Strange Happenings

Part of a book I wrote years ago.

The sun hung low over the big Texas sky. The year was 1893 and the fiery leaves started to fall from what little trees there were. A lone rider rode into the little town of Minowa. His black hat was tipped low and his large, callused hands held fast to the reins of his black horse.

The dust kicked up around him as he tied his horse in front of the General Store. He pushed open the door and walked up to the counter.

"Howdy sir, I'd like to buy me some bullets."

The clerk turned around. "Howdy stranger! How many?"

"A hundred will do."

"A hundred?" The clerk whistled.

"What for?"

 "For my business."

The door opened again and in walked a beautiful woman. She had to be in her early twenties, and her long brown hair and sky blue eyes made her a pretty picture indeed.

"Howdy Gideon, I'd like to buy a sack of salt."

"Sure thing, Havannah."

 The stranger turned around. "Howdy ma'am," he said and tipped his hat revealing a perfect white smile and piercing green eyes.

Havannah looked up at the stranger. "Howdy."

The stranger turned to the clerk. "I'll pay for her order too."

The clerk looked up. "Huh?"

The stranger held out a wad of cash. He grabbed his bullets and headed towards the door.

"Keep the change."

The stranger walked out of the store and walked over to the bar. He sat down and lay some cash on the counter.

"Give me an Irish Cream Whiskey."

 "Sure thing stranger." The bartender sat down a frothy amber-colored whiskey.

 The stranger chugged it down. "What's up with this town, boss? Where is everyone?"

 "They're here."

"Why so few?"

The bar was empty.

 "It's ghost season, most of the town folks head over to Chintoga City during this time of year."

"Ghost season? You believe in ghosts?"

 "Naw, I'm not 'stitious, them ghosts are nothing but people's imaginations."

The stranger frowned. "I've heard too many stories not to believe in them."

"Well, I've never seen none."

The stranger shook his head. He turned and walked out of the door and over to his horse.

"Hey!" He yelled as a man jumped onto a horse and rode off. The stranger's horse was spooked.

"Shhh, Ryder, it's OK."

He ran his large hands over Ryder's side. Oddly, he felt a bump on the side of his horse's saddle. He lifted it up and his eyes opened wide.

"S**t, now that don't beat all."

 In the saddle were bags of money. "Now, how am I gonna get rid of this?"

 All of a sudden, three men rode up. The stranger caught a glimpse of a shiny sheriff badge. Fear welled up inside of him. He mounted his horse and started galloping.

"Hey!" The sheriff yelled. "Get back here!"

 The sheriff and the two men with him rode after the stranger.

The stranger rode for his life. The wind ran through his horses mane as the nervous energy coursed through his veins.

All of a sudden, his horse reared up and he catapulted off onto the rocky terrain. Pain shot through his body and he tasted blood.

"It doesn't pay to break the law. Check his horse." The sheriff nodded.

"Here's the money," said a deputy holding up the bags.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" The sheriff looked down at him.

" I didn't do it," said the stranger and he coughed as blood dripped down his throat.

"You little liar! Boys, tie him up and take him to the jail."

The deputies grabbed the stranger roughly and threw him onto the back of his horse. Usually, they would've had a big struggle, for under the stranger's black shirt and leather pants were rippling muscles. However, he was in such pain, he couldn't move without pain shooting up his body. They took him to the jail and threw him in.

The stranger crawled to his cot and climbed onto it.

 "The judge is coming in Friday after next," said the jailer.

"There'll be a hangin' in Minowa city!"

The stranger glared at him. "Don't be so sure."

"Oh, a smart mouth-huh?" The jailer spit at the stranger.

"Hey, that's nasty Thompson."  The sheriff walked in.

"Wha?"

"Stranger, what's yer name?" The stranger said nothing.

"Listen you heathen, if you answer, it'll go a lot easier fer ya."

The stranger glared at him.

"Wait a minute, sheriff, I think I recognize him!" said a deputy. He ran over to the desk and went through a pile of papers.

"Aha! It's Jensen Black! He just got out of the state penitentiary."

The sheriff narrowed his eyes. "You'd think you would've learned!"

 "State penitentiary-eh? Well, I'll make him wish he stayed there!" said the jailer.

The stranger rolled his eyes.

 "Don't believe me?" Well, you will, you will."

The stranger (or Jensen Black) sat on his ragged cot, his body burning in pain. He knew he had to get out of there...and fast. All of the evidence was stacked up against him, yet he didn't do it.

He sighed and placed his hands behind his head. All of a sudden, the door to the jail opened up.

He heard a voice as pretty as singing birds say, "Howdy, Thompson."

"Oh...ah...er, howdy Miss Carson." The jailer stood up and tipped his hat. "What can I do fer ya?"

"I'd like to talk to the prisoner."

 "That heathen? Why?"

 "I'd like to give him a piece of my mind, that's why!"

"Well, you do that!" said the jailer with a sneer.

Jensen stood up as Miss Havannah Carson headed over to his cell.

"You've got some nerve!" she said.

Jensen took off his hat and looked up at her. "I didn't do it."

Havannah's eyes widened at the sight of his face. He was actually very handsome. His chin was squared with a little cleft in in, his cheeks were defined and his nose was straight and strong. His eyes were piercing and green and his straight, white teeth were a stark contrast to his tanned skin. However, he was all cut up and full of scabs from his earlier escapade.

Her eyes grew cold. "You stole from my father and then had the nerve to buy salt for me with my father's stolen money!"

"I didn't steal any money, I paid for your salt with my money."

"Liar! You heathens are all the same! Tryin' to convince naive girls your innocence! Well I'm not naive!"

She grabbed a handful of salt from a little brown bag and threw it at him. "Take it back! I don't want any part of your thievery!"

Jensen walked over to the bars. "Look in my eyes, Miss Carson, and tell me I'm lying. I'm not."

Havannah crossed her arms. She squinted her eyes and was about to say something when it happened...

The lights started to blink on and off and the wind chime out front started to chime like crazy.

Havannah's eyes grew wide and her hands started to shake.

"What?"

 "It's them." she whispered.

"Whom?"

"Them darn ghosts!" the jailer yelled and he took out his revolver.

Havannah backed up against the wall.

 Jensen called out. "Havannah, let me out, I can help you."

"Don't listen to him!" said the jailer.

"Please, I can help you!" The shutters started to flap. "Please."

 Havannah took another scared look towards the shutters and then looked back at Jensen. She ran over to the desk, grabbed the keys and headed towards Jensen's cell.

 "Hey! Come back here!" The jailer yelled.

The shutters burst open...

A wispy beam of light stretched forth.

All of a sudden, the jailer started to gag. "Ahhh! Get it off of me!"

The ghost appeared as a deathly-looking man. It's eyes were white and it's hands were tipped with claws. It started to claw at the jailer.

"Ahhh!" The jailer screamed as crimson blood dripped off of him.

"Havannah!" She shoved the key into the lock.

Jensen burst out of the jail and grabbed the brown bag from Havannah.

The ghost turned it's deathly white head towards him and it's mouth opened to reveal sharp, jagged teeth.

Havannah screamed as the creature lunged towards them.

Jensen threw salt from the bag at him.

It disappeared with a blood-curling scream.

Havannah's eyes were as wide as wagon wheels & her skin was pink & flushed from fear. "Wh-what d-did you do?"

"I threw some salt at that angry spirit ma'am, and boy was he mad!" Jensen wiped the sweat off his brow.

Jensen walked over to the jailer and felt his pulse. "S**t! Just my luck!"

He looked over at Havannah. "Oh, sorry ma'am. Shoot!"

 "What?" "He's dead." She put a hand to her face.

"Oh no! Not another one!"

 "Yeah, well, that ain't the worst of it. They're likely to charge me with his murder."

Havannah's eyes widened. "But you tried to save him!"

 "No s**t! Err..shoot. Sorry. They're not gonna believe it was a ghost Miss Carson."

 "Believe what was a ghost?" said a voice behind them.

..........to be continued