Ghost Town: Spooky Stories of the Old West

By Richard Brent Reed

About the Book
The Old West has intrigued the imaginations of many over the years, drawing people in with the mystery and wonders of the wilderness, gun fights, and stories of heroes and villains. But there is more than meets the eye to the Old West: there is a wild magic that lives within the bones that make up the land. Ghost Town: Spooky Stories of the Old West takes the supernatural and places it into the heart of the Western. With tales of ghost towns, spells, mysterious and mystical women, and everything in between, the genre of the Supernatural Western is born.
About the Author
Richard Brent Reed has been a teacher and attorney with experience in acting, directing, and writing for the stage. He enjoys music, geology, history, horticulture, natural history, and paleontology.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jul 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888126554

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by Richard Brent Reed

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Not too long ago, Kirk Hawthorne, a young man from New England, was knocking around the Southwest in his Ford SUV, looking for gold, ghost towns, and souvenirs. His jackdaw meanderings eventually brought him to Brimstone, Texas, just a few miles from the New Mexico border. Even though his guidebook listed Brimstone as a ghost town whose sulfur mine had been abandoned, for some reason, the place was postcard perfect: not a trace of wear and tear; no grass growing in the streets; not a tumbleweed in sight. A shallow trench circumscribed the pristinely preserved town. Outside the encircling ditch stood the remnants of a few run-down outbuildings and a couple of abandoned wagons deteriorating in the desert sun, along with a dilapidated sign that read:

Welcome to

Brimstone,

Texas,

population

100

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Ironically, the sign stood near what looked like barricades blocking the main street. As the young tourist from New England scanned the ground with his metal detector, a bearded, middle-aged man wearing a brown bowler and a yellow vest approached him.

Lookin’ for somethin’?

I’m looking for artifacts, unless that’s prohibited.

You can help yourself to anything outside of town. That’s beyond our jurisdiction.

I’ll do that, replied Kirk. You’ve done a great job restoring this place. What was the original town like?

Just like you see it.

How did Brimstone become a ghost town?

Tellin’ that there is a tall order. Let’s have a sit in front of the jail over there.

The young New Englander followed the bearded man to the town jail where they sat in the two rustic chairs that furnished the porch.

Fate overtook Brimstone, you might say, continued the yellow vest. "Fate that come in the form of a Confederate colonel and a wagonload of gold.

Texas is a big place. Armies could wander around for days lookin’ for each other. Whole plantations have been known to get lost here in the Lone Star State. And just once, even a town disappeared.

Fascinating, commented Kirk attentively.

The year was 1864, proceeded the storyteller. "The War of Northern Aggression was windin’ down. Southerners of substance began shippin’ their property west so they could hold onto it a little longer and keep from havin’ everything seized by the Union Army. Brimstone, in those days, was known for its hospitality to folks that needed a place to park their portable wealth.

"Then, one day, sometime in December, a colonel in full-dress gray uniform rode into town at the head of a small column of Confederate cavalry. The mayor come out to meet him.

"‘I am Col. John Robert Baylor, 2nd Texas Mounted Rifles,’ says the colonel.

"‘Herbert Boggs, Colonel,’ replied the mayor. ‘I’m the mayor here in Brimstone.’

"‘Mayor Boggs, that dust coming up behind me is a wagon; a heavily guarded wagon. It has been brought here to Brimstone from Galveston by order of President Jefferson Davis in order to place it into your keeping.’

"‘Into my keeping?’

"‘Mayor Boggs,’ began Col. Baylor, dismounting his chestnut mare, ‘are you loyal to the Southern Cause?’

"‘I am, sir. Our whole town is.’

"‘And will you defend to the death against any occupying force of Northern Aggression?’

"‘We will and we shall.’

"‘Then, kneel.’

"Baylor drew his saber. Boggs broke to his knees. The colonel tapped the mayor’s shoulders alternately with his saber, saying:

"‘I hereby induct you into the Mystical Order of the Knights of the Golden Circle. Arise, Sir Herbert, and take your charge.’

"‘What is my charge, Colonel?’ inquired the mayor, scrambling to his feet.

"‘Twenty million dollars in gold. That is the entire cache of treasure plundered from Union towns, trains, and riverboats. Every bit of Yankee gold that we could lay our hands on has been piling up at the port of Galveston for over a year and has, now, been sent west here to Brimstone.’

"‘Why here, Colonel?’

"‘Because Brimstone is the remotest town in the state of Texas that has remained loyal to the Southern Cause. I go to establish New Mexico and Arizona as the new Confederate Empire. That gold will finance our government there. Once we have taken control, I shall send for the gold. Until then, you are to guard it with your lives. But, here is the important thing: no Yankee is ever to get his hands on that gold. You must prevent that at all costs. Is that understood?’

"‘Yes, Colonel, I speak for the whole town: we shall protect that gold with our lives, right down to the last woman and child.’

"‘No, Boggs, the women and children are coming with me to Mesilla. If you’ve got any slaves, they best come too.’

"‘Mesilla. That’s in New Mexico.’

"‘They will be safer there.’

"‘Why won’t the gold be safer there?’

"‘Because, Sir Herbert of the Golden Circle,’ explained Baylor, mounting his horse, ‘I shall send to you Mystic Master Jones. When all is lost, he will know what to do. Meanwhile, get the gold unloaded and pack up your women and children.’

"The gold—mostly sacks of coins—was taken off the wagon and locked up in the town’s one jail cell. A handful of women and children climbed onto the wagon, clinging to their few, pitiful bundles. The saloon girls remained. They weren’t about to leave all of that gold. That left just one hundred people to defend the town.

"The next day, a tall,