SPOOKY
Texas
Tales of Hauntings, Strange Happenings, and Other Local Lore
RETOLD BY S. E. SCHLOSSER
ILLUSTRATED BY PAUL G. HOFFMAN
Guilford, Connecticut
Copyright © 2008 by S. E. Schlosser
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to The Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, P.O. Box 480, Guilford, CT 06437.
Text design by Lisa Reneson
Map by Lisa Reneson © Morris Book Publishing, LLC
Map border by Paul G. Hoffman
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN 978-0-7627-4853-2
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my parents, David and Dena Schlosser, who chased dinosaur tracks, faced down large alligators, photographed pelicans, navigated the Houston Space Center by tram, wandered the back country, and fished in the Gulf in their gallant attempt to keep up with this Spooky author on her research trip. Kudos to you both!
For the rest of my dad-blame family, who’d get testier than a bull with a cowboy on its back if I didn’t mention them all by name: Tim, Arlene, Hannah, Emma, Nathan, Ben, Deb, Gabe, Clare, Jack, Chris, Karen, Davey, and Aunt Mil.
For Barbara Strobel and Aunt Sandy, just because it’s fun to have a book dedicated to you!
For Nancy Hicks and her family, with my thanks.
And for Mary Norris, Paul Hoffman, and all the wonderful folks at The Globe Pequot Press, with my thanks.
Contents
INTRODUCTION
PART ONE: GHOST STORIES
1. Guarded by a Ghost
SAN ANTONIO
2. Amber
DALLAS
3. The Old Bridge
CAMDEN
4. On the Front Deck
BANDERA
5 The Warning
WICHITA FALLS
6. El Muerto
KINGSVILLE
7. Sifty-Sifty-San
WALLIS
8. The Black Car
ANGELINA COUNTY
9. Ghost Light
MARFA
10. The Lady in the Veil
BROWNSVILLE
11. Restless Spirit
WINK
12. Remember
SAN ANTONIO
PART TWO: POWERS OF DARKNESS AND LIGHT
13. White Wolf
ELROY
14. Madstone
SOCORRO
15. Eternal Roundup
EL PASO
16. Little Eight John
JACKSONVILLE
17. Grandmother Matilda
HOUSTON
18. Evil Eye
AUSTIN
19. The Weeper
LAREDO
20. No Trespassing
AMARILLO
21. Rattler’s Ridge
WIMBERLEY
22. The Gray Lady
FORT WORTH
23. Spearfinger
HARDIN COUNTY
24. Lost and Found
ABILENE
25. The Letter
GALVESTON
RESOURCES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Introduction
I wandered down the mowed trail through the long swamp grass, digital camera at the ready, hoping for a close-up shot of a whooping crane. Dad meandered slowly behind me, appreciating the swampland and flowers of the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge along the Texas Gulf, though not perhaps with the same fervor as me, the budding nature photographer.
We’d stopped for a few minutes at the building near the entrance to buy our tickets and inquire about the best places for wildlife viewing. We were immediately directed first to a nearby pond to see alligators and then to this location, which had a blind overlooking the swampy places that the whooping cranes seemed to favor. So far, we were 0 for 2. The first location had a couple of suspicious bumps that might have been the nostrils of an alligator (photos later proved this assumption to be correct), and the blind had shown us a white egret and some pelicans. There may have been a suspicion of a whooping crane, but I couldn’t tell from that distance, and so I was venturing down the path in hopes of a closer view.
I paused to snap a few flower photos and got a nice close-up of a white egret. No whooping crane. Then I rounded a small bend and hit the jackpot. Not a whooping crane, but several large alligators laying on the far side of a pond beside the path. Those gators were huge! Had to be six or eight feet long, with some pretty ferocious-looking teeth. I had a great time shooting picture after picture from various angles, secure in the fact that they were on the far side of the water. My Dad, on the other hand, was paying a bit more attention to the path than I was. On my side of the path was an alligator-sized hole in the vegetation leading toward the pond. On exactly the opposite side was another alligator-sized hole leading into the swamp. We were standing at alligator crossing point! Dad looked at the two holes, looked at the very large alligators lying on the far bank, and beat a hasty retreat back up the path, taking me forcibly with him, still merrily shooting pictures until the gators were well out of sight. I never did see a whooping crane!
As you may have guessed, I survived my trip to Texas in spite of my penchant for photography in potentially dangerous spots. I was a lot luckier than the Gray Lady of Fort Worth, who lost her life when mountain lions invaded her home. Her ghost continues to haunt her hometown long after her death, appearing to anyone in danger or coming as a forerunner of death in the family. And I did much better than poor Adam, who won a fiddle contest with the Devil and found himself surrounded by rattlesnakes as a result (Rattler’s Ridge).
In fact, Texas seems to be the home of many poor unfortunates whose spirits linger long after their earthly demise. There are cattle thieves who still ride in the Eternal Roundup over El Paso and surrounds. There is the Lady in the Veil in Brownsville, who lures young men into her doomed embrace. There is the Restless Spirit who for years made a frantic ride each morning through an oil field. Sifty-Sifty-San discourages anyone who tries to spend a night in his haunted house, and of course there are many spirits that haunt the Alamo.
Ghosts aren’t the only spooky things in Texas! A Dallas girl’s slumber party, complete with Ouija board, conjures up a message from a child dying in a flood in Alabama (Amber). A werewolf stalks another girl in her dreams (White Wolf)—or is it a dream? Grandmother Matilda steals a little boy from home, and it is up to his brave sister to steal him back. And a lovely but jealous woman puts the Evil Eye on her ex-boyfriend when he makes up to another lady.
Texas is rife with folklore from many ethnic traditions, and these tales enrich all who hear them. During my research, I had the privilege of meeting Texans from all walks of life—soldiers, wranglers, cowboys, vaqueros, tour guides, ranchers, teachers, librarians, businessmen and women—and listening to their stories. They all had one thing in common: They walked tall and were proud to call Texas their home.
From the Alamo (Remember) to Galveston, with its famous privateer and devastating natural disaster (The Letter); from Wichita Falls (The Warning) to Marfa with its mysterious Ghost Light, Texas is a phenomenal state. I can’t remember when I had more fun researching and writing a book!
What are my favorite memories (besides the gators)? I loved the rodeo in Fort Worth. Horseback riding on the ranch in Bandera. Chasing down dinosaur tracks through the bush. Photographing pelicans by the larg
e oil ships in Galveston. Watching Mom and Dad enjoy a last-minute hayride at sunset. Touring NASA and speaking to one of the astronauts who traveled with us incognito. Eating Texas barbecue. The list goes on and on.
So what do I like best about Texas? In a word—everything!
—Sandy Schlosser
PART ONE
Ghost Stories
1
Guarded by a Ghost
SAN ANTONIO
It all seems a bit of a dream now, like a fairytale that couldn’t possibly come true. But all you have to do is look across the road at Señora Rosa’s brand-new house to know that it did happen and that I was a part of it.
It all began with the ghost. Sí. It is true. Although at the time, I did not realize it was a ghost. I was working in the local flower shop for Rosa and her husband, and when they were called away on business I would spend the night in Rosa’s house next to the shop watching her two small children. It was on one such occasion that I saw a lady dressed all in white wandering aimlessly in front of the bright display of flowers in the windows of the shop. She walked past the window and then right through the wire fence on the other side!
I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. The woman’s body had floated through the fence as if it were not there at all. The thought made me dizzy, and I sank down onto the stoop of the little house. Little Anna tugged on my skirt and demanded to know what was wrong. Before I could respond, the ghost was back, drifting through the wire fence, past the pretty window display, and then veering after a heart-shattering moment to go around the house. My whole body started shaking with fear of the thing, but little Anna was calm. “Who was that lady, Mattie?” she asked me. I shook my head, unable to speak. Then I said, “Go play with Juan in the house, Anna.” She studied my pale face with her wise, dark eyes, then nodded obediently and went into the house. A good child, and a perceptive one.
GUARDED BY A GHOST
I rose, clutching the railing beside the stairs for a moment, my legs shaking with fright. Then I straightened my shoulders and marched around the side of the house, determined to confront the ghost and make it leave before it frightened the children. But the ghost was gone.
I decided not to say anything to Rosa when she came home with her husband. What was the use? There was no proof of a ghost. No strange perfume in the air, no cold breezes, no furniture moving around by itself. Just a woman in white walking through the wire fence. Thinking about it made my hands shake, and I had to clutch the railing of the porch to support my treacherously weak knees. Rosa asked me if I were ill, but I shook my head and tried to smile. I wondered, as I hurried back to the home I shared with my parents, if I would dare go back to the flower shop. But it was a good job, and we needed the money to feed all my little brothers and sisters. So I returned.
Sometimes, while I was cutting roses or arranging flowers in a vase, I would look through the bright windows at the front of the shop and see the lady in white walk past. Sometimes, when I was watching little Anna and Juan, the lady would amble down the small lane between the house and shop and then vanish before my eyes. I gradually grew used to seeing her, but my stomach would clench and my throat would seize up whenever she appeared.
I finally mentioned the ghost to Rosa and her man, but they just laughed and told me I was working too hard. Obviously, it was a neighbor I had seen wandering around the area. The notion of her walking through the wire fence was dismissed as nonsense.
This situation went on for several years, as Anna sprouted up into a happy schoolgirl and little Juan learned to walk and talk and tag along after Rosa and me as we worked in the shop. Then one day, Rosa came running through the front door of the flower shop and banged it shut so hard a vase fell off the counter and broke, spilling water and roses everywhere.
“Madre de Dios, Rosa, what is wrong?” I exclaimed, skirting the glass on the floor to catch her by her shaking hands.
“The lady! The lady in white. She . . . she . . . ” Rosa could not go on.
“She walked through the wire fence?” I asked, understanding at once. Rosa nodded her head, unable to speak. “She went around the house and vanished?” I continued. Rosa nodded again.
As I spoke, Alberto came running from the back room, clutching a handful of ferns. Rosa gasped out the story to him in high-pitched Spanish, while I corralled little Juan before he could cut himself on the glass shards littering the floor. By the time I was done cleaning up the mess, Alberto had decided that the ghost must want something from us. Perhaps she was trying to show us where her treasure was buried.
I straightened up with my dustpan full of green glass shards and stared at Alberto in amazement. The thought had never occurred to me. But it made sense. I had heard tales before of ghosts who appeared to people because they could not rest until their treasure was found.
Alberto went at once to the local curandero, a folk healer and shaman who specialized in both natural and supernatural methods of healing the sick and driving out malevolent spirits. This particular curandero happened to be the father of my Enrique, the man to whom I was betrothed. The curandero came at once and performed a ritual first in the flower shop and then in Rosa’s house. At last, he proclaimed that Alberto’s theory was correct. The ghost had hidden some money under the house. To exorcise the spirit, we would have to remove it. To my surprise, the curandero also said the money was to be given to me, not Rosa and Alberto, because it was to me the ghost had first appeared. To my further surprise, Alberto took the news calmly. It turned out he was more concerned with getting rid of the frightening spirit then he was with finding the money.
The next day was a cold and drizzling Saturday. Four men, including Alberto and the curandero, gathered by the foundation of the house and began to dig where the curandero indicated with his stick. It was hard, messy work, made worse by the drizzling rain, which created a slick, sticky mud. Down and down they dug as Rosa and I watched from the rim of the ever-deepening hole. It was growing darker as the storm clouds thickened above us. Rosa lit a kerosene lantern to give the men more light.
Suddenly, I saw a white figure rise up from the ground right beside Alberto. The familiar shaking began in my knees and spread to the rest of my body, and my stomach clenched in response. “Al . . . Al . . . Alberto!” I shouted around the knot in my throat. Alberto whirled around and the handle of his shovel went right through the body of the ghost. Without warning, his eyes rolled up in terror, and he fainted into the mud at the bottom of the deep hole. The ghost vanished immediately as the curandero clutched at the cross around his neck and shouted out a prayer.
It took all three men to heave Alberto out of the hole. When the frightened man was at last free of the mud and sitting shakily on his front stoop, the curandero told us we must stop digging at once, and he took me home. After explaining what had happened to my parents, he left the house. Mama tucked me up into bed with a bowl of hot soup to stop my shivers. As I grew warmer, the world turned fuzzy and went a little dim, and I dreamed a dream of a German woman dressed in white who spoke about a treasure that she would share with no one but me.
Then suddenly I gasped and snapped awake as holy water splashed against my face. I realized I was standing upright in the middle of our parlor, my throat hoarse with shouting, and the curandero was clutching me by the shoulders while my parents and brothers and sisters looked on in terror.
The curandero sat me down in a chair and told me that the ghost had taken possession of my body and had used my voice to tell him what it was she wanted. The idea of a ghost possessing me made my stomach lurch. Bile rose in my throat, and I ran out of the room and was violently ill in the bathroom. My Mama followed, cleaned me up, and helped me back to the parlor, where the curandero was discussing what the ghost had said with my Papa. He smiled tenderly at me when he saw me return, and took my hand gently. “The ghost wishes you to have her money, Matilda,” he said. “That is why she appeared to you. That is why she spoke through you just now.”
But I was sh
aking my head, my body trembling anew with fear and a growing anger that this spirit would dare possess me without my leave. “I want no part of it!” I snapped. “Give it to someone else.” And I would not change my mind. “Give the money to Rosa and Alberto. It is their house,” I said. Finally, the curandero agreed.
I did not return to the flower shop to see the final unveiling of the treasure. The curandero was forced to perform several elaborate rituals to appease and exorcise the spirit of the white lady before they were able to dig the last two feet into the hole. At the bottom were two wooden boxes that contained silver dollars in little rotting sacks.
The government got some of the money, and Alberto and Rosa got the rest. It was enough to entirely refurbish the flower shop and help them buy a nice new house just a few doors down from the home Enrique and I moved into when we were married.
Although the curandero—my new Papa-in-law—assured me that the ghost of the white lady was gone, I never went back to the flower shop. I was content to let the memory fade into a dream and leave that haunted place to its owners.
2
Amber
DALLAS
Oh, you hear the stories about how dangerous Ouija boards are, but hey—it’s just a game. Can’t hurt anything, right? So when Mary pulled one out at her sleepover party, we laughed a little nervously and agreed to play. There were four of us altogether—Sarah, Jessie, me, and, of course, Mary.
It was a strange-looking board, covered with letters and symbols and the words “yes” and “no.” There was a plastic pointer that was supposed to move across the board at the behest of the spirits. The instructions called it a planchette. The sight of the board made me nervous, but I put it down to the late hour and the scary reputation of the game.
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