“The witch tamer aimed his gun at the place where they had heard the voice. He pulled the trigger, but the gun didn’t fire. The spirit began to taunt him as the witch tamer tried to shoot the gun again. Then the spirit said, ‘Now it’s my turn.’
“Everyone heard the sounds of the witch tamer being slapped silly as he shouted, ‘Lordy, Lordy!’ and ‘My nose!’ and ‘The devil’s got me!’ He began to dance about the parlor, screaming that the spirit was pricking him with pins and beating him. Then the door swung open of its own accord and the witch tamer raced outside, still shouting ‘Lordy, Lordy!’ as he ran down the lane. Everyone followed him outside, expecting him to drop dead, but aside from an occasional jump, twist, or shout, the witch tamer seemed likely to live. They watched him as he ran out of sight, while Old Hickory laughed until his sides were sore.
“They were all startled when they heard the spirit’s voice among them again. It was laughing at its triumph over the witch tamer and claimed that there was another fraud in the group that it would expose the next night. The men were pretty shaken up when they heard the spirit’s words. It was one thing to laugh at a fake witch tamer who got his comeuppance. It was quite another thing to realize one of them might be the next target. Old Hickory was all set to stay a full week with the Bells, but his men were not so enthusiastic.
“My great-granddaddy didn’t know exactly what happened that night to change Old Hickory’s mind. Maybe the spirit played some pranks on him, maybe the justifiable fear of his men persuaded him. Whatever the case, General Andrew Jackson was up and away the next morning. By dark, Old Hickory’s party had already reached Springfield and they went on to Nashville the next day. Much later, Old Hickory was heard to remark, ‘I’d rather fight the entire British Army than deal with the Bell Witch.’ ”
Great Aunt Esther took a sip of her lemonade and shook her head. “I don’t blame the general one bit for leaving so quickly. I would have done the same thing.”
“What happened to the Bell Witch, Aunt Esther?” I asked.
“Oh, most of the stories agree that the Bell Witch got worse and worse, tormenting Betsy Bell something awful and finally poisoning John Bell so that he died. They say the spirit laughed and sang in triumph at John’s funeral. The spirit stayed for several months following the death of John Bell, putting pressure on Betsy to break her engagement with a man named Gardener, which Betsy did sometime around Easter of 1821. After that, the spirit told Mrs. Bell that it was going away, but would visit again in seven years.”
“Did it come back?” I asked.
“Yes, the spirit did return to visit the family seven years later, just as it promised,” said Great Aunt Esther. “For about three weeks, the spirit talked with John Bell Jr., making predictions about the future and promising to return in one hundred and seven years. As far as I know, the Bell family did not receive the second promised visit. I have heard some people claim that the Bell Witch never really left the Bells’ property, but still haunts the land to this day. I myself have not gone there to find out if this is true.”
Great Aunt Esther finished her lemonade and peered at me from under the rim of her straw hat. “Well, Jenny-girl, that’s enough about evil spirits for one day. I am going back to my garden. Get along with you now, and pack your bags. School starts next week.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said meekly, taking my glass back to the kitchen before I started for home. I paused at the gate.
“Aunt Esther,” I called. Great Aunt Esther straightened up from among the tomato plants with a questioning frown. “Thank you for telling me your story,” I said.
Great Aunt Esther smiled. “You’re welcome, Jenny-girl. Tell your mama that I have fresh tomatoes. If she would care to stop by for a visit, I will offer her some.”
“I’ll tell her,” I said. I pulled the gate shut behind me and headed for home.
37
Rupp
Big Stone Gap, Virginia
Pa’s face was grim when he came into dinner that night.
“Someone’s been messing with our cattle, Maude,” he said to Mama. She looked up from the stove, her face flushed pink from the heat and little tendrils of curls hanging down into her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently.
“What do you mean?” she asked, catching up the kettle with a potholder and bringing it over to the table to pour into the teapot.
“Two of our cattle are down. And that’s not the worst of it.” He glanced at me as he spoke, and I straightened up indignantly. I was thirteen years old, practically a woman grown. If there was trouble coming our way, I was old enough to handle it, and I said so to Pa. His face softened a fraction, and he tousled my hair. Then he told us what he’d found.
Two of our cows had been dismembered in a back field. The head and hindquarters were all that remained of the cattle, and when Pa investigated the grisly remains, he found that they’d been drained of every drop of blood.
Mama went pale when she heard this. There was a story told in her family about a great aunt who’d died in mysterious circumstances over in Europe a long time ago. She too had been drained of blood, and her family thought she’d been killed by a vampire who’d been stalking young women in their town for several years.
We were all thinking about the story, but none of us said the word aloud. We didn’t want to jinx ourselves, although I couldn’t think of anything else that would drain all the blood out of a creature. I shuddered, and Pa patted my shoulder reassuringly.
“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for it,” he said unconvincingly. “Maybe a bear got them.”
“A bear that drinks blood?” There, I’d said it. Mama winced and turned away.
“Just you keep your window closed at night, Katie,” Pa said, and that was that—end of conversation; end of mystery.
But it wasn’t the end of the story. No, we’d only just begun.
Three days later our neighbor lost a cow under the same mysterious circumstances. Then a family on the other side of the ridge. And then a farmer on the far side of town. There were lots of foreigners around these days, men who had come from Europe to work in the mines. And they’d heard of vampires, just like we had, though I doubted any of them had lost family to one.
A few days later a number of prominent townsmen just “happened” to drop into the tavern after supper to discuss the matter. Most had lived in these parts all their lives, but there were a few newcomers too. All of them seemed above suspicion, though Mama made Pa carry garlic and a silver cross, just in case.
During the meeting, the names of several men were bandied about, all of them newcomers and all of them miners. Everyone seemed to think it was one of them behind the cattle killings. After all, the men went down into the mines before daylight and came up after dark—a perfect setup for a vampire. No one came to any conclusion that night, but when Pa got home he warned Mama and me to stay away from the mine, just in case.
My best friend Joshua, who lived next door, came over after chores the next afternoon to discuss the mysterious cattle killings. “I have an idea about that,” he said importantly, swinging himself up onto the paddock fence and leaning his back against the post. “There’s that weird fellow living on the other side of the ridge. Rupp he calls himself. He’s a newcomer and he works in the mines. And no cattle went missing before he arrived.”
I considered this. Rupp was a sort of neighbor of ours. We had to pass the turnoff to his remote cabin on our way to town. I’d only seen him once or twice, but each time something about him had frightened me. He was tall, thin, and very white of skin, with blood-red lips and narrow dark eyes. It was the look in those eyes that made me want to run away whenever I saw him. They had a hungry look that made my skin crawl. And the two times I’d seen him had both been at night. I’d never seen him during the day.
“Of course he’s in the mine during the day,” I said, continuing my thoug
ht out loud. Josh must have been following the expressions on my face, for he responded to my comment as if I’d spoke my previous thoughts aloud.
“He says he’s in the mines during the day,” he said. “We have no proof that he’s really there.”
“But don’t they have to sleep in their coffins or something like that?” I asked, trying to remember the details about my great-aunt’s supposed killer. “Rudd lives in a one-room cabin. A coffin would be pretty obvious.”
“Not if it’s up in the loft. I’m going to check,” Josh said, slipping down off the fence post.
“I’m coming too,” I said. Josh froze in his tracks and then turned, a fierce, protective look on his face.
“You are going to stay right here with your pa and mama,” he said. “I don’t want you anywhere near Rupp. Do you hear me?”
I was startled and flushed a little at the look on his face. A few times that spring, I’d wondered if Josh thought of me as more than a friend. Now I was certain.
“Promise me, Kate,” he said sternly.
I promised.
“I’ll take Fred along. Safety in numbers,” he said. Fred was the neighbor on the other side of Josh. He was a big, strong lad a few years older than Josh and me. I nodded approvingly. They should be safe. I hoped.
We were sitting down to dinner when Josh and Fred came bursting into the kitchen.
“Rupp,” Josh gasped, his eyes going straight to my father. “Rupp.”
Fred grabbed my father by the arm, and the boys dragged him outside into the yard. Mama and I rushed to the window to watch and listen. The three of them stood by the paddock fence. We could hear their voices, but a storm was blowing up, and the wind whipped their words away before we could make them out. We saw Pa’s face go grim, and then he left with the boys, heading toward town.
Mama told me to close all the windows and lock the doors. She got out the garlic and some of the holy amulets passed down in her family and draped them over us. Then we sat down in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to come home.
It was late when we heard someone fumbling at the front door. We glanced at each other, bodies tensed. Then we heard a key in the lock and knew it was Pa. He came wearily in and saw our worried faces at once in the shadowy firelight.
“The boys looked through the cabin window and saw Rupp gnawing on a raw calf leg,” he said without preamble. “We spoke to the sheriff about it, but he said it isn’t against the law to eat raw meat. Folks in the tavern were pretty agitated by the sheriff’s attitude, but his hands are tied, since there’s no actual proof that the cow’s leg came from one of the mutilated animals. No proof,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself. But the look on his face told us he was convinced that Rupp was behind the dead cattle.
Rumors buzzed around town for several days after Josh and Fred’s visit to Rupp’s cabin, but as the weeks passed without another dead cow, things settled down. Then the town drunk went missing. Of course he went missing twice a month, regular, right after he got a paycheck. But this was different. He was still a week shy of getting paid, and he hadn’t shown up for several days. Finally the sheriff went looking for him and found his body in the valley a quarter mile below Rupp’s cabin. He was drained of blood and missing an arm and a leg.
Unfortunately, Rupp’s was not the only home near the valley where the murdered man was found. The sheriff had to question everyone who lived nearby, including us. Everyone denied knowledge of the murder, including Rupp, who didn’t show up at his cabin until well after dark on the day the body was found. He spoke to the sheriff at length in the small clearing outside his cabin but did not invite him inside, and the sheriff couldn’t force the issue without a search warrant, which he didn’t have.
The sheriff stopped by our house after his interview with Rupp to talk to Pa, who was a good friend of his. The two men decided the sheriff should apply to the judge for a search warrant for Rupp’s place, if only to dispel the rumors surrounding the man. It was at least a two-day trip and could take even longer if the judge wasn’t home.
The sheriff headed out to the county courthouse the next morning, so he didn’t hear about the traveling salesman who hadn’t shown up to breakfast at the inn. The innkeeper’s wife was alarmed when she went to make up his room and found the bed hadn’t been slept in. The man’s horse was still in the inn stable. But he was missing.
We heard all about it at school that day. Everyone discussed it over lunch and decided that the vampire must have gotten the salesman either right before or right after he talked to the sheriff. All the girls, even me, shuddered at the thought, and Josh boldly took my hand to comfort me. He held my hand all through lunch and smiled shyly at me as we parted at the school door to go to our separate desks.
I had to run a few errands in town for Mama after school, and I lingered too long in the grocery, looking longingly through the new book of dress patterns that had just arrived. It was dusk when I set off on the road home, my basket clenched at my side. The road was long and winding and already nearly dark in the shadow of the tall trees on either side. I kept remembering the story of the dismembered drunk and the missing salesman as I walked alone down the road. Normally the nighttime woods were my friend. But not now. Not since Rupp came.
I shuddered at the thought, remembering that I had to pass the lane leading toward Rupp’s cabin. I quickened my pace, wanting to be well away from the spot before true darkness fell. I wished that I had asked Josh to come on my errands with me. But I knew he had chores to do, so I hadn’t.
The wind whistled mournfully through the tops of the trees as I hastened down the darkening road. The smallest sounds made me jump: the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, the hoot of a newly awakened owl, the raucous squawking of a crow. I hugged the basket close to me, walking as fast as I could. I saw Rupp’s lane ahead and sped up until I was almost running. My eyes kept straying toward the sinister, overgrown lane—more of a deer trail than a proper road. And that’s how I spotted the man’s shoe sticking out of the underbrush a few yards down the lane.
I stopped suddenly, my whole body prickling with terror. Oh, no, I thought. Please don’t let it be the salesman. I wanted to run for home, but I couldn’t pass by without looking. What if it had been Pa who’d gone missing, or Josh? I’d have wanted to know.
I crept cautiously down the lane, the basket held in front of me like a shield. I parted the bush above the shoe, and a wave of nausea filled me as I spied the deathly white face and dismembered body of a man in a travel suit. I gasped, my whole body shaking in reaction to the sight. And then I froze as behind me a voice hissed, “Hello, little girl. What brings you here on this lovely night?”
It was Rupp.
I whirled with a shriek and pressed my back into the bush that held the salesman’s body. “H . . . hello, Mr. Rupp,” I whispered, holding the basket up between us. “I thought I saw something in the bushes, but it was j . . . just a trick of the light,” I lied desperately.
Rupp
The vampire’s dark eyes glowed with a reddish glint in the dim twilight. His pale face was almost ruddy with the new blood he’d taken from his victim. It was obvious that he didn’t believe my story. It was also obvious that I was not going to make it out of this situation alive. He smiled at me in the gloaming, and I saw two incisors slowly lengthen into sharp points as he raised his hands toward my throat.
And then another voice came from the main road: “Kate! Katie! Are you there?”
It was Josh, coming to look for me. His words were echoed immediately by a deeper man’s voice. Pa.
“Here!” I screamed. “Here!”
Quick as a flash, Rupp disappeared into the woods beside me. So light on his feet was the vampire that I did not hear a rustle or a twig crack.
Pa and Josh came running into the lane, and I fell into their arms, babbling desperately about
Rupp and the dead salesman in the bushes behind me. Pa took one look into the shrubbery and sent me home with Josh. I clung to my best friend, weeping and explaining how Rupp had appeared from nowhere and how he had reached for my throat. When I mentioned Rupp’s elongated incisors, my voice went all to pieces and Josh looked rather murderous himself. He explained that they’d grown worried when I wasn’t home by dusk and had come to look for me, knowing I’d have to pass Rupp’s lane on my way home.
“Thank God we did,” he added fervently, hugging me close to him.
Josh made sure I was safe in my mother’s arms before he returned to town with Pa to see what the men meant to do about Rupp. Mama and I were preparing for bed when we heard shouts coming from the lane down the road. Rushing to an upper window, we saw through the trees the flickering light of torches heading toward Rupp’s place. Not long after, we saw a massive fire reaching up and up to the sky and knew the vampire’s cabin was burning.
Pa came in around midnight, and we both rushed downstairs to meet him.
“He’s gone,” Pa said, sinking wearily into a kitchen chair. “We searched everywhere, but he knew we’d be after him after he threatened Kate, and he bolted. The cabin was full of blood and gore and dismembered body parts—some of them human.”
Pa’s face went a bit green at the memory, and for a moment I was afraid he’d lose his dinner. But he recovered after a moment and went on: “Search parties scoured the woods around the cabin, but we found nothing. So we torched the cabin to discourage him from coming back. We’ll start the search again at first light, but my guess is he’s gone.”
And Pa was right. The posse combed the woods for several days in a row, while folks in town and the outlying farms held their breath in fear. But there was no sign of Rupp. By the time the sheriff returned to town with his now-useless search warrant, everyone agreed that the vampire calling himself Rupp had fled the county.
Spooky South Page 17