Dr. Bones & Missy Grey: The Boggy Creek Monster

By Alex Ross Carol

The date is 1881; the scene, the western frontier—Texarkana, Arkansas. Reports of a monster living near and around the swampy lowlands, not a day’s ride from the town, have sparked the interest of a well-respected, medical doctor in Boston. Only in his thirties, Dr. Reginald Cook (nicknamed, “Bones”) is approached by government officials to investigate the massacre of army corpsmen that took place near Boggy Creek—the swamp area near Texarkana.
Dr. Bones takes up the challenge and is joined by a woman whose wealthy family decides to help the doctor with his travel expenses but on the condition that her daughter and nephew go along. The doctor arrives in Texarkana only to discover more than just an alleged attack by a monster. Quickly, he becomes embroiled in something far bigger, that could end disastrously—both for the town and for the three monster hunters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue M Publishing
• Release date: Jun 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463153703

Alex Ross Carol

Alex Ross Carol is a pen name of the author who uses it for books he creates of a certain genre. Mr. Carol has written fantasy and adventure novels. He lives with his family in Chicago.

Book preview

CH 1 - Professor Bones

Boston 1881

The classroom was large and spacious with high-beamed ceilings, creaky wooden floorboards and rows of old, oak desks arranged in crescents around a central stage. Each desk was simple and plain and no bigger than needed to hold a single book. All the same, each also came with its own ink well and a black, nib pen. The tops of the desks were slanted toward the short, squat stools that were usually tucked snuggly beneath and out of the way. On this day, the desks were all in use as the medical students packed the room to take their final exams of the semester.

It was a hot, summer day with little air blowing through the open windows along one side of the classroom. Together with the tension generated by the exam, the stale, moist air made the room a veritable pressure cooker for all. And while others were frolicking in the refreshing cool waters of the Charles River or enjoying the warbling of pigeons as they picnicked on the esplanade, the medical students inside were baking in their own juices - sweating as much from the hot temperature in the room as from the tough questions on the exam.

You have thirty minutes, said Professor Reginald T. Cook, who went by the nickname Dr. Bones.

There was a collective groan through the classroom, but the students pressed on. The class—Anatomy - was one of the hardest on campus. Having already taken their clinical test with the cadavers, the medical students now had to show their mastery over the nomenclature of the body parts and their functions. Dr. Bones didn’t make it easy for them either. Students who passed the class were considered high-achievers and could go on to pursue their dreams of becoming a medical doctor. Those who didn’t, would be urged, or even pushed, to find another vocation.

Twenty minutes, said Dr. Bones looking over the tops of his oval glasses. He glanced back at the pocket watch his father had given him during his youth. It had a silver chain that drooped slightly before attaching to his vest pocket; it even had a flip-open cover to keep the crystal from cracking should it be dropped.

Ten minutes, the professor cried out, giving the students an evil eye from under the bushy awnings of his dark brown eyebrows.

No student had risen to bring his paper forward for grading. It was rare when one finished one of Dr. Bones’ tests early. When that happened, it was usually because the student had utterly given up, surrendering to his prolonged torment.

Five minutes, said the professor, checking his watch again.

At that point, one student rose from his desk, and, setting his pen aside, he strode to the front of the classroom to present his papers. Dr. Bones looked at the student with suspicion but accepted the pages all the same, placing them face down on the corner of his desk as a primer for the others to follow.

The examination will finish in three minutes.

Dr. Bones placed his watch on the desk next to the test papers already returned and waited as the seconds ticked by. He had some help in the room. Three proctors were there to assist him—each a senior medical student who was studying under his tutelage.

There is one minute remaining. Please finish whatever you are working on, as we will begin collecting them, said Dr. Bones, moving around his desk and collecting his things to make a quick exit.

The professor was not known for being warm and sociable. He came from a strict Calvinist family from Sussex county in England. His father, Charles M. Cook, had been a minister of the church there before leaving for the United States in 1861. Cook had left the country with his wife and five children in hopes of a better life in America. He had voiced his disagreement with several of the Calvinist practices of the times and had eventually become ostracized. Fearing for his family, Charles decided to leave England, departing on the ocean-going ship, RMS Godfrey in April but not reaching Boston Harbor until later that summer.

Dr. Bones’ mother, Matilde Cook, was a stern woman, but one who cared deeply for her children. Never willing to spoil them, she would, however, encourage them by giving them additional slices of cheese in their lunches if they behaved properly and did their chores on time.

After landing in Boston, Charles found a Protestant parish that was willing to accept him as their minister, even though he was ordained one of the Calvin faith. Of their five children, one died on the passage across the Atlantic, while another perished from dysentery in 1866. The remaining three matriculated to the university system. Claire broke new ground for women by being the first one in her class at Boston University in 1873, and Reggie’s younger brother, Orville, attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, also known as MIT, a few years later, doing exceedingly well in his engineering classes and showing great promise with his ingenuity and creativity.

In 1875, tragedy struck when Matilde was hit by a carriage in downtown Boston. She lay in a coma for two days before she passed. No one in the family fully recovered from it. Charles went on with his parish but grew somber and distant. Some said he lost his faith, but others said he understood it was God’s will but just had trouble moving on.

Reginald had always gravitated toward learning about the human body and remedies and herbs that helped in the healing process. He attended Harvard medical school, graduating first in his class. He setup his own practice near Cambridge, and when the college needed someone to add to their medical teaching staff, they knew right where to go.

As time was evaporating for the medical students, pens were writing furiously throughout the room. Bones watched as the last seconds ticked off his pocket watch.

Time’s up! Dr. Bones announced. Proctors, please collect the examinations.

Rushing through the aisles, the proctors began pulling papers from desks as the students put their pens back in the inkwells. Many students rose, shaking their heads dismally and gathering their things before leaving through the back doors of the room.

Just bring them up here, said Bones, motioning to his assistants. Put them here on the desk, if you will.

The papers were brought forward and stacked high on the desk. One of the proctors, Samuel Stinson, was an outstanding and promising young lad with a penchant for medicine, much like Bones had been when he had attended classes there. Young for medical school, Stinson was barely nineteen, but he was exceptionally smart and precocious. Whatever the topic, he was interested in learning more about it and absorbed information like a sponge—particularly anything medically related.

When do you think you’ll finish grading them? asked Samuel, depositing a stack on the desk.

I should have them finished within the next two days, said Bones. Then, I’ll post the grades on the board outside in the hall. That’s what you can tell anyone who asks.

The room cleared, including the proctors, leaving only the professor to finish stuffing the papers into his saddle brown satchel. But just as he snapped the latch shut, the double doors in the back of the classroom reopened, letting in a stream of bright sunlight.

In walked two men in dark blue suits. One wore a fashionable four-button, chalk stripe that tapered to tails in the back. The high-collar white shirt had rounded tips and pulled down neatly over a navy ascot tie. His light brown hair was cut short, albeit greying along the temples. He looked distinguished in his own right, sporting a closely-cropped beard and a formal, upright posture. With piercing black eyes, narrow and small, a large, prominent nose and high cheekbones, he was a clear presence of force and showed himself to be someone of authority.

Next to him came another man—shorter and less sophisticated. He too had a dark suit although not as current or finely-tailored. His face was rounder and flatter than that of the first. With a bulbous nose and puffy, brown eyebrows, his presence was softer and less intimidating. More rotund and jolly-looking, the second man had ash-brown hair and a longer beard of the same color but with patches of darker brown mixed in, making it mottled and uneven. Somewhat frumpy, the man had a starched, white shirt that was slightly wrinkled, and a red bowtie that was a bit askew. He walked directly behind his companion, who used a silver-capped cane to aid him in his path to the front of the classroom where the professor was erasing exam instructions from one of several streaked chalkboards.

Dr. Cook? Dr. Reginald Cook? asked the well-dressed man.

Yes. It is I, said Bones. Who, may I ask, is calling?

The well-heeled man extended his hand. Dr. Cook, I am Archibald Hill, and this is William Tillson. I am the deputy secretary of the United States Department of the Interior.

Bones shook their hands and looked on, uncertain why he was being visited by two men from the government. How can I help you? he asked uneasily.

If you have a few minutes, we have a matter of urgency to discuss with you; however, it is important that the utmost discretion is used. Are we at liberty to discuss such matters here in this room?

Yes, of course. No one can hear us. What is it?

Good. We have a sensitive matter, you see—one that goes all the way to the top. Part of our charge in the Department of the Interior is to ensure the Indians are managed properly in the land west of the Mississippi River. The U.S. Army is taking a lead role in these efforts, and we need someone of your caliber to lend us a hand.

I don’t see how I could possibly help you with …

Dr. Cook, we recently dispatched some of our best corpsmen to take care of some Indian unrest in an area just east of Texas, in Arkansas. It is important that we stop any uprising before it manifests into something more severe, you understand.

Of course, but …

It was clear that Hill was set on explaining the situation regardless of any protest or hesitation by the doctor. Oblivious to his audience, he continued undeterred.

You see, doctor, the settlers in Texarkana are extremely concerned about it, and have sent posts to Washington asking for our help.

If I may, said the other man, interjecting. Dr. Cook, are you familiar with Texarkana?

No, I can’t say that I am.

It’s a small town on the western border of Arkansas, next to the state of Texas.

Oh, yes. I’m rather good with geography, so I understand where it is.

Good, said Hill, interrupting. The Indians can be a tricky problem. But in this case, it’s not just the Indians that are the issue. The townspeople have other concerns as well. That’s why I’m here to talk to you.

Oh?

Yes, I’m afraid some townspeople have reported unusual sightings in the area, said Hill.

What sort of sightings? asked Bones.

Doctor, we understand you have a fascination with myths, legends and local folklore, said Tilson, re-engaging. You have written several books on the subject, have you not?

Yes, actually. I have. I’d say it’s a bit of a hobby of mine.

We also understand you have tinkered with different types of equipment to help in locating and identifying what we might call … ‘anomalies.’

"Why, yes. But it’s my brother, Orville, who’s the inventor of that equipment. That’s his passion."

Good. Then, I’m sure we’ve come to the right person, said Hill.

What seems to be the problem? asked the doctor. You mentioned unusual sightings and anomalies. Can you be more specific?

Let’s just say it has to do with the types of things you investigate in your hobby—studying myths and legends. However, in this case it may not be something fictional.

Bones stood and waited for Hill to continue.

Last month, a corps of our army was sent to Texarkana to talk with the Indian chief there about skirmishes between his Caddo tribe and the local settlers. One night while his men were sitting around their campfire, they heard noises in the woods. The commanding officer, Captain Thomas, sent a band of men out to see what was going on, fearing it might be a group of Indians planning to attack them. They were gone more than three hours when the captain decided to send another party to find out why they hadn’t returned.

And?

What they found shocked them, said Tilson.

Was it something the Indians did?

Actually, we don’t know, said Hill. The captain reported that what happened to the men could not have been done by another human being. The soldiers were torn apart like ragdolls, their limbs scattered all over the massacre sight, including high up in the tall pines nearby. No one heard the sound of a gun or rifle, so they were stunned when they came across the scene.

Bones shook his head. Do you have any ideas on what happened?

After the incident, the captain rode to the Indian village to confront the chief, said Hill.

Tilson jumped in. I personally don’t think he believed the Indians were physically capable of doing something so superhuman, but he had no other explanation. He was told to submit a report on it, as you can understand.

Of course.

It’s likely he would have wiped out the village, added Hill, "but the Caddo had too many warriors. So, he sent a telegram back to Washington asking for more troops. Unfortunately, our entire army is less than fifty thousand at present; therefore, we didn’t have men to spare. Secretary Ramsey denied his request personally.

Captain Thomas rode back to Washington to file his report and give us his account of what happened. In his report, he tried to pin the murders on the tribe, but he had underestimated the Caddo chief. Suspecting the captain would do exactly that, the chief contacted a friend in Washington who was very close to the wife of Hiram Price, the current Commissioner for Indian Affairs in our department. By the time the captain reached Washington to dust up a controversy, Chief Showeti had already outmaneuvered him, having his day in court and winning exoneration from the commissioner.

What happened to the captain?

Oh, he was promoted to major, said Tilson, laughing. I didn’t agree with that, but there was nothing more we could do about it.

What did the chief think happened to the men? asked Bones.

This is where you come in, doctor, said Hill. The chief explained that the men were in a part of the forest where a huge, ape-like creature lived. He claimed the beast lived near the low-lying swamp and roamed the deep woods at night. The animal had become part of local legend –known by both his tribe and by the white settlers. It was a tale that had been passed down through their oral traditions from generation to generation.

I see, said Bones, now more interested. Do other tribes in the region share the same legend?

I don’t know. The chief didn’t mention that.

What does it look like, then—this creature? asked Bones.

They all describe it as a hairy, man-like animal about eight to nine feet tall, said Tilson. It has long arms and large hands with thick fingers and claws at their tips. It’s black, covered by a heavy coat of coarse hair, and weighs over four hundred pounds. I think he said it had three toes on each foot.

Three?

Yes. And then there are the eyes, said Tilson, dramatically.

What about them?

They glow a brilliant red and flame out of their sockets when it attacks something.

Are you sure it’s not just a big, black bear? asked the professor, unimpressed. Bears will stand up on their hind legs and be about that tall. They’re black and hairy, and when it’s dark, they could look like the creature you describe.

Well, that’s what we thought, said Hill. "But this one is said to walk upright on two legs, and bears don’t have three toes; they have five. The chief called it the Beast of Boggy Creek."

I see, said the doctor, remaining skeptical. It still could be a giant deformed bear with three toes instead of five.

Hill smiled. Would like to find out? He knew he’d hooked his target. We would like you to find this creature and bring it back to Washington. We prefer if it’s captured alive, so it can be studied. But if not, we will study the carcass.

Why are you asking me? Can’t you send someone else from the army? What about local law enforcement, can’t they capture it for you?

I’m afraid not. As I said, we just don’t have enough available from the army right now, and as for local law enforcement … well … you’ll see that isn’t an option once you get out there.

I see, said Bones.

But also, we know you have an interest in these things and have the equipment needed to find the beast. At least that’s what we were led to believe. However, now it sounds like you’re a skeptic. Is that true?

Yes, Bones answered.

Really? Then, would you pursue looking for the creature if you were to go out there? asked Hill.

Yes, I most certainly would. If anything, it would be to satisfy myself and you that the animal is not real. That’s why they call them myths and legends.

Good, said Tilson. You’ve already done a lot of research on these types of phenomena, and you’ll be more objective. If it’s real, we believe it will take more skill than brawn to catch the creature. If it’s not, then it won’t take an army, will it?

What about all the men that were killed? How are you going to get to the bottom of that? asked Bones.

Hill smiled. I don’t know, doctor, but you’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll figure out a way. Of course, all this is to be kept secret. We don’t want the public to know that we put any credibility into such things as swamp monsters. Worse yet would be the notoriety that our own army was cut down like straw in a field by such a creature. It might cause a panic among white settlers everywhere if they thought Washington couldn’t defend them. Do you understand?

Yes, of course.

But there is one matter, Dr. Cook, said Hill.

And that would be?

This is an unofficial mission, said Tilson. Congress has not given us any money to investigate this matter. In fact, they are not aware the department is looking into it. Only at the highest levels of the Executive Branch is this course being considered.

What does that mean?

It means, I have no money to give you for it. You will need to find it on your own. So, are you still interested?

Bones stepped back with a look of surprise. I have to fund all this on my own? Why? If this is something you’re asking me to do for my government …

… for your country, sir. As a patriot of your country, Hill corrected him.

… for my country, repeated Bones, then why aren’t you willing to provide the means to carry it out?

As I mentioned, Congress is not aware of the project. It is also likely they would not fund something like this. You must understand, Dr. Cook, credibility in Washington is essential to get anything done. Even you are skeptical of such monsters. To tell them we are investigating an Indian legend would be insanity. It would put at risk all other projects we have planned that are more concrete and tangible.

I understand, said Bones, nodding.

Those in my department and in the White House are afraid of being laughed out of office, if Congress or the public learned we were serious about spending their money on such things—demons and monsters, said Hill laughing. No, we have a small group that is handling this. By capturing the beast, we hope to advance science, but also eliminate it as a threat to our military. Few in our army would be willing to go into that area if they knew of what had happened. Captain Thomas’ men have been warned not to say anything to anyone. If you can track down this creature and bring it back to Washington, you will be helping your country in any number of ways.

Will I get a medal for being a good patriot? Bones asked, grinning.

Perhaps, said Hill smiling back.

Going to Arkansas will be expensive, said Bones, and I don’t make a great deal on a professor’s salary here at the school.

You’re a smart man, Dr. Cook. I’m sure you have contacts here in Boston. We’re sure you’ll be able to figure out something. Let us know when you’ll be heading to Texarkana, said Hill.

*****

CH 2 - Finding a Sponsor

It was something he’d always wanted to do—riding out to the wild west, the country beyond the Mississippi River and to that which was still rugged and raw. Unlike the strict, rigid and largely-sheltered academic life he’d lived, this was a chance to experience real danger and feel the exhilaration of not knowing what the next day would bring. How can I pass that up? he thought.

The two men left, and Bones glanced at his brown satchel which rested on the edge of the table near his lecture podium. In it were the examination papers he was supposed to grade now. It was a task he hated, and compared with the exciting possibility of traveling to Texarkana in search of a huge, mythical swamp monster, the chore of grading papers felt even heavier and more repulsive.

Bones packed up the rest of his things and exited through the double doors in the back of the classroom. He gripped the worn, brass handle and pulled the door open, revealing the brilliant sunshine and the beauty of the late-summer’s day on the outside.

But meeting him on the steps was Samuel.

Forget something? asked Bones.

Oh, excuse me professor! his student said, not realizing Bones was there. I didn’t see you.

No trouble, Samuel. I asked if you forgot something?

As a matter of fact, I did.

The professor extended his hand. In it was a silver ink pen—one he recognized as Samuel’s which had been left on the lectern by mistake.

Ah, thank you! said his pupil, sighing in relief. I was afraid I’d lost it. You know how much this pen means to me. It’s a family heirloom given to me by my grandmother. She would have been very upset if I’d lost it.

Yes, I saw it on the rostrum and recognized it immediately as yours. You need to be more careful with that, Samuel. I’m sure your grandmother wouldn’t be very happy if you’d lost something as special as this.

Yes, sir.

How is she, anyway? asked the professor.

Grandmother Grey? Oh, she’s fine—spunky as ever. The last time I visited with her she was out jumping on her estate.

Jumping? Your grandmother was jumping?

Samuel laughed. No, not like that. She has a stable of prize horses, you see. She’s an avid showjumper. She competes everywhere. She’s very good. Are you an equestrian?

No, chuckled the professor. Of course, I ride, but I wouldn’t call myself an equestrian by any means.

Well, my grandmother is very active for her age. You should meet her sometime.

I would like that, said the doctor.

As Fate would have it, a few weeks later Bones was in town visiting his favorite haberdashery when an older lady came into the store with a much younger man. She was impeccably dressed, wearing the latest from Paris. Bones was there looking for a new, silk, top hat.

Samuel? Bones said, smiling and extending his arm. I didn’t expect to see you in here. I guess the college pays proctors better than they do full-time professors.

Samuel grinned. No, no. I’m here with my grandmother. She’s shopping to find my cousin Herbert something for his graduation this month.

Oh, does he attend Harvard?

No, he’s a Yale man, I’m afraid. I’m terribly afraid for him and how he will be able to make it in life, said Samuel, chuckling. But perhaps that’s why grandmother is here getting him something, so at least he’ll have a shirt on his back and maybe a blanket to keep him warm at night.

Samuel!

It was his grandmother calling him from across the store. Samuel left the professor but returned shortly, his grandmother grabbing the inside of his arm as they walked.

Grandmother? I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Cook. Dr. Cook—my grandmother, Esther Grey.

Very pleased to meet you, said Bones, bowing slightly. I’ve heard a great deal about you—all good things you can be assured.

And you as well, said Esther, smiling. He is a good boy, my Samuel. He has a lot of potential as a doctor, you know.

Yes, he is doing quite well, said Bones. He mentioned you ride horses. Is that right?

Oh, yes. I’m an avid rider. I’ve got a large stable of Missouri Fox-trotters and Andalusians. I’ve been show riding for years. How were you talking about that with Samuel? she asked glancing at her grandson.

I don’t recall, exactly, but perhaps we were talking about my going out west for a while.

Oh, why that sounds exciting. Where will you be going?

Texarkana to be exact, ma’am, Bones clarified.

Arkansas? You don’t say. My youngest daughter used to live out there. She spent three years in Texarkana teaching grade school. She just moved back in town a few weeks ago. She missed the big city and the family, I think. She’s as rugged as they come but living out there alone was more adventure than she bargained for. When they call it the Wild West, they surely mean it. Then, she added, "Texarkana, eh? Why would you go there of all places? From what Missy told me, there isn’t anything out there but tumbleweeds and bloodthirsty Indians."

I have some business to attend to out that way, ma’am, said Bones.

Perhaps you’ll join us for dinner before you leave, said Esther. My daughter can tell you all about her experience out there. It might be helpful to you.

That would be wonderful! Thank you for your offer.

I’ll send you a card after I can arrange things with her. I’m sure Samuel will want to attend as well, so you can talk medical stuff if you wish.

Samuel beamed. That would be grand, grandmother.

*****

CH 3 - Invitation

Bones was not a tall man, but neither was he short. Of average height and stature, he still dressed up nicely in a well-made suit. Not having grown up with money, he had connections to many in Boston whose pedigree was substantial and unquestioned. The Greys were certainly on the A-list of such families.

With a