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

by David J. West

  They pulled up to the house in Levi’s beat up old Whiting Runabout and parked. There was no lawn or driveway to speak of, just a dry laid walkway of stone extending ten feet from the front door. Aunt Millie had kept to herself and only the weed-filled garden outback had ever been given much attention.

  “The barn looks like it’s about to fall over,” said Levi.

  “It’s fine,” said Eliza, “I’m sure you can fix it. This is going to be simply marvelous!”

  Levi scowled behind her back as they creaked up the porch and Eliza fiddled in her purse for a key. The storm door almost came off its hinges.

  “It always does that, you can fix it,” she said.

  He responded with a sarcastic grin.

  A Model-T pulled up in the driveway and a man in a white tweed suit and straw hat got out. He was rather portly and had even thicker glasses and beady eyes framed above a pencil thin mustache. “You must be Millie Henderson’s daughter?” He said in a rather rude tone.

  “Actually I’m her niece. And you are?” asked Eliza while simultaneously having Levi stand down.

  “I’m John Bryan Farragut, I own the ranch to the south and I am here to state my intentions of asking for, no I’m demanding peace and quiet. Too long your family has seen fit to torment me and mine. The hens won’t lay and the cows rarely give milk and it’s all because of you and your aunts wretched drumming!”

  “I, Mr. Farragut have only just arrived for the first time in over decade. But still I’m quite sure that you must be mistaken, my dear old Aunt Millie would never beat a drum all night. I suggest you complain to your other neighbors.”

  “There are no other neighbors, I’m very aware of your aunt’s queer behavior and soon enough there will be a reckoning!” He then got back into his Model T and drove away in a screech.

  “What a bizarre character,” said Eliza

  “More like rude bastard!” spat Levi.

  “Please, we mustn’t get off on the wrong foot with the neighbors.”

  “I think Aunt Millie already did that for us.”

  “Of course she didn’t, that Mr. Farragut is absolutely mistaken. Come on let’s go inside and forget him.”

  Cracking open the front door brought phantom swirls of dust racing into the entry. Shadow and light fought each other for every inch even during midday and it seemed the shadows were winning the battle. Levi wandered through the kitchen and parlor. Eliza threw back curtains and ignored the shifting sunbeams.

  “This will be oh so cozy!”

  Aunt Millie had decorated her home with two things. Black and white dairy cows of every possible artistic representation and a museums worth of Native American art and artifacts. Indian blankets hung on the wall beside cow curtains and beadwork moccasins dwarfed ceramic cows on book shelves.

  “This stuff has got to go,” said Levi, groaning. “Aunt Millie had terrible taste.”

  “I can’t throw it away, but we can move it,” said Eliza. “Or sell it,” she responded, looking at Levi’s frown. “Let’s go look upstairs.”

  “I don’t think this will work out. We would be much better off in Las Vegas, Darling.”

  Eliza ignored his protest.

  A narrow steep stairway brought them up to a surprisingly large bedroom with a big old bed and a variety of dressers and even more book shelves each straining from their weight of collectibles, candles and oil lamps. More artifacts hung upon the walls including a shallow Indian skin drum and several beadwork shirts. Kachina dolls about a foot tall, stood guard over a dresser along with a few lumps of turquoise and silver jewelry. The Native American theme was quickly wearing itself out with Levi who had been raised back east.

  “We shan’t want for reading lights,” he said, motioning t the multitude of candles and lamps. “There must be hundreds.”

  “I seem to recall hearing that Aunt Millie only ever slept with the lights on.”

  “Big old lady like her was afraid of the dark? Ha!”

  “Don’t make fun, she was very kind and never did find a good man like you.”

  “I’m just amused is all,” he said, before checking the oil in the nearest lamp. “It is queer.”

  Eliza took Levi’s hands, “I can see you don’t want to do this, but tell you what, I change the sheets and we spend the night. Sleep on it, and you’ll see this can be an amazing place for us. You’re gonna love it as much as I did when I was a little girl. And it will be ours.” She really emphasized the ‘ours’. She always emphasized the ‘ours’ as far as Levi was concerned, at least with anything that was his, but he paused and thought, her side of the family was putting up this whole piece of property and house. It more than made up for her turning his day shirts into her night shirts.

  She could always bring a smile to his face and even while trying to hide it, he broke into a wide grin. “Ok, let’s spend the night, then decide what we will do.”

  Eliza smiled and immediately remade the bed then went downstairs and began dinner. Levi looked about the house a bit more getting to know all of its nooks and cranny’s. There were even more cows and Indian artworks along with an incredible amount of stored candles and oil cans for the lamps. He then went outside to take in the view and such. The house commanded a good view of the valley, the river and the town of St. Thomas proper. It was desolate and alone and so different from where he grew up. But there was a mystic appeal, perhaps he could make the best of it at least for one night.

  After supper, they talked and read. Then later they exchanged ideas on what they had read. She read from the scriptures as per usual and he was engrossed in a novel about the Civil War.

  When darkness came they prepared to retire for the night and Levi lit a single oil lamp for them to use going upstairs, while joking that he didn’t know which lamp to choose from. They climbed into the cool bed and said their sweet nothings to each other before falling asleep.

  Sometime just after the moon disappeared behind the clouds, but not long after Levi had drifted off, he awoke to hear a scratching at the window. Guessing it was simply the wind and palm tree brushing against the glass he rolled over.

  Then his eyes flew open upon the realization that he was quite sure that the palm tree was far enough away from the window that what he heard would have been quite impossible. All manner of wonder and fear at what could be scratching the window at this time of night fell to upon his weary shoulders. What kind of monstrous animal could possibly reach up the twenty foot span?

  Nothing.

  Well, it had to be an animal of some kind, no man could reach without a ladder. What if it was a man with a ladder? No, it would be easier for a burglar to break in the front door or ground floor windows than the upstairs window. Dear Lord! Was the downstairs already full of robbers? Were they about to be murdered in their beds?

  The fear borne of night was rapidly giving way to madness when he became aware now of another sound besides the scratching at the window. He heard it faintly at first, barely piercing the light snoring of Eliza and the ominous scratching at the window, the low yet soft throb of a drum beat.

  The primeval beat was steady and in his mind’s eye it was the worst most awful sound in the world, a horrible chant of bygone days when savage red men ate raw white flesh.

  He somehow found the fortitude to ignite the lamp and face his fears head on, at least with some courage from the light.

  And there was nothing there.

  No robbers, no red men, no scratching at the window and certainly no skin drum beating to the tune of hell.

  Eliza awoke and asked, “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Nothing. I just thought I heard something.”

  “I heard it too.”

  “What?”

  “The drum.”

  Now whatever daring he had gained in the illumination and lack of fearsome foes was immediately swept back with the revelation of his young bride hearing the drum as well.

  He glanced out the window and though he could see that the wind
blew on the salty grass under the moonlight, there was nothing he could perceive at the window. The palm was frighteningly illuminated a good few paces away.

  “It must have been our imaginations running away with us. Nothing more,” he said.

  “My imagination hadn’t yet time to go anywhere.”

  “You grew up here. Did you ever hear anything?”

  “No,” she said, blinking. “I never spent the night though, my parents lived in Overton and I never had to stay after dusk.”

  He looked at her with worry and confusion. “Perhaps it’s simply that I am in an unfamiliar old home that creaks and pops in the night. Yes, that’s it.”

  “Let’s go back to sleep, I’m sure it was nothing,” she said.

  They slowly laid back down and Levi, pulled the blankets up and then gingerly reached out and turned the lamp down until the flame expired.

  As the flicker of light vanished the soft throb of the drum came back not a moment after the scratching at the window had also returned.

  He leapt out of bed and relit the lamp. He looked again out the window and then under the bed. He opened the bureau and then looked down the darkened stair. Eliza sat upright in bed with a fearful look across puffy eyes.

  Levi was frantic now and paced across the bedroom. “No wonder Aunt Millie left you the house. It’s haunted!”

  “Ridiculous. There must be some other kind of explanation.”

  “You heard it. You give me an explanation.”

  She shook her head, “I don’t have one.”

  “We can’t both be hearing things after dark, and I must tell you that I was near paralyzed with fright until I heard the drum and had courage enough to light the wick and look about.”

  “Well I felt it too but hoped it was just a nightmare.”

  “Oh no, this is real. We both heard the ghost drum. Something terrible is afoot.”

  Levi experimented several times, extinguishing the lamp and letting a nauseous wave of fear envelope him until the beating of the drum thumped him to his very senses and he would relight the lamp. Time and again he thought he saw great shadowy arms or tentacles covering over the window. They obscured the moonlight though he could still see through them.

  Each time with light the horrible darkness, illusions and fear abated as did the ghostly drumming.

  They each took to lighting the lamps in the bedroom and looking everywhere throughout the house for where the sounds came from, both the drumming and hideous scratching. They could find the source of neither, and each time the light was snuffed, both the crawling terror and beat returned.

  At one point a car’s headlights pulled into their driveway and a shotgun was fired twice into the sky and the unmistakable voice of Mr. Farragut shouted that if they didn’t cease their infernal drumming, he would kill someone. He then drove away.

  It only made the longest night of their lives worse.

  As dawn rose red in the east, the aura of despair and dread vanished and so too did the accompanying drumming during the brief moments of blackout.

  They poked at their breakfast in silence for some time until finally Levi said, “We shall have to thank your family for offering us the home but there is no way we can remain here. We ought to sell it for any price we can get, no matter how low.”

  Eliza choked back the tears but nodded.

  With the warm sunny blazing overhead, Levi unlocked the door and stepped outside for some air and to think. He was surprised to see a tall old Indian gathering figs from beside the barn. “Excuse me? What are you doing here?”

  The old Indian turned and smiled. “Oh, hello. I’m Chief John. You must be Millie’s son-in-law?”

  “Not that it’s any business of yours, but yes I am.”

  “Ok, good to meet you too then.” Chief John then turned around and continued picking figs.

  “Just because you used to know Aunt Millie doesn’t mean you can help yourself to our figs,” said Levi.

  “Oh, are you going to live here now?” asked Chief John, without turning around or ceasing picking figs.

  Levi was annoyed at the old Indian still picking the figs, not that he wanted them, as well as the old man’s casual indifference to his statement. “I am for the moment. Though I believe we shall sell and move back to Las Vegas.”

  The old Indian grunted at that.

  “Say,” Levi interjected, “you don’t have a drum do you?”

  “Not on me,” said Chief John, still picking figs. “Do you want one? I gave Millie one years ago. It should still be there.” He turned around now and looked at Levi seriously. “She should still have it upstairs in her bedroom, on the wall. To protect her.”

  “What? How could you know that?”

  Eliza was then beside her husband in the doorway. “Please forgive my husband’s rudeness Chief John. He isn’t familiar with the simple ways out here.”

  Levi looked to Eliza then the old Indian. “You know each other?”

  “Yes, John has been a family friend for years. He did a lot of the yard work and heavy gardening for Aunt Millie.”

  “Yardwork?” asked Levi, looking at the dry wasteland about him.

  Eliza continued. “We spent the night there. Fear and drumming kept us awake all night. We think the place is haunted.”

  “Oh no, it isn’t.” said Chief John.

  “But the drumming.”

  “Oh, the drumming wasn’t the haunting. The drumming was The Blessing Way. It was protecting you from the spirits outside.”

  “Spirits?”

  “Yeah, they slip through the veil and come around once in a while to try and get in.”

  “Get in?” asked Eliza.

  Chief John smirked and tapped his chest. “Yes, get in—here.”

  “You mean possession.”

  “Whatever you call it. But they didn’t. The drum protected you,” he said, simply. “That’s why I gave it to Millie. Lot of bad medicine is drawn to this house.”

  “That and we are also dealing with threats from a Mr. Farragut, who believes we are doing the drumming to torment him.”

  “Oh yes, Farragut, he has the spirit of the weasel. He is no good.”

  “Wait, you just said you gave Aunt Millie the drum?”

  “Of course I did.”

  Levi and Eliza stared at Chief John incredulous.

  “I’m sorry for not warning you, I forgot in my old age. A wicked shaman was killed right about where the home was built and the medicine man of the Paiutes at the time planted a sacred palm[52] tree over his grave to keep the evil spirit of the shaman bound to the earth. Unfortunately he misjudged where the body had been buried by the pioneers and the palm was instead planted only somewhere near the shaman and thus could not keep him at rest. So to make up for it, I gave Millie a sacred drum. It is hanging in the bedroom and it keeps the evil spirits at bay. You had to have seen it.”

  “We did, but we never realized that was where the sound was coming from.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. It is only beat on a spiritual level, something from the other side of the veil. It’s your spiritual ears that hear it, not these,” he said, tugging on Levi’s ears.

  Levi brushed him off.

  “And good news, you should sleep well tonight; the wicked shaman’s spirit only rises from the grave and tries to attack every full moon.”

  “How is that good news?” asked Levi.

  “You will recognize him.” Chief John gestured with his hands clasped and fingers wiggling. “He looks just like a giant tarantula. I suppose that’s why he likes climbing and scratching at the upper windows so much.”

  “Couldn’t we just plant a sacred palm on him now?” Eliza asked.

  “Now that is a good idea. Why didn’t I ever think of that?” he said, rubbing his chin. “But we would have to find the body first. And we don’t know exactly where that is.”

  “How would we do that?”

  Chief John shrugged. “Dig?”

  “Could you?”
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  Chief John held out his hands, “Me? Oh no. I’m getting too old for that. Your fine strapping husband here can do it though. Real quick, I’m sure.”

  Levi flushed at that. Digging for an evil witch-doctors body in his own back yard was not a pleasant thought. But neither was enduring another night like the last. “Perhaps you might at least have an idea on the best places to try first?”

  “Oh sure,” said Chief John. “It would have to be on the west side of the house, near the palm.”

  “How deep would he have been buried?”

  “Oh, not too deep. Maybe five, six foot.”

  Levi scowled at that but proceeded to take the shovel in hand and dig in a spot where Chief John nodded.

  He dug several holes like that all over the back yard finding nothing in any of them to the depth of about six feet.

  “Are you sure we are even close to the right spot?”

  “Oh sure, it has to be right about here.”

  The day was fading to dusk and Levi felt spent from a full day of fruitless digging.

  “The moon still looks pretty full to me,” said Eliza.

  Chief John nodded, “That it does. I wonder if he can escape through the veil on these nights.”

  “You don’t know!?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  Levi was furious with the old man but Eliza held him back, “What if we watch. Could we see where his spirit emerges?”

  Chief John smiled. “You are a very brave Lady, Miss Eliza.”

  “Mrs. Eliza Duke,” snapped Levi.

  Ignoring him, Chief John continued, “We could watch and see and remember the place and plant a palm upon it in the morning.”

  “Oh no, we are not spending another night here,” said Levi.

  “Levi, we have to fix this thing.”

  “No, let’s just sell it and let it be someone else’s problem.”

  “I can tell you right now,” said Chief John, “nobody round these parts would buy it. The market is gone, the mine is gone, and all motivation for people to live out here is gone.”

  “Levi, please?”

  He shook his head. “What are we supposed to do out here when a giant tarantula comes out of the ground? You said it tries to climb the house and get in. You want us to wait out here? No thank you.”