The Ghost of Tobacco Road

by Dale Young

  “What are you doing?” Colby asked.

  “Wait here.” He stepped out of the car and pulled a three inch lock blade from his pocket.

  Logan walked over to Chip’s truck and snapped the blade open on the knife. Then he proceeded to punch a hole in the sidewall of one of the rear tires. Then he walked quickly around the truck until he had flattened the other three tires as well. When he was finished he walked back to the car and got inside.

  “That will slow down that asshole. We’ll see how he likes being out here in the dark with four flat tires.”

  Colby felt an odd attraction to Logan stir inside of her. She had never had a man take up for her before. Logan made her feel safe, and deep down inside she knew that he would never hurt her and more importantly, never let anyone else hurt her either.

  18

  Logan and Colby were sitting on the back porch of the house watching the tobacco plants sway in the light breeze. Logan could see clouds off on the horizon but for now the sky was clear and the sun was still hot even though it was much lower in the sky. Colby was sitting next to him in the porch swing and she put her foot on the railing in front of them and gave the swing a gentle push.

  “So tell me what’s next on the Starlight ghost tour. I enjoyed the old Pullman but the train station, well, not so much.” Logan then took a sip from his glass of tea. He didn’t want to rehash what had happened with Chip McPhale.

  Colby smiled. She was feeling better now despite what had happened with Chip at the station. Even though she had just met Logan yesterday she felt like she had known him for years. He had a way of making her feel safe and she liked it.

  “Oh, I could take you somewhere pretty spooky, and we don’t even have to ride in the car.”

  “Really?” Logan took another sip of tea before sitting the glass down on the table next to the swing.”

  “Yep,” Colby said. Then she stood up and walked over to the stairs leading down into the yard. “What are you waiting for?” She looked back at Logan still sitting in the porch swing.

  He got out of the swing and joined Colby as she walked down the stairs to the yard. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise. And it’s been years since I saw it last myself.”

  “You country girls like surprises, don’t you.”

  “Us country girls like a lot of things,” she said as she turned and began to walk towards the tobacco field. Logan couldn’t help but notice how nice her legs looked as she walked across the backyard.

  As they walked by one of the old tobacco barns, Colby told Logan a little about how they were used to cure tobacco. Then they walked into one of the long rows of waist-high tobacco plants. Logan looked out across the field and was amazed by the size of it. And he was amazed at the idea that he owned every acre of it. Just the thought of it filled him with both pride and a sense of dread. He had no idea what he was going to do with all the tobacco.

  She led Logan all the way through the field to the far tree line that ran down one side of the Shaw land. Along the way Logan noticed a flower growing on one of tobacco plants. He felt a stab of fear as he realized once again that the flower on the plant looked exactly like the one the little girl had been carrying the night before.

  The daylight was beginning to wane as Colby led Logan into a path that opened up on the edge of the woods bordering the field.

  “We should probably hurry since we don’t want to be out here after dark. But where we’re going isn’t far,” Colby said as she picked up the pace.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope. You’ll see when we get there.”

  Logan huffed as he walked along beside Colby. The woods around them were noticeably darker than the tobacco field. They had walked less than a minute when Logan looked to his left and saw several old tombstones poking up through the underbrush.

  “Check that out.” Logan touched Colby’s arm. “There’s an old graveyard.”

  Colby looked in the direction of the tombstones. “You find that a lot around here. Back in the old days sometimes they just buried people in their backyard. There are lots of old abandoned graves all around Starlight.” Colby looked over at the tombstones again and then grabbed Logan by the hand.

  “Come on, we need to hurry,” she said as she pulled Logan along the trail.

  Before long they came to a small clearing full of knee-high grass. To his left, Logan could see through the trees to another large field. The Skeleton River was close and Logan could see it through the trees to his right.

  “No one plants that field anymore. It’s not part of the Shaw land,” Colby said as she saw Logan looking across the clearing and through the trees to the distant field. Logan looked back at the old house standing in the middle of the clearing.

  “Let me guess, it’s haunted.”

  “Probably. It’s an old sharecropper house. They used to work those fields that you see through the trees and sometimes they would work the Shaw land too. That land you see through the trees has been lying fallow for years. This house is actually on the Shaw land. That field you see through the trees belongs to the McPhales. They say this old house is theirs but it’s on your land. Harmon even proved it to them years ago at Rosemary’s request but it didn’t do any good.”

  Colby then pointed at the field through the trees. “If you look across that field you can see the McPhale house.”

  Logan looked in the direction Colby was pointing and after a few seconds spotted a house on the crest of the gently sloping field.

  “I don’t know about the rest of them, but Chip is an asshole.”

  “His brother is too,” Colby interrupted. “They’re both cut from the same cloth.”

  He could tell that talking about the McPhales bothered Colby so he tried to change the subject. He returned his attention to the abandoned house sitting in front of them.

  “A sharecropper’s house?” Logan said as he looked at the old decrepit house. The boards had been aged by the weather and the windows were fogged with years of accumulated dirt. One of the windows over the front porch was broken and the weathered front door was painted a shade of light blue.

  “Yep. There’s no telling how many families have lived in that house. Back in old days sharecroppers picked a lot of the tobacco around here.” Then Colby looked down at her feet for a few seconds before her eyes met Logan’s. “My great-grandparents lived in this house at one time. They were sharecroppers. My grandmother was born in this house. But thank God my family got out of the tobacco business before I came along.”

  “So this house is part of your family’s history?”

  “Yep.” Colby looked away towards the Skeleton River. Logan then tugged at her hand.

  “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Sounds like you come from a long line of hard workers.”

  “Thanks.” Colby smiled at Logan. “But my ancestors weren’t the only hard workers that lived in this house. Most sharecroppers in the early days were freed slaves. They were hard workers, and superstitious ones at that.”

  “Superstitious?”

  Colby pointed to the front door of the house. “The door is painted haint blue for a reason.”

  “What?” Logan raised an eyebrow and looked at Colby.

  “They call it ‘haint blue’, city boy. Like I said, most of the early sharecroppers were freed slaves and they had their superstitions about the dead. They believed that the spirits of the dead would not travel across water so they always painted their front door blue. They thought it would trick the ‘haints’ and prevent them from entering the house.”

  “Couldn’t the spirits just go through an open window?”

  Colby turned to Logan and rolled her eyes. “You’re funny, city boy.”

  “That’s what I am. I’m a city boy. Where I come from we put a deadbolt and a chain on the front door to keep out the burglars. We don’t think much about haints. It’s the living people we worry about, like a thug coming through the fr
ont door with a 9mm in his hand. Paint won’t stop that.”

  “Point taken,” replied Colby. Then they both looked at the house.

  “So what happened to it? That house looks like no one has lived in it for decades.”

  She paused and looked down at the ground. Then she brought her eyes up and began to scan the trees around them. It was getting dark and she knew it was time to go.

  “We should leave. I’ll tell you about the house later”. Colby then looked through the trees towards the banks of the Skeleton River and Logan could tell she was getting upset. Just then the wind began to pick up.

  Out of the corner of his eye Logan thought he saw movement in the trees. Suddenly the memory of Chip flashed through his mind. But he knew there was no way that Chip had followed them again. He was probably still laid out cold in the train station.

  “Let’s get back to your house. We can watch the sun set from your porch,” Colby said. She was adamant about leaving.

  “What, no tour of the haunted house?” Logan smiled but he could tell Colby was serious.

  “Come on, city boy. Southerners know better than to be out in the woods at night, especially the woods around the Shaw Fields. You might run into something out here that could be hazardous to your health.”

  “Oh baloney. Let’s go in the house. It’s not that big. It won’t take but a few minutes.”

  Colby grabbed Logan by the hand and pulled him towards the path leading away from the old house. “I’m not joking, Logan. We need to go.”

  “Okay already. Let’s go.” Logan knew Colby was getting upset. He thought about what had happened to her at the train station and suddenly felt guilty for trying to get her to explore the old house when it was clear that she wanted to leave.

  “Come on, I know the way back.” Logan decided to take the lead and get Colby out of the woods and back to his house where she would feel safe. Once they got to the edge of the tobacco field Colby stopped and looked up at the sky. The sun had almost set and the approaching twilight had turned the sky the color of burnished copper. Just then Colby let out a sigh of relief.

  “There’s no moon yet,” she said as she looked up at the sky.

  Logan pulled Colby by the hand to get her to step into the row of tobacco plants. He knew she was upset and he wanted to get her back to his house. It took a few minutes to make it across the field but once they made it Logan could tell that Colby was visibly relieved.

  “You know, we could have done all that tomorrow. We didn’t have to go out to that old house so close to sunset.” Logan looked at Colby as she stared out across the fields in the direction of the path to the sharecropper house.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay now. Let’s get up on the porch.”

  Logan and Colby returned to the porch swing just as the sun slipped over the horizon. The air was warm and heavy with the smell of the tobacco field. Colby reached over and put her hand in Logan’s and gave the swing a push with her foot.

  With the sun gone, Logan could see the large moon hanging over the tobacco field. After a few minutes he finally asked Colby about the sharecropper house.

  “So what’s the deal with the old house out there in the woods?”

  Colby looked over at Logan as a light breeze blew her hair around her face.

  “That house has a dark past,” Colby said as she pulled some of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. Then she looked out across the field of tobacco.

  “Two sharecroppers that lived with their families in that house were killed working the Shaw Fields. One was killed in the middle of the 1930’s. The other sharecropper killed was a kid. I wanna say he was a teenager. His family was living in the house and working the fields in the early 1940’s. Both of them were hacked to pieces right out there in that field.

  Logan turned to look at Colby. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. Right out in those fields.”

  He watched as sadness flashed across Colby’s face. She was looking down at her hands in her lap.

  “What is it?” He reached over and touched Colby’s leg.

  A few seconds passed and then Colby looked at Logan. He could see the sadness in her eyes.

  “The sharecropper killed in 1937 was my great-grandfather. He was young, like in his early twenties and his name was Franklin. I think that’s when my great-grandmother decided she had had enough of working tobacco. She took her children and left the house.”

  He was silent for a moment. He watched as Colby slowly turned her head and looked out over the tobacco field. The moon had finally risen and was beginning to tint the tobacco plants a silvery color.

  “And you said my great-grandfather Carson Shaw was killed the same way out in one of those tobacco barns. Sounds like we have something in common.”

  “Yes, that one down there on the far end of the row.” Colby leaned forward in the swing and nodded in the direction of the tobacco barns. “I remember my grandmother telling me that it was all over the news that year and was about the biggest thing that had happened in Starlight since the murder of the teenager in the forties.”

  Logan thought for a minute. “And that’s all. Just those people?”

  Colby gave the swing another gentle push with her foot. “No, there have been others. The first killing was in 1931. I don’t remember the name.”

  “Damn…” Logan looked out across the field. The only light now came from the rising moon and this gave the tobacco plants an eerie, surreal appearance as the leaves moved in the gentle breeze.

  “In the seventies a group of potheads in a van stopped one night out by the road and got the crazy idea that they were going to roll themselves a few homemade cigars. Sort of like what you were talking about doing.” Colby smiled at Logan and squeezed his hand. “You’d be surprised at how many people try that stupid homemade cigar idea.”

  “I’ll bet,” Logan said.

  “Well, they had apparently had a little too much to drink when they decided to drive down Rosemary’s driveway. They got out of the van and then wandered out into the fields to get their tobacco leaves. Rosemary must have saw the van out of her window and called the sheriff. But by the time he arrived it was too late.”

  “Too late?” Logan asked.

  “Yep, too late. Once the stoners got out into the field they apparently decided that it wasn’t tobacco that they wanted so they sat down in one of the rows to smoke a little weed. Sometime after that one of them apparently wandered off deeper into the field, probably to take a leak or something. The others heard the screaming but by the time they found their friend he had been chopped to pieces. It was a big story at the time and everyone in town remembers it.”

  “Holy shit…” Logan replied. Then he paused for a moment. “What kind of place is this?”

  “I don’t think anyone knows, Logan. Something happened here. Something horrible. But no one in town knows what it is.”

  “And what’s with the harvest moon?” Logan asked.

  “No one knows why but the killer only strikes under the light of a harvest moon. Harmon told you this, I’m sure. Usually the tobacco has been harvested by late August but sometimes it’s still in the field after that. Just depends on the weather. The harvest moon is usually in early September.”

  “He told me about that. I thought he was just trying to be dramatic. He seems like a character to me. I like him, though. He’s a good guy.”

  “Yes he is. Rosemary liked him too. She might have liked him a little too much when they were younger, but that’s none of my business.”

  Logan frowned at Colby, “None of mine either.”

  “Harmon said the killings are random and that there is no way to tell when one will happen next.”

  “That’s right. No one has ever been able to find a pattern in the timing of the killings. The last one was in 1996. A guy and a girl from out of town were canoeing down the Skeleton River at night, which is creepy enough if you ask me. I told you why it’s called the Skeleton River. We
ll, I guess they decided they wanted to have sex in a tobacco field for some reason so they pulled their canoe up onto the bank and went into the edge of Rosemary’s field where it goes down to the river. It didn’t end well for them. And people say the harvest moon was so bright that night that you could read a book by it. That’s probably why they were out canoeing after dark.”

  “Speaking of bright moons, we have one tonight.” Logan waved a hand at the tobacco field.

  “Yes, we do” Colby replied. “But it’s not a harvest moon. We’ll probably get one tomorrow night though, if I had to guess. Or maybe the day after.”

  “So what did you mean when you said it didn’t end well for them?”

  “It’s the only known instance where the killer took two victims at the same time. I was just a little girl at the time but I remember hearing the adults talk about it. They said that by the time the killer got done hacking them that you couldn’t tell there were two separate bodies. They say the canoe is still locked up down at the sheriff’s office as evidence. If that’s true it’s a waste of space. They’ll never find the killer.”

  “Because the killer is a ghost, right? That’s what you’re telling me. You don’t buy the McPhale story.”

  “Nope. The McPhale family has always been a bunch of nimrods. They’re dangerous but I don’t think they’re behind the killings. Besides, the killings have been going on for over eighty years.”

  Colby looked down into her lap. Logan knew she was thinking about what had happened at the train station.

  “I hope you killed Chip. Does that make me a bad person?” Colby said. She was clearly ashamed for thinking such a thing.

  “Hell no it doesn’t. And if he’s not dead he will be the next time he tries to lay a finger on you.”

  Colby turned to Logan and knew that she couldn’t hold back any longer. The thought of Logan caring so much for her that he would kill to protect her was more than she could resist. When she threw herself onto him, Logan responded immediately. He knew he had to have her right there on the porch.