Whispers Out Of The Dust: A Haunted Journey Through The Lost American West (Dark Trails Saga)

by David J. West

We selected a site for our home on the southwest edge. I set up our tent and will begin work on a cistern and fence on the morrow. With any luck and blessings in heaven we shall start our garden and a crop of cotton soon. With this hot weather and abundant water I hope to have a better season than any possible up north in Salt Lake. I told father I would grow the biggest watermelons he had ever seen, when he comes this fall.

  — May 4th

  I had to ask for some meager supplies from Bishop Smith as we lost more than I thought in the many Virgin River crossings. Also lost my mule and had to spend day looking for him. I could not find him and fear he was stolen and eaten by the Paiutes or has expired in the desert.

  — May 5th

  I retrieved my mule. It had run north along the hills until it came to a large meadow of sweet grass near some ruins. I explored them for a time looking to find any artifacts or useful items from the ancient inhabitants of this land.

  Brother Brizby informed me afterward that the place has been dubbed ‘The Lost City’ by the Saints. He also cautioned that I ought to stay away from it as even the Paiutes would not go near. They said their ancient enemies had built it long ago and were now gone and to good riddance. But there was no reason to worry over it now.

  I found it to be quite the curious setting, some few walls stood out against the sun, granting some of the only shade to be had in the entire valley, and several more were toppled over. All was of adobe make with some small amount of lumber for bracing and interior strength not unlike what the Saints are doing in St. Thomas as lumber here is scarce. I found quite a few potsherds and some large bones of an animal that I cannot discern. There were some weathered stones with a swirling venomous writing upon them that I could not understand. I moved one of the larger of these stones as it seemed to be a lid of some kind, but as I lifted it, a scorpion crawled upon my hand and I dropped the stone lid.

  I brushed the scorpion off and received no sting, but the stone broke as it landed, lending not a fragment to be recovered or to be shown to another soul so that we might someday understand its meaning.

  Beneath the now broken lid was indeed a stone sarcophagus or box. I carefully removed the fragments watching for more scorpions or snakes and found not but a few interesting artifacts that I took home. It was now getting dark and as I had no lantern I returned home. I will explore the ruin more when I have time after getting to my responsibilities.

  — May 7th

  Strange dreams plague my mind. I hear whispers in the dark, whispers from the dust of this forgotten land, they do call to me and tell me to take my place among them.

  — May 8th

  I took Brother Brizby with me to the ruins today and asked if he could hear what I have heard.

  Alas, he could not. He must not be a true Saint.

  He reminded me of what Old Bishop and the others have said of the place and even likened it to old cursed Chorazin of the Bible. But if he cannot hear the spirit when it calls what does he really know of anything?

  I tried to show him what I had discovered, all that I had learned but he would not join me. I say let them who have eyes see and them with ears hear and lo, all in this city of St. Thomas seem to be deaf and dumb to what is beneath their very feet!

  I have no more time for this journal or the records of mere men. There is so much more out there waiting to be fulfilled!

  Mary Ann Christiansen’s Journal

  — May 6th

  I hear Asa’s whistle! He is coming home! Asa remembered his prayers and found our runaway mule. I am so grateful to the Lord that the Indians did not eat him. Asa also brought home a few relics from some ancient place. One has an evil countenance about it, resembling nothing so much as a demonic frog. Asa laughed when I told him but he said it was but an old Indian idol of perhaps make from the days of the Nephites and Lamanites.

  It gave me an uncomfortable feeling and whether or not Mother will come remains to be seen, but I shan’t wish her to look upon such a grotesque abomination.

  It is my hope that in time we can raise a family here despite the trials and tribulations of this haunted and barren land. Asa’s relic is watching me as I write these words. How I fear its cross and carven eyes. They stare like a goats with black crosses upon a yellow field. I asked Asa again to remove it from our home, soon, he said before putting it back in a burlap sack.

  The dog [Rufus] will not come inside despite Asa’s best whistle.

  — May 7th

  Have proceeded with mending of the sisters clothing that was ruined in the fire outside the Low’s foundation today. Still waiting on Asa to start work on our home, he has been unwell and spent his time either in our tent or at the ruins. He still has the toad by his bedside. I do hope he gets rid of the thing as he promised. Our faithful dog [Rufus] which used to adore Asa will not come near him now.

  — May 8th

  Asa still has not started work on our cistern or garden as he has spent almost all his days here on the Muddy Mission at the Lost City ruins. I had Brother Brizby go with him to try and talk to him about our family’s needs, I have had to walk to Brother and Sister Bonelli’s for water. Asa is a good man but far too curious for his or our own good. I pray he comes to his senses soon. Our dog [Rufus] has run away, I fear the Indians will eat him if he does not succumb to the heat and perish.

  — May 9th

  I have tried to get Asa to abandon his obsession with The Lost City ruins but he will not listen to me. I shall ask the brethren to intervene on my behalf.

  — May 10th

  Asa sleeps outside now as I have told him I will not have his poor behavior in my home. It is just a tent but it is still mine. I am heartbroken at his indifference. He seems to care more for his findings at the ruins than he does for me, his wife! If the situation is not changed and soon, I will leave this godforsaken place and return to my father. I have again asked the brethren to speak with Asa.

  — May 11th

  Wonderful Brother Brizby has helped begin our cistern without Asa’s help. He hired a few Paiutes to help dig and they soon reached water having only gone down the height of a man. Mayhaps Asa will be shamed into returning to our family!

  — May 12th

  I went to fetch water this morning and Horror! The cistern was full of toads! This has not been a problem at anyone else’s homestead and I was mortified. Brother Brizby fetched a pair of Paiutes who had dug the cistern and said that perhaps they would collect the animals and consider it a good sign, as they would eat the creatures. However once they arrived, the Paiutes would not touch the foul creatures declaring them to be some sign of calamity and they spoke of the Anasazi, their Ancient Enemy.

  When Asa returned home, he laughed and showed me his toad idol once again and he commanded the toads to leave the cistern and they did! It was as if he was Pied Piper of Hamlet[10]. Asa led them toward the ruins of the Lost City at twilight and they followed him like a mad legion. I however would not follow him.

  — May 13th

  Wonderful news! Our faithful dog Rufus has returned. I can barely restrain myself from his kisses as I write this I am reminded of happier days. I hear Asa’s whistle, he has returned . . .

  Daniel Rutledge’s Journal

  — May 11th

  As I had told Sister Christiansen I would, I spoke today with Brother Asa Christiansen up at The Lost City ruins. He was not interested in my reminding him of his familial responsibilities or otherwise. He asked me several times if I could hear anything and I replied each time with ‘only the wind’ and he laughed a rather humorless chuckle at that each time and finally said something about knowing where he stood with me and the brethren.

  Thank the Lord, he has not fallen away from the gospel however, proclaiming that he has a greater knowledge of the truth of it than any man within The Muddy Mission. He spoke for a time on the Nephites, Lamanites and more so on the Gadianton Robbers[11] that used to inhabit this land. He is far more of a scriptorian than I would have ever imagined. I could have sworn
that Sister Christiansen said he had not gone to schooling but he knew more than I had ever heard before in regards to the history of this land. He spoke of where perhaps the Robbers had held their ancient rites and vigils of sacrifice and depravity, and where they would imbue idols of stone with awful powers to use as conduits to the profane and diabolic.

  I cautioned him to not delve too deeply into those subjects but he laughed once again saying it was but to better study the ways and means of the enemy. I also reminded him to not neglect his family and keep his shoulder to the wheel. He laughed, but told me he understood very well and that I should not fret for his soul, that it was well claimed.

  — May 13th

  Brother Asa Christiansen was attacked by his missing dog this evening when he returned home from The Lost City ruins. We shot the dog but he was viciously mauled. We were not sure if the dog had gone mad or not, as it had been friendly with Sister Christiansen just prior to Brother Christiansen’s arrival.

  Brother Christiansen has a severe fever and we expect the worst. It is too perilous to try and remove him back to St. George to see Dr. Adams[12] with so many Virgin River crossings. We blessed him and all present in the circle felt as if his spirit passed from him though he still lived. We prepare for what would be our second funeral in St. Thomas.

  — May 16th

  I have decided that despite Sister Christiansen’s statements, malaria must have played a major part in Brother Christiansen’s behavior of late but it is indeed a curious thing.

  In the evening, Brother Christiansen awoke after three days of sleep. He is healing well and in much better spirits than the last time I spoke with him. He sleeps often still and is troubled in the night according to Sister Christiansen but will recover fine I think. He spoke somewhat of the Lost City ruins and how he will never go back as he is sure they are the cursed remains of a Gadianton outpost.

  He then reached into a bag beside his bedroll and did then throw a small stone idol of a toad out of his tent when he recovered himself. Sister Christiansen declared that it was not nearly far enough away. She did beg me to throw it in the river for them and be rid of it forever. I went to fetch it, to do as she had asked but I could not find it in the darkness, though it should have been right outside their tent flap. Perhaps it must have bounced into their cistern though the lid was fast upon it. I did see a live toad hopping away but it was assuredly not the same one that he threw for everyone that had seen it knew it to be but a statue or idol of some kind. To ease her mind, I told her that I had found it and would dispose of it.

  — May 17th

  I looked for the toad idol again when first daylight came but there was no sure sign of it. I have decided that there is nothing to it, but I shall ask all of our folk to stay away from and forget the ruins anyhow. I’ll send a team of men to knock down the walls and we will bury the foundations thereof and never speak of them again. If people don’t talk about it, it will all just go away and be forgotten as it should be.

  — May 18th

  The Lost City ruins are buried and gone. We will speak no more of them.

  — May 20th

  I went back to the ruins today, and could swear I heard a whisper on the wind calling to me.

  I shall come again tomorrow.

  “Take my word for it, there is no such thing as an ancient village, especially if it has seen better days, unillustrated by its lengths of terror.”

  — J. S. LeFanu

  Skullduggery

  Letter from Angus Call to his sister: August 30th, 1866

  My Dearest Elizabeth

  Ever since Brother Rutledge’s abrupt disappearance two months ago under mysterious but likely enough circumstances, folk have been nervous about goings on here. Some say it was the Indians but others think different. Some say an evil spirit haunts this valley and we should take care when out and about. I’ve heard it said that if our eyes could but see them, the world is as thick with spirits as the sands of the sea and that we are never truly alone.

  But I try to keep a rational approach and not worry over every little thing though most all of the people here are a superstitious lot by nature especially the Indians themselves. I do think myself level headed and worthy of being an reasonable minded individual and that is why I am so precisely vexed by what I will soon relate and I do humbly indulge your patience and ask for you to take my word at what I relate and say herein. That I am not prone to flights of fancy and such has made all of this that much more horrifying.

  As you know from previous correspondence we have a salt mine some five miles south of us. It does take some work to get the salt but it is most useful to have such access in any case. There has alas been some accidents though, we blasted a portion of a ledge free to get the salt and while gathering the free clumps, we had a collapse I barely escaped with my life and almost right beside me, a poor Mr. Redway was buried. We dug him out as fast as possible but he was certainly dead and horribly mangled.

  The Paiutes took this to be a particularly bad sign, as if his death wasn’t a bad enough thing in and of itself, and in the terrible commotion and rockslide along with the extracting of Mr. Redway, he lost his head under a particularly large boulder that we were unable to yet move and therefore retrieve his crushed skull. It was truly a gruesome sight and I only tell you because it pertains to the incident in question that I will come to in good time. So please forgive the thought of gore and bloody mishap.

  To further the trouble with the superstitious Paiutes, the very next day what comes walking into St. Thomas but a camel!

  The Paiute’s panicked and fled for the most part believing it to be a manifestation of the great spirit come to punish them for wickedness (their thievery no doubt).

  It took some time to coax them into coming back to St. Thomas and renewing their much needed labors in the fields. I was to find out from Brother Leithead later that the rogue camel must have come from a dromedary line operating between Lost Angeles and Fort Mojave. Apparently some of the salt freighters had the bright idea to use the desert animals, I can’t say I blame the thought process but the camels feet were torn asunder by the rough American stone, and this is all besides horses becoming almost as frightened of camels beside them as the Paiute. So Brother Leithead told me that the camels were let loose to fend for themselves. How queer. I should much like to capture one and see if I couldn’t use it for myself. Can you see your dear brother now? Riding along like a Raj of the desert?

  But I have drifted off course dear sister.

  Not long after Mr. Redway’s death, I found a need to head back to the salt mine at dusk and gain another portion of salt for myself, as I would be able to sell it for a very good price to a Mr. Fenton who claimed he needed it post haste and was busy with other Indian Bureau matters in Rioville. Not wishing to work in the hot sun nor take away from my many other responsibilities at home I took the wagon and went to the mine.

  It was getting dark but there was enough light from both my lantern and the moon that I didn’t worry about seeing to my task. So, I went about my task and what should happen but here of all places, we had clouds roll in and obscure the moon light, then I was left but to my lamp to see by and the queerest thing began to happen, I started to hear footsteps round about me but no one spoke and there was never anyone that I could see.

  I continued my work of shoveling out the salt from the earth and my lanterns flame did flicker and waver, as if something was trying to snuff it out. I can’t tell you how worried I became at this but as it did not go out entirely I persevered and kept at my work. I did also continue to hear footsteps but again no one was anywhere to be found and I kept at my task.

  A cool wind had come up during this time and yet my lamp should have been wind proof and yet it sputtered as if fighting against fingers pinching at the wick.

  As I was digging out the salt, I felt a tap at my shoulder, but I knew no one was there so I ignored the sensation and set about my task all the harder, though now I will admit to you t
hat I was vexed and worried at these happenings. I tell you this as I was so sure it was but my imagination, there was no possibility of anyone being at my shoulder in that inhospitable place at that time of night. No, I knew it had to be my imagination.

  Then what had once been a tap became a full poke!

  I was surely frightened at the suddenness at the late hour, the eerie stillness and now the rude interruption. I wheeled about to face my antagonist and who was there but a ghastly headless apparition holding a bucket outstretched to me!

  It did beckon to me to examine the bucket of which I fearfully did and inside looking up at me was Mr. Redway’s gruesome head!

  His body stood there as though standing and waiting for something, I know not what. I tried to back away but he followed me, gesturing as if for me to take the bucket but such a thing I would not do for I was afraid that I might catch my death as one might catch a cold.

  And Elizabeth please believe my incredible frightening story, he had the most ghastly look upon his face, as though choked with dirt and soil and oh, so much pain. He stood there holding the bucket with such an accusing face within and I begged my pardon in a hoarse whisper and bid him leave me be.

  I backed away and he followed me and the horror of escaping that headless body and bucket with such a terrible face. Oh, and those eyes, an awful cold paleness that gave no hint of depth or love, they were rolled back up into his ghostly skull and his tongue it wagged out like a worm escaping the grave. I was near to faint and I ran to the wagon and still he followed after me, all the while waggling the bucket at me like a man might offer you a drink.

  I whipped the horses and still that grim specter followed me. I screamed at him to leave me be that I had naught to do with his demise but still he pursued me, beckoning that I should take that dreadful bucket with his head.

  But no I would do no such thing at all!

  Whipping the horses to a furious pace I screamed and wailed to leave me be but every time I looked back he was still there shaking his bucket, as if pleading that I should take hold of that awful pail!