them there was gold in the area. Then in 1890, rocks from Womack’s persistent digging were assayed in Colorado Springs, showing that there was indeed gold present. This led to the formation of the Cripple Creek mining District on April 5, 1891. The city had two fires in 1896, which destroyed 47 acres and over 400 buildings.
“I think we should go driving around and look for some of the mining camps, cause there’s gold in them thar hills folks, if we look, tonight it will be easier to find in the morning. What do ya’ll think? I’m tired of this gambling game.” I said.
“Sounds good to me.” Dusty said. Dusty Lane, is a sheep shearer in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He is tall, bronzed skin, brown eyes, black hair and chiseled out of the finest marble in the world. He mentors and tutors Junior high and High school students in history, while taking night classes and an online history course himself. He says that if a ghost wants him to see them, they will come to him, shake his hand, introduce themselves and he doesn’t need to hunt them down like a deer in the woods. His favorite saying is ‘don’t go looking for trouble, you may very well find it.’ he uses this line on me . . . a lot!
“That would be fine with us, we aren’t winning much here.” Big John said as Mary Jo agreed. We all head to the restrooms before we set out.
Mary Jo is my best friend and she is married to Big John Burns. Mary Jo likes ghost hunting! She stands about five foot three, has long brown hair, brown eyes and average build. Nothing ever seems to excite Mary Jo, except maybe, if she were to win the lottery and ghost hunting. She is always calm, cool and collected. Mary Jo is the only friend I have that knows I’m an author and a wannabe ghost hunter! None of our other friends have never asked and I have never told them. They don’t read anyway. I’m not sure they can read anything except travel arrangements. They are all into cruises, which they used to invite us to go with them. They don’t anymore because we turn them down all the time. Although, the movie ‘The Titanic’ made the tragedy sound romantic with that hunk playing the leading part, I personally don’t find anything romantic about sinking to the bottom of the ocean and becoming an underwater ghost!
“I am so happy you thought of a way to get us out of here. Now, we can look for some ghost. Do you think we can get the guys to go to a cemetery? I think my camera is having withdrawals. It wants to see some ghost!” Mary Jo confided.
“Me too! I like to gamble for about an hour. My ass was trying to grow to that chair. Now, it is time to do something else. I go on vacations to see things, like ghost, and historical stuff, not to sit in a frigging chair.” I said. “I sit around enough when I’m working!”
“That was what Big John was telling me not five minutes before you suggested we go looking for the mines.” Mary Jo said.
Big John on the other hand doesn’t care for ghost hunting at all! He goes along on the trips for the history. He is a tall man, at least six foot, dark brown hair, brown eyes, average build and with a dark complexion. He is quiet, but not shy and will do anything once. If he likes it, he will do it again. Big John also likes the car races. It is one of his favorite things. But, when it comes to ghost hunting, he turns into a six foot chicken! Put him in a bumper car or go-cart and he turns into ‘Big John the unstoppable’.
Driving down the highway, we came across the Mt. Pisgah Cemetery. I could no longer contain myself. “Let’s get out and look around. Maybe we will see some ghost!”
“Damn it, Dixie, here you go again, looking for trouble!” Dusty and Big John said in unison.
“Come on ya’ll. This is the old cemetery where ‘Madame Pearl de Vere’ is buried! It was a historical event. Business men from as far away as Denver attended her funeral. Not to mention the miners in the area. She was a prostitute, I bet you wouldn’t mind seeing her ghost. It could be your first historical stop on this journey!” I said trying to convince them.
Big John looked at Dusty and said, “We may as well get this out of our system. You know these two, they’re going to be hounding us the whole time we’re here if we don’t get it out of the way now!” Everyone was in shock.
“Alright then, but we’re only going to stop for a little while. We’re not going to spend all night out here!” Dusty said.
Armed with our flashlights, camera’s, voice recorders, camcorders and extra batteries, we exit the car and set off across the dark cemetery. Walking slowly, holding onto each other to keep from getting separated or lost, we made our way further and further away from the car. I had the strange feeling we were not alone. “Do ya’ll feel like someone is here with us?”
“I have a strange feeling something is watching us!” Big John said.
“Me too, and I’m not exactly sure what it is.” Mary Jo whispered.
“Here we go again! You have stirred something up! How do you do that, Dixie? It’s like you snap your fingers and there they are, at your beckon call.” Dusty said. “Oh, crap, I hear footsteps and it sounds like more than one set! Do ya’ll hear them?”
“Yeah, you’re right, it does sound like there is more than one set!” I said.
We didn’t see anything out of the ordinary as we were shining our lights all around. Dusty and Big John both had the camcorders. Mary Jo and I were flashing away, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghosts on our cameras. The further we went, the more footsteps we heard. It was beginning to sound like a parade of ghost behind us. We were still looking for the marker for the renowned madam. The footsteps seem to be closing in on us now. We still couldn’t locate the source of the footsteps.
Finally, the heart shape headstone of Pearl de Vere appeared before us. The footsteps were still surrounding us like a bunch of pissed of badgers. I retrieved my little recorder and ask if Pearl was with us, paused, and asked her if she would give us a sign. We all waited, nothing happened. We continued on our journey through the cemetery, still looking for the source of the footsteps, reading headstones and looking at the dates. Stopping at the older ones and some of the more unique stones. Looking for dates from the 1800’s and discussing the intricate designs on some of them. Still looking for the source of the footsteps that continue to follow us, chalking them up to our imaginations. Carved on one of the stones was the name ‘Susan Anderson.’ “Hey, Dusty. Do you know who this woman is?” I asked.
“Nope, I don’t think I do.” he said.
“She was a doctor. She was the one that show, Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, was made about. I didn’t know she was buried here. That is awesome. Maybe she will talk to us. I’m going to try.” I said as I pulled out my trusty, tiny recorder. Everyone was quiet as I asked questions. There were no new noises, but still the never ending, constant footsteps that had been following us all night.
“Okay, I think it is time to head out now.” Dusty said, “These footsteps are giving me the creeps! I have had enough of this shit.”
I was still bent down looking at one of the stones, all of a sudden, something poked me in the ass! I stood straight up like quills on a porcupines back, turning to see what it could be, I came face to face with the red eyed monster and it was not in human form! “Holy, shit!” I turned and started running, I hope I make it to the car!
“Where are ya’ll at?” I yelled, and there was no response.
I could hear the footsteps right behind me, threatening to run over me!
“Where the hell are you, Dusty?” I yell, panic stricken now.
“ Mary Jo?” screaming at the top of my lungs.
“ Big John?” I still didn’t get a response.
“Where is the frigging car?” I scream as I am running blindly in the dark, with the monsters still on my heels. I heard a car horn coming from behind me. I made a wide circle, running just as hard as my little legs would carry me, the headlights showing me the way. It seemed like I had ran a mile before I reached my destination. The door opened and I jumped in hoping it wasn’t the car named ‘Christine’. I slammed the door shut, locked the doors and then looked around to make sure I was in the right car. Dusty, Big John and Mary Jo are laughing. They had tears streaming down their faces and were holding their sides.
“What is so frigging funny? I could feel the fire on my back, coming from the nose of those creatures. Let’s get the hell out of here.” I said, out of breath. My heart was beating wildly. It took a moment for a response from my three companions.
“Look!” Dusty said, laughing and pointing out the front window! Burro’s were everywhere!
“That’s what has been chasing you! You ran the wrong way.” There was more laughter as Dusty tried to continue.
“We tried to stop you, but it was too late!” More laughter came as I was now on the verge of homicide.
“The burro’s chased you because you ran. We ran to the car after you took off like a rocket!” another pause and laughter.
“We decided to honk the horn and shine the lights for you to see how to get back to the car! We were afraid you would make it to the next county before we could get you stopped.” Dusty continued, trying to contain himself.
“You know, when you take off like that, we can’t catch you. Hell no one can!” Dusty finally finished. Big John and Mary Jo never let up on the laughing.
“I don’t think that shit was so frigging funny! I could have got trampled out there! Why didn’t you do the rodeo clown act and call them off of me! Damn, I was screaming for ya’ll! I thought the footsteps had got ya’ll! I was scared and didn’t know how far I was from the car, no one would answer me and the footsteps were gaining on me! That was definitely not fun! At least I had my depends on, I can always rely on them!” I said, still shaking. I didn’t know if I was shaking from fright, exercise or anger. Maybe from a combination of all three.
“Are you going to be picking cotton out of your ass for a week?” Mary Jo asked, starting the roar of laughter to continue.
“I’m glad ya’ll got a good laugh out of this situation. You just remember this, cause one of these days, I will get even. And you all aren’t going to think it is so fucking funny. Damn ya’ll!” I said.
“You are the one who . . .” Dusty started. “Holy shit, look!”
“What in the hell is that? Is that a woman standing there? She looks kind of, see through doesn’t she?” I said rolling down my window to take some pictures. “Do you need a ride? Come on in, we won’t hurt you. It’s warmer in the car.” I yelled out. The ghost woman just stared and didn’t acknowledge my question. “What’s wrong with you? Are you a fucking chicken or what?”
“Roll up the frigging window! Don’t let it in here with us!” Big John said.
“You know a little bit of glass isn’t going to stop them from getting in here with us if they want in!” Mary Jo told Big John.
“What’s the matter there, that is just a little ghost. I’m sure she wasn’t going to try and trample your asses into a pile of shit! My monsters were real. They could have hurt me bad.” I said.
Dusty then put the car in gear and we drove off, at a high rate of speed. It was quiet almost all the way back to the hotel. I wonder what would have happened if the ghost woman would’ve accepted the offer. I finally calmed enough to see the humor in the whole episode at the cemetery. I started laughing. I could hear snickers every now and then from my companions as we drove into the parking lot.
“Do ya’ll want to do some more gambling. Maybe at one of the other casino’s? We could also walk down the streets to see what else they have here.” I said.
“Fine by me, just as long as we don’t have to run from any big, bad, burro’s stalking us!” Dusty said.
Mary Jo and Big John wanted to go to. We were just going to look around at some of the old building in the area. Approaching the ‘Outlaws and Jail Museum’ I started shivering. The hair on my arms was standing up and felt like we were being watched.
“Here we go again! Damn you, Dixie!” Dusty said.
“All I’m doing is walking down the street, minding my own business. What did I do now?” I asked.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have the heebie jeebies, you are more sensitive to this type of thing than the rest of us. If you don’t feel it, something is wrong with me!” he said.
“I’m getting a strange feeling too! And I’m not sure I like it! This is a really awful feeling I have!” Mary Jo said.
“Let’s go!” Big John said as he turned and started back up the street. “We can come back to this place tomorrow morning, in the daylight. Maybe, it won’t be quite so scary. Right now, I think I’m ready for some gambling. I need to forget the scary things that have happened!”
“If I knew how to break in, I would, and I would make ya’ll go in with me!” I teased. I wasn’t going to tell them, but all three of them put together could not have drug my happy ass into that place in the dark! They would have to call in the Marines and I don’t think they could’ve got me in there!
As we were walking off, Dusty stopped. “I hear someone screaming. It sounds like it is coming from the jail. It is a museum now isn’t it? They don’t use it any more, do they, I mean, as a jail?” he asked.
“I don’t think it’s used as a jail. Maybe someone got locked in there by mistake. It sounds like a desperate, pain inflicted scream, not a get me out of here scream. That is very odd. When I first heard it I thought a woman was being beat on or raped or something like that.” I answered.
“I did too, that is what drew my attention to it. When I stopped to listen, it sounded like it was coming from inside of the museum. Not from out here anywhere.” Dusty said.
“It could be a mountain lion. I have always heard their cries sound like a woman screaming. And we are in the mountains!” I said.
“It’s to close to be a mountain lion, it really sounded like it came from the museum to me. We need to check that place out in the morning, to find out the history on that place.” Dusty said.
After breakfast and lots of coffee, we head out to the Outlaws and Jail Museum in search of the phantom screams from last night. As we make our way out the door and into the street, I hear the familiar voice and laughter, “Run, Dixie, Run!” Dusty had said.
“What? Why do I want to run?” I asked. There, standing in the middle of the street were the burro’s from the cemetery. “I think this is my ‘Welcome’ party!” I said as I gazed at the little burro’s. “I wonder if they are going to follow me around today. Do you think they will all fit in the car?” I laughed.
“Not unless Big John and Mary Jo want to hold them in their laps!” Dusty said.
“What I want to know is who is going to put the ‘wonder drawers’ on them! Do you think those Depends will stretch that big! ’Cause, I can assure you, they aren’t sitting in my lap with their bare ass!” Mary Jo said.
We walk the short distance, admiring the old buildings as we walked along. The casino’s are buzzing with excitement coming from the patrons and the machines. Tour buses stopping and going, people everywhere, walking the sidewalks to reach their favorite casino’s.
Entering the museum, a strange sensation came over me. This is not good. This meant I was going to have a lot of spirits come to me at one time. “What are you feeling, Dixie?” Dusty asked quietly.
“I hate it when you do that! I need to learn how to control my expressions. I really need to talk to your mom!” I said.
“Well, are you going to tell me or not? Mom doesn’t hide her expressions. I think she uses them as a warning sign to run, run like the wind!” Dusty smiled.
“I feel a dark confusion, not the typical confusion of ‘do I go with him or her, or should I have turned right or left.’ it is more like who am I, where am I, what is this. I feel darkness, like nothing is there at all. There is also a lot of hate, anger and I want out of here. I need to escape this place, feelings. I’m getting a lot of different stories. Too many to break down into individual people. That screaming last night, I feel like it was coming from a scared, young, insane person that was being hit on by another insane person. The hate and anger seems to be coming from outlaws. I’m also getting some controlling feelings, like I’m in control here and you will do as I say, type stuff. This feels like it’s coming from the law side of things, guards maybe. I think that pretty well covers all of them!” I said.
Dusty went to talk to one of the staff about the history of this place.
“What’s going on? How do you feel these things?” Mary Jo asked.
“I don’t know, they just come to me in certain areas. I can’t put a face on the spirits, I just get strong feelings, Dusty’s mom has been working with me to help me understand some of this stuff. I told her I had always had things like this happen to me. She has taught me how to open up more, to let them speak to me, but not to let them into me. Sometimes I can almost see them. Like, I can tell if it’s a boy or a girl by the way they are dressed and the things they are doing. Most of the time when this happens it will be at a battlefield or massacre site. It doesn’t happen all of the time. Just when there is a lot of spirits hanging around. I don’t normally get it when there is just one or two.” I told her.
“How do you get that? I want to make sure I never do!” Big John added.
“I don’t know, it just happens. If you close your mind to this type of thing, you won’t get it. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Big John! You can’t just catch it like a disease or the common cold!” I laughed.
Dusty learned that they had kept insane people here from time to time when they would transport them from one asylum to another. They had also housed outlaws when they were being transported from one jurisdiction to another to stand trial or for sentencing.
As always, we are recording everything. Dusty taught me this trick when we first met. This way he doesn’t forget the important things for his history papers that he needs to write for his writing classes. I, on the other hand, record everything to see if the ghost will talk to us! I want to know what it was like living in the 1800’s.
We then head over to the ‘Old Homestead Museum’, where the famous madam Pearl de Vere operated her business. The Old Homestead was known for its elaborate women and parties. Pearl charged $250 a night. Top pay for laborers was $3.00 a day. Catering to the higher class clientele, Pearl’s women had medical examines every month and dressed in expensive clothing.
“I wouldn’t mind if these girls talked to us or showed themselves to us!” Big John said. Mary Jo took a playful swing at him.
“Maybe, I wouldn’t mind getting to know one of the johns! At $250 a night, I may just work two weeks out of the month. That would be, what $3,500 dollars a month. More than I make now, working my butt off.” Mary Jo teased.
“Yeah, look at all of the blue jeans and T-shirts you could buy with that!” I said.
“Get them drunk enough and they won’t know if they did anything or not!” Mary Jo added.
“We better get to the mines! Mary Jo and Dixie, ya’ll can stay here and work while we go have fun!” Dusty said.
The first mine we went to was the Mollie Kathleen mine. Dusty wanted some information on the miners and the rigorous task of mining and mining families back in the 1800’s. Fitted with hardhats, miners lights and jackets, entered into the man-skip and made our way down into the darkness of the mine. I’m not scared of many things, but, the dark, the cage and going straight down felt like descending into the depths of hell was something else.
Mollie Kathleen Gortner was hiking on September 9, 1891 when she discovered an outcropping of gold at Cripple Creek. Filing a claim in her name made her the first woman in history to register a claim. The Mollie Kathleen descends 1000 feet underground, by the way of the only vertical mine shaft in America.
“Being in here with a snake could cause a lot of excitement. But I’m pretty sure I would be the first one on that ‘man-skip’ and to the top before anyone else could reach it!” I said.
Dusty laughed, “I know you can out run three of us if you get scared enough! But, that is only because you get into more stuff than we do. You put yourself in those positions!”
“I didn’t put myself in the position to be chased by all of them burro’s last night. They put me in that position! It’s not nice to sneak up on someone in the dark and poke them in the ass! They should have known better. There was nothing in my back pocket they needed!” I said.
“They poked you in the ass?” Dusty asked, as Mary Jo and Big John were listening.
“Yes, and I didn’t see anything to frigging funny about it!” I said.
“That explains the run away!” Mary Jo said as they all three laughed causing echo’s throughout the mine.
“Would you like to share your laughter with the rest of us?” the tour guide asked with a smile.
“A burro poked it’s nose in her ass last night, causing a big run away!” Big John blurted out.
I thought I was going to die from embarrassment. The whole damn place was laughing now, as Dusty related most of the story, leaving out the part of we were in the cemetery. It was very loud in the enclosed mine. Other tourist waited until we exited and thanked us for making the tour fun and interesting, even if it had nothing to do with the Mollie Kathleen.
Leaving for Victor to check out the mines there, I warned my companions, “If any of ya’ll reveal any of last nights activities you are going to get paid back and you will not like it!”
“What are you going to do to us?” Dusty asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I will guarantee you, you will not like it!” I said.
Victor, Colorado is a mining town although it resembles a ghost town. Most of the old mines have been abandoned, with modern mines in operation. Victor was founded in 1891 after Winfield Scott Stratton discovered gold, but wasn’t incorporated until 1893. Many of the best mines in the Cripple Creek Mining District were located in Victor. The workforce became unionized after the militant Western Federation of Miners conducted a strike in 1894. The WFM union hall still stands in Victor with bullet holes left intact.
A fire in August 1899 destroyed a large amount of the community. The residence rebuilt Victor in brick. Victor is one of the most preserved mining camps in Colorado. Before the incorporation of the town it was known as the city of mines.
“Look at these buildings, aren’t they beautiful. I know some of them need to be restored. This is so cool!” I said as I stepped out of the car.
“Yeah, these do make you feel like your stepping back into the 1890’s, I’m not sure I would’ve wanted to live during that time.” Mary Jo said.
“I know, the life expectancy wasn’t like it is today. The people didn’t live pampered lives like we do now. No air conditioners, no radio’s, no telephone or televisions. But they appreciated things more. It was definitely a day to day existence.” I said. “We haven’t ran into any ghost for a while. I would like to see some of the miner ghost! I wonder if they are all hairy, dirty and have tobacco stains running down their beards?”
Goldfield, Colorado was established in 1895. The town was platted on January 8, 1895 by major stockholders, including Winfield Stratton of the Portland Gold Mining Company. Goldfield was needed to help support the growing number of workers necessary in the mining district. By 1900 the population was 3500. In it’s heyday, Goldfield had almost as many saloons as inhabitants. In Tom Brown’s place, even the women wore guns, if they were wearing anything at all.
“Here you go Big John, Tom Brown’s place. You could find you one of them ‘real wild west women wearing nothing but a gun.’ She could probably open up a can of whip ass on all of us and make us like it!” Dusty teased.
“I doubt she could whip Mary Jo! Mary Jo would probably whip me! This would not be a good thing. I know she has got to have a lot of anger hiding in dark places in that little body of hers. She may be a lamb most of the time but I bet the strength of a beast would emerge!” Big John said.
The Elkton mine was staked in 1891 by a blacksmith by the name of William Shemwell. Since the mine employed so many men it formed its own little town site. The town site was never platted, but was known as Elkton, Colorado and had its own post office.
“These are some pretty cool old places. I know they’re ghost towns, but what do you call them if there are no ghost? I guess it was a pretty bad place to be if the ghost left!” I said.
“I wonder how the post office job was back then. In a smaller town it doesn’t seem like there would be enough to keep you busy for eight hours a day. What did they do the rest of the time, play checkers? I know some of the post offices were in with the grocery store and they were always made to sound like they were really small. I wonder if the grocery stores were very big.” Mary Jo said.
“I have been in some of them around home and they were long, skinny buildings. Not square like they are now days. I know you can get a lot in them but if the town was very big you wouldn’t be able to get enough in them to accommodate the town folks. There would have to be more than one. Of course, back then they had their own gardens, milk cows, chickens and butchered their own beef and pork. What did they keep all of that beef and pork in? Since they didn’t have freezers. Didn’t they smoke everything or salt it down. How did that preserve the meat?” I asked.
“Your barking up the wrong tree here. I wouldn’t have a clue.” Mary Jo said.
Altman, Colorado was composed mostly of union workers, and the home of the first stamp mill, built by Stanley Altman, in the Cripple Creek Mining District. Altman was the center of a lot of labor violence during its day and was one of the headquarters during the bloody miners strikes of 1894. The town consisted of several hotels, restaurants and saloons. The American Eagle mine dominated the area in the 1890’s and still does with only a few buildings standing.
“This area up here is beautiful. We need mountains.” Mary Jo said.
“Then our area would be swamped with people. Its not that I don’t like people, I just like my space. I could sure use some trees!” I said.
“It don’t matter to me one way or the other. I wouldn’t have a reason to go anywhere if I had paradise at home!” Big John added.
“I have mountains and I have trees. When I get stressed, I go sit under one of the trees on the mountain and look out across Santa Fe. I get back to nature. Its really a stress reliever. I love it.” Dusty said. “I still like to come to other parts of the world to learn their history.”
“Way back when they started settling in the area, this place would’ve been paradise! Before any buildings or towns. That would be like the end of the earth for some who enjoy a beautiful view. But if they hadn’t built the towns, we wouldn’t have a town to go ghost hunting in!” I said.
“Oh, brother.” Dusty said.
Independence, Colorado was settled in the early 1880’s and is now a ghost town. The community was named after the Independence Mine which was discovered on July 4, 1879. Miners cabins stand in the area and one of the three grocery stores from its heyday.
“I’m getting some strange vibes, how about ya’ll?” I asked.
“What kind of strange vibes? Or are you meaning to say you’re getting you’re ghost vibes?” Dusty asked.
“Yes, ghost vibes. I feel like they are watching us from that building over there. They are fairly strong. Not the feeling type things like at the jail in Cripple Creek. Let’s go check it out.” I said.
“Watch for snakes! This looks like it could be a snake infested area.” Mary Jo called out.
“Crap, snakes and ghost don’t mix, Mary Jo! I hope you are going to protect me!” Big John said.
“I want to do some of that ghost recording thing, this time!” Dusty said.
“Don’t provoke them, I would hate to have to run from one. I could end up in a snake den you know!” I told him.
“Is anyone here with us?” Dusty paused a moment, everyone else was frozen in our spots.
“If someone is here with us can you make a noise so we will know you are here. We aren’t here to hurt you.” Dusty said pausing again. A loud thud came from behind us. We turned to look and Big John was on the floor, with a rotten beam on top of him!
“What the hell was that crap you are trying to pull, John. You scared the crap out of me!” Mary Jo said.
We all went to help Big John up and his face was pale. I had been taking pictures as Dusty was doing his questioning and Mary Jo was running a video cam. We removed the rotten beam and helped Big John up off of the floor. He just stood there, staring into space, shaking. We knew something had touched Big John.
Mary Jo watched the video, “Oh man, look, you have to watch this.” she said as she rewound the footage she had taken. “Watch!” Mary Jo started the playback, with the sound on, ‘if someone is here with us can you make a noise so we know you are here,’ that is when the beam Big John was leaning against, fell on top of him. He had been leaning against the beam. You could tell it was pushed over on top of him.
I start taking more pictures while Mary Jo guides Big John out of the building and Dusty thanked the ghost for their participation. “That was not what I was expecting!” Dusty said. “I wonder if Big John saw that ghost before it hit the beam?”
“I think I messed my pants, Mary Jo.” Big John finally said.
“Yes, I know you did. Here are the baby wipes and another depends. Be sure and put the depends in this trash bag and tie it up real good. You can go behind that tree to change.” Mary Jo calmly told Big John.
“You need to come with me! I don’t want to go alone. Who knows what the ghost will do to me when I am naked.” Big John said.
“I hate to tell you, but your body isn’t that impressive. I have seen it before, remember!” Mary Jo teased, trying to snap Big John out of his dilemma.
Anaconda, Colorado was founded in 1894 and is located a half mile of Squaw Gulch, about halfway between Victor and Cripple Creek. Anaconda was originally a miner’s town that grew out of convenience and necessity. The town consisted of drug and grocery stores, a school house, churches hotels, saloons, dressmakers and many more thriving businesses and its own jail. Anaconda burned in 1904 destroying most of the town and the residence left the area instead of rebuilding.
“They sure had a lot of fires in this area. I wonder what started them. Was it arson or lightening? I haven’t heard anyone say. I wonder if they even know or ever knew.” I said.
“I haven’t heard either, could be the wind blew some camp fire and burned the place. Who knows, there were too many possibilities back then. Pissed off miners could have done it. You know, some of them had pretty bad tempers! And most were greedy. They may have just been angry old men!” Dusty said.
“Yeah, like the one who pushed that beam on top of me! I would hate to see what he was like when he was alive! At least I could have seen it coming. I guess being a ghost has its advantages, huh. Especially if you want to pick a fight.” Big John said.
Gillette, Colorado was the only place within the United States to hold a bullfight which was held in 1895. There was so much publicity for the event, drawing in 50,000 people wanting to see the fight. The bulls were worn out from the long trip and the bullfight turned into a riot. The bulls were slaughtered and passed out to the poor. Gillette was a family town. The old jail, a small group of houses and an old church are all that remain in the small mining town.
“I wonder what kind of disaster they would have had if the bulls would’ve been in the fighting mood? Sounds like they had a disaster without them wanting to fight. Was this a stress reliever for the men back then, to duke it out, if things didn’t work out the way they planned? That was a dumb question wasn’t it! I know men who still duke it out just because they want action, I guess.” I said.
“At least the poor people got fed. It was probably one of the few times, if not the only time they ever got to eat fresh meat.” Dusty said. “Dixie, don’t even think about the animals! I don’t need to have a bullfight on my hands!”
“But Dusty, I want to see an animal ghost!” I said. “You got to see burro’s chase me around a cemetery in the dark. I want to see bulls chase you around in the day! Just don’t let them stab you. That might hurt.”
“I do too!” said Mary Jo. “I don’t know that I want to see a bullfight, just the ghost of them.”
“Well, I don’t!” said Big John. “I don’t want to see any ghost at all!”
“Didn’t you get enough when the burro’s chased you out of the cemetery?” Dusty asked.
“They were alive, those were not ghost! And burro eyes in the dark are scary! Oh, ya’ll didn’t see them did you? Well I did, and they looked like devil eyes! They were red and scary.” I shivered.
“A herd of stampeding bull ghost will make you think ‘devil eyes’. I want to hear that interview! ‘Hey, Mr. Bull, could we stop running for a minute? I want to ask you a question or two about the life you led. Was the grass really greener on the other side of the fence? Did it give you a stomach ache? Is that why you didn’t fight the day you were suppose to or was it from the long walk from Mexico to get here, that wore you out? Maybe, you just missed your beautiful cows and wanted to go back home. I hear they had some really big, sexy udders!’ Do you think this is going to stopped them from running over our asses?” Dusty said laughing.
“Maybe they are . . . Big John’s spirit guide!” I said defiantly.
“The hell they are! I don’t need no ghost animal to be no guide for me. I can find my way without some frigging ghost showing me anything. That is what roads and maps are for!” Big John said.
Mary Jo rolled her eyes, shook her head and laughed, “If they’re your spirit guide, they won’t hurt you. They will protect you.”
“The hell you say! Bring them on then, I need protection from you two women! Ya’ll get me accosted by ghost and then laugh!” he said.
“Dusty did it the last time, remember, he was the one that suggested they make a noise!” I said.
“Yeah, well you and Mary Jo are the ones hunting the damn ghost in the first place. Dusty was just trying to keep ya’ll amused. He didn’t know one of them was actually going to do that to me!” Big John said.
“Well, don’t you smell like a beautiful, untouched rose, Dusty.” I laughed.
“I think, I’m going to plead the fifth, I know anything I say can and will be used against me! And were not even in a court of law!” Dusty replied. “Trinidad has a cemetery I would like to stop at before we head over to a few other sites. Do ya’ll mind if we go to it?”
“No, just as long as we aren’t there in the dark. I don’t much like going in the dark, cemeteries give me the creeps no matter what time it is!” Big John said.
George Simpson was born in St. Louis, Missouri on May 17, 1818. The young Simpson had childhood problems and headed west. He made his first appearance in 1838 at Fort Hall, Idaho. Fort Hall was a popular place for free trappers, where Simpson met a group of men and joined them. A group of Piute Indians stole their horses. Tracking the band of Indians, the men found their camp and stole their horses back. In the spring of 1839, two groups of trappers wandered throughout Colorado, Nevada and Utah covering two thousand miles. In 1841, Simpson found his way to Fort Laramie and joined some trappers headed to Bent’s Fort. At Bent’s Fort, Simpson began a new career as a trader with the Indians. He left Bent’s employment and went to help build a post called El Pueblo, which is how the town of Pueblo, Colorado began. The post contained stores, a blacksmith shop and agriculture. When his friend old Bill Williams, whom he had met in Fort Hall, Idaho, arrived, the two men got into an argument. Simpson pulled his gun and Williams grabbed a hatchet while running behind a door. Removing the axe head, Bill stuck out the handle to resemble holding a gun. The two men started laughing and the argument was settled in a friendly manner. In 1849, Simpson decided to visit his family in St. Louis. A cholera outbreak hit the boat on the Mississippi that Simpson was riding on. Claiming if he got cholera, he wanted his body to be returned to his father, as the bodies of many people on the boat were being buried along the banks on the trip north. Simpson did contract cholera and thought to be dead. The crew put the body in a coffin and packed it with ice. When the crew seen the ice move, Simpson crawled out of the coffin and was fully recovered. Simpson visited California working in odd jobs such as freighting and other frontier jobs, then returned to Southern Colorado. Settling near Trinidad, Simpson held various civil positions and wrote articles for a local newspaper. Alcohol inhibited many of Simpson’s accomplishments. Simpson died at the age of 67 on September 7, 1885 and is buried on Simpson’s Rest, near Trinidad. Simpson’s Rest is a small rocky mesa overlook.
“I always got the impression that trappers were big, burly, scary men, with yellow teeth and red eyes, and breath that would knock your socks off! This guy sounds like he could have been an educated teddy bear!” I said.
“From the sight up here, I think you’re right. It is beautiful, I can see why he was buried here.” Mary Jo said.
“It seems lonely to me. I want to be buried with the other dead people. Not alone in the wilderness!” Big John said.
“From the looks of it, he isn’t lonely. Looks like a lot of people visit this place. They may even come up here to watch the submarine races! Or talk to the dead.” Dusty said.
“Why lay amongst the dead, when you can haunt amongst the living.” I said.
Richard Wootton was born on May 6, 1816 as Richens Lacy Wootton in Virginia. At the age of twenty he headed to Independence, Missouri. Wootton joined the wagons of Bent-St. Vrain Company and headed for Bent’s Fort in Colorado. On his first trip there was a fight with the Comanche Indians. Joining sixteen free trappers, Wootton headed for the Rocky Mountains. Wootton joined nineteen trappers in 1838 for one of the longest journeys recorded for mountain men. The two year trip took them to the Wind River Range in Wyoming, to Fort Vancover in Washington, along the western seaboard to Los Angeles and through Arizona. Five of the fur trappers were killed during this trip. In New Mexico, Uncle Dick as he was called, rescued an Arapaho woman who had been captured by the Utes. Wootton returned the woman to her tribe and formed a friendship with them, giving him the name of ‘Cut Hand’ since he was missing two fingers. Wootton, still in the employ of Fort St. Vrain established the idea of the pony express. A weekly ride between Bent’s Fort and its subsidiary Fort St. Vrain, carrying the mail, money and extra supplies, Wootton laid out the trail between Denver, across the Colorado plains to Bent’s Fort. He would trade horses with the Indians camped on the Arikara and the lakes further south. Wootton would never stop for sleep on the two hundred mile ride. John Fremont was at Bent’s Fort waiting for Wootton to return. He seen how this idea worked successfully, recorder it and sent it to Washington. When Fremont arrived in California, he told others about the pony express. Wootton began trading with the wandering Indians, was a scout during the Mexican war, and fought in many skirmishes. Wootton, started a ranch near Pueblo, engaged in freighting expeditions covering long distances and many more successful endeavors. Wootton was also know to have had a short temper, but was very good in crisis situations. Wootton constructed the road called Raton Pass from Pueblo, Colorado to Raton, New Mexico. Richard Wootton died on August 22, 1893 and is buried in the Catholic Cemetery in Trinidad, Colorado.
“Here is another one of them teddy bear type mountain men! So what if they could get an attitude, can’t everyone. To construct roads and bridges takes a lot of brains! Talk about a creative genius, this guy had to be one! I thought it took a lot of years of planning for things like that to come together.” I said.
“Me too! You know now the plan alone is one of those tasks that makes you wonder if we’ll get to see the finished product in our lifetimes. And we have machines to help us. They didn’t have all of the fancy equipment we do!” Dusty said. “Genius, pure, raw genius!”
“I wonder what made them become trappers, the hustle bustle of the big cities, or the peace and quiet of the mountainous nature calls of the wild. I know you have to have skills to do be a trapper, but I personally, wouldn’t want to be on a mountain, alone, in the winter time, caught in a frigging trap! The bears maybe in hibernation, but there are other animals that wouldn’t be. Your not going to catch my ass up there!” I said. “I’m a little sissy-girl and I don’t mind admitting it.”
“I wouldn’t be to worried about the animals. I could shoot them, it’s the avalanches I would be worried about. I don’t want to freeze to death on the side of the mountain. I like the mountains, I like to see the snow on them, out my window, sitting in front of the fireplace, safe and warm. I don’t, however, want to be a human pop-cycle on the side of a mountain!” I said.
“That would be bad. I like the cold, but I don’t think I want to be on the side of a mountain either! I don’t snow ski and I don’t want to get lost in a blizzard. That would be my thing. I can climb a tree pretty fast!” Mary Jo said.
“With all of the snow in the tree with you, you can come out of that tree faster than you could get in it, especially when the branch breaks. Then you have the fall to deal with, plus the slide down the mountain, hitting ever tree in between here and the bottom and that is what would get me! Piss on that shit.” Big John said.
Dusty raised he head skyward and said with a laugh, “What did this poor New Mexico sheep shearer do, to deserve three over imaginative Texans?”
Doc Shores was a lawman who chased and tracked more outlaws and criminals than anyone. He was born November 11, 1844. Shores worked many professions before settling in Gunnison, Colorado as the county sheriff. He was best known for the sheriff that captured the cannibal, Alferd Packer. Shores sense of people and his investigative abilities made him successfully effective during his career. After his sheriff’s position he became, deputy U. S. Marshall, a railroad detective and the chief of police in Salt Lake City, Utah. Doc was named after the doctor who delivered him, his real name was Cyrus Wells Shores. Doc Shores died on October 12, 1934, just short of his 90th birthday. He is buried in Gunnison Cemetery east of Gunnison, Colorado.
“He sounds like he has always been a good, all American citizen. That was hard to come by in those days. I mean, all of the lawman dawdled with crossing the line into criminal at some time or other. Even the famous lawman. Especially the famous lawmen. Maybe, that is why he is virtually unheard of. No one reported him as being a bad guy of sorts. You just couldn’t make a name for yourself back then if you weren’t into crooked stuff!” I said.
“We have the same thing today. You hardly ever hear about someone doing good until they are dead. They’re never given credit when they’re still alive to know people do appreciate them.” Dusty said.
“And, this guy may have crossed that line from time to time, but never got caught.” Mary Jo said.
“I had forgot about that cannibal guy. I know they were hungry, but it would take a lot to be able to cook your friends and eat them. I think I better find something else to think about or I’m going to barf.” Big John gagged.
“Hey, grandpa! What’s for supper?” I said as Big John turned green.
William Bent was born in St. Louis, Missouri on May 23, 1809. He was one of the famous Bent brothers who helped open up the west for the westbound travelers. William Bent was a trapper. While working in the company of a trapping party, Bent saved the lives of two Cheyenne from the Comanches. This started his life long friendship with the Cheyenne Indians. On the Colorado plains near La Junta, Colorado, Bent and his partner Ceran St. Vrains built the only privately owned fort in the west. The fort was an elaborate adobe fort. With the fort being on the Santa Fe trail and because of Bent’s association with the Cheyenne the fort became a major merchandise center on the south plains. Bent’s influence with the Cheyenne prevented them from war with the whites. Bent was married three times, twice to Cheyenne women and the third to a half-blood Blackfoot. Bent died May 19, 1869, at the age of 59, four days short of his 60th birthday. Bent is buried in the Las Animas Cemetery south of Las Animas, Colorado.
“This is another one of the hard working peacemakers of the days. He was friend to all, or that is what I have read about the man, while doing a lot of reading in history books and things like that. It’s hard to believe that people died so young back then. But they did more manual, hard labor in a week, than what most people now days do in a year. It isn’t any wonder their lives were shorter. They were all worked out by the time they got to 60!” I said.
“Boy, isn’t that the truth. If some of the young people today was sentenced to a life of hard labor, the labor board would be down on the employers like ugly on an ape. They would be getting sued all the way around. I don’t understand some of the things the ‘silver spoons’ have passed into law.” Dusty said.
“I was riding a horse before I could walk, driving tractor before I was old enough to have a job, doing dishes, laundry, sewing, cooking and cleaning house by the time I was seven. Now, if you make your kids clean their room, someone is sure to yell child abuse. This shit is really stupid, but like you said, the ‘silver spoons’ never had to do any of that stuff. I personally, am glad I learned it at an early age. I may not have liked it, but it helped my mom and dad, and some of it we did together as a family.” I said. “There is a difference between child abuse and making your kids mind. Plus, teaching them responsibility, which no one obviously believes in anymore. The ones who set these laws don’t know the difference.”
“I know when I started shearing sheep, it was probably considered boarderline child abuse. I survived it, but I was sore as hell the next day. Dad made me get up and get after it again. I’ve been doing it now for over ten years, I have never been in trouble and I help the younger generations with their schooling. I’m really proud of my accomplishments and I try to instill that in my mentoring class. I do point out to them that if they don’t learn from me it is their own fault. I make things fun and challenging and they all keep coming back. Every year they have higher grades than the other kids that don’t stick with the mentoring and tutoring programs.” Dusty said.
“I for one am proud of what you do for the young kids. I can put up with the kids, it’s the parents I have a problem with! I would have to super glue my mouth shut when an angry parent came in telling me I was making their kids work to hard to achieve their goals. I don’t see how you do it.” Mary Jo said.
“You should take the kids to some of these places that are closer to Santa Fe. Have you ever taken them to your mom and dad’s for a field trip?” Big John asked.
“No, but we have discussed it. Mom and dad are willing to teach them our culture, to show them how to milk sheep and cows, shear, process the wool, dye it, spin and weave it into something creative to use. We have talked to some of the shepherd’s close by and they are willing to donate the wool from the sheep we shear to the kids for their projects. We are still searching for others to donate wool, or let us shear their sheep for free and keep the wool. We can’t teach them to butcher an animal. We would have animal cruelty charges on us in a heartbeat. When we get it all planned out, we will present it to the school, and then to the parents. We don’t want the kids to have to pay for anything. Just to learn from it. But we are running into the labor law thing. So it is taking a while to get it approved.” Dusty said.
“I will help your mother if you want me to. I would love to help, even if it means being a peon, bringing milk and cookies for an afternoon snack, even helping make butter. Whatever anyone needs me to do I will help. I bet they won’t let you make soap either. Dangerous chemicals.” I said.
“Count me in! I love to hear your mom and dad teach!” Mary Jo said.
“Me to, I can help you and your dad with the holding the sheep for the kids and whatever you need me to do also!” Big John said.
On the way home we decided to stop at the Sand Creek Massacre historical site. I knew this was going to be an emotional site for me. Especially since Dusty’s mother has taught me to tune into the feelings that I sometimes get. Although, I have always had them, I didn’t know what they were and blocked out most of them. I never said anything about them before, I thought everyone felt the same things I did. Mrs. Lane says I’m very sensitive to the spirits. That is why I feel things other people don’t feel. Anyone can do it, they just have to let it happen and open up their minds.
“Are you ready for this, Dixie?” Dusty asked.
“Yep, let’s go.” I said.
“What’s going on?” Big John asked.
“Dixie is real sensitive to things like this, give her time if she doesn’t answer. If all of the spirits are at rest, she won’t be overwhelmed with different feelings. Most of the time these places aren’t like barns and houses or cemeteries. They are pretty quiet for the rest of us.” Dusty explained.
The Sand Creek Massacre occurred on November 29, 1864 when Colonel John Chivington ordered his men to attack a friendly Indian camp full of Cheyenne and Arapaho women, children, mentally and physically challenged and the elderly, killing over 400 people. The Indians believed they were actually going to be protected by the peace treaties. Chief Black Kettle was told to fly the American Flag and a white flag showing they were at peace with the whites. Black Kettle displayed the flags as he was told. This didn’t deter Chivington and his men. They attacked the village anyway causing one of the bloodies, cowardly, senseless acts of murder against the friendly encampment. Chivington and his men, cut out the private parts of the men, women and children, displaying them on there saddles, hats and sticks and boasted of their victory over the Indians, during a victory parade.
“It pisses me off to think someone could be so stupid as to display private part, much less cut them out. How sick was that man? That is so disgusting! They should have hung him by his balls!” I said.
“Dixie, you need to calm down. You are going to need your energy!” Dusty said.
“I know, let me just breath for a minute. I’ll be fine.” I said.
I took a few deep breaths and nodded, telling my companions I was ‘ready to go’. As expected, I was bombarded with spirits. Dusty put his arm around me for support and understanding as he said, “The recorders are going, any time you are ready.” Mary Jo and Big John stood by in silence watching.
“Give me a minute, I have to separate all of this.” I said, then paused. “I am going to do the soldiers first. There aren’t as many feelings coming from them. I feel a small amount of confusion as to what some of the soldiers are doing. Not all of the soldiers there that day participated in the cruelty that was inflicted upon the Indians. They also didn’t know the reason they were attacking them. They were only following orders. They left when the cruelty started and didn’t want to have a part in it. Some of them had to stop and throw up. Others, were so disgusted and ashamed they didn’t want to be associated with the men who committed these acts. The ones committing the acts, there is a lot of hatred, anger and pride. They are having way to much fun with the pain and cruelty they are inflicting upon the defenseless Indians. I have to stop for a minute.” I did some breathing and walked around for a few minutes. “Fucking morons. Cowardly bastards!”
“Okay, I’m going to change over to the Indians now. I can’t do the soldiers anymore. They are making me sick. I can almost picture the soldiers and I’m pretty sure I don’t want too.” I paused, tuning into the Indians. “There is a lot of confusion, chaos, crying and pain. There are children running frantically, searching for comfort from an adult, some of the children are screaming out in pain as they are being held by their feet and their heads slammed against the rocks.” I paused, trying to pull myself together. “Some of the children are being raped, small children and babies. Shit . . . shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” I paused again, this time tears rolling down my cheeks. “The women are searching for their children and the disable and elderly. They are scared and confused, they to are being raped and tortured. Some are screaming out in pain, some are screaming out in fear for the others they can’t help. Some are praying for death, to stop the madness. Some are searching for a hiding place or a safe place. They are running as the soldiers approach them on their horses. Most are being shot in the back trying to get away, there are women laying on the ground dying, while being mutilated alive by the soldiers.” I had to pause again, walking and breathing to shake it off. “The men are confused and don’t know where to go, what to do or how to protect their friends and family. Some are in total shock and surprise. Being old has taken a toll on them, as they are no longer the mighty warriors they once were. They feel helpless. There is also a lot of pain coming from them, some call out, some don’t. There is blood everywhere. All over the rocks and boulders. There are dead bodies of men, women and children. I can’t do this anymore.” I turned and walked a little ways, then sat down on the ground. Crying freely as my companions watched in total silence.
“How do you do that?” Mary Jo asked. “I don’t get that when I do my hands on healing on the horses. Mine is more, physical. They don’t talk to me, it is done by body language mainly.”
“I don’t fully understand all of the aspects of this yet. I told Dusty’s mom that I could feel things and I know things that I don’t know why I know them. I just know, mom and dad didn’t teach me these things before they were killed in the car accident. I remember having these feelings before then. I just thought it was a part of growing, I guess. Mrs. Lane has helped me a lot. She does the same thing. That is why Dusty knows when these things are coming on. He knows they are stronger in certain areas.” I said.
“If that don’t beat all I’ve ever seen. Do you really feel and see these things?” Big John asked.
“Yes, and sometimes, like today, I can see more than I want. I don’t see faces, more like, just bodies. Most of the time it starts out peaceful. When we first got here, I felt the Indians were sleeping peacefully and content, but the soldiers were excited and ready to kill, save the few who knew this was wrong. It is really hard to explain.” I told him.
“Are you okay?” Dusty asked.
“Yes, I’m okay. Thanks for asking.” I said.
“I think we should be getting home. I have a lot of information to go through for my paper on mining camps.” Dusty said.
“Where do we go next weekend, Dusty?” I asked.
“Kansas, I’ll have to make sure what the topic is. I know the state is Kansas though.” Dusty said. Mary Jo always had her laptop and she was already looking for sites in Kansas even though we didn’t know the topic of his paper yet.
CHAPTER 2
Frontier Fort life proved to be hard and monotonous for most of the recruits who saw little or no combat. Most of the men spent their long days doing manual labor. About 200 infantry and cavalry soldiers were stationed at each fort. A lot of the men were poor, illiterate and foreigners. Many of them being Irish or German immigrants.
The typical frontier forts consisted of barracks, stables, officers quarters, store houses and headquarters. The buildings were grouped around a central parade ground.
Fort Leavenworth was first known as Cantonment Leavenworth and was established by Henry Leavenworth in May 1827 to protect travelers on the Santa Fe trail and the western frontier. It was abandoned in May of 1829. The fort was re-garrisoned in the fall of 1829. The name was changed to Fort Leavenworth in 1832.
“I don’t like the feel of this place. This is really creepy. I feel like I’m being watched by someone who thinks the world owes him something. You know how some people have the attitude that just because they are poor, or an orphan or something like that they have that air about them where the whole world did that to them and so we all owe them. That is what I’m getting from this guy.” I said.
“How do you know it is a guy? It could be a woman.” Big John said.
“Because, if it was a woman, she would’ve already kick our asses being that mad. This is definitely a man!” I said.
“Well, if he is already pissed off, maybe we should just shut up and keep walking.” Dusty said. “Do you know how hard it is to fight a ghost?”
“Maybe your right. Let’s keep walking and hope he stays here.” Mary Jo said. “He is giving me the creeps, bad.”
We then entered into the Chief of Staff’s Quarters. “Do you hear that, sounds like a tea party going on in there. Listen to the voices, they have a strange accent, but I can’t tell what they are saying. It sounds like they are speaking English. But not our kind of English.” Big John said.
Opening the door to peek inside, it appeared to be a parlor, an unoccupied parlor! The party stopped. I said, “Oh, excuse me.” as I took a picture, shut the door, the party then resumed. We all exchanged glances, shrugged our shoulders and continued on.
The St. Ignatius Chapel has been replaced with a house. Father Fred is the oldest ghost to be reported at Fort Leavenworth, the original church burned down in 1875 killing the young priest and his wife. Father Fred walks through the house, up and down the stairs, in the kitchen and the dining room at meal time wearing his collar and robe.
“This could get interesting. Haunted by a priest! Do you think he is going to throw ‘Holy water’ on us? Maybe, preach us a sermon?” I said.
“I don’t know if you should be saying things like that, Dixie. What if he is one of Gods chosen ones and here you are cracking jokes about him. I don’t think we should be messing with priest!” Mary Jo said.
“Hold up there, Dixie!” Big John was saying, “Don’t go pissing off no priest. I don’t want to have to answer for that one when my time comes. I have enough things I’m going to have to answer for!”
I looked at Dusty, “Do you have anything you want to throw into this discussion?”
“No, I personally think that if he is a true, honest priest, he will forgive. I haven’t heard any thing saying he is a vindictive spirit! So, I’m assuming he just makes his presence known. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, you didn’t call him a child molester or anything like that.” Dusty said.
This made me feel better. Mary Jo and Big John were almost scaring me. I don’t know that much about priest or how all of that works. “I just thought getting a sermon on the little recorder from a ghost preacher would be a good deal. That’s all. I know they use ‘Holy water’ a lot in the catholic churches, since he was a catholic priest, well, you get the picture. I won’t melt or go up in flames if he throws it on me, it may shock me, but I know I’m not possessed, so I agree with Dusty, I think I’ll be okay. Besides, I think if he was one of the chosen ones, he would have crossed over.”
“You could have a point there. I just don’t think it’s right to tempt a priest ghost!” Mary Jo said.
“I’ll keep my mouth shut then, just out of respect for your beliefs.” I said.
Catherine Sutler arrived at Fort Leavenworth in the fall of 1880 with her husband and their two children. Traveling west to Oregon, they stopped to visit family who lived at the Fort. One morning the children had been sent out to gather firewood and never returned. The Sutler’s asked for the help of others at the fort to find the children. After three days of searching the children were given up for dead. Catherine never gave up on finding, Ethan and Mary, the children. The Oregon trip was put off. Catherine roamed around the fort day and night looking for the lost children, calling their names. Even in the winter she was spotted with her lantern out looking. She, eventually, caught pneumonia and died. The following spring, Hiram Sutler returned home to Indiana. A short time later a message came and told him that his children were alive. They had been swept into the river and were rescued by a band of Fox Indians. They took care of the children until spring and then returned them to the fort. The children were then returned to their father in Indiana.
“Look,” I pointed at a lady walking across the fort, “is there something odd about her or am I imagining things? I can see through that lady. Do ya’ll see her?”
“I can see through her! Listen, what did she just say? Sounds like she is calling out the names, Ethan and Mary.” Dusty said. Mary Jo has been taping the scene. So has Dusty, I have my camera. Big John, sometimes he takes pictures, sometimes he don’t, had their camera and was taking pictures.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Big John said, as the woman disappeared from sight.
The Lady in black is said to be dressed in a black dress and shawl. She lives in the attic of a house on Sumner Place and watches over the children. An exorcism was performed to remove the unwanted spirit from the house, she moved next door. She still visit’s the house and has been known to do the dishes and look after the children. Some people have seen her looking out the window in the attic.
Walking down the street I get a shiver down my spine. “I feel like we are being watched again. This isn’t an angry spirit like the one in the disciplinary barracks. This is like a caring type person, a nanny maybe, or a nurse, housekeeper, something like that.”
“Up in the attic window is a woman watching us. Do you see her?” Mary Jo asked.
“Yes, is she see through also?” I asked.
“Yep, she is see through alright, where in the hell have all of these ghost come from. They seem to be everywhere! Shit, if this was the end of the rainbow for ghost, we would be rich by now!” Big John said, as he took a picture or two of the woman.
“I sure could use a ghost housekeeper to do my dishes and clean the house!” I said.
General George Armstrong Custer who just happens to be the most frequently sighted ghost in Kansas. Custer was court-martialed here for leaving his command in 1867. Custer was based at Fort Riley in the summer of 1867. A cholera epidemic broke out there. Custer was away from the base when the outbreak occurred, leaving the fort in the hands of a subordinate, while he traveled back to Fort Riley to check on his wife.
“I’ll be damned, if that man don’t look like Custer! Well, hot dog, that son-of-a-bitch has been dead for years. I’m pretty sure he got his ass kicked by a bunch of Indians. Do you think he will come after me if I provoke him? I wonder if he would like to try to scalp me, that yellow belly, chicken liver.” Dusty said.
“Do Not Provoke him, Dusty. If you go looking for trouble, you are going to find it.” I said, following Dusty at a near run, we were headed to the site where we seen Custer.
“Here we go ya’ll, Dusty’s itching for a fight!” I called over my shoulder. “Dusty, we don’t know how to kill a ghost remember. Dusty, you need to calm down. You may get into something we don’t want to be in! Dusty!”
“Oh, hell, here we go!” Big John said.
“What is wrong with you, you yellow belly chicken liver! You are nothing but a piece of white trash shit and my spit is too good to waste on your chicken shit ass. What’s wrong with you, haven’t you ever seen an Indian before. You fucking wimp.” Dusty said.
The ghost didn’t even acknowledge that Dusty was even there. As a matter of fact, he didn’t acknowledge any of us, he didn’t disappear either. He was not interacting with anything or anyone around him. Whew, that was close! We all let out a sigh of relief. The ghost finally dissipated into thin air. “The first time I get to pick a fight and my ghost is one of those that doesn’t know anyone is around! No wonder he got his ass kicked. Dumb bastard.” Dusty said.
The Rookery was built in 1832 at Fort Leavenworth and is the oldest house in Kansas that has been occupied as a residence over the years. The most famous ghost of the house is that of a woman with long hair, has been reported to rush at people, her hair streaming and fingernails clawing while she seems to attack. She is believed to be the ghostly victim of some violent attack which may have caused her death. There is also another ghost that is an old woman who has been seen talking in the corner. Reports of a young girl throwing a temper tantrum and an old man with bushy hair wearing a nightshirt and wakes people from their sleep.
“Holy shit,” Dusty said, ducking from the attack of a woman. “what the hell did I do?”
“Fucking A,” Big John said as he was dodging the wrath of the woman, “I didn’t do anything to you!” he was telling her.
“Duck, Mary Jo, here bat woman is coming at us!” I said.
“She is like a frigging bat. Not just the flying kind but the crazy kind also!” Mary Jo said as we all made our way to the door. “Good grief, I didn’t think we were going to make it out of that room. Oh, look someone is throwing a fit in the floor. Shall we all feel sorry for the poor, pitiful little baby.”
“Mary Jo, are you okay? Did that evil woman get inside of you?” I asked.
“No, I just don’t like to have my space invaded and that witch invaded it. Kind of put me on edge there for a minute. Sorry.” Mary Jo said.
Speaking to one of the staff, we found out there is at least one more ghost in this house. It is an old man with bushy hair. We weren’t sticking around to see this man. We had to many other places to see before moving on to the next frontier fort.
“I know, I know.” I told Dusty as he was giving me that ‘don’t even think about it look.’ Dusty has a thing about disturbing the Indians that are at rest, no matter what tribe they belonged to.
“I forgot to ask mom and dad what would happen if we disturbed one. Since they are not here to tell us what not to do, I would just as soon not do it. Just to be on the safe side. Sorry.” he said.
“That’s okay. I keep forgetting to ask your mom also. How are we going to find out anything about their lives if they don’t present themselves to us. The only ones we have any thing about are the ones at the massacre site and places like that. We don’t have anything for a one on one conversation.” I said.
“I think I can get a lot of the older information from some of the documents that mom and dad have. Their parents and grandparent wrote information down on paper. I know their grandparents wrote the information that their parents had told them. My grandparents taught my great-grandparents how to read and write, so they could write the stories down. They knew it would be important someday.” Dusty said.
“But, that is just information on one tribe isn’t it?” I asked.
“No there are four different tribes mixed in there. I will have mom explain how the marriage thing worked back then. I never really paid that much attention to it because I knew I wasn’t going to marry any of the girls that I had dated from the different tribes or even from my own tribe.” Dusty said.
“I’m not understanding this, are you saying you don’t want us to hunt for the Indian ghost?” Mary Jo asked.
“Yeah, I’ve heard they are really mean and I just don’t want no one to get hurt. I need to do some more research on that part of the Indian beliefs.” Dusty said.
“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before also. It’s something like the priest ghost. There is just too much at stake there.” Mary Jo said.
Sheridan House was the home of General and Mrs. Phillip Sheridan. In 1869, the General deserted his wife when she was on her deathbed to go to Chicago on a business trip. Apparently she has never forgiven him and is vengeful in her haunting.
“I’ve done research on Sheridan before. He was one ruthless s.o.b. I think he had a heart of stone. Deserting his wife like that.” Dusty said.
“I agree, but this has to be some kind of rumor.” I said.
“Why do you say that?” Dusty asked.
“Well, for starters, if she was on her deathbed in 1869 that means she lingered there for a long time, since she didn’t die until the late 1930’s.” I said. “Maybe the ghost that is still here was his mistress and not his wife. I don’t know that he had one, but it is a possibility.”
“How do you know about his wife?” Big John asked.
“I had to write a paper on his private life a couple of weeks ago for my history class!” I said. “He died in 1888. If anyone deserted someone, it would have had to be her deserting him!”
Fort Riley was built as a frontier fort for the protection of the westward travelers on the Santa Fe and Oregon Trails. First named Camp Center was established in 1853 becoming the site of formation for the 7th Cavalry in 1866.
Fort Riley once served as the home of General George Armstrong Custer. Custer and his wife Libby, resided at the fort between 1866-1867. His ghost has been reported on the grounds and at his former residence. What is now known as the Custer House is now a museum. The building is a limestone structure and was built in the 1850’s. In 1855, was the year of the first cholera outbreak that claimed the lives of many.
“I don’t think I would like the fact of being in a fort with a cholera epidemic, or worse, on a wagon train. I can see it now, ‘here we are, shagging ass across the prairie at 1 mile per hour, no shocks on our newly bought wagon, bouncing around like a super ball in a metal box, 110 degrees outside, not a breeze to be found, running a fever of 112, stripping down to the ankle length bloomers, so weak we can’t sit up, fighting for our lives, hallucinations of E.T. going home, then we die.’ what a romantic way of life and death.” I said. Everyone laughed, as we were headed out to see this place.
Quarters 124 was the home of a woman in the 1860’s who drowned herself in a well on the fort grounds. Her body was buried in an open pasture behind the house and that pasture is now someone’s backyard. This ghost drags a wooden box up and down the stairs with chains, making a horrible noise.
“Okay, here is one I would like to interview. Can you feel her around us anywhere?” Mary Jo said.
“I can feel something, but I don’t know where it is coming from. Maybe, the stairs. I don’t know.” I said.
“If you are here with us, can you tell me why you drowned yourself.” Mary Jo started, “did you have cholera and got in the water to cool off?” she paused.
“Did you go in the water to get the wooden box with the chains?” she paused again.
“What was in the box that was so important? A body? Riches? Family heirlooms?” Mary Jo finished.
“I wonder if she will actually answer you, those were some good questions!” I said. “I guess we will find out when we listen to the playbacks!” We very seldom listened to the playback immediately after we did our interviews. We wanted to continue on our way looking for more ghost and history of these places.
Lower Parade Ground is where the ghost of a man gallops his horse across the field and then disappears.
“Look out!” Big John yelled, as we all turned to look. A man on a horse was coming at us at a full gallop. We all jumped back just in the nick of time. I snapped a picture as he was passing us, one of his face, hoping to get a description of the man and possibly find his picture somewhere to tell us who he is. Dusty had the camcorder on him from the time he seen him, until he disappeared into thin air.
“That was close. Now you have seen an animal ghost. See they move at a high rate of speed, you should have stood there and let it run through you, so you could tell us what that felt like.” Dusty teased.
“Kiss my ass!” I laughed.
No. 1 Stable houses a ghost of a man dressed in old fashioned clothing and rides his horse through the stable and disappears. When work was being done on the stable a skeleton of a horse and rider were found in an old ravine.
“I wonder where that ravine is, or should I say, which one it could be. Mainly, what do they consider a ravine!” I said.
“You seemed to have turned this trip into a ghost hunt instead of a history hunt, Dixie!” Dusty joked.
“I’m taking in all of the history, and I still have room for the ghosts!” I said playfully. “Besides, you can’t always rely on the rumors!”
We didn’t find the ghost horse and rider. We looked, but it just wasn’t here at this time, if it ever is.
Fort Hays was originally known as Fort Fletcher and was built to protect military roads and the Smoky Hill Trail. It was also used to protect the mail and the Union Pacific Railroad construction gangs. The fort name was changed in 1866 in honor of Brigadier General Alexander Hays who was killed on May 5, 1864 during the civil wars Battle of the Wilderness. It served as a supply depot for the needed supplies for the other army post in Kansas. Four of the original structures that are still standing are the two officers’ quarters, guardhouse, and blockhouse. It was in operation from 1865 to 1889.
“This could prove to be an interesting site. I bet it was total chaos at the time of the epidemic. If there were approximately 200 soldiers at each one of the frontier forts, and 100 of them got cholera, not only were you a sitting duck on the wild, dangerous plains, but you also had to tend to the sick. My ass would be out of here in a heartbeat! I’m sure they were quarantined, and couldn’t leave and that would pose a problem. Just think of the people who had passed through the area with cholera. Or turned away that needed assistance with something minor. That would suck.” I said.
“Back then, they mainly relied on their own intuition to fix the minor things, or did what their mom’s did, swag it!” Mary Jo said. “Natural chemist!”
“Swag it?” Dusty asked.
“Some wild ass guess!” Mary Jo said. Dusty shook his head and laughed.
“I’m going to have to remember that one, I can’t use it on the kids I tutor though. Even if it does say it all!” Dusty said.
During a cholera epidemic in 1867, a woman by the name of Elizabeth Polly attended to and comforted the ill and dying. When she wasn’t working, she would take a few moments to walk on the nearby Sentinel Hill. She eventually contracted the disease and died. Her dying wish was to be buried on top of the hill. She was given a full military funeral but, the hill was to rocky and hard so the soldiers buried her on the side of the hill instead. Her ghost has been reported as a woman dressed in a long blue dress with a white bonnet. She has been seen walking across a farm towards the hill, where she is seen roaming the hill she visited so often.
“I can’t imagine what that poor woman went through. I wonder what her last name was and why she was here?” I said.
“She could be anyone! A tourist, just passing through, a soldiers wife, an officers daughter, someone’s fiancee, there is no way of knowing. Do you know how many Elizabeth’s or Polly’s there were back then. They were everywhere!” Mary Jo said.
“Everyone back then had the names Sarah, Emily, Elizabeth, Mary and most of them were nicknamed Polly.” I said. We didn’t see this woman and I was a little disappointed. Such a bittersweet story. Oh well, maybe some other time. I thought.
Fort Dodge was used as a supply depot and base of operations. It was established in 1865. The first buildings in the fort were sod and adobe buildings. Some of the soldiers at the fort lived in dugouts. The first year in the isolated fort, disease was a common occurrence among the men as sanitation was poor and rain would flood the dugouts. In 1866, the first lumber arrived and the officers’ quarters and a temporary hospital were built. The fort was abandoned in 1867. It was deeded to the state for use as a soldiers home eight years later. In 1867, Fort Dodge was relocated and rebuilt in stone buildings.
“Now, that would be something wouldn’t it. Sleeping soundly, waking up with the ceiling six inches from your face, only to roll out of bed into six and a half foot of water. The hell with the coffee. That would be enough to wake anyone.” Dusty said.
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much fun. In the winter it would have been right down awful. I can imagine how many of the men died. Half of them were probably half frozen.” I said.
“It gets cold in the Texas panhandle and so I’m sure it gets really cold here too! I haven’t ever been up here in the winter. But when we had that big snow a couple of years ago, I was snowed in for almost two months. This area up here may have got more snow than I did. Back in the 1800’s, with that much snow on top of your dug out, would suck.” I said.
“Then to make matters worse, when it started melting through the roof! I wonder how many of them died in their dugout from starvation. If you had that much snow on the ground you know the entrance would be block off. How would you dig your way out? That snow would have to be brought into the dugout. They couldn’t even start a fire with the chimneys being blocked. You would die of smoke inhalation.” Big John said.
“I guess that would give you a choice of how you died! That would be horrible. To have to sit, trapped in a dugout and think about the quickest way to die. Who would want to prolong the inevitable? Well, I guess natural instinct would dictate otherwise. Melt the snow, breath the smoke, stay warm, drink the melted snow, and maybe the chimney would melt the snow on top to let the smoke out in time to save your life before you suffocate.” I said.
George Hoy was one of the many cowboys that drove the herds from Texas through Dodge City, Kansas. Hoy was born on September 12, 1853. On July 28, 1878, Hoy along with several other cowboys were at the saloons entertaining themselves. In the early morning hours Hoy and another cowboy, celebrating as they rode through the town, shooting their guns in the air and not at anything in particular, just shooting. One of the bullet went through a window, causing the patrons of the place to hit the floor in defense. Wyatt Earp and Jim Masterson entered the street, one of the cowboys fired in the direction of the two men. The two lawman returned fire and the two cowboys headed out of town. A citizen then joined the gun battle. Hoy crossed the bridge and then fell from his horse wounded. Hoy died on August 21, 1878, one month before his 25th birthday. Hoy is buried in the Prairie Hill Cemetery north of Dodge City, Kansas. Wyatt Earp claimed Hoy, was a hired assassin out to kill him. Although, Hoy didn’t die from the bullet, he died weeks later from complications to the wound.
“Here is the prime example of crossing that line, between good and bad. I know it was against the law to carry a gun inside the city limits of Dodge City. But, the cowboys were leaving town. Not firing at anyone or anything in particular, just blowing off steam and having a good time, after the long trail drive. Next thing you know, the cowboy is wounded and Wyatt Earp is bragging about shooting the guy.” I said.
“You know, Wyatt was paranoid for the most part of his life because of the enemies he made, professionally and personally. Or that is what I’ve read about him.” Big John said.
“I’ve read those stories too. I found, it is better to stay away from the Wyatt Earp shit, there are so many stories out there that you don’t know if they are true or not! Like the story on this guy, there was three men shooting at him. Who in the hell knows who’s bullet actually hit him? They didn’t have ballistics back then to test the bullets with the gun. It could have resulted in Wyatt Earp’s over inflated ego and a strong desire to prove he was a man.” I said.
“That would be my guess! I’m with Dixie, Wyatt Earp wanted everyone to think that there had never been or ever will be another lawman that could match him. He wanted everyone to believe he was the king of law-enforcement, despite his inability to keep his pants on. He changed the laws to suit his needs and his reputation.” Mary Jo said. “The way I look at it, lies and paranoia go hand in hand.”
“I wish this ghost would appear so I could interview him. I would like to know the truth of the whole matter. Only out of curiosity. It won’t bring him back, and it won’t hurt Wyatt Earp’s reputation any. But, I’m nosey and I would like to know. I doubt if he would even tell the truth.” I said.
A barn standing on the site of Old Fort Dodge has a ghost that turns the lights on and off around three in the morning.
“I wonder if he was out milking the cow? Back then was before store bought milk. The milker would have to get up earlier than everyone else, that way the rest of the family would have milk for breakfast. Plus they did their morning chores before breakfast. They always came first.” I said.
“That would make sense, maybe, he didn’t have electricity and finds it interesting. Especially if he had to use a lantern at three in the morning.” Mary Jo said.
Patrick Sughrue was born in County Kerry, Ireland around 1844. At one point the lawman was working in Leavenworth, Kansas as a blacksmith. In 1877, Sughrue was operating in some type of law enforcement. In May of 1877, Sughrue was in Dodge City, Kansas and came across a transient. Feeling sorry for the man, Sughrue provided the man with a room and board and a shot gun to kill ducks with until he could find a job. Sughrue was returning to his blacksmith shop and seen the vagrant with a file hanging out of his pocket. Sughrue kicked the man repeatedly and more of his tools fell out of the clothing of the tramp. Sughrue picked his tools up off of the ground and headed into the shop. A nearby resident called out just in time to keep Sughrue from receiving a blow to the head with a metal object. On November 6, 1877 Sughrue was elected constable of Dodge City. In the fall of 1883 Sughrue was elected sheriff of Ford county. His under sheriffs were his twin brother, Michael and Mysterious Dave Mather. After attending a meeting, Sughrue arrested Dave Mather for the murder of Tom Nixon over the affections of a woman. He was credited with at least one major arrest a month. Sughrue rode into herds of cattle suspected of having ‘Texas Fever’ and ordered them to turn back, not allowing them to enter the Dodge City area to protect the healthy cattle in the area. Sughrue died in 1906 and is buried in Maple Grove Cemetery in Dodge City, Kansas.
“This is more on the lines of a real lawman. Although, kicking the shit out of a thieving tramp, it was effective since he got his tools back, he wasn’t working as law enforcement at the time, either.” I said.
“I sure would hate to piss this dude off. He arrested his own deputy for murder. So, that right there proves that he did it because it was his job and not for the fame of the position.” Mary Jo said.
“I have to respect the man. I’m sure that it wasn’t easy to arrest his own deputy.” Big John said.
“We need more of his kind, now days!” Dusty said. “There is too many crooked cops and not enough good ones to weed them out, or brave enough to stand up to the bad ones. I know there is a code of honor amongst them, but they shouldn’t push that code to make their friends have to cover anything up for them. That isn’t what friends are for. I would never ask any of my friends to cover up for me.”
“I wouldn’t either. I wouldn’t expect them to risk their career, their families or anything else. Of course, if I screwed up, I would own up to it. I wouldn’t drag anyone else into my illegal stupidity.” I said.
“Oh no, you wouldn’t do that would you? Like sneaking into cemeteries in the dark?” Dusty teased.
“If they don’t have a fence or a locked gate, it isn’t illegal, is it? They are public places. And we only sneak in because we want to ‘sneak up’ on the ghost.” I said. “What are they going to get us for, shooting a ghost with a deadly camera? Mine doesn’t shoot bullets, does yours?”
Abner Grover may have been born around 1825. His first government records show he was a scout, guide and a spy for Fort Kearney in 1864. He was married to a Sioux woman and he spoke Cheyenne and Sioux. In 1868, Grover had been hired by Lieutenant Beecher, by Fort Wallace in Kansas, to scout the area, where the Indian uprising were spreading through Kansas and Colorado. Grover and William Comstock entered into a camp of Cheyenne where they were not welcomed. Leaving the camp both of the men were shot in the back, killing Comstock instantly, Grover used Comstock’s body as a shield. He made his way to some railroad tracks, where a passing train picked him up. Major George Forsyth was ordered to recruit fifty experienced plainsmen. Grover was the head guide. The group of men left Fort Wallace and found a trail. They camped along the Arikaree River only to be wakened by a small band of Indians stealing their horses. The men recaptured the horses when they spotted a charging band and headed into the river to a small island. Some of the men were killed, and more were killed on the island where there was no protection from the charging Indians. Some of the men killed their horses and used them as shields to hide behind. They lost half of the men on the initial charge. Major Forsyth was wounded and Beecher was killed. The fight became known as the Battle of Beecher Island. Forsyth put Grover in command. The group had sent a scout the first night of the fight to go get help. Grover and the men held the Indians off for three days. They stayed on the island for another four days until the help arrived. The help came in the form of the Buffalo Soldiers to retrieve the militia. On February 16, 1869 Grover, being drunk, started to harass a man by the name of Moody. Moody had trouble with Grover before and he shot and killed the unarmed Grover. Grover is buried in the old Fort Wallace Cemetery near Wallace, Kansas.
“That would be worse than being stranded with Gilligan! But, I think every large group has their Gilligan! I can see this now, ‘Gil, your suppose to be shooting at the Indians, not at us! Your gonna hurt someone, just put down your gun and hide behind that horse there. And don’t come out until we tell you to. Someone tie him up, he’ll get us all killed!’ This don’t paint a pretty picture to me!” I said.
“No, but he could sure entertain the Indians while everyone made their get-a-way!” Dusty laughed.
Meade, Kansas is a home to the Dalton Gang Hideout. Meade was the home of Eva Dalton Whipple, the sister of the infamous Dalton Gang. Eva moved to Meade in the mid 1880’s and was married to J. N. Whipple, a Meade merchant, in 1887. Whipple built the house for his bride. After the couple left the area years later, a deep rain washed out the area exposing a tunnel that ran from the house to the barn on the hillside below. It is believed the tunnel provide a safe passage for the Dalton gang to come and go undetected by the law. The tunnel itself is 95 feet long.
“I wonder if there are any outlaw ghost running around here? It sure would be interesting to find out about their lives, don’t you think?” I said.
“Oh, I think it would be interesting. But the ghost never seem to tell us about their lives. The ones we have caught on tape aren’t easily understandable. Could you imagine how hard it would be to decipher a life story on one of them? That would be the shits!” Dusty said.
“Yeah, but it would be something. I want to know why they turned to a life of crime. Did they do it out of necessity, greed or fun? I know times were hard back then. A lot of people paid their bills with eggs, chickens or labor, instead of cash. So there really wasn’t much need for the paper money or coins.” I said. “Since most of them paid their debts that way, it seems like everyone would be suspicious of someone paying with cash.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Where do you come up with these ideas?” Dusty laughed.
“I guess an over-active imagination, I don’t know!” I said.
“I wouldn’t mind talking to an outlaw ghost.” Big John said.
We all turned and looked at him, then at each other. “Did you just say you would NOT mind talking to a ghost? Did someone slip me some drugs, or you some?” Mary Jo asked.
“I think someone slipped all of us some!” Dusty said.
“Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.” I said.
Headed home, Big John seems to be really getting into some of the things that Dusty is having to do research on. Dusty is now doing historical sites that Big John can relate to, the old west and outlaws. “Where do we go next weekend?” Big John asked.
“New Mexico, I signed up to research hotels, hospitals and restaurants in New Mexico for my next paper.” Dusty informed us. “Sorry, Big John, I need to get this one out of the way. I have been trying to put it off for a long time. Those hospital ghost scare the hell out of me. And you know Dixie, she will sure as hell find one of them! I’m mainly looking for the type of instruments and medicine they used. I know there was a lot of home remedies that involved herbs.”
Around noon on Thursday, Mary Jo, Big John and I load up in my silver Jeep and head to Santa Fe. We will pick up Dusty and head to Albuquerque for, what I will call some history research, for now.
CHAPTER 3
Albuquerque, New Mexico, home of the Church Street Café which was built during the founding of Albuquerque in 1706. This making it one of the oldest structures in the state of New Mexico. It was originally built around 1709 as a residence and was called the ‘Casa de Ruiz’. This place was the home of the Ruiz family up until the 1990’s and then was sold. These are the only two families who have owned this place. Sara Ruiz, was known as a curandera, a type of healer who used herbs.
“Now, this is right up my alley!” Mary Jo said.
“A real ghost healer, how cool is that! Maybe, she can explain some things to us! Or to me anyway, if the rest of ya’ll don’t want to know.” I said.
“Good grief, here we go again!” Big John said. “Another frigging ghost hunt. Shit! Just call me Gilligan!”
“Quit your whining, John, you know every old place we go, or ever will go to has the possibility of ghost! Suck it up, or you can stay home the next time.” Mary Jo said.
“Let’s have something to eat and maybe, she will come over here and talk to us if we ask her to nicely.” I said.
“Sounds good to me. Maybe, we can request that she wait on us!” Mary Jo said.
“Sara? Sara, are you here today?” I said laying the recorder on the table.
“If you are here, do you have a minute to talk to us. We don’t want to intrude and we know you were a healer. That was good for you to help people the way you did.” Mary Jo said. “If you feel like telling us of your healings it will help us to understand more about the herbs and medicinal value they have. We thank you.”
We all ordered our food and ate basically in silence since we were all so hungry. After we finished, we talked for a few minutes. Before leaving, I said, “You have a lovely place here, Sara, the food was grand! Thank you for letting us enjoy this beautiful place. Good-bye.” Then we left the restaurant. Walking around in old town, looking at some of the venders displays on the square, studying the artistic, uniquely designed jewelry, belts and other items on display.
Maria Teresa Restaurant was built as a twelve room hacienda by Salvador Armijo in 1783. With the little recorders running, we were hoping to catch a lot of the history on this magnificent building.
“I can’t believe how old some of these places are! I know back in their day they had to be the best in the west. Even today, they’re still amazing. If we have better materials, more equipment and more laborers why can’t the builders of today, build a house that will last as long as the houses did back then?” I asked.
“I was wondering the same thing, with the technology today you would think they could build things that would last more than 20 years. Hell, these pioneers had to do everything by hand and they could still out do today’s technology!” Dusty said.
We had both of the camcorders going and both camera’s flashing away. We all had decided we could use some kind of dessert after all of the walking we had done. A waitress in a long white dress came to take our order. As we waited for our food, another waitress appeared to take our order. We told her we had already ordered and described the waitress to her. She immediately knew who it was and brought us our food.
“Wasn’t that weird? We had a ghost waitress! Yee-haw, that was exciting. I thought there was something odd about her. But she was really nice.” I said.
“Our camera is still running, is yours?” Dusty asked.
“Yes, I hardly ever turn it off.” Big John said. “I would probably end up with one arm! You know how these two women of ours are. Don’t let them miss something, for Pete’s sake.”
La Placita Restaurant was constructed of adobe sometime before 1880 as a fort and refuge for the Ambrosio Armijo family. It has also been used as a trading post. It was originally called the ‘Casa Armijo.
“This is a nice little restaurant. I don’t feel anything unusual here do you?” I asked Mary Jo.
“Not really, but I need to go to the bathroom! Do you see it? Oh, there it is. I’ll be right back.” she said as she headed to the restroom.
A few minutes later, Mary Jo returned to the table and said, “I just had the strangest thing happen, I was in the bathroom, minding my own business and it got really cold. Then when I was washing my hands I looked in the mirror and there was this little girl, she was about eight, maybe nine years old. The door never opened and I was the only one in there. Next thing I know, there she is, and I could see through her!”
“Your kidding! That is great. I’ll need to go before we leave. I’ll see if she is still in there and I’ll take the camcorder with me. Maybe we can get her on camera.” I said.
“Well, ya’ll just keep her in your area. I don’t want to see no ghost tonight. I’m worn out from all of the walking that we have done so far. And eating. These have been some good eating places we have been in so far.” Big John said. “Besides, if she shows up in the men’s room, I may pee all over everything.”
“I know, we need to find some of the other buildings, like hotels and hospitals. I think I have already gained 40 pounds from all of this food! I just hate to go to one of these places without testing the wares!” Dusty laughed. Upon finishing our meal, I set out for the bathroom with camcorder in hand. And washing my hands, I set it on the counter, facing the mirror, and low and behold, there was the little girl, I then placed the camera toward where the girl was, “This is a movie camera and it will take your picture, is that alright with you?” The girl seemed to nod in agreement. “I can show it to you if it will pick your image up and you can watch your own movements. If you would like to come closer and have a look you can.” I said. The girl was right beside me, looking in the camera lens. My arm was colder than ice. “You sure are pretty, can you tell me your name?” I was watching her lips in the mirror afraid if I looked directly at her she would disappear. I think I seen her lips say ‘thank you’. She then looked toward the door and disappeared.
Casa de Fiesta Restaurant may have been built around the 1840’s by a family with the last name of Zamora. This place has also been used to house about 300 Confederate soldiers during the civil war who were passing through the area. It was also used as a butcher shop, jewelry store, general store and restaurant. Although, there were no ghost to make their presence to us we did look at the construction of the place. The age of these buildings still amaze me.
La Pinata was once the stable area of the Casa de Armijo. The small shop was also used as a school at one time.
“Look at all of the colors in this place. It is a good thing we aren’t drunk or on drugs, this would be hell if we were hallucinating!” Big John said.
“Yeah, it sure would. I can probably do all of my Christmas shopping in this place!” Dusty said.
“This is packed with items. It would take me a week to see everything in this store. The things that I see are pretty neat though. I don’t need any of them. I don’t have anyone to buy Christmas for except me.” I said, not thinking nothing about that fact.
“Mom wants you to come have Thanksgiving and Christmas with us. She told me to ask you if you would like to come. I was going to ask you anyway. You’re kind of growing on me. Did you just say you don’t have any family at all?” Dusty asked.
“No, no family at all.” I said, still not thinking anything about it.
“Well, you are in for a culture shock!” Dusty said.
“Should I be afraid, Dusty?” I laughed.
“No, but I’ll warn you now, it gets loud, very loud!” Dusty said.
High Noon Restaurant and Saloon was constructed around 1785 and is one of the original territorial buildings. The building may have once served as a gambling casino and brothel.
“Here you go Big John! I don’t recall anyone saying anything about no prostitute ghost being here, but you never can tell. One may just pop up where ever she is needed!” I laughed along with Mary Jo and Dusty.
“You know one won’t pop up with the wife around. They aren’t suicidal you know!” Big John said.
“What would make you think that? Any one that will crawl in bed with a stranger like they do has got to be suicidal! They don’t know what the johns are going to do to them. To top it all off, they don’t know what kind of diseases they could come in contact with either. That is called suicide by slow, torturous death.” Mary Jo said.
“Yeah, but they didn’t have aids back then. I guess the diseases they did have were pretty dangerous for the times, though, since the medical field didn’t have advanced medicine like we have.” Big John stated.
“I wonder if they had douches?” I asked. “Who wants a taste of sloppy seconds or thirds?”
“I don’t want to know! I don’t even want to have this conversation. This is out of my league!” Dusty said.
Alfredo’s Café was built in 1706 as a Native American residence. It was made of adobe bricks which are mortared with mud. Later the building was turned into a Spanish fort. After the fort was abandoned it was used as a stage coach stop. It is now used as a coffee shop.
The Manual Springer House is a two story brick historical house. It was also used as a speakeasy and a brothel. The building is believed to be haunted by a woman by the name of Scarlett who was one of the prostitutes.
“I know, this one is for me.” Big John said.
“We didn’t intend for it to be that way though, it just happened on its own! Were there so many prostitutes that they let them work out of any establishment, except for the dressmakers shops where the good women hung out?” I laughed.
“Seems that way, huh.” Mary Jo said.
“I hate to tell you, but the prostitute thing was a hoax. There was a Scarlett that was a social worker that was killed. But this wasn’t the location. So, I guess you are out of luck again. Don’t hardly seem fair does it Big John.” I said feigning disappointment. I really was in a way, I wanted to see Big John’s reaction to a ghost prostitute. He would flee like a scared rabbit, if he didn’t freeze up!
The Old Town Emporium, being built by the Garcia family around 1890.
“This would be another place to Christmas shop, if it were closer to Christmas!” Mary Jo said.
“Yeah, this place is really neat! I like coming in places that have unique items everywhere. I’m not much into shopping.” I said.
“You don’t like shopping?” Dusty and Big John asked surprisingly.
“No, I don’t like shopping! Why is everyone so shocked when I say that. I go get what I need and then my ass is out of there!” I said.
“I thought everyone liked to shop!” Dusty said.
“Look at the dream catchers! They are so big! I have a few of them. I like that kind of art. I have seen some that are very colorful. I like the ones with animals on them.” I said.
“I like some of the jewelry they have here. But, I don’t wear much jewelry.” Mary Jo said.
“Something just touched me and it was very cold! I know it wasn’t any of ya’ll doing it! This is not good!” Big John said. “I hate when cold things touch me. That means it isn’t breathing!” Big John said.
“Looks like you are now the ghost magnet, Big John. That leaves more time for me to be taking pictures!” I said.
“Well, shut up and take the damn picture so I can get the hell out of here!” Big John told us.
Boyd’s Sanitarium in Dripping Springs was built in 1910 by Nathan Boyd. Boyd was a doctor from Las Cruces, and built the sanitarium to isolate tuberculosis victims. Some of the patients underwent dangerous experiments. Around three decades later, the building was used as an insane asylum. Many of the patients were abused or killed. Some were kicked out and left to wander around in the mountains to die.
“Since this is not from the 1800’s I thought it would be an interesting site for my research. A lot of the hospitals were called ‘sanitariums’ back then. I wished they had the equipment the doctors used. I still need to go back to the museums in Santa Fe. They have a lot of the information that I need.” Dusty said.
“What you are telling us is that you did this one for the women, aren’t you?” Big John said.
“Kind of!” Dusty replied.
“Damn you Dusty, you joining forces with them to kill me off!” Big John laughed.
“No, I’m hoping to find something that will scare the shit out of them so we don’t have to do this crap for the rest of our pitiful lives!” Dusty laughed.
“This place gives me the creeps! I feel like there is a pair of eyes behind every tree. I hope we don’t get attacked by a mountain lion!” I said. “If we here screams it doesn’t mean they are from ghost, mountain lions have often been mistaken for women screaming, so remember this!” I said. “And at least warn the rest of us before you take off! I would hate to be left out here to fend for myself. I do better in a crowd!”
“It seems to be colder around this building than on the trail. I’m freezing my butt off.” Mary Jo said.
All of us stayed fairly close to each other in case of some kind of attack, be it natural or paranormal. Big John doesn’t do well in the open when attacked by ghost! Big John doesn’t do well with ghost, period! Taking a lot of pictures of the cold spots, we move along the trails, looking inside all of the buildings.
“This place is scary as hell! I don’t think I like it too much!” Mary Jo said.
“There is a lot of pain and confusion here.” I said.
“Sit down on that rock and separate it out for me, Dixie.” Dusty said.
“I don’t know if I can separate this one out. All of these had illnesses and a lot of them were abused. Wait, one is feeling a lot of pain, some kind of experimental type thing, she seems to be having a hard time breathing. Now, I guess, I’ll start with the tuberculosis patients. They were here first. The doctor was trying to find a cure, but some of the things he done didn’t help. They caused a lot of pain. He wasn’t evil, but the caretaker was. He was the one who would, inflict the pain on everyone. Not medically, but the beatings and burnings. He was verbally abusive. He called them all sorts of names, bad names, he would beat them on several occasions, for example when they didn’t move fast enough, or if it took longer to get out of bed, or when they had to go to the bathroom. He was a cruel man. He would rape and sodomize the men and women and then kill them so they couldn’t talk. Some of his victims he would kill before, the sexual acts. He did all kinds of things perverted to them. Especially the sicker, weaker ones who couldn’t fight back.” I said. “I think I’m going to throw up!”
“Do you want to leave?” Dusty asked.
“No, I have to do this for the ghost. They want their story told and maybe some can move on. They need their story told. The others don’t understand a lot of the things that are happening to them, but they know it isn’t right. They feel a lot of pain. They are beaten more than the others. There is a lot of screaming and crying coming from this sector. There is more than one caregiver this time. All of them seem to be in on the abuse. There is also a lot of sexual abuse. Some of the patients are made to perform sexual acts on the other patients in the asylum. While the caretakers watch and laugh.” I paused. Once again becoming nauseated at what they are telling me. “Some of the abusers are still here, also. They have black hearts. They are cold, blooded killers. They stripped some of the patients of their clothing and throw them out of the house with out anything to protect them, locking them out in the freezing cold. They are not allowed to enter any of the buildings. If they try, they are tortured and beaten to death. Some of the ones inflicting the pain and abuse were women nurses, some were men that were suppose to help move them around. They would drag them around by their hair most of the time. They screams went unheard, since they were out here in the middle of no where.” I said.
“I think you have had enough.” Dusty warned. “I think we need to move on. You are getting way to involved emotionally.”
“Fucking right I am! This was down right wrong! These caregiver deserve to rot in hell for what they’ve done. They put these people threw total hell, they need to have the same things done to them! They can’t pick on someone who is strong and in their right minds, they had to pick on the ones who couldn’t fight back. The chicken shit, mother fuckers! I wish we knew how to put them through hell! I would damn sure do it and not even feel bad about it afterwards! Stupid pricks and cunts.” I said.
“Dixie, you need to calm down!” Mary Jo said getting really worried.
“The hell I do! These people were mean. I guess back then the sick didn’t have any rights at all. They were human! They had feelings, just like everyone else. Just because they were confused doesn’t mean they deserved to be beaten and abused like that. I know it would be a hard job, but the idiots should’ve quit, instead of taking it out on the helpless, sick people. This is bullshit!” I screamed.
The next thing I know I’m flying off the boulder, through the air and landed by a prickly pair. I felt bad spirits hovering over me, trying to hold me down. I could feel the sick and insane cheering me on. I knew I had to stand up, and calm down to diminish the strength of the evil spirits. A part of the prickly pear flew up and hit me in the arm, another hit me in the back. It hurt like hell, but I never cried out in pain, I stood my ground. A stick hit me on the legs and then a rock in the face. Still no sound came from my mouth, as the blood ran down my cheek. I wanted to run, but I knew I couldn’t. I tried to concentrate on calming myself down, to lessen the blows being inflicted on me. Dusty ran up and grabbed me, taking me away from the assaulting ghosts, one of the ghost hit Dusty with a prickly pear on the leg. Big John was headed down the trail, with Mary Jo following behind. Dusty and I following their lead. It didn’t take long to catch up with them as we were practically running.
Being beat up by ghost is not a new experience for me. I was beat up by one at another asylum in Oklahoma. My companions didn’t think that was all too fun, I on the other hand, did not learn to keep my mouth shut or I wouldn’t have just got beat up by these cruel, evil ghost, or what I call “demons from hell”. Half way down to the car, I couldn’t keep quiet no longer. “The bad asses stopped following us a while back, you can let go of my arm now.”
“Not until we get to the car! You are still way to mad and may go back for more brutality!” Dusty said. “I can’t take it anymore. That shit hurt! Besides, we need to head home. I have to get ready for work tomorrow and then help some of the kids.”
The drive back to Santa Fe was extremely quiet. “Dusty, let me see your leg where you got hit. I’m sorry they attacked you. You should not have got into their line of fire. You should invest in a rope! Then you can rope me and pull my ass to safety!” I said.
“I still think we need to invest in super glue and duct tape!” Big John said. “I will give you credit though. When it comes to ghost beatings, you seem to shut out the pain. I know I couldn’t do that. It hurts when I accidentally run into a prickly pear, much less have a whole leaf of one stuck in my back and arm both. I’m pretty sure I would cry!”
“Dixie, how do you do it. Big John is right, you don’t scream or cry. I would be on the ground curled up in a ball!” Mary Jo said.
“I think that is what they were wanting me to do. I wanted to, I just couldn’t give into them. That is why I didn’t scream or cry or curl up in a ball. I couldn’t run, my legs wouldn’t move. My mind was telling me to get the hell out of there, my body wasn’t obeying the command! They like to be in control and that is their way of getting it. I had to show them they were not going to control me or my emotions. If I would have done any of those things they would have won, I couldn’t let them win. I couldn’t let them.” I said.
“Holy shit! My leg is burning like wild fire. I need to get home to some of mom’s herbal remedies. She makes her own. They take the sting out. How do you feel?” Dusty said.
“Like crying, but if I do it will make my face burn where that rock hit me. I’m going to try one of the baby wipes on my arm. If it doesn’t burn to bad I will use it on my face. That cactus thing really sucks! Don’t let me get into a fight with a ghost near a frigging cactus again!” I said.
Dusty, Mary Jo and Big John all did the eye roll thing. “Dixie, how do you suggest we stop you from fighting with ghosts period? Personally, that is one experience that I can do without!” Dusty said.
Pat Garrett was born June 5, 1850 in Alabama and raised in Louisiana. Working as a trail driver, buffalo hunter and hog farmer. Around 1880, Garrett became sheriff of Lincoln county. After the Lincoln county war, Garrett started his pursuit of ‘Billy the Kid’. On July 14, 1881, Garrett waited in a bedroom of the Maxwell house in Fort Sumner, New Mexico. When Billy entered the room, Garrett fired his gun, ending the chase of ‘Billy the Kid.’ On February 29, 1908, Garrett was traveling from Las Cruces, New Mexico to his ranch with Wayne Brazel and Carl Adamson. Garrett stepped out of the wagon to relieve himself, a bullet hit him in the back of the head, Garrett spun around and a second bullet to the stomach ended his life. Brazel confessed to the murder. Garrett is buried in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
“I bet he could have put a campfire out when he got hit with the first bullet!” Big John said.
“Even if it were a mile away! I would’ve hated being the other man in the wagon, I wonder if he was in on the murder?” Mary Jo said.
“Some people say it wasn’t Brazel who killed him. They say it was Jim Miller. I would have to relieve myself if it was! And it wouldn’t smell like roses!” Dusty said.
“Was Brazel punished for the crime? It’s a clear case of murder. Sounds to me like, anyway.” I said.
“I haven’t read that much on Pat Garrett, I have read a lot about the Lincoln county war, and Billy the Kid, and a few things on Garrett. I knew that Garrett had been shot but I haven’t ever looked into it to find out by who. I just hadn’t got to him in my research yet.” Dusty said.
Upon reaching Santa Fe, we went to Dusty’s parents house first. Mrs. Lane greeted us at the door. “Holy cow! What happened to you? Are you okay?” she asked, running to me. “Joe, you need to get out here!”
“I need some cactus stuff for my leg. Dixie, are you going to tell mom what happened or should I?” Dusty asked.
“I got into a fight with a ghost. Well, okay, it was more than one ghost” I said.
“Did you win?” Mr. Lane asked trying to hold back his laughter.
“Kind of.” I said.
“How do you ‘kind of’ win a fight, either you do or you don’t. That is all there is to it!” Mr. Lane said. “What were you fighting over? Dusty.”
“Joe, be quiet. I want to hear this story.” Mrs. Lane said.
“We were at a sanitarium and the sick and insane ghost were telling me about the caregivers, and the way they abused them, physically, mentally and sexually. I got mad and lost my temper. I tried to keep my mouth shut but I couldn’t. The next thing I knew, I was flying off of the boulder I was sitting on. I knew I had to stand up and be strong for the weaker ghost. When I did, one of the mean ones threw part of a prickly pear and hit me in the arm. Another one hit me in the back with some more of the prickly pear. One was hitting me on the legs with a stick and one threw a rock and hit me in the face. The one that hit Dusty was by accident. It was throwing it at me and Dusty was trying to get me out of the war zone. That is when he got hit.” I said.
“What makes you think you won this fight?” Mr. Lane asked, while tending to Dusty’s ‘cactus bites.’
“Because, I didn’t back down from them, I stood up, never crying or screaming. I didn’t curl up in a ball. I didn’t let them take control like they wanted. I tried to calm down so they would lose some of their power. You know, it hurts like hell to be hit with a prickly pear, the stick and rock were a piece of cake!” I said. “Mrs. Lane . . .”
“I don’t know, Dixie. You did the right thing by standing up against them. Showing them courage. I don’t think it will stop the mean ones. But it made them less powerful. What do you think happened to the sick and insane ones?” she said, as she started applying a poultice on my wounds. “I am going to have to sew your face, do you want to go to the hospital to have it done?”
“No, you can sew it. I hope all of them, or at least some of them, got to move on. They told me their stories. I hope it helped them. I don’t know if they understood what I was showing them. The evil ones, they will have to find there own way. I felt like the sick ones were helping the insane ones off of the mountain, when we were leaving. The evil ones followed us part of the way to the car. They didn’t go all the way down. There was a barrier type thing that made them stop. Something that they couldn’t cross.” I said.
“You did a good thing.” Mr. Lane said.
“I learned the last time that the ghost feed off of your fear and anger. Then they seem to get stronger.” I said.
“You mean, you have done this before?” Mrs. Lane asked.
“Yes, when we went to Oklahoma. That one I could see. She was very mean and evil. It was at an orphanage. She was abusing the kids and sticking them with needles and things. She liked to hear them scream in pain. She was a very sick woman. I didn’t realize when she was beating the crap out of me, that my fear and anger, were making her stronger. She blacked my eye!” I said.
“I will teach you how to use a medicine bag. You are going to need one if you continue to fight ghost. First I must talk to the elderly shaman. Maybe, he has some ideas of what you need to do. He will say, ‘quit fighting ghost’ I’m sure. These weren’t Indian ghost were they?” Mr. Lane said.
“No, they were white and Hispanic, I think. Mostly white. They usually don’t give me the color of their skin.” I said. “Come to think of it, I really don’t know what race they were. The sick ones were all dressed in ragged clothes though, if they had clothes. Some of them were giving me the impression they were naked. Of having their clothes taken away from them forcefully. They may have been the ones that were killed after they were raped and sodomized.” I said.
“They told you all of this? Joe . . .” Mrs. Lane started.
“Already done, he will be here, no, he is here now.” Mr. Lane said.
I related the story again to the shaman. He was intrigued, although he thought it was funny. The Lanes just called him ‘Doc’. Doc was a small Indian man, about five foot seven, silver hair, a lot of wrinkles, sparkles in his eyes and walked with a cane. He had a gentle touch and was very caring.
“I think, you need to stop fighting ghost. It is hard to win, you can’t hurt them physically like they can you. The only way to fight them is the way you did, by not letting them control you. But you already knew that! The evil ghost, are a problem. You can’t gather them up in a bottle and lock them away, like a genie on television. You can’t vanquish them like a vampire, with a wooden stake and a silver bullet won’t do the trick either. I will see what kind of protection you will need.” Doc said.
“Will this protection stop the other ghost from talking to me. Or just the evil ones? I want the good ones to tell me their stories. It gives us a good idea of what their lives were like, besides the harsh environment that they lived in.” I said as Mary Jo stood close to me, learning as much as she could from the old man.
“You will still be able to communicate with the ones you want to communicate with.” he said.
“When we go to the battlefields and the massacre sites . . .” I started and then paused.
“Go on.” he said.
“There are a lot of spirits from both sides. Like today, there were the sick people, and the insane, then there was the evil ones. At the battlefields I have both sides. And at the massacre sites, I have the Indians, the children and the soldiers. I separate them out for Dusty and he tapes what I’m saying. I don’t get faces, just the clothing without detail and the emotions mostly.” I told him. “Can I get just one side of the story. That would almost defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”
“It might defeat part of the purpose, but you are seeking the truth. Sometimes you can’t get that from the evil ones. Remember, the evil ones aren’t reliable. The sick and insane ones are more likely to tell you the truth. You have really strong medicine working in you. Can you tell me what you do to separate the feelings?” he asked.
“I have to concentrate, to tell them one group at a time. It seems they all talk at once, or send messages. Whatever it is. At the Sand Creek Massacre, I had the adults go first, then the children. I then moved to the soldiers, there were two sides of them. One side didn’t participate in the mutilations and left. The evil ones were enjoying what they were doing and I left. I didn’t even try to talk to them. They were basically telling me this was what they were told to do and they loved it. So I left. I didn’t want to hear it.” I said. “The Indians only wanted their story told, not that they wanted me to stop something, they understood it was too late. Today, it was different. It was as if the sick and insane relied on me to do something for them. I felt like they wanted someone to stand up to the caregivers, almost as if they needed a leader, they were frightened and needed some kind of hope. They wanted to move on, but had no way of knowing how to move on. So I did what I thought was right. I stood up to the bad ones. Yes, I got the shit beat out of me, but the evil ones could not control me or feed off of my fear or pain after a while. This seemed to make them grow weak really fast. It was a strange feeling.” I said.
“I think you just answered your own question, of how to fight the evil ones. Don’t let them feed off of you. They will eat you up!” the doc said.
“I have a question.” Mary Jo said.
“Ask.” Doc replied.
“I do the hands on healing and work by feel and body language. If I wanted to learn how to do this thing that Dixie does, how do I do that? I don’t have the sensitivity to the spirits that she does. And, I deal with live animals and not human ghost spirits.” Mary Jo said.
“Just a moment, let me ask Dixie a question first, then I will answer yours.” Doc said, “Dixie, where did you learn to do this?”
“I have always been able to do things that I was not taught to do. I couldn’t explain some of the things that were happening to me. My parents were killed in a car wreck when I was seventeen. I remember recognizing some of the feelings before then. I really don’t ever remember not doing some of this stuff. I just didn’t know what it was. Dusty said his mom could help me understand what I needed to do. She has worked with me a lot and helped me to grow and extend my ability. Dusty always knows when the shit will hit the fan, and are overwhelming me, he said it was from watching his mother. She is a good teacher.” I answered.
“Mary Jo, I think if you will watch Dixie, you will find what you are looking for. You may also want to get with Elaine, she can teach you about the herbs. This too, will help you in your healing work. As far as developing your feel for the emotions and things on animals, you will need to dig deeper within yourself, learn from their eyes. Start with your own animals, if you have them. Look into their eyes and memorize them. Then watch when things change within their body. Pain is easy to see in an animal. Finding the pain is not. When one of them is not feeling well or is depressed watch for the signs in their eyes. Their will be sadness and forgiveness, if they know it is near their time to pass. Elaine, or Mrs. Lane can help you a lot on reading animals.” Doc said.
“I would love to help you Mary Jo, yours will be easier for me than Dixie’s. I started with animals and doing the things you are doing. I had to study a lot for the spirits like Dixie does. I think I have taught her all I can. She needs to move to a higher level than me, Doc.” Mrs. Lane said.
“I need another apprentice, my last one went off to college. He won’t be back for at least eight more years. He would only come in on the weekends. When do you want to start and how many days do you want to study?” the doc asked.
“On the weekends we go to do research for Dusty. I could stay a day or two extra, when we get back.” I said.
“I will need to know what you do and how you do it. To find out how far advanced you are.” he said.
“Dusty, where are we doing next weekend?” I asked.
“If you are going to be studying with Doc, and if it’s okay with Big John and Mary Jo, we can do Santa Fe. That way Doc can go with us on our research, since he needs to see you in action! We can go to Fort Union and a lot of the local places here in town. It is one of my topics, so it doesn’t matter when I do it. I have room at my house, that would cut down on the gas and hotel bills. Mary Jo could train with mom then, too.” Dusty said.
“Sounds good to me.” Big John said. “With an expert with us, maybe we won’t have to fight the frigging ghost! He can help us all save Dixie! Didn’t you say you needed to go to the museums here anyway, to get information on the medical tools they used?”
“I would love that. It’s okay by me!” Mary Jo said.
“Then Santa Fe it is.” I said.
“Lets head to Taos, I want to see Kit Carson’s grave, since next weekend we are going to be here the whole time.” Dusty said.
Kit Carson, born December 29, 1809 in Kentucky and moved to Missouri with his family. Carson left home when he was sixteen and joined a wagon train heading down the Santa Fe trail. He led John Fremont in his first expedition to the Pacific. Fremont was so impressed with Carson, he had him lead his second expedition, also. Carson was a Brigadier General in the civil war. Then he took up fighting the Indians. In a final campaign against the plains Indians at Adobe Walls, Texas, Carson was out number 400 to 3,000. The Indians, after the gun battle, set fire to the grass, Carson responded by setting fire to the grass on his side of the line. The battle was considered a draw. Carson died on May 23, 1868 in Boggsville, Colorado and was originally buried there. His body was later moved to the Kit Carson Cemetery in Taos, New Mexico.
“The day they set the fires there couldn’t have been any wind! If there had of been, that trick sure as hell wouldn’t have worked! The grassfires in our area are fast and furious. They burn like toilet paper in a whirlwind, I have seen the firefighters use this method after plowing a barrier before. But, not on one of the real windy days. Sometimes the fire jumps the barrier if it is too windy. It gets scary sometimes.” I said.
“It’s a wonder we all haven’t gone up in flames. I can watch a fire and think it is coming my way. The next thing you know, it was 30 miles from me, but it looked like it was about five miles off!” Mary Jo said.
“Same here, I start planning my escape route and what to do with the horses. Then I find out the fire is on the other side of whatever town is in that direction. They just look so close.” I said.
CHAPTER 4
Santa Fe was established in 1607, being the second oldest city in the United States. The Indians, Spanish, Mexicans and pioneers have been known to haunt some of the places. Santa Fe was built over an abandoned Indian village, complete with Indian burial grounds, which, is rumored, can be found below the city.
“How do you want to do this, Doc?” Dusty asked. “Do you want to go to the Fort and see if Dixie comes up with something, or do you want to start off with just a few. She does really good on the readings of a lot. She hasn’t ever done a one on one before, to me anyway.”
“I think we should see what she can do with a few of them and then go to the Fort.” Doc said.
“Dixie, we are going to have you try to read one or two ghost first, and Mary Jo, you can watch and learn if you would like. I think this is the day Elaine has here meetings in town, so she will be busy all day with other things. Big John, Dusty, ya’ll are welcome to watch too.” Doc said.
Mary Jo was all excited. I was anxious and Big John, well, he didn’t know what he was going to do, since this was going to be an actual ghost hunt, by feel only and without technology! Dusty hadn’t ever done this before either, but he trusted the Doc not to get us hurt, or in any kind of trouble we wouldn’t be able to get out of.
Doc looked at Dusty and said, “Take us to the La Fonda Hotel. The La Fonda site has been some kind of inn or another since the founding days of Santa Fe in 1607. Over the years the inns were destroyed and re-built several times. In 1821, the inn was the end of the line headed west for the Santa Fe trail, where many travelers, trappers, traders, mountain men, soldiers and pioneers stayed. After New Mexico became a United States Territory in 1848, the inn was purchased by an Anglo-American family who changed the name to the U. S. Hotel. The gambling hall was one of the main attractions for the military men and the occasional professional gambler. In 1857 a lynch mob hung a man in the backyard of the Hotel.
Ten years later, the Honorable John P. Slough, Chief Justice of the Territorial Supreme Court, was shot to death by a member of the Territorial Legislature, who was representing Dona Ana County. He killed him for calling him a liar and a thief. Captain Rynerson was tried and acquitted of the crime. A salesman had gamble his companies money away, committed suicide by jumping in the well. The well was located outside of the gambling hall. The Hotel had sold again and was in business under the name of the Exchange Hotel. The current La Fonda was built in 1922, on the same site as the previous inns. In 1925, the inn was purchased by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad which leased it.
We entered the inn. “Let’s walk around a bit. I’m not getting anything yet. Would ya’ll like to go to the restaurant and get a cup of coffee? Maybe, I can get something from the man who jumped in the well.” I said.
“Have you been here before?” Big John asked.
“Yes, when I went on the civil war vacation. That is when I met Dusty. My last stop was to come to Santa Fe for some of the artsy fartsy things I do. It was my fun week and I wanted to see how the wool industry thing worked. You know, from beginning to end. When I met Dusty, at one of the civil war sites, we traveled together and so when we got here he showed me around and took me to all of the haunted places. Then he took me to meet his mom and dad. His mom taught me how to spin, dye and weave. That is what the blanket in the car is.” I said as I sipped my coffee. We were seated close to the original well. “I think he is on his way.” I told Doc. “I feel a sense of urgency, fright and failure. I’m getting the feeling of someone is going to kill me if they find out what I have done. There is no way out, I have no money. I’m to much of a sissy, not sissy, a proper or business type man to be walking in the wilderness alone. I would never survive. I’m not used to the harshness of this land or this life. The environment would kill me, if the Indians or lawless men don’t. I’m an embarrassment to my family and I can’t go back home. I don’t want them to find out what I have done. I will not bring shame upon my family. No matter what I do I’m going to die anyway. What am I going to do. I pace around the room, I run out of the door of the gambling hall and there is a well. I go back to my room. Unpack my bags that I had packed earlier. Should I or should I not jump. Yes, maybe I will jump in the well. Hopefully it will look like a murder robbery. There he is!” I grabbed my camcorder and focused it on the man as he walked close to our table and jumped, into the middle of the floor and vanished. “That was what I was getting from the jumper. That was pretty easy. I haven’t tried that before. But, the last time I was here, I had my mind on other things. I hadn’t opened it up at the time like Mrs. Lane taught me to. So what now?”
“I was getting mostly the same things you were. I wasn’t getting as much detailed information as you were though. This means you are more sensitive to the spirits than I am. I can learn from you.” Doc said.
“I think we can all learn from each other.” I said. “Mary Jo what were you feeling?”
“I only felt the ghost when he got real close. I didn’t get any of the feelings or the description. Mine was more like the cold spot and then it was gone. I barely got to see him jump.” she said.
“Where was he pacing?” Big John asked. All eyes turned on Big John. “Was it in that area there?”
“At first, it was in a larger room with a lot of talking, I assume that was the gambling hall. Later he went to his hotel room, because he unpacked his bags. He wanted it to look like a murder, suicide was looked down upon and would bring shame to his family. Why do you ask?” I said.
“I have been watching him pace over there. Then he disappeared from there and then he came back and jumped into the floor. It was strange because I knew he was the one you were talking about from your description.” Big John said.
“I too was watching him pace. I saw Big John turn white, then I looked to see what he was looking at and I watched the man disappear. Like Big John said, and then he was there again and came across the floor and jumped into it.” Dusty said.
“That was good. We all got to experience a little bit of what Dixie feels and sees all the time. Dusty, this could help you to understand why Dixie gets so angry and she can’t keep her mouth shut! I don’t mean that in a bad way, Dixie. I am glad your friends are experiencing these things today. It will help us all better understand what we feel.” Doc said.
We paid for our coffee and made our way to Doc, he had been talking to the manager. He had a key in his hand. “We are going to room 510. Mary Jo, I want you to concentrate on what Dixie is doing.” he said as we entered the room.
“Do you want to sit on the bed or in the chair?” Doc asked. I sat on the bed so Mary Jo could sit next to me. I laid my hand on hers to send energy of the feelings to her.
“I’m so happy, this is my day and my wedding gown is beautiful. My new husband should be along any minute. I had better change into something more appropriate for tonight. I hear a knock on the door. I open it expecting my husband, instead there stood the familiar face of one of my ex-lovers. I don’t want him here. You have to go and leave me alone. My husband will not like you showing up and bothering me like this. There is a loud bang. The pain in my chest is like a hot poker going through it. There is hot liquid on my hand as I cover the bullet hole. My dressed is covered in blood and my ears are ringing from the loud bang. Darkness wraps around me taking away the pain.” I said. “What the hell was that shit all about? Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know but I could feel your energy, racing. That was the coolest thing I have done as far as the first time on holding the hands thing. Only I was the one receiving it instead of transmitting it. I felt the excitement of opening the door to my husband and the shock when it wasn’t. My hand felt like there was actually hot liquid, well warm liquid running onto it. That was truly amazing.” Mary Jo said.
Dusty and Big John were taking pictures of the door and the rest of the room. They said they did not see anything or feel anything in the room with us.
“I felt her also, fear, shock and disappointment and then pain.” Doc said, “That was all I got from this room.”
Walking into the hallway I paused, “Doc, Dixie is at it again!” Dusty said. Doc turned around and came back to me.
“I feel a man, a respectable, law-abiding man in a top hat and cloak. He is walking in the hallway, thinking, not confused but trying to sort something out. Like maybe, what to do about something or someone. It feels like he is deliberating, making an important decision of some kind. That is what I will do. He is now gone.” I said. “Is this going to happen everywhere I go?”
“It could, I didn’t pick up on that one at all. Did anyone else?” Doc asked. My three companions were shaking their head no.
“One more stop and we will be done here. This one may or may not have a lot of spirits. I have never been in this area before. If I tell you to stop, go no further, cut off communications and we are leaving. Do you understand?” Doc was very serious at this point. As we entered the elevator and headed down to the basement, Dusty and I both looked and held on to each others arm. ‘Holy shit! We are on our way to a frigging basement. This isn’t good. Dusty and I may both totally freak out. Crap. Shit. What the hell.’ I thought. Neither one of us was saying a word, but we both knew what the other was thinking. Another frigging panic filled basement.
The doors opened and we all slowly exited into an underground parking garage. “It is colder than hell in here. Damn, I’m glad it isn’t winter yet, a man could freeze to death before he got to his car!” Big John said.
“Yeah, it is cold in here. Dixie, are you okay?” Dusty asked.
“This is a frigging Indian cemetery! Are you sure you want to do this? There are spirits everywhere. None of them are evil. They are all peaceful. It is a tribe and they all seem to know each other and respect each other. Some have riches with them, their life savings. Some died in battle and some from old age. There are younger women with babies who may have died in child birth. Some died of disease. Most of them are happy with the lives they led. They are confused as to why there is so many things going on disturbing their rest. They want to know what the things are that run over them and what this hard dirt is. They don’t appear to be pissed, just curious. That is all I’m getting from them. They seem to be celebrating the afterlife. That is all that is here.” I said and turned and headed for the elevator.
“Yes, it is the afterlife they are celebrating. Their riches are the belongings they had when they died. This was a burial ground for the ancient Indians who once roamed this area freely. They were a proud people, yet they were friendly.” Doc said.
As we were entering into the elevator, I stopped the door, stepped half way out and thanked the Indians for telling me their story. I re-entered the elevator and let the door close behind me.
“That was different, not what I expected at all. I was expecting to have to fight a tribe of pissed off Indians! That was really pleasant, all of them were happy and proud of their lives. They were prepared to move on to the afterlife. So why are they still here?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but if they are happy they won’t harm anyone.” Doc said.
“That was a strange feeling I was getting in there. Not scary, just a little eerie. Not what I would have expected from a burial site.” Dusty said. “Where to next, Doc?”
“Head to the hospital, La Residencia, it should be a good one. Tomorrow we will head for the fort and then we should go to another sanitarium where I can see how they affect Dixie.” Doc said.
“Well, I can assure you, it isn’t a pretty sight! The sanitarium’s play hell with her!” Dusty said. “I think she gets to emotionally involved. We have all tried to keep her calm and quiet. We have even gone so far as to think about investing in super glue and duct tape.” Dusty said.
Doc laughed, “We are going to room 311. Have you heard this story, Dixie?”
“Yes, I have heard it. You had better fill in Mary Jo and Big John.” I said.
“I think this was one of the rooms you wanted to go into when we visited it the last time wasn’t it?” Dusty asked.
“Yes, but you are the one who was going to rent the room!” I teased.
“Oh, my, god,” I said as we entered the small room. “The pain is unbearable, not just the physical pain, but the heartache pain. I need to walk out a minute.” I stood with tears running down my face and stepped into the hall. One of the nurses came by and asked if I was okay. I nodded yes and re-entered the room. “We were driving down the road and I woke up in the hospital. There is a lot of pain all over my body and I overheard someone outside the room say my daddy is dead. My heart is broken, heavy, I can’t deal with all of this. It hurts too bad, I don’t want to go on living. My whole body hurts, I am not strong enough to fight.” I said and walked out of the room, down the hall and to the car. Tears were flowing freely now.
“Baby, are you okay?” Dusty asked as he took me in his arms.
“What happened in there? I don’t understand.” Doc said.
“When I was seventeen, my mom and dad and I were on our way to go eat at the restaurant in town to celebrate their anniversary. A drunk driver hit us and my parents were killed. I had major head trauma. I remember hearing them say mama was dead at the scene. When we got to the hospital, I thought I overhead them say daddy had died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Where was this kids mom? She wasn’t in the car, it was just him and his dad. He never mentioned or asked for her. This hit close to home. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I would be feeling with my knew found skills. Actually, I hadn’t thought about that kind of situation before. I will be more prepared for it, if it happens again. That was not one of the things I would’ve thought I would have to relive.” I said drying my eyes. “I guess I had put it all at the back of my mind. I’m okay now.”
“Do you want to go to the fort?” Doc asked.
“Sure, maybe that is why I like the older history. So I don’t have to think about the newer history!” I said with a smile. “Maybe that is my way of running. I really don’t think that is the case though!”
“What is the history on Fort Union?” Big John asked.
“Fort Union was on the Santa Fe trail and was used by travelers, American Indians, Spanish explorers and settlers. The area around it was used to graze cattle and sheep by the early pioneers in the area. The Fort was established in 1851. There is a lot of history surrounding this place, Indian wars, gambling, supply depot, trading post, you know the typical Fort type involvements. I could go into greater detail if you want. This is just the basics.” Dusty told him.
“Wow, this would have been the place I would’ve wanted to be, I think. Look at the wide open spaces. Can you imagine buffalo by the thousands!” Mary Jo said.
“Do you feel anything?” Doc asked her.
“Yeah, kind of like a sense of freedom, pride, thankfulness.” she said. “I don’t know if those feelings are coming from me or something else though!”
“Maybe both.” Doc said. “Dixie, what about you. Do you feel anything here?”
“The freedom, relief, pride and thankfulness, I feel, plus being neglected. I’m also getting other things. I need to separate them because it’s covering a large time period. There were Indians in the earlier days. There is a lot of the pride and freedom coming from them. They are fierce and brave. They are providers, hunters and warriors. The women are hard workers, skinning the hides, building shelters and making clothing. They don’t complain, they seem to take it all in, day by day. They are thankful and celebrate life, they celebrate everything! The tribe seems to be fearless and strong. There is a lot of them. That is what I’m getting from the earliest people here. The next group is the soldiers. Some of them are feeling deprived or homesick. They try to make the best of being alone in the wilderness. They work hard constructing the Fort. They have dances and social gatherings. I can feel someone who wants to take care of the fort. He loves this fort and wants the world to see it. He is so proud of it and the wide open spaces. There are a few gamblers hanging around that have lost their lives here. They are cheating, robbing others, while they are at the gambling tables. There are some thieves, petty thieves hanging around. There is really nothing violent that any of them are talking about. They aren’t telling a whole lot, only the basics, kind of unimportant things. They act like, as if it were paradise out here. They are telling me the weather is cold in the winter and warm in the summer! They are laughing and joking around, telling stories for something to do. I’m seeing the buffalo, as far as the eye can see, from all of them. They are magnificent, bulky creatures. They make a lot of noise when they move across the prairie. This is all they are telling me.” I said.
“That is good. They are all telling you they lived in harmony, with each other and with nature. They were mostly happy with their fate or accepted it anyway. There was nothing they could do and things were not as fast here in the west as they were back east.” Doc said.
Shit! This studying with Doc may end up to be more than I wanted to do. I’m not backing out on it, I want to learn how to control it! I’m learning to let it happen and to read all of the spirits. But, I also want to have a life of my own without it invading my space. Will I ever be able to do that again? I guess, I will find out a little further down the road.
“This is all I can do for one day. I’m tired now, I need to rest.” Doc said as we headed back to Santa Fe.
‘That is a big relief,’ I thought, ‘I’m tired of learning for one day! I’m ready to relax and have some fun. After all, isn’t ghost hunting suppose to be fun? This shit is taking up way too much of my energy!’ I take me a cat nap.
“Dixie may be tired. She worked hard today. Mary Jo, how do you feel?” Doc asked.
“I’m doing okay. All of this is opening up a whole new world for me!” she said.
“It’s opening up a whole new world for me too!” said Big John. “The only thing is, I’m not Columbus and I didn’t ask for this journey!” he laughed.
“First mom and now Dixie! Who next, me, Mary Jo and Big John. This is going to change all of our worlds! Is this going to take us into the ESP type stuff? I think I want to opt out on the mind reading thing! I do like surprises every now and then. Especially working with the kids. They keep your mind active! You never know what they will come up with next! They are fun and inventive!” Dusty said.
That night, Mary Jo, Big John, Dusty and I went to the historical places that Dusty had taken me to when we first met. Dusty and I had went in the day. The places were all different in the night. They all had a feel of being ‘alive’. It was really amazing, the transformation the city made from day to dark.
“Alto Street is where the headless horseman hangs out. I’m going to tell ya’ll the same thing I told Dixie when I brought her down here. Especially since we have all started this ghost whispering bullshit. DO NOT PISS THIS GHOST OFF!” Dusty laughed, “I don’t want to be known as the headless tour guide! Anyway, it has been reported that he lost his head to two Spanish witches when he became upset with them over a love potion they gave him. Most of the time he is seen down by the river, riding his horse down the street and brandishing a sword.”
“Does that mean there are voodoo people in this area?” Mary Jo asked.
“I don’t know of any personally, but who knows what is where these days! Or in those days for that matters. No one knows exactly when this was suppose to have happened. So, it’s probably one of those ‘scare the hell out you’re your kids to make them mind stories.’ I have never seen this phantom ghost.” Dusty said.
“I don’t know if I want to see him.” Big John said.
We then headed to the Casa Real Health Care Center. “This place is now a senior health care facility. The staff, patients and visitors have reported cold spots, noises, objects moving and moaning. This place was built over an old penitentiary graveyard. To me, this would give a whole new meaning to the words ‘senility, dementia, insane’, why would you do that to the elderly? They have enough wild stuff running through their minds without adding ghost! I never have figured that one out. I know a lot of people don’t believe in ghost, but damn, I wouldn’t chance it with my elderly family! Especially with mom, she may have the powers to do the voodoo thing! Or give the evil eye! Or put me in there!” Dusty said.
“I sure don’t want to be put in there. The ghost I see now are enough! At least when I get old enough to come to one of these places, I won’t have to worry about anyone thinking that I’m totally crazy, because everyone will be! So then when I tell my stories, they won’t care and will be telling the same kind of stories. Then we can tell our own families how crazy the woman or man down the hall is!” I laughed.
“When I stop talking about seeing ghost and start fighting monkeys under the bed, or things of that nature, everyone will know that is when I went crazy!” Mary Jo said.
“Dixie keeps asking for animal ghost and so she isn’t going to show those kind of signs! How am I going to tell she is senile. When she stops talking about ghost and all of the weird shit?” Dusty laughed.
“Look at you! I guess I will be able to tell when you stop doing history!” I laughed.
“Big John, are you in there? You haven’t said anything in a while, what’s going on?”
“I hear moaning, it sounds like it’s muffled and coming from the foundation of the building. Do ya’ll hear it?” he said.
“I’ll be a cockroach in the corner! You are getting into this ghost hunting thing now aren’t you?” Mary Jo said.
“Hush Mary Jo, do ya’ll hear it. There is also a conversation going on in there. It sounds like it is coming from the ground. It don’t sound like a good conversation either. It sounds like a prison break out plot. Do any of ya’ll hear it?” Big John asked.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, I hear it. I heard it the last time Dusty brought me hear. I just blew it off then! Of course, I didn’t know what I was suppose to be hearing and feeling then either. They are planning a prison break! Sounds like one of them has decided to back out of the deal.” I said.
“I think we need to go to the library one of these days and see if it ever happened. I don’t want to find out by a lot of ghost invading Santa Fe! That might freak all of the kids out. I have never talked to them about the stories their parents and grandparents have told them.” Dusty said.
“This place here is called the Grant Corner Inn. This place was originally built in 1905 by a couple that had just moved into Santa Fe. They had a son that was ill and required constant attention. The man died shortly after the house was built. The young mother remarried after the death of her husband and the man she married was not one known to be an upstanding citizen, as he was abusive. Anyway, over the years the child got worse and the mother continued to care for the boys needs. When the mother had company and was downstairs visiting, the visitors often heard the boy banging and crying in his upstairs room. The boy was in a wheelchair and would continually roll down the stairs to the landing below. The child finally died of his illness and the woman and her husband moved. Strange things have been reported in the house, cold spots that kill plants, the lights in the upstairs bedroom that was once occupied by the boy, go on and off when the house was vacant. Some people have reported the smell of rotting meat.” Dusty said.
“I get the feeling the boy was pushed down the stairs by his step-dad, more than once!” Mary Jo said.
Dusty and I looked at each other, “That is odd, Dixie said the same thing the first time I brought her here. But, I’m getting that same feeling now. I feel frightened, like I have just been thrown into the wall several times. I have pushed to the edge of the stairs and told if I don’t do it myself, he will do it for me.” Dusty said. “This is frigging scary. What are ya’ll getting?”
“Basically the same thing you are. It is a sad situation, I feel like the mother was to scared to stop the abuse, she was beaten, a lot. She was also told not to interfere. The man feels right down evil and has the woman scared senseless and inadequate.” I said.
“I feel a lot of sexual abuse, not only to the woman, but to the boy as well, that is why he was thrown against the wall, and was beating on the wall and screaming. I got to leave. I can’t stand this.” Big John said.
“I vote we stop using our new found powers for tonight. If you hear something bad, we move on. Shit, we can’t do that! Now, when I hear and feel bad things, I have to know the end. What has happened. We can always come back to the place with Doc and see what we are suppose to do, to help this poor kid and his mom. This sucks, sometimes!” I said.
“But, look at it this way, at least we know where to bring Doc, to get his expertise on these things!” Mary Jo said. “And, how to remedy the situations, hopefully.”
“That’s true, but how do you right a wrong? We weren’t the ones who committed the wrong and we are the ones that have to figure out how to make it right. That is just wrong!” I said.
“Tomorrow, we will bring Doc back here. On to the next site. This is the Luguna Pueblo Mission, where the coffin comes up out of the floor! A priest by the name of Juan Padilla was murdered by Indians around 1733. His coffin was carved out of a cottonwood tree and he was buried under the floor at the front of the altar. Twenty years later the coffin rose out of the floor and then again in 1889. It is said that on Christmas Eve in 1914, it made it’s appearance again.” Dusty said.
“Are you sure it was a priest and not a Pentecostal preacher? No disrespect intended here, to any religion, but I didn’t know priest would go for the dancing in the isle, jumping pews type things. I thought they were pretty quiet. I haven’t been to either church and that is just the impression that I have got from word of mouth.” Big John said. “I mean stop and think about it, the coffin rises out of the floor, there is more than likely going to be some pew jumping and rushing down the isles! And I am going to be in the lead. I don’t intend to hold the door open for no women either! They will be on their own!”
“Yeah, right John, you will freeze up and mess yourself! The rest of us would have to ‘dance’ you across the pews to get you out of there!” Mary Jo laughed. Dusty and I were both trying to stay out of this conversation, although, Big John did make a valid point.
“I intend on winning the race for the doors and I’m pretty sure I can cross them pews in a hurry!” I laughed.
“You need to give the rest of us a head start! We know you can move on when you get scared! We have seen you in action before and someone needs to be at the end of the line waiting to stop you, because, one of these days you may not stop!” Dusty said.
“La Posada Hotel was built in 1882 by a merchant by the name of Abraham Staab. He built it for his wife, Julia and their six children. The family lived on the second floor of the house. On the third floor was the ballroom which was one of the entertainment centers for Santa Fe society back then. Julia was pregnant with her seventh child. Shortly after the birth of her son, he died. Julia went into a state of depression and it is said her hair turned prematurely white, and eventually confined herself to her room, where she spent most of her time until her death in 1896 at the age of 52. The surviving children grew up in the house on the area surrounding it. In the early 1900’s the third floor ballroom was destroyed by fire. Abraham Staab died in 1913.” Dusty said.
“That is sad, it seems as if she just up and abandoned the rest of her children. I’m not getting this from any ghost, just from the story you just told us. Maybe, we should come back here with Doc tomorrow also. I’m like Dixie, I’m turning my new found powers off for the night and just going by natural instinct. I don’t want to get burned out on this stuff.” Mary Jo said.
“The first time I heard this story, I was young, in elementary school. I thought that the mom hated the other kids! I have thought about that many times since then, and I have laughed at myself for thinking that. I know a mothers love for her children is strong. But, I agree. The story does make it sound like she abandoned her other children to throw herself a pity party. I don’t want to sound mean, that is just what it sounds like to me, now that I am older.” Dusty said.
“Not to mention what it done to her husband! I’m sure he had to work, plus take care of six kids, while their mother was locked in her room. What do you tell the kids? Your mother is sick and has no time for ya’ll now. I wonder how the kids felt when their mother was in her room and didn’t talk to them. Did she shun them or try to act like nothing was wrong? That would be a hard place to be. You know it pisses me off when I hear stories about how sorry someone’s mom and dad are, not the child molesting dads or the abusive ones, but, the ones that disagree with their parents and then they run them down. I never argued with my parents, what I wouldn’t give to be able to do so now.” I said, as I remembered my mother and father. Mom was always kind and loving. She was always there for me and dad. Dad was always there for me and mom. Up until that day, that horrible day, and they both vanished.
“I think it is time to go home now. We have a busy day with Doc tomorrow.” Dusty said.
“Good morning, Doc.” I said, in unison with my three companions.
“Good morning, and how does everyone feel today? Did ya’ll find anything of interest last night?” Doc asked.
“Yes, we need you to go to a couple of places with us. We ran into somethings last night that we didn’t exactly know what to do about.” Dusty said.
“Okay, I would like to hear about them.” Doc said.
“How do you shut this shit off? When we were out touring the town, we were wanting to look around and hear the rumors. But then we were all hearing and feeling things, because we didn’t shut it off! It’s not like a time clock where we can punch our cards!” I said.
“You are right. You will learn to tune things out with time. When you don’t want to hear things, or to come back to them, sometimes, you just have to walk off and leave them hanging. It’s not like they are going anywhere, even if you are, you have to differentiate your life from theirs. That is how I do it. Each person has to determine their own cut off point and the best way to cut off. You may want to enjoy a nice quiet meal alone to think. You alone, will have to tune everything out, except what you needed the time alone to think about. Like that man Dixie was feeling at the hotel. He had a decision to make and he made it. He was a judge. ” Doc said. “Now, what was the other problems you ran into last night?”
“We went to the Casa Real, we need to do some research on that place at the library. You know, back when it was a prison. We want you to tell us what you think. We will not tell you what we got from the place until you have time to read it. Will that be okay? We don’t want to put thoughts in your head. To top it off, Big John is the one who clued the rest of us in on it! Here he must have been paying attention, and didn’t want to be!” Dusty said, as we all laughed.
We stood outside of the building. In the same spot we had been standing the night before. Watching Doc’s face, there was nothing. He didn’t show any kind of facial expression while he stared at the foundation of the building, then he spoke up, “I don’t recall ever hearing about a prison break. Maybe, they never went threw with it. I think they are beating the buffalo chips out of the one who decided to back out of the deal. It is too muffled to tell. I have never paid attention to the details before. I just come here to get my medicine and to meet women!” Doc said. “But, don’t tell my wife, she will kill me!”
I knew that he was teasing us. “That is what we heard last night. All of us heard it. We just wanted to make sure we were all on the same level.” I said.
“The next place we need to take you is to the Grant Corner Inn.” Dusty said.
“Let me guess, or should I say, tell you, what I found the last time I was there. This is where the man was abusing the boy and his mother? There was more going on in that house besides slapping them around. I feel like the step-dad made the kid roll down the stairs. I think he was threatened, if he didn’t do it himself the step-dad would push him! I also got the feeling that he was sexually abusing the boy and his mom. Back then, things like that were not discussed with anyone, not even family members. I think the boy was going to tell the mom. That is a hard place for me to go. Do we still need to go there?” Doc asked.
“No, not necessarily. That was what we all got, too. The last place is the La Posada. We do need to go there. We didn’t let them in to tell their stories last night. We stayed outside.” Dusty said.
“This maybe a hard one for me to do.” I said honestly. “Since, my mother died, I don’t understand how this woman could shut out her other six children, who were very much alive, out of her life or did she. We didn’t stick around, we wanted you here with us in case something happens.”
“Mostly because if Dixie starts a fight, you need to see what happens!” Dusty said.
“Let’s go.” he said.
We were in the lobby by the stairs, I could feel the woman approach me. “She is here, I feel a terrible sadness of loss. I also feel, love for the other children, her husband and this house. I feel the depression, the sinking, the tightness. I feel the need to hide. Not from her family, but to protect them. She is sick. Very sick. Terminally ill? That is why her hair turned white? That is why she stayed away from her family. She was having to take laudanum quite often. She had cancer and she wanted her children to remember her young and alive. Wow! I didn’t see that one coming. She was afraid her family would catch her disease, since they didn’t know much about it back then. That is why she stays here. This was the happiest years of her life. The life she made with her family here. I’m glad it wasn’t what I was thinking. I was prepared to kick some ghost ass!” I said. “Thank you Julia for clearing that up for me. I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
“Can we go back to that mission, where the priest was killed?” Mary Jo asked.
“Sure, we can go anywhere you want.” Doc said.
“I really don’t feel a lot here. Do you?” Mary Jo asked. We all shook our heads no.
“No, I think what was causing the coffin to rise from the floor is the rains or water floating the hollowed out tree he was buried in to the surface. They didn’t have wood floors back then. And the story about the coffin coming through the floor in 1914, I think it was just a rumor. You know the people back when the murder happened, they may have told the story to turn the priest into a saint or to symbolize the reserection of Christ. No one really knows the whole story on it. I have been here many times, trying to get some kind of reading on it. I think he moved on like he was suppose to. I don’t think it was the priest making the coffin come to the surface. But, I do think he wanted the people to think of him as a saint.” Doc said.
“I guess that would make some kind of sense. If the water pooled under the coffin it would bring it to the surface. How deep was it suppose to be buried or how deep were the graves back then. The hole couldn’t have been very deep and if there was any kind of trench at all or air pocket that could fill with rain water, that would make the coffin float.” Dusty said.
“You kids have learned fast, and well. It really doesn’t take much to learn how to do this. You just have to open up your mind. Like you were saying earlier, Big John didn’t want to open up his, yet he let it open. Why did you let it open, John?” Doc asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t even know when I let it open. I do remember thinking at some point, about the things that they were all feeling, I could only listen to them but would never know what they were hearing or feeling. The next thing I knew, I was experiencing the things they were. And to be honest about it, I think it is pretty cool to a certain extent. Not many people can say they actually know how it felt to live back then. They can say they imagine how it would have felt. But they can’t say they would have done this or that, and know just exactly what they would have done, because they weren’t there, and they don’t know how they would have reacted. I can hear the reason, and I can feel the reason, they did what they did, and that is something. It doesn’t mean I would have done the same thing, but it does give me a different point of view. I want to talk to some of the outlaws. I want to know why they robbed banks, I want to know how scared they were before they robbed them and how they felt when they were on the run.” Big John said.
“Me too.” I said. “I also want to know how the family felt about their loved ones being outlaws. I would imagine there were a lot of different feelings flying around the homes!”
“You need to watch what you are using this new information for. It doesn’t hurt to be curious. But there are things that you may not want to know. Don’t go looking for trouble, you may very well find it.” Doc said.
“Dusty?” I said.
“He is my grandpa, he is mom’s dad. That is why it was easy to get him to teach us. He is the one who taught mom and passed this down to her. Dad doesn’t do this type of thing. He doesn’t want to get that deep into it, it scares him. He says he wants some surprises in life. Mom, she don’t like surprises. She wants everything up front. We always told her things and let dad find out later down the line! You should see the look on his face when mom says things like, ‘I knew that three weeks ago’.” Dusty said.
Doc was laughing now, “That son-in-law of mine. He is good to my girl. He is a good father to my grandkids, but sometimes he is older than me and stuck in the stone age. While we’re on this subject, your mom wants all of us to come for lunch today.”
“I’ll be there! She is a good cook!” I said.
“Well, load up then, I’m sure you will enjoy it! What do ya’ll have in mind for this afternoon?” Dusty said.
“What do you need for your history research?” Mary Jo asked.
“Since we are doing Santa Fe, I’m open for anything. If I don’t get all of it this weekend, I can work on it during the week.” Dusty said.
“I think you all should go to some of the museums. This will give your minds some rest. It will also help you understand some of the cultures of the olden days. The Wheelwright Museum is a good place to start. You will be amazed how some of the people spent their days.” Doc said.
“That’s a good idea. Can I go back to calling you grandpa now, it doesn’t feel right calling you Doc?” Dusty asked. Doc shook his head yes to Dusty’s request.
“I would love to go to the museum. I would like to see how they made their jewelry. One of these days, I may try my hand at making some. I think it is beautiful.” I said.
“Me too, some of the jewelry now days is right down ugly, I think. I like the silver and turqoise jewelry. I would like to learn how to make it also.” Mary Jo said.
The Wheelwright Museum was founded in 1937 by Mary Cabot Wheelwright. She was a wealthy woman from a Boston family. She held an intrest in religions. In 1921, Wheelwright was introduced to a Navajo man by the name of Hastiin Klah. During his life the Navajo were being held prisoners of war, as he watched the Navajo people’s way of life fade. Seeing that he had an outside source of preserving the tradition of his people, he teamed up with Wheelwright. The two of them became close friends and were determined to create a permanent record of the Navajo’s religious beliefs. Frances Newcomb joined in their efforts. Wheelwright was in charge of the spoken word, while Newcomb focused on the sand paintings that are created and destroyed during the healing ceremonies. Klah, was a weaver and made tapestries of sand paintings.
“Wow, look at this place! This is awesome.” I said.
“Yeah, it is.” said Big John.
Mary Jo was wandering around looking everywhere. Dusty was standing beside me, his eyes were full of pride. He was proud of his heritage. “Mom wants us to come back to her house when we are done here. She has a surprise for ya’ll.” he said.
“I hope it is some more of that dessert stuff. I don’t know what it was, but it was damn good!” Big John said.
Upon reaching the Lane’s residence, there was an elderly woman present. “This is grandmother, my wife.” Doc said.
Dusty walked over to the woman and kissed her on the cheek, then handed her a small brown bag. “We have set up the spinning wheels, this is to teach you the art of spinning and making use of your hands, minds and hearts. Mother is going to teach you some of the ways of our people, things she learned when she was young. The stories that she is going to tell you are her personal life. She will only reveal her life, this is an example of the way life was for her. Listen to the stories. They will give you an idea of our existence.” Dusty, Doc and Mr. Lane brought out bags of wool. “We have some clothing here you will need to put on. This is the way they dressed back then. At first, they may feel uncomfortable or strange. After a while, you will not even know you have them on, they will become a part of the life you are experiencing. You will get the true feelings and meaning of living in that era.”
‘Grandmother’ waited and watched us for a long time. She then started talking, telling stories from her childhood, as she was working with her hands. She explained how everything should come from the heart. This paints a picture of the life that comes from within each individual. She told stories of the lessons she learned, the mistakes she made, and some of the teachings that were passed down from her mother and grandmother. It seemed to make the task of learning more interesting, the work less tiresome and the stories were interesting. Before the end of the day, Mary Jo and I had both made a blanket. It was awesome. I don’t think living her life would have been unbearable, like I thought it would have to be. It was nice, peaceful and educational, without having to set foot in an enclosed classroom. Grandmother inspected our work, she then revealed what she learned about us from the work that we did. Never criticizing us or passing judgement on our craftsmanship or lack of.
“That was great, I can’t believe all of the things that I learned today. I had no idea that weaving a blanket could be so educational. I think everyone should have to go through one of her classes. Not to mention, it made the work easier. Actually, it didn’t seem like work. It was more like a hobby. I know in grandmothers day it was a way of life. That life seemed to be better than the one we lead today. Big John, what did you do today?” Mary Jo asked. We still had on our Indian outfits, neither one of us paid attention to them, they really were easy to get used to and changed the outlook of everything we had done. They brought us closer to the real life and times of the days of old.
“I got to make spearheads, arrows and bow, I learned to shear sheep and the types of things the men did, while listening to Doc tell stories of his childhood. It was really interesting, the time went by fast and we worked hard, but it wasn’t hard. Shoot, I wished the workplaces would incorporate something like that. Most people wouldn’t mind going to work if they would. It seemed more like play than work.” Big John said. “Not to mention, if something went wrong you fixed it without blame or guilt being placed. It was really peaceful. I like your dress, Mary Jo.”
“Thanks Dusty, your family is truly awesome.” I said. “I need to change my clothes, maybe, grandmother will teach me how to make one someday. This is really comfortable. I like the way it makes me feel.”
“You two can keep the dresses.” Grandmother said.
“All of the families in the area are like that. Not just mine. I have watched a lot of white people make life hard. They only make it hard on themselves. They just need to get back to the basics and communicate with each other. If you noticed, the stories that were told, none of them had negative ends. Everything is based on positive, to take something negative and turn it into a positive lesson. Even upon inspection of the finished product, their was no judgment. Each artist has his own opinion, and they are respected for it. This comes out in the work you do.” Dusty said.
“When, grandmother was inspecting my blanket, she said something that I didn’t understand. She said there was something in me that was missing, but I would soon find it. What does that mean, was she talking about knowing things that I was not taught, and finding the source of those things or what. That is the only thing I could think of.” I asked.
“It could be that, or something else that is missing from your life, that you don’t realize you are missing. I don’t know, but if she said you will find it soon, then more than likely you will. Did she tell you, not to go looking for trouble?” Dusty asked.
“Oh, my gosh yes, she told us that many times throughout the stories!” Mary Jo said.
“I asked her about the ghost. About hunting ghost. That resulted into the longest ‘don’t go looking for trouble’ lesson in the history of the world!” I laughed.
“This is one of the things she taught me, ghost are sacred. They become stuck on this earth when they are not happy with the life they lived, or they want revenge on someone, this behavior is against what life stands for. I talked to her earlier today and told her about the sanitarium. She said, ‘since the ghost came to you for help, that was acceptable, they wanted people to know that they were helpless in their plight. She said this type of thing is rare and there are not many people these type of ghost will be drawn to. She says you must have very strong powers or they would not have came to you. They knew you could help them. That is why they didn’t come to the rest of us. Just like the ghost at Sand Creek. She thought that was awesome. None of the Indians had much faith in the white man back then. For them to turn to you was the sign of a good heart. She told me I was lucky to have you in my life.” Dusty said.
“That was sweet. I think your family is a wise family. They all have good hearts.” I said. “What are we going to do next weekend?”
“Next weekend we go to East Texas, to the historical towns. I wonder what we will find there, have you ever been?” Dusty asked.
“No, I’ve never been to East Texas. I have seen pictures of the bayou’s, trees and hills. It is hard to imagine Texas with those things!” I said
CHAPTER 5
Cass county, Texas was established in 1846. Anglo settlement had possibly begun in the 1830’s when Reese Hughes settled in the area of three mineral springs.
Atlanta was named after Atlanta, Georgia and was founded in 1871.
“Look out!” I said, as we were driving down the highway.
“I see him!” Dusty said.
“What the hell! Was that a ghost riding a Harley?” Big John asked.
“Looked like it to me. He looked like a soldier. That was kind of different!” Mary Jo said. “I wonder who he is and where he came from. I thought he was going to hit us there for a minute!”
“I did too! Man, I would be so freaked out if we hit a ghost! Even if he is already dead!” Dusty said.
It was around midnight when we arrived in Atlanta, Texas. “Wow, their park seems to be bigger than ours! I can’t really tell since it is dark.” I said.
“Well, their park seems to have more activity than ours does too! Look over there, do you see the lady with the bag on her head?” Mary Jo said.
“Good grief, what in the hell is going on here?” Big John asked.
“I don’t know, do you want out to interview her?” Dusty asked.
“Have you lost your frigging mind? If she has a bag on her head, I assume it is on there for a reason! I don’t need to know why it is on there!” Big John said. “I think we should just find a place to stay and go site seeing tomorrow! There seems to be some pretty old buildings here. But they could also be replicas, who knows!”
Avinger had a post office established in 1848. At the height of Avinger the town boasted of a school, several churches, a store, a gravel yard, a tannery and several houses. The town became a shipping point by 1884, adding saw and grist mills and a gin.
“What did you say the name of this park was? It seems peaceful enough. I like the creek! You know since we don’t have water in our area that doesn’t come from a well!” I said
“I think it is Alley Creek Park.” Dusty said.
“Holy shit! Dusty, do you think we need to call the police. That lady there is covering up a body! I wonder if it is dead or just sleeping!” I said. “I wonder if she just killed them!”
“I think that lady covering it up is a ghost. I wonder if she killed the person also. I don’t see anything resembling blood though!” Dusty said. “Could be they just died from old age or a disease.”
Big John was standing by a cowboy. It seems like the cowboy is ignoring Big John. “Hi, how are you today?” Big John asked, with no answer or acknowledgement that he is even there. “Are all of the local people as talkative as you are?” Big John walked over to the rest of us. “That man over there isn’t much of a talker. He wouldn’t even answer me when I talked to him, hell, he wouldn’t even look at me!”
“I think he maybe a ghost. I don’t think he can interact with the living, like some of them do!” I said.
“You mean, I have been there talking to a frigging ghost, looking like an idiot and ya’ll didn’t tell me!” he said.
“That’s okay John, no one saw you except us!” Mary Jo said laughing. “It could have been worse, remember the wax museum, you were talking to a wax dummy!”
Bivins is a small unincorporated town with two large sawmills that were built in 1884. By 1896 the town consisted of two churches, a school and numerous businesses. Bivins was a shipping point and a gathering place for the local people.
“These little places seem so eerie, but they are also kind of peaceful. I wonder how much history is hidden in these walls? I’m sure they could tell some tales.” I said.
“Just imagine the back aches of the lumberjacks who lived here back in the 1880’s, they didn’t have chainsaws back then. That would suck, it would take forever to cut down a tree!” Mary Jo said.
“Yeah, I can see Dixie and Mary Jo now, one on each end of the saw, in their long dresses, laughing and talking. Until a snake, frog or some kind of varmint jumped up and scared the hell out of them! I’m pretty sure both of them would be armed and empty their guns on the poor critter. Even if it was a cricket!” Dusty laughed.
Bloomburg settlement began before the civil war, but the town was not incorporated until 1911. It was a shipping point, with a post office which opened in 1896.
“All of these towns seem to be shipping points. Did they ship from the river or to a local, major point and then shipped to their intended destinations?”
Hughes Springs was first called Chalybeate Springs. In 1839 Reese Hughes built the first cabin near three mineral springs and the settlement grew there. It then became known as Hughes Springs.
“There are a lot of bed and breakfast places in this town” Mary Jo said.
“I would like to check them out! I have never been to a b & b before.” I said.
“You just want to check for ghost!” Dusty said.
“Not really, that would be a nice touch, but I like to look at the furniture they have set up in these places. I like that old timey feel and look. I have been wanting to find a new bed. I just don’t know where I would find one of the fancy dancy ones like I want!” I said.
“How are you going to get a bed home? Hook it to the top of the jeep? That would be a good way to become air born, none of us have a pilots licenses! The flying part may not be so bad, I bet the landing would definitely be a bitch!” Dusty teased.
Kildare was developed in the 1870’s around large sawmills and a station on the Texas and Pacific Railway. A post office was established in 1874. The town had two churches and a school.
“Call the ambulance!” Mary Jo said, “That woman there needs some help, she has blood all over her. It looks like she was attacked by . . .Indians. She’s a ghost isn’t she?”
“I would say so, I haven’t heard of any Indian raids in the area lately! I sure would hate for one to start up now! I wish I knew how long ago that happened. I can’t tell what kind of Indians they were, I can’t see the details of the spear!” Dusty said. “Can ya’ll tell if it has a metal head or flint head?”
“I’m sure it would have been in the early stages of development. I really haven’t looked into the history of the Indians in this area. I do know there was Cherokee around here though. I’m sure there were Caddo’s too. I can’t tell on the spear head thing though.” I said.
“The scenery is pretty. Of course, it’s kind of hard to see very far with all of these trees in this area!” Mary Jo said.
Linden was established in 1852. The first business was a saw plant for hand-sawn lumber built by T. J. Foster on contract to build a two story frame courthouse. Tan yards and syrup mills were among the early businesses in the area. A newspaper began publication in 1875.
“I didn’t know they had syrup mills in Texas.” I told Dusty. “We could have came here instead of going all the way to Maryland just to have syrup!” I laughed.
“That was a whole different journey when we did that! We had to go there for the civil war paper.” Dusty said.
Marrietta was originally called Oak Ridge. In April 1880, a post office was opened. The name was changed in honor of the wife of Newt Wommack, one of the early settlers. By 1884 the town boasted of saw and grist mills, two churches and two gins.
Queen City was founded in 1877 as a stop for the railroad. A post office was opened that same year and by 1885 the town had two churches, a school, four steam sawmills, a grist mill and a lot of general stores.
“Maybe we should check out Marion county also, everything we are coming across also has ties there. I think we should definitely go to Jefferson! I have heard stories about the beautiful old houses in that town.” I said.
“Alright, I know that isn’t all that far to drive. And the scenery should be interesting. I think there is also some bayou’s in that area, isn’t there?” Dusty said.
“I think that is what they said, or some kind of water!” I said. “You know they have a lot of cemeteries in this area.”
“Damn you, Dixie. Here you go again, looking for trouble.” Big John said. Dusty was trying to keep from laughing.
“I didn’t say we needed to sneak into them at night, which by the way could prove to be interesting. What I was actually going to suggest is to go during the day. Some of the stones that I’ve seen so far are very old and you can’t read the dates on them unless you are there in the daytime!” I said.
“That could give me some kind of idea as far as the life span on these people. I still need to find something out about the cotton farmers and the railroad workers. I’m pretty sure it won’t say ‘cotton farmer’ on the graves but who knows, I have seen worse things written on some graves.” Dusty said.
“No, but it will give you an idea of when the area was settled, and by the dates you can determine if they were in the saw mills or farmers by searching the library or museums to find out when that industry hit the area.” I said.
“Maybe on some of them we can.” Dusty said.
“Why don’t we check into a hotel and then go site seeing. We won’t have to lug all of our bags around then, just in case you find a bed you would like to buy! We’ll need our hands free!” Dusty said, “There is a place, do ya’ll want to stay there, The Jefferson Hotel? It’s old and looks like a nice place to stay.”
“Sure, any place will be fine with me.” I said. “I love this town! This is so awesome. I think I could live here! It seems so old fashioned, well I don’t think that is the words I’m looking for, but, you get the picture!” I said. “I really like the old stuff. Old buildings, old furniture. Antiques of all kinds.”
“Old ghost!” Big John said.
“That too. Maybe, I’m an old ghost in a new body, who in the hell knows!” I said.
Dusty and Big John got us checked into our rooms, we took our bags in and headed out to discover the world! “Will these places let us tour them, the bed and breakfast places, I mean? I would like to see the antique furniture and things they have. I want to go to the antique stores too!” I said. “You never know what kind of old ghost they have stored in them!”
“Let’s take this tour of the Grove House, it will only take an hour.” Mary Jo said.
Upon entering the house, a lady in a long white dress met us at the door. She never said a word, just kept walking and then vanished into thin air. We all looked at each other in total amazement. Although the house was built in 1861, we didn’t expect to be greeted at the door by a ghost, upon entering the beautiful home. “Holy shit!” I whispered. “Did ya’ll see that? I know ya’ll seen it, but did she just vanish?”
“Yep, she sure did.” Big John said, shaking his head.
“Now what do we do? I’m about to freeze to death in here! Should we run, or wait?” Dusty said.
“Let’s wait. Just don’t talk to the ghost! It feels evil as all get out to me!” Mary Jo said. “I don’t want to know what all he did.”
“How do you know it is a he?” Big John asked.
“Because he told me.” she said.
“I thought we weren’t going to talk to them!” Big John said.
“That is when I decided I wasn’t going to talk to him, and I would suggest the rest of you block him out!” Mary Jo answered.
“Yeah, he tried talking to me too. I decided he was not one I wanted to talk to either.” Dusty said.
“I ignored him from the start! He is the one who ran that woman off!” I said. “Does everyone have their camera’s and recorders ready?”
“I do, and I’m ready to get this shit over with! This is giving me the creeps. If the hair on my arms would just lay down and play dead, I think I’ll have it made!” Big John said. “Would anyone happen to have some hair gel or hairspray on them?”
The tour and the history of this place was wonderful. The guide was knowledgable and pleasant. She told us about the ghost. “Yes, we already met two of them. One of them is not a very nice person, or spirit. The other, the woman, she is quiet and stand-offish. She acts a little intimidated by the man ghost.” I said.
“There is the museum, lets go look in it, I hear they have a lot of historical things in there. The woman we talked to while ago said it has some of the medical tools they used back in the 1800’s. I need that information for the report I was working on earlier. Since it wasn’t due yet, I haven’t turned it in. I was hoping I would come across some more things to add to it.” Dusty said excitedly. “I can then finish that report and turn it in early.”
“Oh boy, this has a lot of ghost. I can feel them buzzing around like a swarm of bees! They all seem to be okay, I mean I don’t feel any evil ones, yet.” I said.
“I can feel them too. They really don’t seem that strong to me, though.” Dusty said. “I’m trying to tune out a lot of them so I can concentrate on my research. I need it more than a ghost story.”
“I can understand that, I will try to keep them busy, if they get to bothering you to bad.” I said.
“That’s a deal, just don’t start no fights with one. I don’t have time for that type of shit ever, much less when I am on a historical quest!” Dusty laughed.
The Excelsior House was in business in 1850, welcoming guest to the area of Jefferson. It has the rich southern charm that graces the building with all of the beautiful antique furniture.
“I would really like to have some of this furniture! This stuff is absolutely beautiful.” I said. “And very heavy, I’m sure!”
“I’m still trying to figure out how you plan on getting the bed home! Now we are going for a whole house full of it, right!” Dusty teased.
“I could always have it shipped by a moving company, but I’m only dreaming. It is free to dream! Don’t you like it though?” I asked.
“Yes, I think it is really cool. I think it would look good in a two story log cabin, which none of us own! I don’t dream about furniture though!” Dusty said. “Look at the garden area. I think it looks pretty good. The fountain and all of the private spaces. They all seem to be so peaceful. A good spot to go after a day in hell at work, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. I have never had a day in hell at work! I’m my own boss and what I do isn’t torture my employee. I may get hungry, if my employee quits, I would have nothing since I’m my only employee!” I laughed. “I do know, a lot of people who do go through a lot of hell because of their employers though. I think, maybe that is one of the reasons I write instead of work for someone. Come to think of it, one of those little spaces would be a good place to write and get close to nature. In the fall, when the winds are cooler, they would shelter you a little. You know if you wanted to experience some of the early days, or even to simulate being stranded on a mountain when the weather is so unpredictable.”
“Why would you want to do that? My imagination works just fine for me!” Dusty said.
“That gives me a good idea of how my character could feel, only I can get up and go inside! It doesn’t take that much research for me to get a good feel of things of that nature! I do a lot of this kind of research when I write. If I think I am going to write about a blizzard, and someone is out feeding the chickens, I go out in the blizzard to feed my chickens. It doesn’t take long for me to get my ass back in the house. And I have a damn good feel of what they would experience.” I said as we stood there staring at the alcove.
“I guess it would help, but all of my writings are on the history of these places and are not fiction like yours.” Dusty said.
“You spend one night in a blizzard with nothing but your clothes and a buffalo robe on and you will have a much stronger idea of what some of the people back then experienced everyday of their winter lives. Build a tee pee and just stay in it for an hour or two. Cross some rivers on a hot summer night, you will see what I mean. It gives me a more intimate feeling for my characters feelings. I get to know them first hand. One of these days I want to write a historical novel with the long dresses, being in the middle of nowhere and alone. I just haven’t started that one yet. I need to find a place where I can get one or two of those dresses and wear them while I’m writing, that way I can get the feel of what the women back then went through. I imagine in the winter time with the mud and muck on the hem of them skirts was a bitch!” I said. “For right now, I can only imagine what it was like.”
“That does make sense. I can just imagine the stares from the people in Santa Fe, if I go walking in the streets brandishing a rifle and bayonet in a civil war uniform. They would all question my sanity, don’t you think?” Dusty asked.
“Not if you told them before hand what you were doing and why you were doing it. Have it put in the newspaper. I think most people would understand and probably pitch in to make it seem even more real. Everyone wants to be able to say they know a famous person. That would open their door of opportunity!” I said.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. So when you wear this dress . . .” he started.
“I will call you, but I’m not going to hitch up a team of horses to a wagon and drive to town. As a matter of fact, I probably won’t have to go to town when I do that. When I start writing, I don’t stop to go to town. I buy everything, food, laundry soap, all of the necessities and then I set down and write until I’m done!” I interrupted him. “I only leave the computer to go to the bathroom, eat and sleep. That is my discipline. I know a lot of people tell you to write so many hours a day, or to set a goal of so many words a day. I don’t do that. I can’t do the schedule thing. That puts too much pressure on me and then I freeze up. Not to mention all of my work sucks big green ones.”
Dusty laughed, “You mean you aren’t going to let the people help you with your story?”
“Mine will be different than yours. If you are writing about the civil war, for instance, most of the infantry was seen in towns, marching or riding from place to place. Mine will be on a woman trying to make a living on her own, on the plains. The women had to make do with what they had. Things were not bought in stores. I guess, I could make the dress, but damn, I hate to sew!” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tell you how to write your story. It helps me to get into my characters when I put myself in their positions. Unfortunately and fortunately, I already know what it is like to feed the chickens in a blizzard, or to gather the eggs, things like that, but I do it anyway to make sure I’m not missing something. I don’t know what it is like to gather the eggs and feed the chickens in one of them long dresses where the snow will freeze into the hem. Every writer has to find his own way of writing. That is just the way I do mine.”
“Another way would be to sign up for the re-enactments. I think that would be fun. I don’t do well in front of a lot of people. That would give me a good sense of feel how the soldiers from both sided felt. Scared shitless!” Dusty laughed.
“Maybe my woman will be waiting for her man to come back from the war. The trials and dilemma’s she has to face, while he is gone and the hardships she has to endure, wondering if he is going to come home.” I said. “Well that was my idea on the alcove writing thing! I guess we need to catch up to Mary Jo and Big John.”
As we walk along the hallway to our rooms, Mary Jo keeps fanning her rear end. I thought she was farting! “Are they silent but deadlies, or the lingerings?” I whispered to her. We both stiffled a laugh.
“No Big John keeps pinching me on the butt and I was trying to slap him off!” Mary Jo said.
“It’s not him, he is in front of Dusty.” I said. “And it’s not me, I don’t swing from that tree!”
“Are you telling me I’m being accosted by a frigging ghost?” she asked.
“Looks that way, do you want me to walk behind you and take pictures?” I asked.
“Yeah, and if you get a picture of him or see him, tell him to cut that out!” she said.
“You got it.” I said, waiting for her to lead the way. “Damn it,” I said with a jump and twirl. Mary Jo stopped and turned to me.
“Is he on you now?” she asked.
“Yeah, and he is not going lightly on the pinching bullshit. That hurts, I will probably have bruises.” I said.
“This whole place seems haunted to me! I wonder what kind of things we are going to run into during the night!” Mary Jo said.
“I don’t know, but it sure feels like it is going to be worth our money! I can feel the spirits getting ready for ‘lights out’ on the home front. I wonder if Dusty and Big John have been able to feel them yet. They may be still tuned out!” I said.
“I have been taking pictures all over this place, I have the recorder and the camcorder going. I hope we get something good here.” Mary Jo said.
“Be sure to take pictures of the room, every time you go in and leave. Just in case something gets moved around from place to place. That way you will have proof that something was in there with you!” I said.
Big John and Mary Jo stopped at their room and Dusty and I proceeded to ours. Dusty opened the door and we entered. “Damn, it is cold in here. What is the air conditioner set on, freeze your ass off?” I said. Dusty was already on his way to the bed to unpack some of his things.
“What did you say, and why are you whispering?” Dusty asked.
“I’m not whispering, I’m over here. I didn’t say anything.” I said.
“Well shit! That means we have a frigging ghost rooming with us tonight!” he said.
“No, I’m pretty sure it has been here for a while, that would make us rooming with the ghost! I hope it is one that is fun! Maybe want to talk a little. You go ahead and get your things set up to write your paper. I’m going to try some interviewing of our host. Do you mind?” I asked.
“No, go right ahead. Just don’t roll around in the floor with it. I really need to get all of my information put into the computer before I forget it. I’m sure Big John and Mary Jo will want to go eat here pretty soon. I would hate to have to break up a wrestling match before supper, I maybe to weak from starvation to get it done!” Dusty said with a smile.
“I will be very polite and use all of my manners, just for you.” I said.
Dusty set about writing his new found information into his laptop. “Hey, can I please finish this and then I will teach you how to use it. Will that be alright with you?”
“Who are you talking to, I already know how to use your laptop!” I said.
“I’m talking to our host. Did you bring your laptop?” he asked.
“Yes, why?” I asked.
“Teach our friend here how to work the word perfect. Maybe, we can communicate with each other that way.” Dusty said.
“Sure, I would love to!” I said pulling my laptop out and setting up the screen for the ghost. “Can you push a letter on the laptop to let me know when you are ready?” I asked, still recording, and I set up the camcorder for this little experiment.
“hello”
“How are you tonight?” I asked.
“good”
“Me too. My name is Dixie and this is Dusty. How long have you lived here?”
“alongtime”
“To skip a space in between words push this long bar here. It will separate the words for you! All of the letters of the alphabet are on this keyboard.” I explained and showed what the key board is.
“Thank you”
“If you make a mistake you can push this backspace key, it will erase the mistake for you. If you don’t know how to spell a word, try to sound it out. Sometimes the computer will spell it for you. Okay?” I asked. “Take the time you need. If you want, I will leave it on when we go to eat supper and you can write on it if you want. Or you can come to supper with us too. Which ever you would like to do.” Dusty had now joined us in our lesson, but stepping away from the cold spot the ghost was creating.
“Is it working?” Dusty asked.
“yes”
“This is good. You can now tell your story.” Dusty said.
“yes I can, thank you”
“Can you tell me your name and your story? I asked.
“bessie, folks here call me diamond bessie.”
“We are going to go to supper, if you would like to come along, you are welcome to.” I said. We left the room and met Big John and Mary Jo in the hallway.
“Our frigging room is haunted!” Big John said.
“Don’t feel lonely, ours is too! And she was typing on the laptop when we left the room!” Dusty said.
“You’re kidding, right?” Mary Jo asked.
“No, I showed her how and she was typing away! We got ‘Diamond Bessie’!” I said.
“I hadn’t thought about sitting up the laptop to communicate with them. That is a good idea. When we get back I’m going to try it.” Mary Jo said.
A short time later, we walked the town, taking in some of the sites. “This town has some pretty eerie feelings! No matter where you go, or what you do, I get the feeling of being watched and followed.” I said.
“I get the same thing happening to me! So how does your ghost at the hotel act?” Mary Jo asked.
“She seems to be really nice. I told her she could come with us to eat and that she could write her story on the computer. She was typing her story on the laptop when we left. I showed her how to work it. She was very interested in the laptop.” I said. “And your ghost, what is it like?”
“I don’t think it likes anything! It seems grumpy!” Mary Jo said.
“Grumpy my ass! It acts like it could be down right mean!” Big John added.
Returning to our rooms, my laptop was still on and words were still appearing on the screen. “we my husband and I came here in 1877 his name was abe Rothschild he was not very nice except to the people he did business with when he wanted me to sleep with them he tried to steal my jewelry and I had to hide them sometimes he would hit me all the time and make me do things I did not want to do I worked in a lot of brothels and some of the men would give me diamond jewelry abe never gave me any jewelry we traveled a lot when we got here we registered into a motel and the next day we went on a picnic abe was drinking a lot and he was drunk we got into an argument and he pulled out a gun and shot me and took my rings the people here have been real nice to me they make me feel like a real lady and not a whore that is why I stay here”
“I’m glad you stayed, I wouldn’t have ever got to meet you if you hadn’t. I want to show your story to some friends of mine, will that be okay with you?” I asked.
“yes”
“I understand why the people have been nice to you. You are a remarkable woman. Thank you for telling me your story.” I said.
“your welcome”
Mary Jo was showing their ghost how to run the laptop. “Any progress?” I asked.
“Yeah, read this!” Mary Jo said. “I asked it for it’s name and if it would like to tell me it’s story. This is what I got”
“leave now”
“Did he leave?” I asked.
“no you leave now” appeared on the screen.
“Oh, I see, you want us to leave! We will be gone in the morning. Do you want to tell us your story?” I asked.
“no”
“Thank you for talking to us.” I said. “Come look at what Bessie wrote. She is a very nice lady.” Big John was almost to our room before I finished talking, Mary Jo and I headed that way.
“Wow, this is great! I’m glad she is nice enough to tell you what happened.” Mary Jo said. “Our host is not that polite as you can tell!”
“We told you he was grumpy!” Big John said.
At three in the morning, there was a demanding, pounding on our door. Dusty and I, were just about to have a frigging nervous break down when we heard the familiar voice of Big John, “Let us in!” he sounded desperate. I opened the door and Mary Jo and Big John had their covers, pillows and suitcases with them.
“We are staying in here with ya’ll! You couldn’t pay me enough to re-enter that room with that impossible ghost! That son-of-a-bitch won’t let us sleep! He keeps messing with us, turning on the lights, the faucets, pulling the covers off of us, jumping on the bed on top of us! He is a jerk, an A number one jerk!” Mary Jo said, throwing her pillow in the floor and laying down to get some sleep.
Dusty and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and lay back down. “Bessie, do you mind if we stay in here with you?” Mary Jo asked.
The laptop lit up as the word ‘no’ appeared. Dusty and I suppressed a giggle or two.
“Thank you.” Big John said irritably.
The next morning we all thanked Bessie for letting us stay as we packed our bags. We wished her the best and left the tiny room.
“So how was your night?” the desk clerk asked.
“It sucked! That frigging ghost in our room didn’t let us sleep! He is rude and on the verge of being demonic! He didn’t hurt us, but he was not pleased at us being in there!” Big John blurted out.
“Everything else was wonderful,” Mary Jo said, “the hotel is nice. The service is great, but that one ghost was unbearable! I think he was just grumpy! Maybe he isn’t getting enough rest!”
“I’m sorry. Usually he isn’t that . . .grumpy!” the clerk said as Big John paid out.
“I’m afraid to ask, but how was your night?” the desk clerk turned to Dusty.
“Ours was very polite and she didn’t do anything to upset us. As a matter of fact, she was really understanding and didn’t bother us at all. We thanked her for letting us stay in her room.” Dusty said.
“I enjoyed spending time with her. We got some good evp’s and she even played on the laptop, telling us her story and her name. She didn’t go into great detail, just that her husband beat her, shot her and took her jewelry.” I said.
“Your kidding?” the clerk said.
“No, we even invited her to dine with us, she was too busy playing on the laptop, because when we came back she was still typing her story!” I said. “Today we are going on one of the boat tours.”
“Have fun! I hope you enjoy the rest of your visit here in Jefferson.” the clerk said. “I’m sorry their ghost was such a grump.”
We boarded the boat, even in the daylight it was scary! Maybe, it was from being in water and surrounded by trees. I don’t know, but it was scary. It felt like the cyprus trees had eyes! Lots of eyes! I don’t do cruises because of the Titanic thing. The movie may have made it sound romantic. I personally do not find anything romantic about sinking to the bottom of the ocean on a ship. I don’t want to be an underwater ghost. I want to be a dryland ghost!
“This place is spooky as hell!” I said.
“It does have an eerie feel to it, and that wind blowing through the tops of the trees, that shit is down right scary. I feel like I’m going to be attacked by a hunderd hungry lions.” Dusty said.
“I am so glad that I’m not the only one that feels this way! I thought it was just my imagination running wild!” Mary Jo said.
“Well, if yours is running wild would you leave mine alone. I’m having a hard time here, I would hate to mess myself in this boat! They may make me jump in the water and that is not going to happen in this lifetime!” Big John said.
“All of ya’ll are not making things any better on my end. I think I can walk on water to get back to land, and I’m thinking seriously about doing so! If I thought I wouldn’t sink because of the extra weight my depends would be carrying, I would try it!” I said.
“The scenery is beautiful in an eerie kind of way! Makes you feel like your living in a scary movie. Do you ever get scared out here?” Mary Jo asked the tour guide.
“Sometimes. Especially if I’m on a tour with a bunch of teenage girls and it starts raining! The screaming starts it off and then the real panic begins! Some of them have never been on a boat before and I think they are going to turn us over.” he said, as he continued his narration of the history.
I looked down into the water, this is not good. “I hate to tell ya’ll this, but we have company. And he looks pretty hungry!” I said trying to scoot over further into the boat without tipping it to that side. “The Titanic is looking a little more comforting, well I don’t know, it may be a toss up here.”
“Holy shit, that is one big, frigging alligator!” Dusty said.
“Yes, and teenage girls are real fun when the alligators appear too!” the guide said.
Now this is not helping me at all. ‘Please don’t let me scream like one of those teenage girls.’ I thought to myself. The next few minutes were a blur! The alligator tried to get in the boat with us, my life flashed before my eyes, it didn’t take but a second, there wasn’t much there, I heard a scream, I hope that wasn’t me!
“Oh fuck! Get that fucking monster away from me!” Big John was yelling as he stood up in the boat. The alligator tried to gain entry again. Another scream rang out threw the swamp. We all looked at Dusty, he was pale and shaking!
The guide was hanging off of the edge of the boat. Hanging on and screaming for dear life! Dusty was trying to compose himself and get the guide back in the boat. Mary Jo was trying to calm Big John. I was frozen, tears streaming down my face. The guide had blood streaming down his arm. Mary Jo, took the easy way out and fainted! Big John sat back down. Dusty had saved the guide and the alligator was gone.
“I guess we showed him!” Big John said as Mary Jo was coming around.
“I just thought teenage girls were fun! I think I just screamed like one of them. I haven’t ever had an alligator get that close to getting in the boat! That scared the shit out of me!” the guide said. “Pardon my language.”
“Depends! The wonder drawers, you may want to invest in some!” I said.
“One more trip like this and I won’t need any drawers at all, cause I will have a heart attack and die!” he said, still visibly shaking. “Just give me a second to calm down here.”
“Where is the first aide kit? I’ll bandage your arm for you.” I asked.
“Did that flipping alligator get me?” he asked, producing the kit.
“I don’t know how that happened, I was to busy watching the movie!” I said.
“What movie was that? How to get eaten alive by an alligator!” Dusty said.
“No, my life story, and it didn’t last long!” I said.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t do this at night. I really don’t think I would have survived! My name is not ‘Crocidile Dusty’.” Dusty said.
There was a moment of silence. Then all at once we all were laughing. For some reason the experience seemed funny to everyone at the same time. “I have never been hurt on the job. I know you have to tell how it happened. What do you do when you don’t know how it happened?” the guide laughed.
“I don’t know, I write fiction from home. The worst on the job injury I ever had was when I was writing a book and trying to get into one of my characters. She was into aroma therapy and bent over to smell one of the candles. You know, hair burns at a very high rate of speed! The longer the better and the faster it burns!” I said. My companions were looking at me and all were laughing. “It burned out before I could get my head under the water faucet. That all sounds petty to all of this though.”
“That was just a little too close for comfort! That was the scaredest I have ever been in my life. At least it didn’t last long!” Mary Jo said.
“How the hell would you know, you took a frigging nap in the middle of all of it! That whole thing took at least an hour, I think.” Big John said.
“I’m glad ya’ll were on the boat with me! That could have turned out disastrous had it been a bunch of screamers! I think I was the only one who screamed!” said the guide. “But I’m sure others would have panic a little more than we did, they would’ve turned the boat over and left me there to die!”
“Don’t look now, but I think we have a ghost, in the water, staring at us.” Dusty said. “I think it maybe laughing.” We all peered over the edge of the boat. The wind seemed to pick up in the tops of the trees making the whole swamp seem like a Steven King horror film. I could have sworn Jack Nicholson was going to jump out of the water at us! I almost messed myself.
“We had the camcorders on while all of that was going on, I wonder if we got what happened to your arm on one of them. I can’t imagine how we would have done so, but we can check and see.” I said to the guide, already rewinding the tape.
“Yep, there it is! What does the gator have in its mouth? Is that some kind of bone? Whatever it is, that’s what cut your arm. We can show this to your boss. We were actually all pretty calm at that time. For some unknown reason.” Dusty said, as we all watched the rest of the movie!
“Gives a new meaning to ‘Jaws’ don’t it?” Mary Jo said.
Returning to the docks, the owner greeted us. “I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for ya’ll. What happened?” he said.
“You can watch it on tape, because if we tell you, you probably won’t believe us!” I said producing the recording to him.
“Well, I’ll be darned.” he said, wide eyed, watching as the tape played. “What is that thing the alligator has in his mouth? That booger almost got in there with ya’ll.”
“I don’t know what it had, but it is the first time I ever had an alligator beat the crap out of me with a stick! Or bone, or whatever it has in his mouth!” our guide said.
“Heck, I thought it was going to be another good ghost story!”
“I can handle ghost, but them mean ass live animals could get on my nerves real quick! I just need to find a way to get them off of the only nerve I have left!” Dusty said.
“Let me reimburse you for that. We are all about ghost! Not wild animal attacks!” the owner said.
“No way, people pay to have the crap scared out of them! After all, that wasn’t something that happens all the time. Is it? If it was a trial run, it was a damn good one, and well worth the money!” Dusty asked.
“No, but how many pirates of the Caribbean do you know? Do you think people would go for a ride like that?” he asked.
“Not intentionally! But, people pay to go bungee jumping and sky diving. I don’t know that they are quite as dangerous as this was. I know I’m not going to be doing either one of those things. I’m a thrill seeker, not a suicidal maniac!” I said.
“I’m thinking we should head on out to the next stop. Home! How about ya’ll?” Big John said.
“I’m with you, I think we wore out our welcome with that mean ghost and now with the gator’s!” Mary Jo said.
“And you thought it was all me!” I said to Dusty. He smiled.
“Where do we go next weekend?” I asked.
“Anywhere but Caddo lake!” Dusty said. “I’m open for suggestions, where do you want to go?”
“I’ll call you and let you know, I need to look at a map!” I said. “Do ya’ll have anywhere ya’ll would like to go?”
“Not really, ya’ll always come up with some good places! I never heard of some of them before!” Mary Jo said.
“How about going south, you know like San Antonio or El Paso, somewhere in that area? I need gunslingers and outlaws. Besides, next week is our week long vacation. I want to check out the cemeteries and take pictures of the headstones, in the daytime!” Dusty said.
CHAPTER 6
El Paso was the southernmost area of the Provincia de Nuevo Mexico, which means New Mexico. American spies, traders and fur trappers visited the area since 1804. Zebulon Pike was the main area. The settlers only began to stay for good after the Mexican-American war in 1849. The area was never considered a part of Texas until 1848. El Paso was incorporated in 1873 and covered the small area that had developed along the river. With the coming of the railroad in 1881, the town became a boom town, bringing with it outlaws, gamblers, cattle and horse rustlers, Chinese railroad workers, prostitutes and businessmen. The town then earned the nickname of ‘Six Shooter Capital’ with the lawlessness in the territory.
“Well, now, this traffic is a, well, it’s pretty a, it is a bitch is what this shit is! Does any one have any idea of where in the hell we are?” Dusty asked.
“Not me, I’ve never been here!” I said.
“I’m glad you’re the one driving and not me or Big John!” Mary Jo said. “When Big John drives that requires the wonder drawers, continuously!”
“I like to look and see what is going on around me!” Big John said.
“We need to find the hotel, does anyone have any ideas where it is or what the address is. Can anyone read those signs? They are passing by me to fast since I’m trying hard not to get hit. This has got to be where they got the song ‘Highway to Hell’, that is definitely what we are on. So where the hell are we. Does someone have the map yet?” Dusty asked.
“Calm down just a tad there, cowboy! We are doing the best we can!” I said as I logged onto my laptop. “What is my password, I forgot, oh, man, this can’t be happening. Just pull the frigging car over so I can get my bearings here!”
“Sounds good to me, why the hell did we drive here for. We may just park the car and take taxi’s everywhere we go! I don’t like driving in this crap! Especially since I don’t know where we are going and this town is not familiar territory!” Dusty said, finally breathing. “I thought I was going to hyperventilate there for a minute. Does this look like a safe area to be in?”
“How would we know where the safe areas are? Just roll up all of the windows and lock the doors. You wouldn’t happen to have any extra uzi’s laying around, do you? Just in case!” I said.
“This is one big frigging town or city!” Big John said, looking around as if paranoia was fixing to grab a hold of him and take his ass away.
“Remind me one more fucking time why a bunch of little country hicks need to be in the middle of a city this size!” Dusty said to me.
“We want to see John Wesley Hardins grave. For your history lesson, remember.” I said.
“I’m not sure I need that information that bad, now, I could use one of his bullets between my eyes, that way I wouldn’t have to worry about where in the hell we are.” he said. “Find out where the murdering little bastard is, I think I want a show down, right here, right now! I don’t want to have to get back into this traffic. If ya’ll don’t mind, I think as soon as we find him, we should find other options to this historical research and get the hell out of here! I may even provoke the hell out of him!”
“John Wesley Hardin was born May 26, 1853 and had killed his first victim in 1868, at the age of 15. Born in Bonham, Texas to James G. Hardin, a Methodist preacher, lawyer, schoolteacher and circuit rider, his mothers name was Elizabeth Dixon who came from an educated and comfortable family. Running from the law, Hardin killed one and possibly four Union soldiers that were trying to apprehend him. In 1871 he worked as a cowboy on the Chisholm Trail and killed seven more people. They arrived in Abilene, Kansas where Hardin killed three more. Hardin got married to Jane Bowen in March 1873, settled down and had three children, Mary Elizabeth born in 1873, John Wesley Jr. born in 1875 and Callie, whose name was later changed to Jane Martina and was called Jennie was born in 1877. His wife was aware of the life Hardin lived and remained faithful to him. He then went on another killing spree, killing four more before he turned himself in to the Cherokee county sheriff in September of 1872. He broke out of jail a couple of weeks later. Next he killed a former state police captain. In May 1874, Hardin killed a Brown county deputy in Comanche. With his family in tow, Hardin fled to Florida, killing at least one and possibly five more during his flight. Hardin was captured by Texas Rangers in Pensacola in July, 1877. On September 28, 1878 he was sentenced to twenty-five years for the killing of the Brown county deputy. While he was incarcerated he studied law. Hardin was pardoned in 1894 and admitted to the Texas bar after his release. Hardin’s wife died in 1892. Upon his release from prison in 1894, Hardin rejoined his children in Gonzales county. In 1895, Hardin traveled to El Paso to testify for the defense in a murder trial. After the trial he stayed and opened up a law practice. Hardin began having an affair with one of his female clients. When her husband found out about the affair, Hardin hired some law officials to kill the man. One of the men he hired by the name of Constable John Selman shot Hardin instead. Hardin was shooting dice with a local furniture dealer at the time of his death. Hardin was shot in the back of the head killing him instantly. Hardin was 42 years old. Hardin’s body was laid to rest in the Concordia Cemetery in El Paso.
“I wonder . . .” I started.
“Don’t!” Dusty said, “It has already turned into a day from hell! I don’t need you stirring up shit! Just take pictures and don’t call any of the outlaws out into the streets! I don’t need ghost bullets flying around!”
“I wasn’t going to say that! I was wondering if there are any more outlaw graves in this cemetery. I’m sure there are petty thieves and things like that, but none this famous.” I said.
“How would we know if there is, will it say on the stones?” Mary Jo asked.
“Sometimes it does. I think it depended who put the stone up. You know the family of the outlaws, they didn’t see their loved one’s as bad people.” I said. “But, if the law or victim’s families, put one up, there is no telling what they put on them!”
“That make sense. If someone killed one of my family and I had the choice of putting something on the stone, well, let’s just say, it probably wouldn’t be nice!” Big John said.
“On mom and dad’s I had ‘Killed by a drunk driver’ put on theirs, in between their names. I wanted people to be aware of the drinking and driving problems, it may have been an accident, but, I lost my family and they could loose theirs too.” I said.
“Is that why you don’t drink?” Big John asked.
“Partly, that and three hours of drinking takes two days of recovery!” I said.
“Listen.” Dusty said.
“I don’t think I like this! I wasn’t asking or looking for trouble! I swear!” I said.
“What is that noise? I don’t see anything out of the norm, here.” Dusty said.
“I don’t either, but I can sure feel it!” Big John said.
“Me too! I don’t feel anything evil, though. That is a relief.” Mary Jo said.
“There isn’t any wind, it’s too . . . Calm, I think.” Dusty said. “I still hear noises, and that is what is weird here. Not voices!”
“I think it is time to move on, Dusty, do you have all of the information you need?” I asked.
“Yes, I think I have it all. I just need a few more pictures. What the hell? My camera isn’t working right. Is yours?” he asked.
“Mines not!” I said.
“Mines not either!” Big John said.
“Mine is, I better take some pictures while I still can!” Mary Jo said, as she was clicking away.
Mary Jo was standing behind us, away from the stone. We all turned to leave and our camera’s all started flashing, simultaneously. “Are you taking pictures? I think I’m loosing my mind here. My camera is taking pictures on its own!” I said, looking at Dusty and Big John. Their camera’s were doing the same. Then they quit.
William Preston Longley was born October 6, 1851 in Mill Creek, Texas and was known as one of the first gunslingers of the old west. In 1866 the family moved to Evergreen when Bill was 16 and already carried a Dancer .44 pistol and knew how to use it, like most others growing up during the civil war. Bill Longley shot and killed a black policeman who had been drinking, the officer was riding his horse and waving his gun, cursing the local town people. The officer had stopped and was cursing Bill’s father, Campbell. Bill had told the man to put down the gun, instead the officer pointed it at Bill. Bill shot the officer and locals didn’t want to be bothered by any of the law helped cart the body away and buried it saying nothing about the killing. After the shooting, Bill became a drifter killing more people throughout his journey. In 1870, he joined the Cavalry, then deserted. Sentenced to two years, he was released after six months, rejoined his regiment where he deserted again. Heading back to Texas by the way of Kansas, bill killed 2 men and a reward was posted for $1000.00 by the military. Bill was captured in Louisiana by the Texas Rangers, and being returned to Texas for the murder trial of William Anderson. Bill started writing letters to the newspapers telling his story, confessing to the killing of 32 men. In 1877, Bill was convicted and sentenced to hang. He was hung on October 11, 1878 after being baptized into the Catholic church. Bill was said to have been hung three times in his life. The first time for cattle rustling one of the posse decided to put a bullet into Longley, missed and severed the rope, which later broke setting Bill free. The second time, the hangman didn’t take into account the heigth of Longley and made the rope to long. Longley landed on his feet. Moments later, the third time Longley died. Longley is buried in the Giddings Cemetery west of Giddings, Texas.
“Remember, we are not going to challenge any ghost!” Dusty said. “I don’t need a week of yesterdays!”
“The wind is blowing a little today. If anything unusual happens, we’ll blame it on the wind.” I said.
“Sounds good to me!” Dusty said. “I appreciate you doing the research on these men and women for me. It sure helps when I don’t have to hunt them down, like the outlaws they were, without getting the rewards for them.” Dusty laughed.
Dusty’s camcorder flew up and hit him in the chest. “Uh oh, I think I offended someone. This can’t be good! I didn’t mean to piss anyone off!”
There was a loud bang, we all hit the dirt! “What the hell was that?” I asked. “Are ya’ll alright?”
“Yes.” my companions all said in unison.
I looked over and a woman on a bicycle was laying on the ground. I jumped up, my head ducked and ran to her. “Are you okay?”
“I think I have been shot in the leg!” she said, as I lowered myself to the ground.
“Let me see. I need to know how bad it is before we call for help. They will want to know.” I told her. Inspecting her leg, “All I see is a red mark. There is no bleeding.” I was now looking for the cause of the red mark. She then inspected her own leg, feeling a little more at ease.
“Thank you. I was so afraid I had been shot.” she said. “You never can tell about people now days. I ride my bike through here everyday. I come here to visit my husbands grave. He was shot in a random shooting at the mall in Austin several years ago.”
Dusty, Big John and Mary Jo had made their way to us, crawling on their stomachs. Dusty rolled on his back and started laughing. “What is so amusing?” I asked.
“Did you have a low tire?” he asked the woman.
“Yes, I had to stop at a station and get some air in it. Why?” she said.
“You had a blow out on your bike. The tire is what hit your leg, and the noise was the cause of all of us crawling around in a spooky cemetery on our stomachs!” he laughed. Big John was now laughing with Dusty. The woman, Mary Jo and I were not seeing the humor in this little situation. The woman was going to have to continue on foot. Mary Jo and I were secretly hoping for a little more than a blow out! We then all laughed. We got the woman on her way, offering to take her home, she refused.
“I’m relieved it wasn’t anything serious. I hate loud, unsuspecting bangs. They scare the hell out of me now.” She said as she was leaving.
We took our pictures and left the cemetery. Quiet giggles would escape our lips every once in a while. “I can’t believe we were all crawling around like we were in some kind of war zone!” I said.
“I’m glad we weren’t in one. We don’t know these towns. That scared the shit out of me!” Dusty said.
Robert Clay Allison was born on a farm near Waynesboro, Tennessee in 1841. Allison enlisted in the Tennessee Light Artillery on October 15, 1871. He was discharged in 1862 for a mental disorder when, trying to kill his commanding officer for calling a cease fire when they had the enemy on the run. Allison wanted to run them down and kill them all by himself. In 1860, Allison worked in New Mexico for Loving and Goodnight. A known gunslinger, Chunk Colbert wanted to kill Allison and looked him up. The two men spent the most part of the day drinking and gambling on horse races. Colbert invited Allison to dine with him that night. Allison was cautious, but accepted the invitation. After the meal, Colbert went for his gun he had laying in his lap. Allison’s gun was laying on the table. Later, Allison moved to Hemphill County Texas where he married and fathered two daughters. The second daughter was born not long after Allisons death. Allison died on July 3, 1887, at the age of 46, by falling off of his wagon and broke his neck. Allison is buried in a park west of the Pecos Museum in Pecos, Texas.
“This guy, literally fell off the wagon and broke his neck.” I said. “Could you imagine, dodging bullets all your life, trying to get your life back on track and then falling off the wagon and breaking your neck? Just don’t seem right to me. Guess his time on earth was coming to an end one way or another!”
“Sounds to me like he was trying to make things right. That would suck. Maybe the good lord didn’t want to give him time to mess up again.” Mary Jo said.
“Could be. He never got to see his second child. I bet his wife was devastated. That would be hard to take. If she knew his past, it would be a hard thing to have to think about every time he left the house. Is today going to be the day one of his old enemies finds him. That poor woman probably went through hell with worry.” I said.
“You remember there were women outlaws to, Belle Starr, Cattle Kate?” Dusty said. “Well, I’m sure their men didn’t exactly have a life of luxury. You know men worry just as much as women. We just express it differently!” Dusty said.
“Boy do I know. Mainly by screaming, yelling and a whole lot of cussing! Or ignoring the matter completely. There is no in-between.” Mary Jo said.
“Back then the women were suppose to do as the men said. Some of those women were born before their time! I don’t mean that in a bad way, that was all before the burning of the bra’s and all of that. It was the responsibility of the man to protect the women. Some of those women were making that task impossible! That caused the men to get inferiority complexes! Not a good thing to possess back then. Especially when you were having to dodge bullets that were aimed at your wife!” Dusty said.
“It’s still not an easy thing to do now days. Mary Jo puts me through the ringer every now and then. But, at least I don’t have to worry about her robbing no banks, rustling cattle or shooting someone, other than me sometimes!” Big John said.
“I know I won’t ever have to worry about Dixie rustling cattle! Ghost, maybe, I wonder what the punishment on that is!” Dusty said laughing.
“What is the market price for a good tame ghost?” I asked.
“I can see her now, ‘head em up! Move em out!’ popping her whip all the way!” Big John laughed. “Mary Jo, you can take drag, if one of them gets out of line, shoot em!”
Ben Thompson was born in Knottingly, England on November 2, 1843. He came to the United States with his parents to Austin, Texas. Thompson enlisted in the Confederate army in 1861. In 1863 he married Catherine Moore and had two children, Benjamin and Katherine. In 1868, Thompson was faced in a confrontation with his brother-in-law, James Moore, stating that James was abusing his sister. Thompson was charged with murder and threatening the life of W. D. Scott, the justice of the peace for refusing to help Thompson in the abuse case of his sister. Thompson was found guilty on both accounts and sentenced to four years in the penitentiary at Huntsville. Thompson served two years of his sentence and was released. In Abilene, Kansas he opened up a gambling saloon with a civil war buddy, Phil Coe in 1871. Coe was killed by Wild Bill Hickok, while Thompson was away. Thompson and his brother Bill went to Ellsworth, Kansas in 1873. He then opened another saloon. Forced to leave Kansas, Thompson moved to Fort Elliott in 1875 and was befriended by Bartholomew ‘Bat’ Masterson. The two men were hired by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroad in a right-of-way dispute with the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, which was settled in court. Thompson returned to Austin in 1879 where he ran for Marshall of Austin. In 1880, Thompson was elected Marshall and served two terms. Thompson and fellow gunslinger, J. King Fisher went to the Vaudeville Theater and gambling hall in San Antonio on March 11, 1884. A gunfight ensued with Joe Foster, the partner of Jack Harris, whom Thompson had killed two years earlier. Thompson and Fisher were both killed during the gunfight. Thompson had admitted to killing thirty-two people, as a private citizen, to Bat Masterson. Thompson is buried in the Oakwood Cemetery in Austin, Texas.
“This guy would be pretty easy to track you would think!” I said.
“What makes you think that?” Dusty asked.
“His accent, he was born in England!” I said.
“Not if they came to the states when he was real young! But back then, everyone probably had mixed accents, since there were a lot of immigrants. It would be like the box of chocolates, you never know what your going to get!” Dusty said.
“Today, we don’t have as many English, Irish and German immigrants as they did back then. That is why they are so easy to determine they are from foreign lands.” Mary Jo said.
“Yeah, I guess that is true. So he may actually been harder to track down.” I said, still thinking on this information. Something came out from behind a stone, we all turned to run. My foot caught on something, I saw stars, everything was closing in and then blackness. As I opened my eyes, laying on my back, seeing faces I didn’t recognize. Fighting to get up. “What happened?”
“An armadillo!” one of the paramedics said trying not to laugh.
“How did it throw me on the frigging ground? Then it sucked the light out of my eyes. I didn’t think they would attack someone!” I said.
There was a lot of laughing now. No one was holding back. One of the men was trying to pull himself together. “You fell in a hole and hit your head on the headstone! Armadillo’s don’t suck the light out of your eyes!” he said, trying to be professional.
“Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere? What is your name? What is the day of the week? Do you know where you are?” another one asked.
“I think I’m okay. No, I just have a slight head ache. My name is Dixie Rhode. This is Wednesday. I’m in the Oakwood Cemetery in Austin, Texas.” I said.
“I’m pretty sure she is okay! Other than the sucking the light out of her eyes, I think she is in pretty good shape. Do you want us to take you to the hospital?” the man said.
“No, I’ll be fine.” I said. The paramedics packed their belongings and left the cemetery, still laughing their asses off.
“What made you think an armadillo sucked the light out of your eyes?” Dusty laughed. Mary Jo and Big John could no longer hold in the laughter.
“Because I couldn’t see! How long was I out?” I asked.
“Not that long, it didn’t take them long to get here. They said their station is pretty close to here, and there wasn’t much traffic. You know they are going to be talking about this one for a while.” Dusty roared.
“Kiss my ass!” I said.
“Roll over.” Dusty said.
Turning to Mary Jo, I asked, “Do I have a huge knot on my frigging head? I feel like a frigging unicorn!” Mary Jo shook her head no, burst into laughter, double over and was holding her sides.
John King Fisher was born in 1854, to Jobe and Lucinda Warren Fisher, in Collin county Texas. Lucinda died around 1856 when King was two years old. Jobe then married his second wife Minerva. Jobe moved his family to Jack county and then to Denton county, where King lived during the civil war. After the war, Jobe moved the family to Williamson county where his brother James lived. Jobe was in the cattle business and operated one or two freight wagons. Minerva was in poor health and Jobe then moved to family to Goliad county to live closer to the coast. Minerva soon died and Jobe’s mother, Anna, moved to Goliad to help her son raise the boys. King was running with some unsavory characters and Jobe sent him back to Williamson to live with James. King began buying wild or untamed horses at a cheap price, breaking them and then sold them for a profit. After getting into trouble for stealing a horse, King returned to Goliad and soon started running with a man by the name of Bruton. King was charged with horse theft and sentenced to two years in the state penitentiary in 1870, but was released in 1871 because of his age. He then worked as a cowboy, breaking horses, chasing bandits and learned to shoot. King then teamed up with a Mexican gang of rustlers. A dispute over the spoils resulted in King shooting and killing three of them and he then took over the gang. Once he gained control of the gang and several more, with a membership of over one hundred he gunned down seven more men. Establishing the gang, he then bought a ranch near Eagle Pass in Maverick county. During the 1870’s he was arrested several more times for gambling. King married Sarah Vivian in 1876 and they eventually had four daughters. In March of 1884, Ing was in Austin on business and met up with his old friend Ben Thompson, who was a well known gunfighter. Thompson talked King into stopping in San Antonio on his way back to Uvalde. Both men had a lot to drink, entered into the Vaudeville Theater, where a fight ensued and both men were shot and killed. Fisher is buried in the Oakwood Cemetery in Austin, Texas.
“Watch out for them killer armadillo’s, they can blind you!” Dusty called out.
“Okay, I want every one to get that out of their system. I could have said something like ‘how did the mangy little critter throw the stars into my eyes?’ or why did it throw me onto the ground and do a voodoo dance on my head while it was sucking the light out of my eyes. That is what I was actually thinking at the time!” then I started laughing, thinking about how insane all of it sounded.
“Holy shit! Did you really think that?” Dusty asked.
“YES! Aren’t you glad I kept my mouth shut?” I asked. Once again, everyone was bent over, holding their sides and laughing until the tears were rolling down our faces. “This is a cemetery, they aren’t suppose to be this fun. Of course, I’m the one with the headache from hell. I now know what that old saying ‘sticks and stones may break your bones, but whips and chains excite me’, well, I’m not into whips and chains, but I think I could take them over the stones at this point!”
“I think, maybe, you should be quiet for a while! Let your thoughts return to normal, whatever that is. Besides, my sides and stomach could use a rest.” Dusty said.
Sam Bass was orphaned at the age of twelve and went to live with an uncle. Bass ran away to Denton, Texas and worked at odd jobs and raced his Denton mares. Bass met Joel Collins and herded cattle to Nebraska. Heading to Deadwood, South Dakota where he lost all of his money and began to rob stagecoaches. With a group of other men, Bass robbed an eastbound train in Big Springs, Nebraska. The gang split up where three were caught and killed in shootouts. Bass formed a new gang and continued to rob two stagecoaches and three trains. Jim Murphy, a new gang member joined and was proved to be a traitor. Bass, being unhappy with the take from the train robberies decided to turn to robbing banks. On July 20, 1878 Bass decided to rob the bank in Round Rock, Texas. Murphy told the Texas Rangers. Bass, Seaborn Barnes and Frank Jackson went to the general store, where two sheriffs thought they had seen a concealed weapon on one of the men. A gunfight ensued leaving the two sheriffs on the floor. When the three men ran for their horses the Texas Rangers had been alerted from the gunshots, Barnes was killed and Bass was fatally wounded. Jackson helped Bass to his horse and they rode out of town. Bass was found the next day not far from town and was brought back to Round Rock wher he died on his 27th birthday. Bass is buried in the Round Rock Cemetery in Round Rock, Texas, with Seaborn Barnes buried close by.
“Damn, that seemed like a long drive. I got some pretty good sleep though. Did I miss anything?” I said.
“No, not much. There were a few nice little old towns. We didn’t stop. You were sleeping so peacefully, we didn’t want to disturb you. My sides are so sore today from laughing. Sorry, I know you are sore too. That conversation was better than when someone comes out of surgery on all those legal drugs they give in the hospitals!” Dusty said.
“I can’t believe I was really thinking those things, but I was. Thank God, I knew to keep my mouth shut. Especially since I have a tendency not too at times!” I said. “Where did that frigging little varmint come from anyway? Hasn’t anyone ever told them you don’t go around scaring the crap out of someone in the cemeteries? That is just so un-cool! Someone could be hurt really bad that way! It‘s a good thing there wasn’t a funeral going on at the time. I can just see the women in their high heels trying to run through the cemetery in dresses and heels.”
“Let’s get back to the story at hand now. We still have a few miles to travel! At least we have two here close by. I’m getting a pretty eerie feeling here. Could be from being in the middle of two outlaws. These two may seem a little too trigger happy, maybe just on the defensive. I don’t know. I wonder how the ones between them feel?” Big John said.
“Probably not as scared as the ones on the other side of them. They know if shots are fired their not going to be shooting at each other, since they were friends! Would you listen to us. We act like these men are going to jump up at any second and start kicking ass!” I said. “Or worse, firing away!”
“At least with two in one cemeteries, usually we only get one tradgedy out of the fiasco if we have one! Hopefully, we won’t have one!” Dusty said, as we moved to the grave of Barnes.
Seaborn Barnes was born in Cass county Texas, sometime between the years of 1849 and 1853. He was the son of John and Martha Barnes, but was raised by his grandparents. His mother moved to Tarrant county with her five children in tow after she had become a widow. Barnes fell into trouble for shooting someone in Fort Worth when he was about seventeen. He was sent to live with relatives in Missouri when he got out of jail, where he became a member of Quantrill’s raiders during the civil war. Getting into trouble again, Barnes, was smuggled out of Missouri in a wagon with a false bottom and taken to Comyn, Texas to live with some relatives in that area. In 1878, Barnes was working as a potters apprentice in Denton, when Sam Bass came around. Bass offered Barnes a deal he couldn’t pass up. Barnes joined the Sam Bass gang and quickly became his right hand man, robbing banks, trains and stagecoaches. The gang was sold out by the traitor in the group, Jim Murphy, when Barnes was shot in the head by a Texas Ranger, before attempting to rob the bank in Round Rock, Texas. Barnes is buried in the Round Rock Cemetery close to his friend, Sam Bass.
“This side of the cemetery is where things seem to be happening. Does it feel that way to ya’ll?” I asked.
“Yeah, it does have a scarier feel to it. Not for sure I like this much!” Mary Jo said. “I feel like this side could scare the pants off of someone in the dark.”
“No! We are not coming back in the dark, so don’t even ask!” Dusty said. “Remember our rule for this trip. Do not go looking for trouble. I think some of our smart ass remarks maybe pissing some of these guys off. You know they obviously don’t have a very good sense of humor or they wouldn’t be killers! They can do the shape shift thing mom told us about! That is where the killer armadillo’s come from!”
“I don’t remember no smart ass remark being made there until now! I think that was only a mean ass armadillo who liked scaring people. He knows if he walks out from behind a stone the race is on. I think he likes to see humans run. We may look as funny to him as he does to us!” I said.
“We looked everywhere for him after we called for help. We couldn’t find him. The paramedics were even looking. We never saw hide nor hair of him after that.” Mary Jo said.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me this yesterday!” I said. “Now you’re telling me that was a ghost armadillo or a shape shifter. I don’t think so! He may have been a pants shitter, but I’m not going for the shape shifter idea!” I said. “You can forget that noise!”
Luke Short was born in 1854 to Josiah and Hettie Brumley Short. His family moved to Texas when he was two years old. Leaving home while still a teenager for killing another youth with a pair of scissors, Short became a cowboy. In 1870, Short traveled to Abilene, Kansas and attempted to make a living at gambling. In 1876 he arrived in Sidney, Nebraska and landed a job as a whiskey peddler. He sold whiskey illegally to the Indians from a trading post north of Sidney, which was a federal offense. Short admitted to killing at least a half dozen drunk Indians during the time he was in this business. Short was hired on as a scout for the U. S. Cavalry in 1878 and 1879. Short became associated with Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson in Dodge City, Kansas and later moved to Tombstone, Arizona. There he tried gambling again. Short had already earned the reputation of being a man of few words with a fast gun. Still living in Tombstone in 1881, Short was involved in a gunfight with another gunfighter named Charlie Storms. Short returned to Dodge City in 1883 where he purchased a half interest in the Long Branch Saloon, partnered with friend W. H. Harris. Later that year, Short sold his interest in the saloon and moved to Fort Worth, Texas. While in Fort Worth, Short invested in the White Elephant Saloon. The formal Marshal of Fort Worth offered protection to the saloons and gambling houses. Short turned down the offer, which angered Jim Courtright, the former Marshal. Courtright, wanting to make an example out of Short to show others what would happen if they declined his services, called Short out of the White Elephant, challenged him and Short killed Courtright in self defense. Short continued his life as a gambler, investing in other saloons and traveling cattle towns for the next five years. Short died of congestive heart failure on September 8, 1893 peacefully in his bed in Geuda Springs, Kansas. His body was taken back to Fort Worth, Texas for burial in the Oakwood Cemetery.
“Is there an Oakwood Cemetery in every town in Texas?” Big John asked.
“Seems like it, we have already been to several of them already!” Dusty said. “I guess it was kind of easy to remember, back then.”
“Yes it must have. Or they weren’t as creative as we are now! Whoops! I shouldn’t have said that, it may stir up something.” Mary Jo said, looking around cautiously.
“I don’t have room on my head for another knot!” I said.
“At least the one you have is shrinking! It is getting to that green and yellow, ugly stage now. In a couple of days, no one will even notice!” she said.
“Does it seem odd to ya’ll that some of these people were known to hang out with some very important people for the time? Did everyone in the states know ‘Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp or Bat Masterson? They got around just like the outlaws and seem to have a reputation like the dog and the wolf on the cartoons! The whistle blows at five o’clock, they punch the time clock and tell each other they will see the other in the morning. Doesn’t that seem to be the way the 1880’s worked?” I said.
“Some of the killings were at night!” Dusty said.
“So, that means they were doing the night shift thing!” I said. “Or the evening shift. Were they trying to tell each other to watch out, I’m after you? As soon as you finish that drink, it will be your last, you need to be half way sober, so I can continue to chase your ass to the next town down the line! I don’t want you puking all the way! They have better women and whiskey there! It almost seems like there was some kind of envy between the law and the outlaw to me. Neither one wanting to test the other one.”
“There may have been a mutual respect for one another. You know that the lawmen were legalized murders. The outlaws weren’t. Most of them had been on both sides of the law during their lifetime.” Dusty said.
“I know, it just seems odd to me they could switch on and off like that. Today, I’m going to rob a train, tomorrow I’m going to chase outlaws for robbing the train, I wanted to rob that one and someone else got to it first!” I said.
Mollie Brennan, a dance hall girl and former prostitute, worked in Denison, Texas and Ellsworth, Kansas. While in Ellsworth, Mollie married Joe Brennan, but was involved with Billy Thompson, who was Ben Thompson’s brother. When Billy killed Sheriff Chauncey Whitney, Billy left Kansas and ended up in Mobeetie, Texas. Billy was a partner in a local saloon. Mollie packed her bags and followed Billy to Texas. On January 24, 1876, Mollie was talking to Bat Masterson after a poker game. The two of them and Charlie Norton, left the Lady Gay Saloon and headed for the dance hall. Norton went behind the bar to light a lantern. Mollie and Masterson sat down at the table and started talking. Masterson heard a knock at the door, went to answer it, Corporal Melvin A. King, who had lost at the poker game burst in, gun drawn and started shooting, still angered over the nights events. Mollie was hit by King’s second bullet, killing her instantly. The gunfire alerted the rest of the town. Within a matter of minutes a crowd gathered at the dance hall. Billy Thompson was holding a lot of angry soldiers at bay and the buffalo hunters were all rallying around to protect Masterson. Dr. Finley, from the nearby Sweet Water Cantonment, patched King up to take back to the post hospital, where he was the assistant surgeon. He then turned to help Masterson. Masterson remained at the dance hall to recover from his injuries. King was taken back to the post where he lived through the night and died the next day. Mollie Brennan is buried in the Old Mobeetie Cemetery near Mobeetie, Texas.
“This is one of those, a girls got to do, what a girls got to do things! I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be in her shoes, but back then, who knows what fate life dealt!” Mary Jo said.
“Now that we are in home territory, it feels strange. I didn’t know they had these type of women on the wide open prairies! I thought they were all in the bigger towns, like Fort Worth, El Paso and places like that. I wonder how she made a living out here. If she was the only woman, I can see why the seamstress profession would be out of the question! Let me rephrase that, I know how she made a living, but this is a desolate area and she would have had to charge an arm and a leg to make a living. She would have had to been one of them high class girls, don’t you think, in a world of low class men. Another rephrase here, not low class as in scum buckets, low class as in pay wise.” I said trying not to offend anyone. “Baking cakes, cookies, bread and cooking meals would have provided her with a damn good living, I would think. I’m not sure I would want to do that either. But, we all have to do things we don’t want to do sometimes in our lifetimes.”
“No offense taken, I see your point. The men would have to save up for months before they could pay to high of a price. I think I read somewhere it said the pay for the military back then was $3.00 a day, and that was good money for those days. That would be about $90 to $93 dollars a month. She probably didn’t have bills to pay, and I’m sure her food bill was low. Even if she didn’t have a girlish figure, it wouldn’t cost much to live on back then. Especially if you were the only woman on the plains! Which she could then cut her fee’s to accommodate the men’s pay.” Dusty said.
“Even if you only charge .50 cents or 1.00 and had 8 or 12 men a day. That would be anywhere between 150 to 360 dollars a month. That would have been a damn good living for those days. Especially for a woman. I don’t think the seamstresses even made that much.” I said. “Of course if it came to prostitution or seamstress, I think I would have taken the dark road also! But, if she did the meal thing and charged .50 cents and had only 100 men a day to feed, she could have made $1500. A month. Then she would be shitting in high cotton! I think I would have tried that route.” I said.
“Not me, I don’t mind sewing. I don’t do much cooking either. But, I probably would have went with the cooking thing also.” Mary Jo said.
“Back then sewing was all by hand.” I said.
“Still, I would have to think about that one!” Mary Jo said.
“I’ve had my fill of poked fingers, taking out stitching, knotted thread and all of that stuff. But, then again, I’m not to thrilled about diseases down there either!” I said. “Maybe, I would just be a nun! Or stay in the bigger towns and find a gentleman suitor to support me!”
“From the history we have been doing on this trip, I don’t think there was any ‘gentlemen’ suitors in this area! You would have to go to the bigger cities, unless you found you one of them handsome Indian men!” Mary Jo said with a nudge.
“Oh I can picture it now, being one of them sweet southern belles, growing up on a plantation, always having someone else do everything for me. Reality hits, no more plantation, no more slaves and my handsome Indian man bringing home the bacon for me to have to skin, gut and butcher. Why, I do declare, Margaret, I would get blood on my fine silk dress imported all the way from England!” fanning myself and giggling along with Mary Jo.
“What are you two cooking up over there?” Dusty asked.
“Bacon!” I said, as Mary Jo and I continued our charades.
Big John and Dusty looked at each other, “Do we want to know more of the story?”
“Probably not.” Mary Jo said.
“Did you hear a woman laughing? I just heard a woman laughing!” I asked. Mary Jo readied her camera and started snapping away.
“Did ya’ll just hear that? It sounded like a woman. She sounded amused at something.” Dusty said.
“I think she was listening to our conversation! Mollie, is that you?” I called out.
Another giggle sounded close behind me. Mary Jo was taking pictures again. “Can you touch me so I will know that is you, Mollie.”
“Whoa, that was good, you want to help us pull a joke on one of them men over there? All you have to do is go touch him on the neck!” Mary Jo said.
“What the hell was that?” Dusty said, grabbing his neck and turning around in circles. “What is on me?”
“It’s just Mollie. You don’t need to be afraid!” I laughed.
Then his pants fell down to his knees! Dusty was exposed to the wide open prairie! Trying to run Dusty fell on his face, then jumped around laying on his back. “Holy shit, make her stop! Her hands are as cold as ice! I am exposed to the world here! Ya’ll help me, damn it.”
“That was good, Molly! You can stop now!” I was laughing so hard, I almost wet myself. Mary Jo was shocked beyond belief and Big John was running for the hills, thinking he would be next in line. Problem is, there aren’t many hills around here!
Dusty jumped up and got his clothes back on straight. “What the fuck was that all about? That woman grabbed my, my, my thing! Then she stuck her cold hands on my ass! I thought she was going to freeze my, my, my thing off. It probably has ice cycles hanging off of it!”
Mary Jo had taken off to get Big John. The closer she got the faster he ran, yelling, “NO, NO, NO!” Hearing Mary Jo’s footsteps gaining on him.
Big John was a huffing and puffing! Mary Jo was yelling, “STOP! John, stop! Where are you going?”
Big John fell to the ground, gasping for air, “Don’t let her come near me, Mary Jo, you can’t let her come near me!”
“She won’t she has stopped now. Dixie called her off of Dusty. All we wanted her to do was touch one of ya’ll on the neck. She was playing a joke on ya’ll for us and she came up with the rest on her own!” Mary Jo said.
Dusty, on the other hand was not so impressed. “What the hell did you tell her to do to me?”
“We asked her to touch you on the neck, she came up with the rest on her own. She was pretty creative, anyway. I’m glad no one else was here to see that! Are you alright?” I asked.
“I think so, other than my thing is going to fall off. I think it has frost bite! That was not what I was expecting from a ghost!” Dusty said.
“Big John, you are always saying you wouldn’t mind seeing one of the prostitutes! Where were you headed? There is no where to hide around here!” I said.
Adobe Walls was a trading post on the wide open plains in the Texas panhandle, just north of the Canadian river. An adobe fort built in 1845 to house the post. The post was destroyed in 1864 to prevent further Indian attacks. In June of 1874, after the buffalo herd in Kansas was non-existent, a group of businessmen set up two stores near the ruins of the old trading post, in an effort to revive the town of Adobe Walls. There were 28 or 29 people at Adobe Walls. At dawn on June 27, 1874 about seven hundred Indians lead by Quanah Parker attacked the post. The Indians were so close to the buildings the would touch the doors and the windows, making it impossible to use the long rifles. The people inside fought them off and when the Indians retreated, the men used the long rifles to hold them at bay until help arrived the next day. On the third day of the battle, a scout, buffalo hunter and sniper named Billy Dixon, took aim with a ‘Big Fifty’ sharps rifle that he had borrowed from one of the store owners, pulled the trigger and dropped the Indian that was sitting on his horse, on top of a hill, 1538 yards away. Dixon claimed the shot was ‘just a lucky shot.’
Billy Dixon was born in Ohio county, West Virginia on September 25, 1850 and was orphaned at the age of 12. He lived in Missouri and worked in the woodcutters camps. He started working as an oxen driver and a mule skinner for the government. In 1869, he became involved in a hunting and trapping venture, already being a skilled marksman. He had also done occasional scouting for excursionist brought by the railroad. Returning to civilian life in 1883, Billy Dixon settled down, became the first sheriff of the newly formed Hutchinson county, Texas, was the postmaster and the justice of the peace. In 1894, Billy Dixon married Olive King Dixon of Virginia, who for almost three years was the only woman in the newly formed county. They had seven children. In 1902, Dixon moved his family to Plemons where the children could attend school and then in 1906 they moved again to Oklahoma. In 1913, Billy Dixon died of pneumonia at his home in Cimarron county and was buried in Bertram Cemetery east of Texline, Texas. In 1929 Dixon was removed and buried not far from where he made his famous shot.
“Hey look! That looks like an Indian up on that hill way over there? Or is it my imagination.” Dusty said.
“Whatever it is, I see it too! Wow, did you see that, did he just fall from his horse?” Big John said.
“That was amazing. I can’t believe that. He was just sitting there like he was untouchable and just fell to the ground. I have never seen anything like that before. I didn’t hear a shot or anything.” Dusty said. “Did ya’ll?”
“I hope that shows up on the camcorders, I zoomed in as close as I could. I can’t see that far to tell what it was. But I did see it fall.” I said.
“I thought maybe I was seeing a mirage!” Mary Jo said. “This isn’t where you would suspect to see a ghost that far off. I didn’t know we had that many of them this close to home. Did you?”
“No, but we are going to have to check into this stuff. I know of one more that we could go see tomorrow. We can all stay at my house and then go to Clayton, New Mexico to see ‘Black Jack’ Ketchum’s grave.” I said. “The last time I was there, the place seemed a little scary, it was in the middle of the day, I was in high school and we drove there for drivers education. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I do now. I would have shit all over if I would have seen a ghost that day! Hell, I probably would have wrecked the drivers ed. car! That was the first time I remember getting the strange feelings that strong, come to think of it. Before that I would answer phones before they would ring. Answer someone before they called my name, simple things like that.” I started thinking back, mystified at my realizations.
“That sounds good to me, I have heard about Black Jack Ketchum for years. I thought it was a myth. Are you telling me this guy was for real?” Dusty asked.
“Hell yeah, he was real. I think they told us when we went to his grave that his head was buried in another grave. That maybe a myth. But I have been to his grave and I didn’t get out of the car! I was totally freaked out by the whole thing.” I said. “He was one demonic son-of-a-bitch, and I was only fifteen at the time.”
“Why would they bury his head in a different grave?” Dusty asked.
“When they hung him it popped his head off! This is a true story. There are pictures of it. They sewed his head back on for the viewing. Now the two grave thing, like I said maybe false. But, rumor has it that since he was so evil, they didn’t want his head to grow back to his body because he was so evil. People back then were real superstitious. It sounds like something they may have told their kids to make them behave. Who knows.” I said.
Clayton, New Mexico was founded in1887 and was a shipping center for the cattleman. Clayton sits on the Santa Fe trail and was where the travelers taking the Cimarron cutoff passed through.
Thomas Edward Ketchum, also known as, Black Jack Ketchum, was born October 31, 1863 in San Saba county, Texas. He was the son of Green Berry Ketchum and Katherine Wydick Ketchum. He had two brothers and two sisters. His father died when he was five years old. His mother was blind for many years before she died in 1873. His oldest brother was a wealthy cowman and horse breeder. His other brother, Sam married, but left his wife and children when his son was three. Tom and Sam were both cowboys, working on ranches in west Texas and eastern New Mexico. The two men went on many trail drives and familiarized with the territory, settlers and the ranchers. Tom’s first major criminal act was the murder of John N. Powers. Powers was a neighbor in Tom Green county, Texas. He then left Texas and went to New Mexico where he was joined by his brother. The two brothers worked for the Bell Ranch until 1896, when they quit their jobs, they stold some supplies. Tom and Sam made their way to Liberty, New Mexico where there was a store and a post office, they robbed the store in the night and headed to the Pecos River. Levi and Morris Herztein, brothers, operated the two establishments. After the robbery, Levi formed a posse and went after the Ketchum brothers. A short gun fight began, leaving most of the posse dead. Tom and Sam joined friends in Arizona, and went on a robbing and killing spree in the four corners area. A posse tracked down the Ketchum brothers, a gun battle at Turkey Creek ensued. Wounded Sam, who was taken to a hospital where a nurse turned him in. He died of his wounds in the Santa Fe Penitentiary and was buried in the Odd Fellows cemetery, which is now covered by a road. Tom was trying to hold up a train by himself, when the conductor shot him in the left arm. Tom, left the area and was found at a water hole and surrendered. He was taken to the hospital in Santa Fe where his arm was amputated. He was taken to Clayton for his trial after his arm healed, where he was found guilty and sentenced to hang. Rumors of the gang intending to free Ketchum caused the date to change. On April 26, 1901, lawmen sold tickets to the affair, which turned out to be a big event in Clayton. They also sold little dolls of Ketchum hanging on a stick. There had never been a hanging in Clayton before, and when Ketchum was hung, he had gained weight, poor knowledge of hanging by the executioners, caused the beheading of Ketchum. He was buried in the Boot Hill cemetery. In the 1930’s his body was moved to the new cemetery.
“Do ya’ll remember when we went to that place in Santa Fe and thought we heard the ghost talking about the prison break?” I asked. They all shook there heads confirming that they remembered. “I wonder if that was Sam Ketchum? These men were ruthless and conniving.”
“Could have been. I will go to the library when I get back and find out where that cemetery was located.” Dusty said.
“Since there were so many different problems that could have caused the decapitation, I wonder if they took into account that he only had one arm? Plus, he had gained weight and no one knew what they were doing. You know that would also throw off the balance of the body, with that side being lighter than the other? Hell, I didn’t ever think hanging could rip your head off!” Big John said.
“I wonder how many people passed out over that little ordeal. I’m pretty sure I would have! Especially, not expecting it. And people back then would take their kids to these things! I wonder if the kids had nightmares for the rest of their lives over that ordeal! I bet it made the kids walk the straight and narrow!” Mary Jo said.
“That would definitely make me walk the straight and narrow! I think I would move into a church and not ever come out! And not the one where the coffin comes up out of the floor! I’m pretty sure that would have been the only hanging I would’ve ever attended, if not the first, it would damn sure be the last!” I said.
“Do you know anymore about this guy?” Dusty asked.
“I have read a lot on him, I don’t remember all of the stories, but I will tell you the ones I do remember. Basically he was always a sadistic type person, he liked inflicting pain upon anyone and everyone. If he wasn’t beating the hell out of someone, he would beat up on himself. He was always a mean and cruel psycho. Most of the people that he came across were scared of him. Even his own family and gang. They all thought he was possessed or had multiple personalities. I have also read somewhere that no one called him Black Jack. There was another Black Jack that was killed in one of the robberies that Tom and Sam had been involved with. Someone had mistaken Tom for the other Black Jack and that is how he became known as Black Jack Ketchum. This only happened a few years before he was hung. I think it may have been in 1897 and the other man’s name was Will Christian, if I remember correctly. It has been a long time since I read anything on him.” I told him.
“I wonder why I have never heard of this man. I think it is very unusual with his connections to Santa Fe. I’m going to have to look him up when I get back home. You would think that I would have heard about Sam Ketchum.” Dusty said.
“I don’t think the Ketchum gang was all that prominent of the outlaws of the time. They had to compete with the likes of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Dalton’s, the Younger brothers and Jame’s gangs.” I said. “I don’t know that for sure, but with the other gangs hitting a wider range of places, with more members and in more populated places, their names would spread like a wild fire on the prairie. Where as the Ketchum’s were further west and most of their robberies were in a less populated area hindering their popularity.”
“That would make sense.” Dusty said.
“Where do we go next weekend?” Mary Jo asked.
“I need to come back to Texas. I need information on the Battle of the Alamo. We didn’t get to it this time around. So we will need to come back for it.”
CHAPTER 7
The Battle of the Alamo took place on February 23 through March 6, 1836. It is the most famous battle of the Texas Revolution. An insurgent army made up of Texas settlers and adventures drove all of the Mexican troops out of Mexican Texas. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, president of the area, retaliated to regain control. The arrival of the Mexican forces on February 23 instigated the battle against the Texas army that were garrisoned at the Alamo mission. For the next twelve days, cannon’s were moved into the area by the Mexican’s near the walls of the Alamo. Small groups of the Texans would venture outside of the walls and engage in skirmishes with the Mexicans. The Mexican forces received rainforests on March 3. The Texans were reinforced at least once and may have received more.
During the early morning hours on March 6, 1836, the Mexicans attacked the Alamo. Some of the untrained Mexicans fired quickly and inaccurately killing and wounding some of their own men. The Texans were able to fend off the first two attacks but were unable to fend off the third attack. The Mexican soldiers climbed the walls as the Texans retreated to a long barracks area or the chapel. Small groups that were unable to reach these areas attempted to escape and were killed outside of the walls of the Alamo by the Mexican cavalry. The Mexicans fought room to room and gained control of the Alamo. It is believed that at least five to seven Texans surrendered, but were executed quickly, on Santa Anna’s orders. Between 182 and 257 Texans who fought that day, only two were spared, one was a slave and the other was a Mexican army deserter who convinced the Mexican army he was imprisoned by the Texans. The women and children present were questioned and released by Santa Anna.
Santa Anna ordered three messengers to go to Gonzales to spread the word of the fall of the Alamo. Word got to the commander Sam Houston who then, ordered a retreat, which resulted in a runaway scrape. A massive quantity of citizens and the Texas government formed an army, and joined Houston’s army upon hearing of the defeat of the Alamo. On April 21 the Texans attacked Santa Anna’s army at San Jacinto. The Battle of San Jacinto, lasted eighteen minutes with hundreds of Mexican soldiers killed or captured. While the Texans lost only nine men. As the Texans charged the Mexican army they shouted, “Remember the Alamo!” Santa Anna was captured and forced to order his troops out of Texas, ending the Mexican control of the area that is now known as ‘The Republic of Texas.’
“See, there is your answer to why you need three Texans as friends!” I said. “We don’t take no shit off of no one! And we will kick ass if we are pushed and pissed! And you just thought you were special! We have been sent to be your protectors and guiders throughout your ghost hunting journeys!” I laughed.
“I hate to admit it but I think she just told.” Big John said in a hushed tone.
“You tell him, girlfriend!” Mary Jo laughed.
Dusty knew we were teasing him, we just didn’t expect him to tease back! “Oh yeah, o, mighty protectors of my ass, what say yee, scaling the walls of the Alamo, in the dark and watching a ghost war with me?”
“Now, look at what ya’ll have done to him! If we have to scale walls and break into the Alamo I’m going to bail on that little expedition! You crazy women, ya’ll are going to get our asses thrown not only into jail, but into a prison, for a long frigging time!” Big John said, as we all laughed at the thought of us scaling the walls.
“It could work.” I said. “We all dress in white, dye our hair white, steal some white makeup from a mortician to lighten Dusty’s skin, climb the walls and set off the alarms on the inside! Then we go to the jail and then to the prison!”
“Let’s just pay our way in and look around, maybe you two women can scope out the area while I do my research! Holy shit, we are NOT going to break into this place. I have too many other places I need to research for my history class. I don’t have time to spend behind bars! I’m sure they will not allow 24 hour access to a computer!” Dusty said.
Susannah Dickinson was married to Almeron Dickinson. When the sound of the bells were heard the ran to the Alamo to seek shelter from the trouble that was to begin. Unknown to them, she and her daughter, Angelina’s lives would be spared. Being non-combatants, the women and children were huddle together in the corner of a room. A Mexican soldier came in and told Susannah if she wanted to save the her life and the life of her daughter she should follow him. Picking up her daughter, she followed the soldier. Following the soldier into the courtyard, Susannah seen the bodies of the Texans who had fought and died in the battle. They were all piled together, soon to become the ashen remains that are buried in a mass grave. Susannah learned she would be a courier to Sam Houston telling him of the fall of the Alamo. Santa Anna, Susannah and Angelina were loaded in a wagon, which took them three or four days to reach Gonzales that was 75 miles away. Being a widow, with a baby, in the wilds of Texas, and destitute, Susannah possibly turned to a trade that managed to support some of the women left in this situation. After three failed marriages, she finally married Joseph William Hannig. For the first time since the fall of the Alamo, she was happy and secure. She returned to the Alamo only one time. She never spoke of the time spent there. Susannah died on October 7, 1883 at the age of 68. She is buried in the Oakwood Cemetery in Austin Texas.
“That would be an eye opener. You go to the Alamo for protection and end up in a battle!” Mary Jo said.
“I wonder if we will see any of the women and children ghost? That would be alright by me.” I said. No camera’s are permitted inside the Alamo. As we go room to room, hiding our camera’s and turning off the flashes, we are taking pictures of the writings on the walls. Taking pictures of the corners in the rooms where the defenders may have been huddled together, and the floors where they may have died. We took pictures of the courtyard and the big tree, that remains on the grounds.
“Look, do you see anything out of the ordinary over there?” I said, taking pictures.
“I just see some guards or is that monks! Whatever they are, I see someone protecting the Alamo.” Dusty said, “Holy shit, they’re frigging ghost.”
“Oh shit, here we go again.” Big John was shaking his head. “Wow, look at that rifle that man is holding! That is a flint lock rifle, who was that man that had one of those? That is a ghost holding that rifle. Well, kiss my ass, that’s Davey Crockett. Okay so this could be an alright ghost hunting thing. Do ya’ll want to go and talk to him?”
“It doesn’t say we can’t take pictures from outside of the walls! I wonder what they would do to us if they caught us. Do you think they would put us in here? You know they did use this as a jail at one time.” I whispered to Mary Jo.
“Why did they stop using it? Were the ghost scaring the inmates of the jail?” Big John asked.
“Yes, that and everyone else that worked in the building. Listen, I hear screams, like painful screams, not scared screams!” Dusty said.
“Me too, I bet if we wandered away we would get caught huh. I think we should go back outside. In the courtyard.” I said. “I feel the spirits stronger out there.”
“You better not be getting us in the middle of the battle, Dixie. We have all learned how you can get the ghost to perform on your demand!” Dusty said.
“You’re over exaggerating a little aren’t you? They don’t do it for me! They just do it! I just like to see the things that these people went through, well not the killing and stuff, but the lives they led. The spirits are calling me and there are a lot of them out there. They want to talk to someone and tell them what they went through that day. That is all. Can’t you hear them?” I asked.
“No, I turned them off. There were too many of them and I was getting confused trying to listen to all of them.” he said.
“I turned them off too!” Big John said. “I would like to talk to Davey Crockett though.”
“I still have them turned on. They are overwhelming me and I keep having to shut them down, one by one.” Mary Jo said.
“Let me listen to them and then we can leave.” I said.
“Okay, but this is going to be bad. Maybe, not as bad as Sand Creek, but it is going to be bad.” Dusty said as we found a bench sitting outside of the Alamo. “Do your thing. Separate them out and tell me what you feel.”
“I’m going to do the women and children first. There is a lot of confusion. They are more afraid of living than dying. They don’t know what will happen to them if they live. They still have the desire to live, but a lot of them feel they will be killed. The children are scared half to death, the noise is so loud. They are confused as to what is going on around them. The women know their husbands are dying and they are heartbroken, but they know they must stay strong for their children. Now, I’m going to the Texans. They are a proud bunch and would rather die than to lose. They are afraid and they don’t want to be prisoners of war. They would rather die as hero’s. They miss their families and want them to know that they died trying to make a better place to live for them. The Mexicans are giving almost the same feelings as the Texans. There is too much testosterone floating around in the air. Both sides are very proud people and want to win the battle.” I said. “That is about all I’m getting from here. My heart feels like it is swelling with pride, from both sides. They want this feeling to be shown. It is really, really strong.”
“Wow, I just turned on and I got all of or most of that, I’m glad I didn’t turn on before now. I don’t think I am ready for the full blown overwhelming thing like you get.” Mary Jo said.
“I turned on when she started talking. I can’t control mine as well as ya’ll can. It’s like it turns on and off when it wants to. This shit is still scary to me!” Big John said. “I sure am glad I didn’t know what was going on when we went to Sand Creek. That would’ve sent me to the nut house.”
“I try not to turn on when Dixie does her thing. It jumbles my thoughts while I’m trying to go with what she is feeling. Mom told me to let hers work and then to turn my on and see if I get the same thing. I tried that today. The only thing I felt, that she didn’t mention was the overwhelming sadness the women felt. I did however, feel the need to be strong for the children and the others that were in there.” Dusty said. “I think we should go to the cemetery tomorrow. Tonight we should go and see the town of San Antonio. What do ya’ll think?”
“I’m game!” I said.
“Count us in!” Big John said.
We took the river walk to find a place to eat. We went in stores and browsed around. “It’s so peaceful and refreshing! I didn’t think it would be, in a town this size. I’ve been expecting to have to do the duck and run thing at any moment! This area of San Antonio reminds me a lot of Santa Fe. It’s beautiful.” I said.
“I’ve always like the river walk. The stores, the people and everything in this area! The people in the stores don’t follow you around and make you feel like you are fixing to rob them! But they are friendly and helpful when you need help. I hate going in a store and someone follows you around or stays by your side. I usually don’t go back to those stores. If I was a thief it would be different, since I’m not I don’t think I should be treated like one!” Mary Jo said.
“I keep feeling like we are being watched, but it’s not that creepy feeling.” Dusty said. “maybe, it is curious tourist or something. Do ya’ll see any street camera’s? I haven’t looked, I just now thought about them. I bet that’s what it is.” Dusty said.
“I just knew you were going to tell me it was a ghost. And, I’m pretty sure it is! It doesn’t feel like a scary one to me. But, I know it’s there! There maybe even more than one!” Big John said.
“Are you sure? I feel something watching us too. I thought it could be a people watcher! I know people who go to the mall, sit in the food court and watch people all day. When I asked them why they did that, they told me ‘because people are weird and funny’. Since then, I enter the food court and look to see if they are there. That way I try not to do something weird or stupid to add to their amusement!” Mary Jo laughed.
“That’s a good plan! If someone is watching us and they are alive, do you think we should push the men into the river? They would get a kick out of that, of course, we may get kicked for that!” I laughed.
“How about calling it a night. I need to get this stuff in the computer. Tomorrow we go to the cemetery. This should be interesting! There should be some really old graves there. I’ll try to get some more information on other old cemeteries also. And then hope we can find them. If we can’t it’s no big deal.” Dusty said. “There are other missions in the area I would like to see.”
“I think we should do the missions first! Dixie has a tendency to get beat up and the rest of us bruised up! That way we don’t have to walk around all sore and maybe, just maybe, none of us will have a black eye or cactus sticks in us!” Big John laughed.
“I think we should do the missions first too.” I said. My companions eyed me for a moment, shook their heads and started walking.
Mission San Jose was established in 1720. It was a model mission for others. The residence of this mission raised livestock and tended to large fields. It had a gristmill and granary and 350 Indian people. It was a self-sustained mission. The mission was also known as the ‘Queen of the Missions’. This mission was named for Saint Joseph and the Marques de San Miguel de Aguayo who was the governor of the Province of Coahuila and Texas at the time. The Spanish missions weren’t churches, but were used as social and cultural centers. The church was added in 1782. In the south wall of the church is the ‘La Ventana de Rosa’, which means the Rose window. The naming of the window is unknown. When the mission was under attack the people may have lost their livestock, but their lives, behind the walls were safe, as the walls were to strong to be penetrated.
“If the people were safer here than at the Alamo, why didn’t the battle happen here? I think they should have all ran or rode, or just got their asses over here and let Santa Anna have an empty mission!” Mary Jo said.
“I don’t know, but it definitely would have changed history, and you can’t change history. I guess it was meant to happen for a reason. Santa Anna wasn’t a dumb man and he knew this was a strong hold. I’m with you, though, I would have went for the strong hold!” I said.
“In the end it all worked out anyway, we got all of the missions. I guess, back then, that was all that ma-a-a-tered.” Big John said staring at the bell tower.
“What is going on . . .” Mary Jo began as she followed Big John’s gaze. I grabbed my camera and started in with the pictures. There was a ghost in the bell tower. Or I was hoping it was a ghost! Yee-haw, this should teach them, since they thought it would be safer to go to the missions first! Take that my trusty companions! Teach you to make fun of me!
“If the bell starts ringing, I’m out of here! Those bells are hard to ring sometime, and if that ghost can ring a bell, I’m sure he can ring mine! It’s too early in the morning to have bat’s in my belfry.” Big John said.
“Look at the carvings. I wonder how long it took the people to do them. They are so smooth. Did they sand them down with something. You know, with a chisel it would leave rough lines. They would have to sand them off somehow to make them so smooth, so eloquent. The people back then were so talented. It is breathtaking.” I said. I figured I would pretend the ghost was no big deal. They all think that ghost is all I’m after. Their not, I like the history and the artistic abilities the people possessed. Ghost just happen to be one of my main interest.
“This garden is beautiful, look at the walls. It still amazes me how they did their construction back then. You know those rocks were heavy. And to get the arches in there. That is real creativity. Mine would end up to be the typical square!” I laughed, secretly looking around for some more of my see through friends.
“The grounds are enormous. I would hate to have to mow them. But, that would be job security, once you finished, it would be time to start over again!” Dusty said.
Mission Concepcion, also known as ‘Mission Nuestra Senora de la Purisima Concepcion de Acuna’ was established in 1731. Being named after Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception and Juan de Acuna, the Marques de Casafuerte. The mission was originally founded in 1716 and served as a buffer from French invasions into the Spanish territory of Louisiana. The stone church took around twenty years to build and was dedicated in 1755. The mission was built on rock preventing the loss of the roof and the integrity of the building. It is the oldest un-restored church in America. Colorful paintings were located inside and outside, although, the outside paintings have faded with time, there are still parts of the painting on the inside walls and ceiling. This mission did serve the purpose for religious ceremonies from the beginning, for the Spanish and the Indians.
“I can’t believe the paintings have lasted this long. They must have had better knowledge of paints back then too!” I said.
“Must have. I’m not much into paintings but the fact that they are still present is fascinating.” Mary Jo said.
“These buildings are enormous. I can’t believe how big they were. It may not take that long to build one now days, but back then it looks to me like, it would take forever. I guess the people all pulled together and did what they could as a unit better than they do now days. Today, they want to fight each other, and criticize the work of others instead of concentrating on getting the job done!” Big John said.
I could tell, every one was avoiding the “G” word like the plague. That was okay, I was still watching for one anyway. I thought I had already seen some of them and took pictures just in case they really were there. I’m not missing any ghost if I can help it. I’m not starting any fights with any of them either! I don’t feel any mean ones in the mission, but I do feel some lingering around. They feel like they are protecting the area, or on the lookout for trouble. This was actually what I was expecting from them, peace and quiet. And if they want to come out and play, well, I’m in!
Mission San Juan was another mission that was a self-sustained mission with the vast farmlands. The produce from this mission helped supply the region. The chapel and the bell tower are still in use. However, the mission was originally founded in 1731 in eastern Texas it was moved in 1731 to the present location. The friary, granary and the stone church were added in 1756. Inside of the walls, Indians craftsman made iron tools, clothing and prepared hides. The gardens and orchard provided peppers, grapes, melons and pumpkins. The Indian farmers produced maize, beans, squash, sweet potatoes and sugar cane. Rancho de Pataguilla set to the southeast of the mission raised sheep and cattle.
“It’s good to know they had sheep and cattle, I would have starved to death if I only had vegetables to eat! I like my meat. I like my vegetables too. But, I’m not much on a strictly vegetable diet. You know that old saying, you are what you eat, I don’t want to be a vegetable! I want muscle to hold my body up, not a stalk of celery!” I laughed.
“The history of these places, and the timelines are incredible. I should have thought of them a long time ago. I didn’t know there were this many missions in the San Antonio area. The only one I knew about was the Alamo. I’m glad we found out about them. I like the missions! They are peaceful!” Dusty said.
“What your trying to say is they don’t have many ghost!” Whew, that felt good. I’m glad I said it. I was beginning to have ghost withdrawals! I think I was starting to go into convulsions. I wanted to shout ‘ghost, ghost, ghost, ghost, ghost.’ but, I didn’t. “The missions have their share of them. They just aren’t as predominant as some of the other places we have been.”
“You mean you have been hunting them!” Big John asked.
“Did you expect her not too!” Dusty said.
“No, but I didn’t expect her to keep quiet this long either!” Big John laughed.
“I think I have caught several on my camera and camcorder.” Mary Jo said. “There are a lot of them at the missions. They seem harmless, no evil ones lurking around any corners or anything like that. They don’t feel like they want to scare anyone.”
“You too, Mary Jo? What have you done to my wife, Dixie. All you two ever think about is ghost!” Big John teased.
“Don’t say it Dixie, I know you are going to tell him, ‘you know anywhere we go there is a possibility of seeing ghost.’ Am I right?” Dusty asked.
“You got it, Bubba! They happen to go hand in hand with history. It’s a part of the game. If there isn’t any ghost, it probably wasn’t worth looking into!” I said.
“Oh brother. How do I keep getting all of these lectures?” Big John laughed.
“One thing is for sure, they are short, sweet and to the point!” Dusty said. “You don’t have time to get bored with them before they are over. They could be like sitting in a classroom teaching something like dead insects. Unless you like that sort of thing, you’re going to go to sleep. One night, there was a history lecture in Santa Fe. Since that is my main goal, I thought it would be interesting. That was the most boring lecture I have ever slept through! I didn’t learn anything from it. I have gone to some others that were fun and exciting, it just depends on the lecturer.”
“I guess I should go around giving lectures on ghost then! I can see me now, two students show up and I begin, ‘ghost hunting can be fun, don’t piss one off, they can hurt you, don’t let them piss you off, they feed off of you, and don’t get to close to the graves in the middle of the night, the burro’s will poke you in the but and then they will trample you. This concludes tonight’s lecture, you may go now, oh and don’t forget, always take someone with you, you may need back up or the paramedics! Have a ghostly night.’ How much do you think I would make? Not much, I’m sure” I said.
“That’s more than I would have thought to say! My speech would be, ‘if you go hunt ghost, don’t take Dixie with you, she could get you killed!’ class dismissed!” Dusty laughed.
“I think Dixie is fun to go ghost hunting with! She keeps the excitement in that box of chocolates!” Mary Jo said.
Mission Espada, also known as, Mission San Francisco de la Espada, was founded in 1690, and was the first mission in Texas. The friary was built in 1745, with the church being completed in 1756. The mission has the best preserved segment of irrigation that was used to water the fields. Blacksmith shops and weaving were some of the skills in the area. Providing farming equipment, as the agricultural industry, and clothing for the inhabitants in the area grew. Native Americans learned vocational skills such as these and carpentry and masonry work as new buildings were being constructed.
“I like the looks of this one.” I said.
“Where are the frigging ghost hiding, Dixie?” Dusty asked.
“I don’t know! Why?” I asked.
“When you say things like, ‘I like the looks of’ we all know you are looking at a ghost somewhere.” Big John said.
“No I wasn’t talking about ghost, I was talking about the way the three bells are set up. It reminds me of some of the romance books I have read. I don’t read many romance books, but when I do this is something like what I have pictured in my mind. I think it is romantic and would make a beautiful setting for a wedding for those times.” I said.
“You read romance books?” Dusty asked in total disbelief.
“Not often, but every once in while I find one that I read. I read a lot of different types of books, horse racing and reservation murder mysteries, romance, bounty hunters, and historical novels. I don’t get to far back in the historical stuff yet. I’m more into range wars, cattle rustlers, outlaws and basic 1800 type books. Although the bounty hunter books are modern day and I really like them. They keep me laughing! I don’t like to read things like werewolf, vampires and things like that. I like the movies on those.” I said.
“I didn’t know you liked to read! I learn something new about you everyday!” Dusty said.
“All writers like to read! I try to read a variety of things. I have some books that I just can’t get into at all. They looked good, they sounded good, but when I started reading them I just couldn’t get into the frame of mind to experience what the writer was conveying. I have read historical romance novel about the American Revolution, I liked some of them, but they went to far back. I keep my books, that way when I get to the American Revolution part of my history class, I can read it and find others. Right now we are still on the civil war. I have also read some books on World War I and II. They are good and I enjoyed them, but that is not what I’m studying yet. My history class isn’t like yours. I don’t have to write papers. It contains a lot of lectures and very few writing lessons. You are also taking a writing course, which also requires you to write.” I said.
“Do you do a lot of reading on the missions we have visited?” Mary Jo asked.
“I didn’t know a lot of missions were in Texas until last night! When Dusty told me about them. I then got on the computer to find out a little about them. When I get home I will do some more research on them, and see if I can find some books to read, like historical novels. I then get the feel of the era and idea of how life could have or may have been at the missions. Then I look for the facts on them and read what is there now and what they have in the way of the lives of the people. It seems to make it easier to learn and understand what went on back then.” I said.
“Do you feel any ghost here, that want to share their stories?” Big John asked.
“Most of the ghost here are at peace. They watch over their relatives, like the guardian angels. Not to haunt or frighten anyone. That is what I’ve been getting at all of the missions. There maybe others, but, I haven’t come across any of them. None of them seem to say ‘look at me and see what I did’, like at the Alamo. I’m guessing here, but I would say it was because of the massive amount of deaths that happened in one day. Of course it is hard to read the battle sites because there were so many deaths!” I said.
“I’m ready for some food and rest. All this walking has worn me out.” Mary Jo said.
“Me too.” Dusty and Big John both said.
“Do ya’ll want to go to the cemetery now or skip it altogether?” I asked. “I personally am ready to go home! We seen a little of the cemetery last night. I don’t think there is much more in there. But, you never can tell. It’s up to ya’ll.”
“I’ve got me enough information on San Antonio now. We’ll leave it up to Mary Jo and Big John.” Dusty laughed.
“Where do we go next weekend?” Mary Jo asked.
“I think we should go to Oklahoma, Guthrie to be exact. Isn’t that where Bill Doolin is buried. I want to do some research on the gangs, now that we have gotten into the outlaws. It seems to be easier to find an abundant amount of information on them than on the single man outlaws.” Dusty said.
“I think we should go home, Big John?” Mary Jo said.
“I’m just along for the ride!” Big John said.
CHAPTER 8
Guthrie, Oklahoma was established on April 22, 1889 when cannons resounded on a 2 million acre area of Indian territory in Oklahoma. About 10,000 people settled in the capital of the new territory town of Guthrie. Within six hours, Guthrie became one of the largest cities west of the Mississippi. Guthrie grew into a city of bricks and stone with municipal water, electricity, transient system and underground parking for the horses and carriages. By 1907, Guthrie was the capital of the new state. Three years later the capital was moved to Oklahoma City in the middle of the night, taking the economic industry with it. Guthrie was founded during the land run of 1889, it grew from zero to ten thousand in one day.
“I like this place! Look at all of the old buildings! I can’t believe there are still so many of them standing.” I said.
“I think we should take a ride on the trolley!” Mary Jo said. “I think that would be fun. Just imagine, you park your car, get on the trolley and it takes you threw town! You don’t have to drive. You can look at everything, go shopping, eat at one of the restaurants and then go home. Stress free from dodging traffic! We need one of those at home!”
“It would be even better if they would run it thirty miles out into the middle of nowhere, pick me up, take me to town to the grocery store, take me home and help me carry my groceries in, too. I’m pretty sure that is never going to happen though!” I said.
Mary Jo laughed, “I suppose you’re right, but it does sound good! Especially the carrying in the grocery part!”
“We need to come back here when they have their 89er days celebration! I have only been to part of it and that was by accident! It was really awesome. I would like to see the whole thing though.” I said.
“I wish these buildings could talk, I bet they would have some tails to tell!” Dusty said.
“You remember that old saying, don’t go looking for trouble, you may find it!” I reminded him, after all, he uses it on me all the time. Now it is my turn. “It just seems like a peaceful place, without anything wild happening. I’m sure it did have some pretty interesting facts, fights and murders! I bet it wasn’t all that peaceful, looks can be deceiving.”
William ‘Bill’ Doolin was born in 1858 in Johnson county, Arkansas. In 1881, at the age of 23 he went west working different jobs and ended up in Caldwell, Kansas where he met Oscar Halsall. Doolin went to work on Halsall’s ranch on the Cimarron River in Oklahoma becoming a top hand. This is where he met some of his members of the future Wild Bunch. Working the Oklahoma ranches, Doolin met George “Bitter Creek” Newcomb, Charlie Pierce, Bill Power, Dick Broadwell, Bill “Tulsa Jack” Blake and Emmet Dalton. In 1891, Doolin and some of the cowboys decided to celebrate the 4th of July by having a party in Coffeyville, Kansas. The men had a keg of beer, Kansas was a dry state and the law showed up. When the law tried to take the keg, a gun battle began, which resulted in the wounding of two of the lawmen. Doolin was then on the run. In September of 1891, Doolin was riding with the Dalton’s, participating in train robberies. Doolin was not in Coffeyville, Kansas on the fifth day of October, 1892, which resulted in the death of most of the Dalton gang members. Not long after the raid, John J Kloehr of Coffeyville, a citizen who shot three of the Daltons, received a letter stating there were 3 members of the gang left and they were going to seek revenge. That same night the train at Caney, Kansas was robbed by 4 masked men. Bill Doolin was credited with both of these events, but it was never proven. Doolin, Newcomb and Pierce had no problem finding new members and the first to join was Oliver Yantis. On November 1, 1892, Doolin, Newcomb and Yantis robbed the Ford county bank in Spearville, Kansas. The three split up to throw off the posse, which caught up with Yantis on his sisters farm and on November 30, surprising him, a gun battle left Yantis dead. By the end of 1892, four more members joined the gang, Bill Blake, Dan Clifton, George Waightman and William ‘Bill’ Dalton, a brother of the Dalton gang. In 1893, Bill Doolin married Edith Ellsworth from Ingalls, Oklahoma territory. They were married in Kingfisher. Edith kept the marriage a secret and would meet Doolin secretly. Continuing their lives of crime for several more years the gang split in 1895 agreeing to never re-unite as a gang. Sheriff Tilghman caught up with Doolin in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, arrested him and took him back to Guthrie. ‘Dynamite Dick’ Dan Clifton, was caught in Texas and returned to the Guthrie jail. The law had re-united the two outlaws. On July 5th, 1896, Doolin, Cliftin and twelve others escaped from the Guthrie jail. Doolin made his way back to his wife and family with the law on his trail. On August 24, 1896, Bill Doolin, was ambushed and killed by Sheriff Heck Thomas’s posse.
“Isn’t it funny, how the outlaws had bigger headstones than the hard working honest people got. Or some of them anyway.” Big John said.
“You would think they were among the popular, wealthy and respectable people of the time. I wonder if everyone was just as afraid of them in death as they were when they were alive!” I said. “How else could you explain the larger headstones? Were they afraid of their ghost haunting them? Maybe, we should come back here in the dark and see if they have shoot outs in the cemetery. We do have the makings of one with outlaws and lawman in the same cemetery here!”
“Now, look who’s looking for trouble!” Dusty said.
“Well, we know where the outlaws are, we find the lawman, and stand on the side where we don’t get hit by a stray ghost bullet! Wa-la, we have a ghost gun fight!” I said.
“We’re coming back after dark, aren’t we?” Big John said, hesitantly.
“Looks that way.” Dusty said. “But just look, maybe, Dixie will get this out of her system and we can enjoy the rest of our weekend!”
“That’s right, may as well get it done and over with!” Big John said.
Elmer McCurdy was born in Washington, maine in January of 1880. His mother was Sadie McCurdy. She was seventeen at the time, unwed and the father was never identified. Sadie’s brother and his wife had no children and adopted Elmer to prevent embarrassment of the family and his sister. George and Helen McCurdy, Sadie’s brother and his wife, had a child of their own a year later. Both of the children were fond of the couple, and both of the boys called Sadie, Aunt Sadie. In 1890, George died and Sadie moved in with Helen to help with the boys, Helen was no longer capable of taking care of both of the boys and asked Sadie to take the responsibility of Elmer. The two women explained to Elmer the situation, which he seemed to accept. When Elmer turned 15, he felt like his mother had betrayed him and he started drinking heavily. Elmer ran away in January 1895. Living with his grandparents, he became a plumbers apprentice. He then moved back in with Sadie and became very protective of her. In 1899, Sadie became very sick and died in August of 1900, one month later Sadie’s father died. Elmer left home and in 1903, he arrived in Ola, Kansas. On November 7, 1910, Elmer was discharged from the army. Moving to St. Joseph, Missouri looking for work, he started drinking heavily. On November 20, 1910 he was charged with possession of burglars tools and taken to jail to await trial in Buchanan county jail. Convincing the jury that the tools he had in his possession were tools he needed as a plumber and were not burglar tools, he was released from jail and within a month he went to his friend Walter Jarrett’s house in Lenapah, Oklahoma. On March 23, 1911, Elmer, Walter, Lee Jarrett and Ab Conner attempted to crack a safe on a train. Elmer misjudge the amount of nitro and the safe became to hot melting the silver coins and sending the door of the safe across the car, tearing a gaping hole in the side of the express car. Elmer McCurdy was shot and killed on October 7, 1911 and sold to a carnival after being embalmed for burial. The body of Elmer traveled with the carnival show until 1977 when his body was discovered to be real by a truck driver for a movie company in California.
“I feel for this guy. Can you imagine what it would have been like to have to travel the states, on display, after you were dead. I would have liked to see that display, maybe not the display, the look on the faces of the people if he would have jumped up and said ‘boo’ or something. It would probably give me the hee-bee jee-bees if I would have seen it though!” Mary Jo laughed, “Especially if I knew one of them was real and not wax! I wonder how that truck driver felt after finding out he had been hauling dead people around! I would never ask what I was hauling again. Well, actually I wonder if anyone knew it was a real body!”
“I don’t know if I would ever drive a truck again! I wonder if he was ‘haunted’ by the experience. You know, McCurdy’s ghost may have been ready to cross over and just didn’t have a final place to rest! That would suck!” I said. “But then again he would have been 97 in 1977. Maybe, he enjoyed riding around, watching all of the people stare at him, thinking he was a wax dummy and not a human mummy! I bet he could have scared the shit out of a lot of people if he would’ve wanted to!”
“Who would want that kind of publicity, though?” Big John said.
“Evidently the outlaws! Or some of them anyway. They may not have wanted to be known while they were still robbing banks, trains and stagecoaches. It would be too dangerous. This poor guy became a movie star! By accident, not even knowing that was his life’s journey. How cool is that? Don’t let them do that to me. I don’t want to be in the public eye!” I said.
“I think it was down right sick. No one wanted to acknowledge him alive, then when he was dead everyone wanted to see him. That doesn’t say much for the people who supported the carnival thing.” Mary Jo said. “I would’ve wanted to see them alive and ask them questions! Now, I have to ask the ghost what prompted their life of crime decisions!”
“Don’t you think ghost hunting is on the lines of a carnival display?” Big John asked.
“No, those people wanted to see the dead bodies of these people! They paid money to see them. We don’t pay money to see ghost! We want to know what their lives were like, how it was to be on the run, were they scared and what were they scared of, things like that. If I want to see a dead person, I go to the funeral home. And, the only time I physically see a dead body, is when I’m going to their funeral! I just don’t handle death well!” I said. “It’s not the death that bothers me, it is the family that is experiencing the loss of their loved one that gets to me. I’ve been there, done that. I know what they are going through. I don’t like to see anyone hurt like that. I cry like a baby, even if I don’t know the person!”
“I didn’t know you were such a softy!” Dusty said. “You don’t show that side. Well, maybe you do, like when you stood up to the bully ghost and got us stuck with cactus! I guess I should have figured that out then. No, I should have figured it out when we were at the orphanage and you started the fight with the really mean ass bitch nurse that had been hurting those kids for the fun of it!”
“Hey! Here we are in Guthrie, Oklahoma, again. Would ya’ll be interested in going back to that orphanage?” I asked.
“HELL NO!” my three companions said in unison.
Our last trip to the orphanage was not a pleasant one. We watched a mean ghost nurse stick the kids and hit them, we could hear the screams and cries coming from the kids, we did this for a while and I decided we needed to leave. I was as mad as an old wet hen. I tried to keep my mouth shut. It didn’t happen! When we were close to the door, to leave, my mouth flew open, words flew out and I flew across the room, with a mad, demonic, ghost beating the shit out of me. I was angry and afraid, she was fearless and strong, feeding off of my fear and angry, she became King Kong and I was the Taco Bell dog, getting the ass kicking of my life! When Dusty, Big John and Mary Jo got me out of there, I had a black eye, I was sore and my mouth was still going ninety to nothing! That is when my companions decided they needed to invest in superglue and duct tape for my mouth. Dusty stays away from the orphanages if I’m with him now. I can’t imagine why!
Charlie Pierce was one of Bill Doolin’s gang members. He was unsuccessful at horse racing and became a member of the Dalton gang during the 1890’s. After most of the gang members were killed in the Coffeyville, Kansas raid in 1892, Pierce joined the Bill Doolin gang. He took part in several holdups with the gang. After the gang had split up, Pierce and George Newcomb rode to the Dunn Ranch on the Cimarron River. The two men went to visit Newcomb’s lover, Rose. They also were going to collect some money owed to Newcomb, from her brothers. When they approached the ranch, the brothers ambushed the two men, shooting them out of their saddles. The Dunn brothers wanted to collect the bounty on the outlaws. The two men were taken to Guthrie, but Newcomb was still alive. When he sat up and ask for water he was shot again. The men died on May 2, 1895. Charlie Pierce is buried in the Summit View Cemetery not far from his friend, Bill Doolin.
“Talk about something that would suck! You ride undercover, to go see your gal, maybe play around a little, have some fun, but before you get the chance to step off of your horse and stretch your legs, bang, next thing you know, your lying on the ground with a piece of lead in your body. When you get to town, and you know the ride had to have been painful, you ask for water and you get more lead! Don’t seem right to me. They could have at least let him get a little nookie before they killed him off. He could have died with a smile on his face anyway.” Big John said, ducking to avoid Mary Jo’s fist. Dusty and I were trying not to laugh.
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Dusty said.
“You men, listen to the two of ya’ll. What happened when the prostitute lady attacked Dusty last week. You both freaked out! And now, here you are acting like this! All talk, no action!” I laughed.
“One clear case of ‘their bark is worse than their bite’ I would say, how about you Dixie?” Mary Jo said.
“You hit that nail square on the head!” I said.
Bert Casey’s beginnings are unclear as to where he came from. Being related to the Casey’s who lived in Southwest Oklahoma, it is believed he may have lived with relatives. The start of his criminal career, Casey and his partner were owners of a bar southeast of Oklahoma City. A man came in flashing a lot of cash around. When the patron left the bar, Casey and his partner also left. When a rider came along the trail, shots were fired and the victim lay dead on the ground. Casey and his partner, upon reaching the man found they had killed the wrong man, the one they had killed was their friend. Casey, now on the run headed to the Hughes Ranch to hide out. The Oklahoma lands were being opened, with many settlers in the area of Lawton, Casey and his gang were stealing the possessions of the settlers. Riding for town for a planned bank robbery the gang came across a family traveling along the road, and the gang hijacked them. The family reported the incident to the local lawman. A posse was formed and the chase was on. The three man posse, found a cabin the outlaws were held up in. Two of the lawman were killed and the third jumped on his horse riding to town to alert the citizens. The reward money was upped by seven thousand dollars for the capture of Bert Casey. Another posse of six was formed and headed out to capture the gang which they found in a group of buildings. Three members of the gang were captured, one was killed and one escaped. Casey was the one to escape. One of the gang members, Fred Hudson, was being held in Guthrie jail. A deal was struck with Hudson and another inmate to find Casey and bring him back dead or alive. The two outlaws were deputized and the mission started in August of 1902. The marshal became worried in November, since there was no word from his newly deputized men. Then on November 3, 1902 he received a telegram saying Bert Casey was dead.
“This would be another one of those ‘that sucks’ moments. That would be like Mary Jo shooting me, of course there won’t be any reason for that, because I don’t intend on ever getting a bounty put on my head! But, back then seven thousand plus dollars was a lot of money, you were rich if you had it! Hell, it’s a lot of money now days. I can see both sides though. Paid freedom, but you have to kill your friend! I still don’t think I could do it. And to know, your friend trusted you.” I said.
“Well, when you do get that bounty on your head, let me know, I need the money.” Big John joked.
“It would definitely be an awkward situation, I think I would rather it be a friend to get the money and kill me. At least I know it would go to someone who needed it and not someone that has more than they do. Plus, I would trust them to finish me off and not just cripple me! If it takes two bullets to do it, do it fast!” Dusty said. “And don’t shake! I would hate to think I was going to get a bullet between the eyes, only to get my frigging ear pierced!”
Richard ‘Little Dick’ West childhood is unknown. He is believed to have been born in Texas. He migrated to Oklahoma as a hired hand on a cattle drive for Halsell ranch in Oklahoma. West met Bill Doolin and joined his gang in 1892. West participated in many of the robberies with Doolin. They ended up in New Mexico where West landed a job as a cowboy and stayed there until 1897. Returning to Oklahoma, West helped form the Jennings Gang. The Jennings gang botched up every escapade they tried and West left the gang taking on odd jobs. Upon hearing rumors of a man living in a dugout near Guthrie, Bill Tilghman recognized the description of the man’s horse, gathered a posse of six and set out to find West. Tilghman and Heck Thomas spotted a man walking through the woods. West saw the lawman and headed to a nearby house where his horse was corralled. The posse closed in on him at the barn, shots were exchanged and West was killed. West is buried in Summit View Cemetery in Guthrie, Oklahoma near Bill Doolin.
“Well if that don’t beat all, just goes to show you can’t out run a bullet, no matter how hard you try.” Dusty said. “Is this the last one for the day?”
“Yes, I think so. Remember we are coming back tonight. Let me check my list of the names.” I said. “Yep, that’s it for today.”
At dark we all entered the cemetery. It was quiet for a while. Taking our time, walking through the darkened cemetery, shining our lights, taking random pictures, camcorders and audio recorders going, investigating anything that could possibly have some kind of activity. Out of nowhere we heard the hoof beats of a lone horse. Searching with our lights, nothing, the horse was drawing closer, as the hoof beats were getting louder. The horse was upon us, none of us seen it coming, it was running out of control, knocking all four of us down, stepping on Mary Jo. Then, a herd of horses followed, gunshots were heard, I rolled over onto my back and was taking pictures in the dark as the herd approached us! The hoof beats of what sounded like a million horses were deafening in the cemetery. Mary Jo was crouched behind a large headstone, while Big John, Dusty and I were in the open, helpless as the horses came over us, kicking up dirt, stepping on our bodies, gunshots ringing threw the air, then they were gone, like a thief in the night.
“That is enough of this shit for me!” Mary Jo jumped up, holding her leg where the first horse had stepped on her.
“What in the hell just happened here? Where did those frigging horses come from? I hope we got some good pictures to turn into the police! They could have killed us!” Big John said.
“Hold on there cowboy, we can’t take those pictures to the police. They will lock all of us up and throw away the key!” Mary Jo said, as Dusty and I were still trying to clean ourselves of the dirt, grass and whatever else we had on our bodies.
“The hell I can’t!” Dusty said.
“I think that was a ghost. A frigging outlaw ghost with a ghost posse chasing him! Is that what you’re telling us?” I asked.
“Yeah, it was a frigging ghost. I was watching from my tomb over there, I got some good footage of the posse. I don’t think I got much on the outlaw, since he is the one who ran over me!” Mary Jo said.
“All of them were ghost?” Big John said as his body hit the ground.
“There he goes again, we need some of them ammonia capsules to wake him up when he does this.” Mary Jo said.
Dusty and I were trying to carry Big John to the car, when he awoke and started fighting us. We all tumbled to the ground. “Let go of me!” Big John said. And, we did.
“Why are you fighting us, we didn’t do anything to you except try to get you to the car. We could’ve left you laying in this cemetery, in the dark, alone to wake up on your own!” I said.
“Sorry, I thought the ghost had come back and got me!” Big John said.
“Great Scott, I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of horses. My body hurts in places I forgot I had. Shit, my hair even hurts. What do ya’ll say we call it a night. I can’t take anymore abuse!” Dusty said. “Are the rest of ya’ll alright?”
We all said yes, walked slowly to the car, got in and headed to find a hotel room. “Damn, I’m glad we didn’t rent haunted rooms tonight! I’ve had all of the ghost shit I can handle for one day.” Big John said.
I couldn’t help myself, as I turned to Mary Jo and said, “I guess, what he don’t know, won’t hurt him, huh?”
Big John went into orbit, it took him ten minutes to return.
“Did you see any aliens up there?” Mary Jo asked.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Big John asked.
“While you were in orbit, I want to know if you seen the aliens!” she said.
“I’m not looking for no aliens, I’m not looking for no ghost and I don’t want to be ran over by no fucking posse! Do you got it!” Big John said.
I took pictures of all of us before we left the cemetery, covered in dirt and rumpled like a dirty pile of laundry. Dusty’s hair sticking straight out from his head, I asked him, “Who teased your hair, while we were rolling around under the horse hooves?”
“I don’t know which one it was, why” he asked.
“Because, I think they got it mad enough.” I said. Finally laughter, although, it hurt like hell to laugh. At the hotel, I think the attendent on duty thought we had some kind of kinky, wild ass orgy, by the way she was looking at us. You could tell she was thinking it was to late for the hotel room! She never said anything as she handed us our keys. We all had bruises of hoof prints all over our sore, aching bodies. All but Mary Jo. She had one, where the outlaw had ran over her. Watching the camcorder, it was all caught on tape, the approach of the outlaw, the posse and the last horse, evidently kicked the recorder to turn it in the direction of their chase.
The next morning, we were all moving very slow, we headed to Fort Sills. Dusty wanted pictures of some of the Indians grave sites. “Ya’ll, remember, do not call the Indians out. I can’t run, I can’t fight and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be killed away from home by a frigging ghost! We tried that shit last night and it isn’t going to fly today!”
Fort Sill, Oklahoma is a post near Lawton, Oklahoma, that was built during the Indian wars. The fort was staked out on January 8, 1869 by Major General Philip Sheridan to stop the hostile Indians from raiding the settlements on the Texas and Kansas borders.
Kicking Bird, also known as Black Eagle, was born around 1835. His grandfather was a Crow Indian that had been captured by the Kiowa and was incorporated into the band. Kicking Bird signed the treaty of Medicine Lodge in 1867, seeing there was no hope for peace for his people. The friendly manner of Kicking Bird provided hope, but the government didn’t hold up to their end of the bargain. Although, Kicking Bird was for peace, he was losing respect, resulting in his leading of a successful war party against the troops in Texas, resulting in a victory. A school was being built at his request, but Kicking Bird died during the process. Kicking Bird died in 1875 and is buried in the Fort Sill Post Cemetery on Chief’s Knoll at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.
“These men, trying to bring peace, only to get their hopes and dreams squashed like an unwanted insect, had more faith than I would’ve had. I’m afraid I would retaliate like the others and started a war!” I said.
“We know you would’ve! You start wars with ghost all the time!” Dusty said.
“I did not start that one last night! It’s an on going thing. I didn’t even have to open my mouth to get that one!” I said.
“Earlier in the day? Who was the one who wanted to stand on the sidelines and watch a ghost gun fight? I damn sure don’t recall it being me or Big John.” Dusty said.
“Who knew we were going to get trampled. I don’t see things before they happen, anymore than the rest of you do! Okay, maybe sometimes, but it’s usually not when it comes to ghost!” I said.
Nana, a sub-chief of the Mimbreno Apache, was born in New Mexico around 1800, he has been credited with the longest fighting history of the Apache warriors. Aquiring many injuries during battles, he was always steady and reliable in battle. Fighting at the side of Mangas Coloradas until Mangas was killed in 1863. Nana formed his own war party, raiding settlers and army supply trains. Nana eluded or defeated the militia, using his creative, strategic abilities. Nana was captured in a surprise attack and sent to the San Carlo Reservation in Florida, where he escaped and joined Geronimo in Mexico. He surrendered in March of 1886, after keeping his band out of the hands of the army for about a year. He was then sent to Fort Marion, Florida, since he was considered as the instigator of the hostile bands. Nana was allowed to return west in 1894, but could only go as far as Fort Sill. He died at Fort Sill at the age of 96 and was buried in the Apache Cemetery on the Fort Sill military base.
“No matter which road the Indians took, they were screwed. If they fought they were punished, if they didn’t they were punished.” I said. “This doesn’t say much for the character of the people back then. I know there is good and bad in everyone. But it seems like even the outlaws were treated with more respect than these people were!”
“I’ve been fighting that inner battle for years. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I have to work hard at keeping my thoughts to myself and not sounding like a racist. I’m really not one, but when I say somethings it comes out like I am, sometimes. I have to watch what I say in front of the kids. I don’t want them to have a bad feeling about anyone. I want them to be able to make their decisions on their experiences and not the ones based on what was done in the past to our people.” Dusty said.
“Was it hard growing up on the reservation?” Mary Jo asked.
“I don’t think it was much different than growing up anywhere. Everyone goes through the dumbass stage. We all had our moments of fame and failure, broken hearts, disappointments, friends, users, abusers and prejudices. I try to understand both sides and not just one. I think that is what my parents tried to teach us kids. Grandma and grandpa had more of a right to hate. They didn’t, because their parents, who were alive for the most part of the Indian fights and things, didn’t teach them to hate skin color. I was one of the lucky ones. My family, they understood the importance of both worlds.” Dusty said.
“I’m glad, but what about the families who don’t understand the importance of both worlds. Do you have any of those kids?” Big John asked.
“They are everywhere. I have my share of them, I don’t argue a point with them. I tell them they have to look deep in their souls and to seek the truth while they are there. Some of them start to understand, some of them have to work real hard at understanding and some of them won’t even try. They are closed to the idea, period.” Dusty said. “No matter what they chose, I support their decision, well, more like I respect their decision, for the simple fact that they at least made a decision. It helps them to make decisions later in life. When they get into the real world. Whether it is wrong or right, they will know, they have the right to chose. Sometimes the right decision isn’t always what you want, you just have to make do with it.”
“Have you tried to explain to them that there are still white people that are the same way? I know some who were raised in South Dakota that still hate the Indians. I don’t think it is the color of the skin, but the person inside of that skin. They met the wrong one and so they didn’t want to meet any more. I know they are wrong, but it is like saying all of the Jones are bad because of something one of them did.” I said. “A lot of families are judged that way, because of one family member.”
“I’m sure that could be part of it. There are a lot of factors that could result in the day to day lives of a lot of these kids. The alcoholism, abuse and many more things that influence a child at an early age. Western movies, where the cowboy is always the hero in the battle with the Indians. Things like that.” Dusty said.
“I guess when you see the westerns and the cowboys always wins, and if you’re an Indian that would destroy your ego, like the big bad wolf, blowing down the helpless little pigs house. I’m not saying anyone is a wolf or a pig, it’s just a good example. Regardless, I hadn’t thought of that one before.” Big John said. “Damn, you two are making me think about things I would never have thought about before. I think I’m going to go look around and rest my brain!”
“I’ll go with you, if your brain rest for very long we will all be in trouble!” Mary Jo said.
“So, if I come to help you, when you’re trying to teach the kids about you’re culture, it really may not be a good idea?” I asked. “I don’t want to push them into thinking that I’m intruding on their beliefs or trying to muscle my way into their culture. I don’t want them to feel like a white man or woman is still trying to invade on their territory.”
“For the most part, I think it will be okay. For the ones who see it the way you just described it, well, we could have them look at you as a captive! The sticks and stones will only hurt for a while. They will, or should I say, should heal with time. These kids have hard hearts!” Dusty said.
“I don’t know if I want to be a captive, could I not be the captive wife of the chief or something like that?” I asked.
“That would be another thing, some of the chief’s in different tribes, had more than one wife, the white wife was always the ‘low man on the totem pole’, therefore, the treatment wasn’t one with the greatest respect, unless the chief ordered it. Then, they would show respect only, you wouldn’t have earned it.” he said.
“So basically, I’m screwed no matter which road I take, like the Indians were!” I said.
“I’m just pulling your leg! But in some tribes that is true. In ours it isn’t. We have come a long way from where we were a hundred or more years ago! I doubt there will be any hostility shown toward you. They may avoid you like the plague, though.” Dusty said.
“Well if that don’t knock your dick in the dirt!” I said.
“What?” Dusty said. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“I said ‘wouldn’t that blow wind up your skirt’.” I lied. ‘shit, he has that damn recorder on and he is going to know exactly what I said! How am I going to explain that one! I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now, we’ll just burn it!’
“We could however, get one of those padded suits, like the police use to train their dogs, pretend we have captured you and let them throw rocks and hit you with sticks, like they did the captives back then. That would give them a good idea of what the people felt, and you the feeling of what it was like as a captive!” Dusty said.
“Are you looney tunes? They would hit me in the head, possibly causing me to join Black Jack Ketchum! I damn sure don’t want to be there!” I said.
“You would have a mouth guard and catchers helmet on!” Dusty said. “In all reality, you know they have been taught right from wrong. The parents probably wouldn’t let us do it.”
“Even if it was a re-enactment type of thing? We could use the nerf sticks and nerf balls as our sticks and stones. You could even have the parents come out and watch, to make sure things don’t get out of hand.” I said.
“Would you really go for that?” Dusty asked.
“Well, it would help the kids, plus it may help the ones who are against the whites to realize, I’m not trying to intrude on their culture, but to help them learn about their culture.” I said.
“I’ll talk to the teachers and see what they think of the idea. I’m amazed you would go that far. I’m proud of you for thinking about the kids!” Dusty said.
Dusty and I caught up with Mary Jo and Big John. “Have ya’ll found anything else interesting?”
“Oh yeah, we found Quanah Parker, Cynthia Ann Parker and her daughter, Topsana or ‘Prairie Flower’. I didn’t know they were buried here.” Mary Jo said.
“I didn’t either. I always felt sorry for Cynthia Ann. She was what, six to nine years old when she was captured by the Comanche? She didn’t jump in and say ‘pick me, I want to be kidnapped’. She was raised as a Comanche and married a chief. Lived amongst them for what thirty or more years, then the whites recaptured her and refused to let her go home to the only family she had ever known. Not to mention the mental abuse she probably received from the whites when they brought her back. You know they called her all kinds of names for accepting the Indians way of life, that and marrying into them. That is not showing the love of a family who had already grieved her disappearance or wanting what was right for their loved one. I can see them wanting to see her, but I wouldn’t have refused her, her children, her husband and her life, that she wanted to go back too. The family she begged to go back to. It sounds more like a tug of war contest than anything. It had nothing to do with her feelings.” I said. “It’s no wonder the poor woman starved herself to death. I bet that was a terrible thing to do. That would be a slow, torturous death. I guess she felt like she deserved it.”
“Look at her son, he never knew his mother was white until his father died. After all that time of respect and honor of being a great warrior, only to become an outcast by your people because you were a half-breed. It makes one wonder, why after he had proved himself throughout the years, why all of a sudden he was a different person because they found out he had white blood. That would be a rough kick in the ass!” Dusty said.
“Not only that, but after he was kicked out, he became one of the most prominent men of the time. He put together his own tribe, fought like a warrior, rubbed elbows with a lot of influential white people and his tribe flourished. Although, he didn’t follow all of the white mans rules or conform to their ways, he didn’t completely abandon his Indian beliefs either. He put the two systems together and survived! That, right there shows, that two worlds can collide, did collide and there is an in between.” I said.
“It should have shown the rest of the world that the Indians and the whites have the same feelings. That is what makes us all human. But it didn’t seem to put that message out, because it is still going on today in some places. Look at the gang wars in the bigger cities. They are still living in the 1800’s where tribe fought against tribe. Not necessarily for survival, but for the fun of it. Just to be able to kill and think they are somebody that matters. Everyone matters to someone, no matter who you are or what you do, you matter. For some people, they don’t want to accept that fact!” Dusty said.
“I would like to be able to interview these people, but I’m not going to call them out. If they aren’t already out, I don’t want to disturbed their peace. They have all had their share of torment and grief. If a ghost doesn’t come to me or is present when I get to where they are, I leave them alone!” I said. “They have already made their peace and have nothing to tell or prove, to anyone.”
My companions looked at me with surprise. “What is that suppose to mean you don’t call them out? You are always calling someone out!” Dusty said.
“No, I have never called them out from beyond the grave. They were already out, waiting for me. But, I never called them out of the grave!” I said.
There was a long silence, you could see the wheels spinning, “You know what, she is right. She never has called one out of it’s grave!” Mary Jo said.
“For Pete’s sake, don’t let her start now! There is no telling where that road would take us!” Big John said.
Dusty agreed, as we made our way down the long black top trail ahead of us.