Sara's Ghost

By Lillie Bowles

Sara had come all the way from Prescott, Arizona, to claim a ranch she had inherited near Cheyenne, Wyoming. But the ranch was not all that came with her inheritance. The ranch held a secret from the past she needed to reveal.

Gene, a local rancher, had to wonder about this young lady and the task she had set for herself. He and his mother play a role in uncovering, yet an altogether different plot that could also be targeted against Sara.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 14, 2007
• ISBN: 9781467095419

Lillie Bowles

  This is the first time I have ever attempted to get anything I have written published. I’ve written scary ghost stories for my grandsons for Halloween readings, and Christmas stories of my Christmas’ past, for Christmas Eve reading.  I have small booklets about my Mother and Grandmother, including pictures of their past. My brother, sister and I are writing a document book on our youth, about growing up on a family sawmill. It's titled "Sawmill Days." Other items include two other books started but not completed.     Sara’s Ghost has been a long time coming. It started out as one of my booklets stapled together. Everyone I gave it to wanted me to do more on it, so I did. I revamped it until it became what I sent to be published. I’m just happy to have it out there.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Wyoming

When Sara left her motel room on the outskirts of Cheyenne, Wyoming, heading for Interstate 80, she noted the time. Five in the afternoon. She knew it was getting pretty late to be going into unfamiliar territory, but she wanted to do this. Excitement was propelling her forward. She had driven from Grand Junction, Colorado, at first light that morning which took a bite out of most of her day. On arriving in Cheyenne, she had checked into a motel, gassed up her small SUV and grabbed a bite of lunch. After swinging by Sweeney’s office to pick up a key and directions, she was out on the road again. Sara had given herself less than two weeks to finalize her business up here and get back to her home in Prescott, Arizona.

It was late in August, the sun was getting close to the western horizon. As she nosed her SUV into a westerly direction, the sun hit her straight in her eyes. Pulling down the visor, she knew she would have only another hour before nightfall.

This trip had been Sara’s first encounter with the vast prairie land she had read about in novels. She had begun to feel the full effect of the vastness when she crossed the state-line bordering Colorado and Wyoming. Driving north, up I-25 out of Denver earlier in the afternoon, was the last leg of her two-day journey. The first leg, of course, being from Prescott.

Sara had seen many herds of antelope scattered across the rolling gray-green hills, with some of the beautiful animals feeding nearer to the fenced roadsides. With these up-close observations, she could make out the striking colors of their bodies and see those unique black pronghorns more distinctly.

As she moved along I-80, she noted how heavy the traffic had become. Being a regular route for the big rigs, they rushed past threatening to whoosh her off the road. The first part of the afternoon’s drive, at least from the Colorado state-line, hadn’t seemed so busy, now she wondered if it was always like this out here. With her radio turned up, she grabbed the steering wheel and hung on for dear life making the most of her wild ride.

After what seemed like forever, Sara saw her exit approaching and prepared to ditch the hectic Interstate. The road she connected with angled off to the right. It was dirt, bumpy and dusty, her small SUV leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The road headed toward some distant hills. She could make out evergreen trees sparsely dotting the landscape, also what appeared to be rocks rising up as a distant backdrop. She hadn’t expected the road to be quite this bad, so to compensate she drove more slowly from one pothole to the next. Sara wondered as she drove along, and at this speed, how long it would take to reach her intended goal.

The sun was setting as Sara found her way into the fat junipers she had seen from afar. The road was now swerving at times to keep the trees out of harm’s way. Also, the rocks she had seen from a distance were now huge boulders rising from either side of the road. While in this rocky, juniper-clad section, Sara lost the signal on her car radio. With the road being so rough, she would have had to stop in order to find another frequency, but decided against it. She drove on in silence becoming aware of the long stretches of lonesome Wyoming back road. Shadows were growing deeper as she jostled along, hoping it wouldn’t be too much longer before she arrived at her destination, and praying her arrival would be in one piece.

Her destination was a house that used to be headquarters for the old Dobson Ranch. She was told it consisted of a main house, barn and some outbuildings sitting on 4,000 acres of land. This was all that remained of a once flourishing 12,000 acre spread. Now she, Sara Porter of Prescott, Arizona, was the new owner.

Chapter 2

Wyoming Back Roads

Old Uncle Gerald Dobson, whom she had only heard about, had named her in his last will and testament. Sara was beneficiary of the whole works. What reason did the old man have for leaving her this place? He could have sold it and retired. Maybe he tried, perhaps the house was in such poor condition that he knew no one would buy it. What would she do with it? What would it look like? How much would it cost if repairs were needed? Repairs were very likely, taking into consideration its age. All these thoughts and questions dogged her mind as she bounced down the dusty, darkening road.

Sara had done some research on her uncle’s side of the family and truly she was the only heir. This afternoon Gordon Sweeny had given her scanty information about the old place, the deed, and some instructions on how to get there. He said there was an account set up for her containing the funds collected from renters over the years. Of course, he took his share off the top. He didn’t say how much and she didn’t ask. No other discussion was offered. She had been dismissed. A negative on his personality, she thought. I need to see that account and maybe it could go for repairs where needed.

As she drove along trying to miss as many holes as possible, she got to thinking about why she had never had the chance to meet Uncle Gerald. Her father, a nephew of the man, had died when she was a child. Her mom remarried and had not associated with the Dobson family after that. Of course, Sara could have looked him up when she was older, but couldn’t come up with a reason to do so.

Now she wished she had.

Crap, she said out loud as another pothole shook her small SUV. ‘Takes a good driver to hit all of them,’ her father would say. She was by no means a beginner on rough roads. She had driven her share in and around the mountains near Prescott. This road reminded her of going up Walker Road, only not as steep or curvy, and the Walker roadbed had rocks sticking out instead of holes.

Sara had been aware of a slow gentle climb ever since she left the Interstate. Every mile was getting more lonely and desolate and darker. She had turned on her headlights a couple of miles back. Oops, she said, after coming around a blind corner. Hitting her brakes hard, the car swerved a bit on the gravel and skidded to an abrupt halt on the left shoulder. Standing in the dusty beams from her headlights were three white tail deer. The does were baffled by the bright lights, but their curiosity was working overtime. They stood watching her, their long ears posed in the alert mode. Hey, Sara called out. Move it over! As if hearing her, they slowly sauntered over the edge of the road, turned with tails straight up, and bounced into the dark shadows of the bushes and out of sight.

Chapter 3

Shotgun Road

Sara sat there a minute realizing how dark it had gotten. Thoughts of turning around drifted through her mind. She had just about talked her way into doing just that. Before steering into a U-turn, she noticed a fork in the road just past where the deer had stood. Instead of completing the turn, she continued ahead for a closer look. In the beam of the headlights she saw the name of the road she had been looking for, ‘Shotgun Road.’ On spotting that name, she figured she might as well keep going and find out what fate held in store at the end of this road.

As Sara turned the wheel to the right to head down ‘Shotgun Road,’ her eyes caught another movement to her left. She turned and saw nothing. Then the car lights shot ahead and the area was dark again. OK, don’t get jumpy now. You didn’t see anything, but the light shuffling through bushes. About this time reality kicked in and she thought, what the heck am I doing out here on this creepy road in the dark and all alone? What was I thinking? I know I’m on a tight schedule here, but maybe I should have waited till morning. What did I think I’d find out here in the pitch black with only a flashlight? A very small flashlight at that.

Needing a quick calming down, Sara gave a thought to her mother and Pops at home in Prescott. They would just be finishing supper dishes, getting ready to settle down for the night in front of the TV. Her mother would be watching, but her thoughts would be of her wayward daughter all alone traversing the wilds of Wyoming. She’d really have a fit if she knew exactly where her daughter was at this moment.

Mom would have had a busy day with the flower shop she and Sara owned jointly, ‘Pick Your Own.’ The shop was in the heart of Prescott and had been a very rewarding and profitable business venture for them all. Pops had retired, but liked to putter around fixing things. He ran out of fixables at home, so he opened up a small shop where he could have a real assortment of putterables. Pops would be helping at the shop while Sara was on this trip. He also had a green thumb and would surely come up with some new ideas. Pops was one of those guys who always had a smile no matter how bad you messed up. Sara never had a problem going to him with things she tortured herself about. He teased her a lot and she loved it. He could make a smile emerge from a tear-stained face.

Pops had an identical twin brother, Steve. Both were tall, with lanky frames, and were sliding headfirst into their fifties. They also shared the beginnings of small potbelly tummies. Although their hair was getting thin on top, they both had a face full of fur, mostly white. They joked about growing beards and playing Santa Claus every Christmas. It was really a Prescott beard-growing contest. Who couldn’t like guys like that?

Sara had been raised in and around the fast growing mountain town of Prescott. She had attended the high school there and graduated in the top half of her class. Her folks’ house had been a regular hangout as friends came and went. Sara had remained chummy with most of her school pals, some married with families, but others were still trying to find themselves. They wanted to try for careers before settling down, much as she was doing. Time would come later to start looking for what she called a ‘life partner.’

Sara was a very likeable and attractive woman of twenty-four. She had dark, shiny straight hair that danced about her neck and shoulders as she moved. That is, unless she had it in her usual ponytail. Her eyes were a soft brown like those of a shy doe. Her skin was well tanned from being outside way too much. She was tall, slender, just shy of six feet, and she carried herself as if she were proud of every inch. If someone would have to choose the most recognizable trait about her, it would have to be her infectious smile. It just happened.

So here I am on a long dirt road, Mom, with not a solitary soul except for deer and creepy shadows. I really am a peculiar piece of work, huh?

Sara looked down at the speedometer to check the distance. She had taken a reading when she made the turn at the ‘Y’ and was now approaching her allotted six miles, one heck of a long six miles.

As the high beams lit up the side of the road on the next curve, she could see the faint depressions of a weedy driveway heading off to her left. As she got closer she saw a gate with an old piece of wood arched above the entrance. This should be what she was hunting for. She pulled closer to the closed gate, noticing the name on the weather beaten sign above. ‘DOB.’ It had probably spelled ‘DOBSON’ at an earlier date, but now time and weather had taken their toll.

As she sat there looking out at the sign and closed gate, her busy mind started in again. I need to get out of the safety of my car and try to open that thing in the dark. Looks like three poles with three strands of barbed wire holding it all together. Of course there was no evidence of a lock, or Sweeney would have given her a key. Folks around here must trust one another, or maybe there is nothing left here to worry about.

Sara opened the car door. Very carefully she stepped out. Looking about, she began walking cautiously toward the gate. In the light of the car beams, and standing in front of the loosely hung mass of tangled wire and poles, she continued the conversation with herself. OK, this must be the side it opens from. It has a piece of wire looped around this pole at the top… one at the bottom. This looks pretty simple. All I have to do is take this top wire off, then lift the bottom of the pole up and out of the bottom wire. Piece of cake!

Cake it was not! She had to put some muscle into it. It took her a couple of tries before she was able to lift the top loop of wire over the gate pole. No wonder they don’t need locks around here. By the time they figure out how to open the darn thing, they forgot what it was they opened it for.

Now she had the pole of the opened gate in her hands. I guess I can just drag the whole thing over there out of the way, lay it on the ground and be on my way. After dropping the gate, she made her way back toward the driver’s side of her car.

She drove thru wondering if it would be OK to leave the gate open. On second thought, she muttered to herself, There’s no way I’m going to open that thing twice. What could be so valuable in here to keep this gate shut? She scanned the scene in her rear view mirrors seeing only darkness with shapes of the fence posts tinged in red. Nope, no way! I’ll worry about it later on my way back to town. Driving on, she hoped there were no other gates that needed opening. Desolate darkness filled the car as she continued on down the drive.

Chapter 4

Her Old Ranch House

In a short distance her headlights lit up some huge trees over hanging the drive, then she spotted the shadowy outlines of wooden sheds. As the lights flashed over them, she knew these sheds were in bad shape. Sara made a right turn at the end of a huge barn-looking structure and was coming up on what appeared to be the front of the main house. At her first glance Sara thought she saw a light on somewhere at the top of the house. But looking more closely, she saw only the lights from the car reflecting off the windows.

The closer Sara got, the more she started thinking about the house itself. Mr. Sweeney said it had been rented out for many years. He also said the power was on, it had well water and was livable, should be relatively clean. The house had remained empty since the old man’s death ten months earlier. Evidently he had spent quite a long time in a nursing facility. Now that all the legal papers for the ranch were drawn up and taken care of, the house sat awaiting its new owner, herself. At the thought of really owning all of this, for better or worse, her heart flopped a couple of beats.

Sara had parked in front of the house and sat there with the headlights directed on the old building. Hmm, somewhat rundown, looks rather spooky with bushes and weeds growing wild in front as if trying to hide itself. The place needs more work than Sweeney had mentioned. I have no idea about anything inside, maybe I should just go on back to town. She sat a few more minutes battling her nerves, then with determination in her voice she spoke out loud, Well crap! I’ll just do it, With that she killed the lights and engine.

Armed with a small penlight flashlight and a set of house keys, she got out of her car. Closing the door as quietly as possible, she made her way around and up the walk leading to the front door. She could tell from the little spot her flashlight made on the cement near her feet, that the sidewalk had a lot of cracks and missing pieces. In places the weeds were growing up to her ankles. About half way up the walk she uttered, Damn! While she had been watching her feet, an overgrown bush slapped her in the face. Still rubbing her cheek from the stinging branches, she made her way to the big porch, up two steps and across to the door. Progress.

As she put the key in the lock and started turning it, Sara had a strange feeling of intruding, so she tapped a couple of times on the old wooden door before going any farther. Of course no one answered, thankfully. Sara continued turning the key, then twisted the old brass doorknob. Slowly she pushed opened the door. A loud creak sounded and the smell of stale air filled her nose as she stepped into the room. She clumsily felt around on the wall just inside the doorframe for a light switch. Found one and flipped it on. Nothing happened! Oh? she spoke in surprise and tried again. No lights! Now what? Sweeney did say the electricity was on, didn’t he? She gave the switch a few more flips before flashing her dinky light around the room in search of a light source. Maybe the bulb is gone… no, it’s there, must be the bulb’s burned out. I’ll just try another light switch.

She walked around the front room flashing her tiny light here and there. She was looking for some sort of lamp or another light bulb, anything to turn on to show the power was actually on and get some light in here.

She ventured through a doorway into another room. From the beam of her flashlight flitting about the room, she found it empty except for an old box radio sitting on what looked to be a dresser. This will prove if we have power or not. Sara turned a knob to the ‘on’ position and could hear static. So there was power! She turned the radio off. In the same room she found another wall switch, flipped it, and the lights came on. Thank goodness, she whispered. Now back to the front room and see what I missed.

Just as she was about to flip the front room switch, the lights in the other room went out. She jumped and pushed the switch up all in the same motion. The lights came on! She froze! What’s going on here? Must be an intermittent switch. I’ll bet that’s the problem, she theorized. The wiring needs attention. Another thought sprang from her rankled mind. What if I’m not alone… what if there’s someone else in here? Is someone here? she whispered quietly and waited. If there is, please don’t do this anymore! Hello? Her voice was a little jerky and kind of squeaky. This is not fun anymore! She waited again.

Instead of running out the door, she walked back to the room with the radio. She reached out to turn on the light, then stopped with her thumb ready before flipping the switch. Nothing happened to the light in the living room, so she pushed up. The light came on and the other one stayed on too!

What in heaven’s name is going on in here? she called out. This time, a little hot under the collar and not worrying about intruding. This is my place now, and I’m calling the shots. Show yourself or get out! She spoke out to help calm herself, but mostly to break the silence and to gather up some of her already crumbled nerves.

What are you doing, Sara? You’re beginning to sound like a real loony. No one is here, you’re alone and it’s just a faulty circuit. What did you think, some ghost from the past would jump up and answer you?

She slowly started surveying her new house. She first checked out the small room she was in. There was no bed, just an aged gray dresser located at the far wall with the radio sitting on it. For the heck of it, she walked over and turned the radio back on again. A lot of static leaped out into the empty room, so using the tuning knob she scanned till she found music. The song coming out of the outdated radio was country. She knew this old song, loved this kind of music. This seems fitting for a ranch house, she said, and turned the volume way up. The noise of the music helped her collect her nerves once again. At least she couldn’t hear the old creaks and moans that older houses gave off. She didn’t feel she needed any more jolts tonight.

Keeping her small flashlight in hand just in case, she headed for a second doorway in the small room, just right of the way she had entered. It led into a hall. Directly across the hall was a bathroom. The floors seemed solid, creaking here and there, but in better shape than she had expected. She entered the bathroom and yes, the light worked in there too! It looked clean, running water when she turned the tap. Tub and pot looked clean, a little old and chipped but clean. Opening drawers and doors in the sink cabinet, she found some old smelling but clean towels and washcloths. Some cleaning soaps and unidentified bottles of stuff were under the sink. Soap in the soap caddy. I wonder if there’s hot water? she pondered, wondering where the hot water tank was located and what condition it was in. A weird thought occurred to her. A hot soothing bath would feel really great, as this has been a long day. Then immediately in the same thought, anything having to do with that tub was completely out!

Sara left the light on and continued her tour of the house. At that moment above the blare of the radio, she heard what she thought sounded like a chair being scraped across the floor. Yes, very distinctly, I heard someone move a chair. Swallowing hard and holding her breath, she waited for more sounds. Rooted to the spot, Sara tried to get a grip on her strained nerves. She had gained a little courage and now the amount gained was about floor level. The sound had come from a part of the house she had not yet explored. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly down the hall in the direction of the noise.

Moving quietly, she came upon a stairway. There was also another room opening just beyond the stairs. Sara decided on that room, as she knew the scraping sound had not come from up those steps. I don’t remember a second floor as I was driving in. Oh yes I do, the one with the light in the window. Oh Lord! I’m positively not going up there.

She flashed the walls with the little beam and found another light switch near the stairwell. It came on with a flip of her thumb. The more illumination throughout the house, the safer I’m gonna feel. I’ll just turn on all the lights, and hope they stay on!

Sara had just entered the room, the room where she thought the noise had come from. The whole area lit up! This time she wasn’t even close to a wall switch. Sara jumped and brought her hand up to her mouth to keep from screaming. Looking around the room, she noticed it was a kitchen. She saw no one! I know now I’m not alone! She clamped down on her bottom lip as her eyes darted around the room. They landed on the small drop-leaf table in the center. The table alone wasn’t what jangled the mangled nerves she was working with, it was the four chairs at the table. The one nearest her had been pulled out. The scraping sound I heard! Oh my God! This time fear raced through her like a freight train. Sara wanted to run, but her feet felt like cement. She couldn’t have moved if she tried. After what seemed like an eternity, her eyes began moving around the room, the rest of her body remained frozen to the floor.

Sara waited for a long period of time, no crash, thud or scraping occurred. She willed her body to loosen and start thinking again. This is all starting to make more sense. I think what we have here is someone playing games with me. Well hey, she said loudly. I don’t like this game, so you might as well show yourself. My name is Sara!

Chapter 5

Gene

Out on the gravelly ‘Shotgun Road,’ Gene came barreling along heading for home. Home happening to be the Jarvis Ranch, a few miles farther on. The ranch was where he had been born and raised. After the passing of his father years before, the whole kit and caboodle had been turned over to him. The 12,000 acres belonged to his family for over seventy years, and as he was the only offspring, he took over. It was not the biggest spread in the area, but was run like a well-oiled machine.

Gene had spent four years at CSU in Fort Collins, a town just over the Wyoming state line into Colorado. He majored in animal husbandry and agriculture. Before his schooling years, he did a four-year stint in the Marine Corps. The last four years he spent money and time adding a complete new cattle-breeding program to the ranch. The livestock he hoped to produce were to be a much more hardy breed, more lean and easily adapted to the harsh Wyoming climate. Now he was anticipating a big pay off. He looked forward to years of success for both him and his crew.

At the young age of thirty, he had accomplished a great deal with the help of three ranch hands plus their families who also lived on the ranch. His mother, Anna, lived there also. If one would ask Gene, she was still in charge. She knew how to take charge, she had to after her husband’s death. Now and then she would give her two-cents worth on this or that, but most of the time she approved of Gene’s new ideas and changes. She mostly took care of her garden and the house and let him run his ranch.

One of the ranch hands, Max, who’d been there as a young man, was in charge while Gene was away at school, also during his stint in the military.

Now, as Gene flew past the old Dobson Ranch gate, he did a double take. What the hell, the gate’s open! He braked, backed up and turned down the driveway. Better check this out. No one has lived here for months, and unless I’m mistaken, no one should be in here now.

Chapter 6

More Exploration

Sara stood in the doorway waiting for her feet and legs to move on their