Carried home by good horses, my wife said I was quivering in a heap upon the buckboards floor and that there was no sign of Mr. Redway at all. And she said that there was no sign of anyone at all and she did keep a good watch throughout the night saying that I was indeed in a state of hysterics and in such poor health that she did think to call for the doctor but I cried that I wanted nothing so much as to get some good sleep and be well by morning.
So I explain all of this to you in the event that you hear of my strange cowardice and panic, for I know that folk are wont to talk such things about the late night Sunday joint. Rest assured that I have not lost my mind and that I am guiltless when it comes to that poor man’s death and dismemberment.
But in the light of day I did begin to feel for the poor deceased gentile[13] Mr. Redway and I took some Paiutes who had been given quite a bit of liquid courage[14] and did set to work moving the massive boulder that had hidden away Mr. Redway’s head.
We had to spend the better part of the day at the task and were finally able to extract that wretched crushed collection of bone and scalp.
I did join these items with the already buried body of Mr. Redway in the town cemetery and no more such sighting and hauntings have been reported since.
I did sincerely feel for the man and felt ashamed that I had to be so very spooked to see to it that he was fully and completely laid to rest. I have certainly learned my lesson and shan’t shirk these matters ever again.
Your brother
Angus Call
“It shows me, that the adversary is trying to prevent me from going; but I am going all the same if I have to walk every foot of the way.”
— Samuel Claridge[15] 1864
The Big Mouth
Statement of William Webb: June 12th, 1867
A company of men and I were digging a well on the outskirts of town. It was blazing hot and I recall that I joked and laughed that if we didn’t find water soon we wouldn’t be climbing out of that hole. Somebody reminded me that I had claimed I could dig the well faster than anyone of them. This wasn’t the first time I had been accused of having a big mouth.
We did however strike water at twelve feet and proceeded to line the well. As we were taking a short break for lunch a thirsty horse wandered into camp.
Taking a few moments we wondered at whose it was and we both fed and watered it as it looked pretty rough from coming in off the desert. I tied it up thinking that it must have been lost from someone in town and would soon enough appreciate that we had found it. After an hour and with the well nearly complete the others joked that I should go looking for its owner since I surely had the biggest mouth and could call out the loudest to find the owner. I laughed, I can take a joke. I took it out and went looking on my own mule for the owner. No one was missing a horse and that made me wonder at what may have happened so I took off down the high desert road with a large cask of water and my biggest skin.
About a half mile from town I came upon the ruined body of a boy lying dead from the blistering heat of the sun. Beside him was an empty canteen and a parched dry keg. He was bloated and a ruinous mess. There was no way I could tell who he was.
I buried him beside the road and did put up a headboard denoting him as best I could so that others might know who he was at a later date.
Guessing that there was more to this than a lone boy I went on further down the track toward St. George. Passing along a horrid waterless stretch of desert I soon came upon the Davison’s, husband and wife. I called to them as he could see them leaning together sitting beneath a sheet that they had stretched out to protect them from the sun. I could also see that their wagon had lost a wheel and was broke down beside the road.
I regretted having to inform them of what must surely have been an untimely end to their son when I realized they were not answering my hallo.
They were dead as well, parched and dried from the awful sun. They only son must have tried to get back to town for water but passed away.
Then I noticed something, they still had kegs of water. Two big barrels were strapped to the sides of their wagon and yet here they lie dry and dead as bones when the water for life was right beside them.
Why didn’t they drink? Why didn’t they use what they had?
That thought plagued me night and day pretty near every time I thought on water for the next few weeks. Their salvation was right at hand and yet they ignored it and died. I wonder what could have done such a thing to their minds and I am determined to never let it happen again.
Everybody else says that sometimes bad things happen to good people that it is just the Lords will or perhaps it was their time to go but I hate that.
Some peoples answers said that it was the evil spirits that haunt this land a causing them to believe their kegs had run dry and still others have said that perhaps their water had gone bad and they daren’t drink but that was untrue on account of I drank some of that water myself and didn’t feel a thing sideways.
Wasn’t too long until everyone told me I needed to keep my big mouth shut about the affair and let people going on living their lives. We can’t fix all tragedies and alleviate the world of its mysteries. The Bishop even cautioned me about delving too deep into the mysteries but I don’t cotton to that attitude even if I do have a big mouth. No, there had to be something sinister about it all and I aim to find out.
Ever time I wanted to know something I set out to knows it. So I prepared a way just as the good Lord prepared a way for me to find out.
I took the old Indian we call Old Bishop[16] with me and we rode out that way one evening under a leaden sky and camped just to try and understand a spell.
Now Old Bishop he is a wise old man and we call him Old Bishop on account of him looking kinda like Bishop Shaffer down in Provo. He has always been a good hand too watching over our cattle at night on the long trek southwards.
Now Old Bishop he did some preparing before we went out. He burnt some sacred smoke, sage and I don’t know what else and had us waft it around our bodies and be cleansed he called it and then when we got out on the parched road close to where the Davison’s had passed we made camp. Old Bishop he made a great circle around our camp and he kept up his singing and drumming for some time. I don’t reckon most of my fellow saints would have cottoned to this type of service but then I like to see what else the world has to offer too.
The stars came out in the great vault above us casting a mysterious glow across the pale desert. There weren’t much wind and not a bird or coyote did we hear, deathly silence all about and that’s when Old Bishop told me that we wasn’t alone.
He kept up on his song and drum and I sat there casting twigs into a tiny fire that I kept just for a small amount of light. I have to tell you that as I sat inside the circle, I didn’t feel nothing, nothing bad and nothing good neither I was just enjoying myself and thinking that while this was good to spend time with Old Bishop this was a fool’s errand and ain’t nothing gonna come of it.
Well, sirree was I wrong.
I had to get up to shake the dew of the lilies or talk to man about a horse however you like to put it and I stood up and not wanting to do anything right next to where I eat so to speak I stepped outside of Old Bishop’s circle.
I took a good few steps beyond and looked into the dark beyond. Stars were out there but their light was so far away, so cold.
I finished my business and turned around to walk on back into camp when something seized my heart.
A coldness I have never known touched right inside my soul like great claws were a squeezing it and telling me to give up, to lay right down and die.
I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my chest or was it Old Bishop’s drum? I don’t know.
I strained to take a step and that’s when I turned just a mite and saw what had seized my heart.
A great ghostly thing, a looking like an Indian chief with a big old war bonnet—but his mouth, Lord, his mouth was about five times too big with teeth like
sabers just a grinning at me like he was about to eat my heart! His cold claw like fingers were twisting at my breast and he whispered to me to lay down and die, but I weren’t about to give up jus yet.
I tried to call out to Old Bishop for some help, I tried with everything I could to cry but no words came and the squeezing just grew a stronger and harder and that horrible ghost mouth just laughed like silent thunder.
He loomed over me and opened all the wider like he was gonna devour me whole. He had me wrapped up like a rat with a bull snake and I should’a been just as much a goner. But I remembered the words my old pap had always told me true.
Then I prayed as I had never prayed before to be saved from this hell and this devils power. I spoke the words I had always been taught but never used before and Lo! It worked and I stepped out of that grim demons grasp back into the circle.
Old Bishop was watching the whole time. He now stopped his song and drumming and took a drink of water. I was breathing hard and heavy and felt surprisingly cold for such a hot summer evening. I tried to tell Old Bishop what I had just experienced but he just nodded and looked on as usual.
Maybe you don’t understand, I said, I was just attacked by that ghost mouth thing.
Old Bishop he turned and looked at me and smiled, then he said, “You wanted to know what was out here. You wanted to see it and thus you invited it. But you had the power to deny the Ghost Mouth and I knew you could. It is well. We have shown him that he cannot do any more harm to us and he must leave us alone, but this is his trail and we should not use it anymore and let the others know to avoid it too and go upon the low road.
And that was all he would say about it. We never talked about it again but I know that he could see what I saw and that that big ghost mouth is still out there waiting to snatch anyone who uses his trail.
“The snake is monarch here. Let him live to enjoy his majesty undisturbed by us…, and since I have got out of there I do not expect to ever intrude upon his imperial majesty's dominions again.”
— George W. Brimhall: 1865
Gods of the Old Land
Last record written by Seneca Howland[17]: August 30th, 1869
To Whom it May Concern[18]:
I, Seneca Howland, write these lines with the realization that I will soon die, but I wish that perhaps some word of what happened to us may yet reach some civilized ears and that we may someday have prayers over our graves rather than be left to wander as ghosts in this Christian god forsaken land. I say Christian god forsaken because he holds no dominion here compared to the old ones who still dwell in this place. This truly is a haunted land you who come after me, best take care of what you disturb herein.
I did strive with my brother Oramel[19], and Mr. Dunn to remain with Major Powell and see whether we would not make it out of the canyon and to the civilization that would meet us downriver. My brother rather said that No, we should go overland to St. George, as only death awaited us on that treacherous river. He was sure that the rapids would only get worse and we should lose all of our lives. He did tell Major Powell that is was madness to continue but when an agreement could not be reached he declared we should part ways. We were near starving, these supplies having been ruined by the waters and soon enough we would become stranded and starve if we remained. I did not like this and wished to remain with Major Powell but felt I had to stand with my brother.
We refused the rotten rations offered us, took our skins full of water and proceeded to try and climb up and out of the canyon.
It was hard going as the canyon walls were very tall and jagged and the heat was truly oppressive. We had reached quite a height and did see Major Powell and the others as they drifted out of sight down the rough river.
It was night on dusk and we were yet only about midway up the canyon. As we searched for an ideal ledge or spot to camp for the night we found some flagstones that were wholly unexpected. They did seem more like carven stairs rather than what at first we believed were simply broken stone and we followed the curious path around a small fissure that opened to reveal a square cut cavern. There was a wide large shelf just below that I did imagine kept this opening hidden from view of the river and nearly all directions. This was truly a secret entrance.
Now there was no denying that this was indeed manmade and carved by some skilled ancient hand. But who they were and to what end we could not yet say. We decided we should investigate this most serendipitous find and see what value may come of it. And yes, perhaps even treasure we hoped.
We lit our single lantern and ventured inside. The tunnel was such that we could easily walk abreast of each other and the ceiling overhead was higher than we could reach. We followed the passage for some hundred yards until chambers opened up on either side. These were big rooms with water containers, now with but dust in the bottom. There were several torches we could ignite to light our way so as to expend all of our own fuel. Further on we came to a crossroads of sorts with a great idol at its center. It had a coy and mystic look upon its Asian or Egyptian type face and scandalous golden body of exaggerated feminine proportions. It was seated and there were some few smaller relics cast about it, idols and strange copper tools. We had never seen such a thing before and were in awe of its most curious existence.
It is times like this that you may realize that what you thought you knew of the world is indeed a very small thing in relation to the whole article.
We took a passage to the left and ended up in a chamber that looked to have been a barracks or perhaps a kitchen at one time. In a central area a small stream of water was channeled through a carven spout, it was not unpleasant to the taste. There was also a shelf space with all the implements one might need in a mess hall. The utensils however were very large and seemed as if they were meant for hands much larger than our own. Bowls and plates that would appear more like platters to us were strewn about the room and soon we did also find several large granaries full of dry seeds and beans.
Though many did not look familiar to us, we thought we might take a chance at cooking them and did proceed to begin boiling some water upon a furnace area with a ventilation shaft leading up and away. Some large ones were quite tasty once they were thoroughly boiled but we could not crack them open until cooking[20].
Once we had eaten and felt somewhat refreshed we continued our exploration of the caverns. Past the crossroads with the idol we found a shrine to gigantic old gods or mummies. These were adorned with gold and armor and it was here that we noticed that the walls were also covered with hieroglyphic writing that we in no way could interpret. This was surely the find of the century. A civilization that had once inhabited these desolate places and with a writing system that might tell of whom they were and what became of them.
I mentioned that we might ought to make some scratching or perhaps rubbings of some of these characters but Oramel said we hadn’t enough paper left to us to record these things but that we should perhaps mark the outside entrance in such a way that we alone could find it again from the top of the mesa and that for now we should just take what wealth we could. I had not mentioned that I still had these few sheets in my own possession as of yet.
The huge gods in this shrine were taller yet than any of us by a span. The golden breastplates upon their chests were carven with strange creatures and dragons and I did wonder at how long an age they had lain here. There was a stone box nearby and when we pried it open, expecting treasure we were disappointed to find it held only sheets of lead with more curious writings upon it. There were also some strange deteriorating skins and bones but what creature they could have come from we had no idea. Something exceedingly large.
Close by there also appeared to be a dais or bench of some sort. It was more than big enough for several people to sit beside each other or perhaps for a man to lay down upon, albeit uncomfortably and in such a manner as one would be arching their stomach and breast forward more than the head and feet. Grooves along the side became channels that culminated in a col
lection point at the top and we realized in horror that it was indeed a sacrificial altar for the collection of blood for the appeasement to some eldritch god of death.
I already had an uncomfortable feeling being in this wicked place but the others insisted we ought to look for some possible treasures and such especially since we were now in no short supply of food or water.
We decided to explore the opposite tunnel that led deeper into the mountain. Here there were no more torches along the wall and the dark seemed especially oppressive and the air too was heavy and smelt of reptiles. I wondered if it was full of a fetid gas but Mr. Dunn and Oramel were both very intent on finding some treasure that they were sure must exist on account of these ancient undiscovered peoples.
Moving deeper within I thought our lantern might be snuffed out by the amorphous darkness. Mr. Dunn said he would go back and get another torch, saying he had confidence he could make it back on his own in the dark since it was indeed such a wide easy passage and only some few hundred yards back to both the shrine and mess hall chambers. Against my better judgment we split up, Oramel and myself going forward.
The lantern seemed to only illuminate weakly here and I could but see only a foot or so in front of each step while Oramel walked slowly beside me. We saw more glyphs upon the walls and here and there passed more bones and tattered skins and garments covered in moldering dust.
Soon enough it seemed that we had come upon some sort of carnage littering the passage as if a battle had occurred at our very feet and the former denizens of this place had been wiped out. The clothing left here was in tatters and the weapons had for the most part rusted and decayed so that when we touched them they crumbled to dust.
Wondering what could be taking Mr. Dunn so long to get back to us I suggested we go and get him, but Oramel said for us to go on.
Whispers Out Of The Dust: A Haunted Journey Through The Lost American West (Dark Trails Saga) Page 4