The Legend of Annie Murphy

by Frank Peretti

  “Fair enough.” Mac leaped from the jeep. “Let’s go before the sun gets any higher.”

  “Where is it?” Lila asked.

  Mac chuckled. “The perfect place for a mystery: the old cemetery.”

  TWO

  They left the jeep in the middle of the road and set out on foot through the ruins. They had to step around piles of old boards and crumbling rubble where houses, stores, saloons, and other businesses once stood. At times, the sagebrush and cacti allowing, they could even see where the main street and some of the backroads used to be. It didn’t take long for Jay and Lila to appreciate how large the town of Bodine had been.

  “It’s time I acquainted you with the legend of Annie Murphy,” said Mac. “It’s her ghost the boys claim to have seen.”

  Jay and Lila drew close and walked on either side of him, wanting to hear every word.

  “But you have to remember: Legend is one thing; known facts are another. Legend paints Annie Murphy as the most notorious woman Bodine ever saw—a spooky, insane murderess who shot her husband and chopped him into tiny pieces. The facts aren’t quite as gruesome. We know Annie was a real person who came out west around 1885 to join her husband, Cyrus Murphy. We know that Cyrus had staked a claim, started a mine, and struck it rich. We know that Annie shot him in the bedroom of a boardinghouse, although no one is sure why. Some say it was jealousy, and some say she was just greedy and didn’t want to share the wealth with him.

  “Anyway, she was tried, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged, but that never happened. She escaped from jail the night before and got shot trying to flee.”

  They started climbing a low, wind-swept hill above the town’s ruins. Soon they could see several aging, tilting gravestones sticking up above the coarse grass and ragged sagebrush. They read the name and date on the first one they passed: Thomas Carron, August 4, 1801– October 19, 1861. Then another, lying on its side: Elizabeth Macon, who was born in 1832 and died in 1883. It was an odd sensation: The people buried here were long dead. But somehow, the cemetery itself seemed long dead as well, forgotten and fading with the passing of time.

  “The facts don’t tell much of a ghost story,” Jay remarked.

  “Oh, but where the facts end, the legends begin!” said Mac. “According to legend, Annie Murphy came back as a ghost and haunted the town for several days, seeking revenge on the sheriff who had arrested her and the judge who had sentenced her. Several people saw her ghostly form.”

  “But those stories aren’t true?” Lila asked, hoping for a no.

  “Oh, they’re part of the legend. Just like the story about what happened to the sheriff and the judge.” He paused a moment to survey the old cemetery with its leaning, fallen, and crumbling gravestones. “They were both found dead one morning, their bodies flung over Annie Murphy’s grave. Apparently Annie got her revenge.”

  “Oh, but that can’t be true!” Lila wanted to be sure.

  Mac had the glint of a mischievous storyteller in his eye. “No one can prove it true or false, so you never know. But a second tradition grew out of the first one: Anyone who camps on Annie Murphy’s grave will suffer the same fate.” Before either Lila or Jay could scoff or question, he pointed his finger at them and warned, “Those boys tried it the other night, and you know the rest.”

  They followed Mac to the top of the hill where he stopped, looked around to get his bearings, and then peered intently toward a jagged cliff. “Okay, everybody stand right here.”

  The Coopers gathered close and looked in the direction Mac was pointing, toward a weather-beaten cliff to the south. At first there was nothing to see in that massive wall, just furrows, cracks, jagged edges, and meaningless shapes, all highlighted by the long shadows of early morning.

  “It helps if you close one eye; it’ll eliminate your depth perception and flatten the image.”

  The Coopers each closed one eye.

  Lila gasped. “I see her!” It had taken her no time at all.

  “Where?” Jay asked, his hand over one eye.

  Lila pointed. “See that knob sticking up on the top edge of the cliff? Just below that, about a third of the way down.”

  The image leaped out of the cliff so clearly it surprised him. “Whoa!” He studied the image intently just to believe what he was seeing. “You see her, Dad?”

  He did, and the fine detail of the image startled him: a lady wearing a long dress, her hair falling about her shoulders, her hands clasped over her heart, and her eyes, filled with sadness, looking down at them.

  “Incredible.” Dr. Cooper opened both eyes and the image broke up into several pieces, some near, some farther away, making it hard to see as a whole. He closed one eye, and the image came together again. “An incredible formation . . .”

  “If that’s all it is,” said Mac. “I guess you’ve noticed how we’re viewing the cliff from an angle. The right side of the lady’s face is, oh, about an eighth of a mile away, while the left shoulder would have to be . . .”

  “As far as half a mile,” Cooper estimated. “If we were to view the cliff straight on, we wouldn’t see an image at all.”

  “Try moving just a few yards to the left or right.”

  All the Coopers tried it, keeping their eyes on the cliff as they took several steps sideways to the right, steepening the angle of view. Almost immediately, the image broke up as the more distant parts disappeared behind the closer ones. When they returned to their original spot, the stony shapes along the cliff lined up again and the lady reappeared.

  “Unbelievable!” said Dr. Cooper. “I suppose it would happen with any change of distance too?”

  “Of course. If we stood closer, or farther away, or higher, or lower, the perspective would change again, and we wouldn’t see it.”

  Dr. Cooper shook his head in wonder. “I can see how this could start a legend. It’s an amazing formation . . .”

  “Still think it’s coincidence?”

  Cooper raised his hands with resignation. “What can I say, Mac? The formation is at least a hundred feet high, and its various parts are separated in depth by up to a half a mile. It would be impossible for human hands to carve it. I admit it looks just like a woman. I’ll even say I’m amazed. But I don’t know of any reason why it shouldn’t be considered a natural phenomenon.”

  Mac smiled. “Let me offer a reason.” He reached into a leather folder he was carrying and brought out a sheet of paper. “This is a photocopy of the only known photograph of Annie Murphy and her husband Cyrus. It’s dated December 1884.”

  Dr. Cooper took it as Jay and Lila huddled close for a look. They studied the photo, then the formation in the cliff, then the photo, then the cliff. Dr. Cooper held it at arm’s length at his eye level, closing one eye and comparing the long-haired woman in the picture with the woman of stone.

  Neither Dr. Cooper, Jay, nor Lila could think of a word to say, but no words were necessary. Their wide-eyed, drop-jawed expressions gave away what they were thinking.

  “Go ahead,” said Mac. “Try to tell me that isn’t Annie Murphy up there.”

  Dr. Cooper did not want to believe it as he looked long and hard at the formation in the cliff. “Well . . . if it was carved by someone, why is it incomplete? See there, how she has both hands clasped in front of her, but the right arm isn’t finished?”

  “It’s her,” said Lila, totally convinced. “It’s Annie Murphy.”

  Dr. Cooper looked around. “Well, whoever—or whatever—it is, I imagine you’ve marked this spot so we can find it again.”

  “It was already marked,” said Mac. “Take a look.”

  Directly under Dr. Cooper’s feet was a flat grave marker, its inscription weathered but readable. Dr. Cooper could read it when he looked down, but the name he read made him stoop and brush away some grass and dust to be sure.

  The marker read: Cyrus Murphy, 1852–1885. Dr. Cooper immediately looked up at Richard MacPherson. “Mac . . .”

  “I don’t have an explan
ation,” said the professor. “I only know it’s no mistake, and no joke. You’re standing on the grave of Cyrus Murphy, Annie’s husband.”

  Lila stood on the grave marker and looked toward the cliff. There was something about viewing the image of Annie from this perfect angle, this one special spot. “Can you see it? She’s weeping for her husband. She’s mourning.”

  They all huddled close and looked into the sad eyes of the woman in the cliff. It was chilling to see her look directly back at them; there seemed to be a message, a thought behind those eyes.

  Dr. Cooper gazed at the woman for a long moment and considered all he’d seen and heard. Then he turned to Professor MacPherson. “Mac, it looks like you’ve cut short our vacation.”

  Which was fine with Jay and Lila. They gave each other a high five.

  “So what now?” Jay asked.

  “We’ll have to get our gear, bring cameras, climbing ropes, surveying equipment. We need to know how that thing was formed, and why.” Dr. Cooper looked at Mac. “Which means we need to know anything and everything we can about the town of Bodine and about Annie Murphy.”

  “I have people doing research back at the university,” Mac replied. “But don’t forget, there’s still one substantial piece of data we haven’t examined.”

  Dr. Cooper nodded, following Mac’s line of thinking. “The ghost.”

  That turned Jay’s and Lila’s heads.

  “The ghost?” Lila asked.

  Dr. Cooper explained, “It seems the boys were right about the woman in the cliff. It stands to reason they saw the ghost as well. Now we have to try and see it.”

  “We can use my tent,” Mac volunteered. “Okay, then. Let’s get moving so we can get back here by dark.”

  By dark, they were back, ready to wait for the ghost. They pitched Mac’s big green tent just below the crest of the hill so nothing would obstruct their view from the top. Then they stowed their food, camping gear, surveying and climbing equipment, and sleeping bags inside.

  But no one was thinking about sleep right now. They were all tense and wide awake. Sitting in a circle around the grave of Cyrus Murphy, they kept watch in all directions as the last glow of sunset ebbed away and darkness filled the canyon. They had no campfire and refrained from using their flashlights so their eyes would remain sensitive in the dark. They spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, so no sounds would escape their notice.

  For Lila and Jay, it was the oddest feeling. Even at night the canyon’s sharp lines and majestic cliffs were beautiful. The desert air was so clear and the darkness so unbroken by city lights that the stars burned like sparklers overhead.

  And yet the place still seemed gloomy. A creepy-crawly dread lurked in every dark shadow; a goose-pimply chill rode on every breath of wind. It was hard to relax and enjoy the still night.

  “Maybe it’s because we’re waiting for a ghost,” Jay ventured, and Lila nodded in agreement.

  “My people at the university uncovered a little more,” Mac said in a hushed voice. All Jay and Lila could see of Professor MacPherson was a black silhouette wearing a cowboy hat. “Annie Murphy was an illiterate Irish immigrant who came west to marry Cyrus. Once she married him, she murdered him, supposedly to inherit his mine. They were going to hang her, but she tried to escape and the local sheriff, a man by the name of Potter, shot her.”

  “Potter shotter!” Jay laughed.

  “Jay . . .” Lila entreated, giving him a poke.

  “Two more interesting details,” Mac continued with a smile. “There are some accounts of her ghost wandering around Bodine after she was killed. One person reported seeing her out by the cabin Annie and her husband were building near their mine. Someone else reported seeing her here, standing over this grave, weeping for her husband. The sightings of the ghost lasted about a week, and then she was never seen again—that is, until now.”

  The kids could see Cyrus Murphy’s grave marker in the center of their circle. It seemed they were almost daring the ghost to confront them.

  “Uh, what about that other story,” asked Lila, “the one about the sheriff and the judge found dead on top of Annie’s grave?”

  “No confirmation of that one,” Mac reported. “But if it’s any comfort to you, no one knows where Annie’s grave is. The marker is gone now.”

  “Wouldn’t it be right next to her husband’s grave?” Jay asked. “That’s usually how it’s done, you know.”

  “That’s what I think,” said Lila. “I mean, we’re kind of asking for trouble, sitting right here.”

  “Well, this way we won’t miss anything,” said Dr. Cooper.

  “Dad, that’s not funny.”

  The cries of coyotes came to them from somewhere farther up the canyon. Why they had to yowl and yap like that, no one knew, but the sound was creepy.

  “About what time the other night did the ghost appear?” Cooper asked.

  “The boys figured it was between eleven and midnight.”

  Jay pushed a button on his watch and the numbers glowed. It was ten after eleven.

  They fell silent, as if on a hunt and not wanting to scare or alert their prey. It was quiet on that hill. They could hear the distant coyotes, and sometimes the wind, and often the beating of their own hearts.

  A huge, golden moon had peeked over the horizon. As its light moved down the upper canyon walls, the head of the lady in stone was slowly unveiled, her features stark and clear. No wonder the boys had been so scared the other night. In the moonlight, she seemed alive and so much closer.

  Mac spoke in a near whisper. “That reminds me of one other detail I learned today. It seems Annie Murphy was a wood and stone carver who created fine sculpture.”

  “That’s got to mean something,” Jay mused.

  “But what?” Lila countered.

  Dr. Cooper got out his camera and tripod. “I’ve got to get some shots in this light.” He dug around in his camera bag, flipped open a few compartments, and groped for something in the dark. “Oh nuts.

  Hey kids, I need the other camera, the one with the night lens. I think it’s still in the jeep. Would one of you go get it?”

  Lila considered a trip to the jeep: a nice long, scary hike down the hill, a lonely walk through the ghost town of Bodine, and a risky trek along the old dirt road that used to be Main Street. All in the gloomy, spooky dark. “In the jeep?”

  Jay piped up, “I’ll go with you, Sis.”

  “You’ll go with me? Why don’t you just go by yourself?”

  “Because . . . because it wouldn’t be safe to go alone.”

  “What’s the matter, you scared?”

  “Okay, so go by yourself. ”

  “No way!”

  Dr. Cooper settled it. “Both of you go. And you’d better hurry or you might miss something.”

  They jumped up and headed down the hill, quickly but carefully stepping around stones and prickly cacti. Their flashlights remained unused, clipped to their belts. The moonlight helped them. It bathed everything in cold, gray and blue tones, but at least seeing the way was no problem.

  The shadows gave them a jolt every now and then. A limb on a bush could twitch in the wind and look like a lizard darting along. A lizard could look like a still shadow until they got close, then dart away, making them jump.

  They made it quickly through the town and finally saw the jeep sitting in the road like a boxy, squatting toad.

  “Now what was it he wanted?” Jay began to review.

  “The night camera,” said Lila. “You know, high speed lens, high speed film. But let’s hurry.”

  They ran the last several yards to the jeep. Jay found Dr. Cooper’s other camera bag in the backseat and grabbed it. “Okay, let’s go.”

  They turned to start back.

  The jeep made a squeak. Then they heard the tires crunching on the gravel.

  “Jay!” Lila shouted, looking back. The jeep was moving, rolling lazily backward. “What did you do, let off the parking brake?”

&n
bsp; “I didn’t touch the brake! All I did was grab Dad’s camera bag!”

  Jay took off after the jeep but began to stagger as he ran, feeling dizzy. “Whoa . . .”

  He wasn’t alone. Lila was stumbling as well. It was weird. Their eyes saw no motion anywhere, but their feet told them the ground was tilting.

  The jeep rolled a little more, then stopped, then started rolling forward.

  Jay stopped in his tracks and shot a look back at Lila. “Hey, didn’t Professor MacPherson say something about this?”

  Lila stood in one spot, just trying to stay standing. There was nowhere to sit but on a cactus. “It’s gravity! It’s going weird, just like the professor said.”

  The jeep stopped, then started rolling backward again.

  Jay ran, zigzagging and staggering, and finally caught up with the vehicle. He jumped in and yanked on the parking brake then gave a sigh of relief. “Whew! Is this weird or what?”

  Lila managed to return to the road and steadied herself against the jeep. “I still feel dizzy.”

  “Must be the gravity playing games with our inner ears,” Jay theorized. “It’s hard to know which way is up. I’m just glad the jeep moved, otherwise we’d think there was something wrong with us—”

  Lila put her finger to her lips. Jay could read the fear in her eyes and froze, silent. They listened.

  From somewhere amid the ruins of the ghost town, they heard an eerie sound. A coyote? No. It was human. A woman’s voice. For a moment they could hear it, and then it faded.

  They waited, stone still and silent. Their eyes scanned the barren, moonlit landscape. They could see the old chimney some distance away and, nearby, some jagged boards sticking up through the sagebrush. But nothing was moving out there.

  The breeze shifted slightly. They could feel it in their hair.

  The voice came to them again, carried on the breeze. A woman crying . . . no, more like wailing, her voice full of fear. The voice was faint as if far away, and yet they could tell it was coming from somewhere close, somewhere in the ruins.