Hangman's Gulch

By Grayson McGraw

After a life hiding in the French countryside with her mother to escape persecution from religious witch hunts, a young witch flees Europe for small town America. When trouble follows her there as well, she decides she’s had enough and vows revenge on the small town.

Al Allegretti is a disgraced minister who moves to the picturesque town and unknowingly purchases her former property years later. His days are soon filled with inexplicable, terrifying supernatural occurrences that will forever alter his view of the afterlife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grayson McGraw
• Release date: Oct 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005731236

Grayson McGraw

Raised in rural Louisiana, the U.S. Air Force brought Grayson W. McGraw to Colorado in the nineties, where he still resides today with his wife and three grown children. Left with questions after a childhood filled with paranormal experiences, Grayson has spent the last decade as an active paranormal researcher, investigating America’s most haunted locations with an emphasis on Civil War sites, plantations and Wild West saloons.

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HANGMAN’S GULCH

GRAYSON W. MCGRAW

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Hangman’s Gulch is a work of fiction. No attempts have been made to portray actual persons or to depict actual events; each and all are totally imaginary, any resemblances accidental, any likeness a coincidence.

Smashwords version

Copyright © 2021 Grayson W. McGraw

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote a brief passage in a review.

Freeze Time Media

To my mother, Jerrie, for always believing in me and never once forgetting a birthday.

Chapter 1

Paris France, 1675

The Baudelaire mansion, normally tranquil and uneventful, was especially energized on this chilly autumn night. Upstairs, in a corner room usually reserved for guests, young Meline, only sixteen years old, had been suffering through child labor for most of the day. Her cries could be heard throughout the vast estate as her father paced in the hallway, beads of sweat protruding from his brow, ready for the entire process to be over.

How’s she doing in there? How are we looking? Frances Baudelaire asked from outside the heavy, hand carved door.

She’s about ready to start pushing. It won’t be long now, replied the stressed but confident midwife.

Frances barged in the room, stopped and turned his face away from the delivery scene. I will leave Edelmar with instructions on how I’d like to proceed. You and I will catch up tomorrow. You’ll speak of this to no one. He then left the room but not before peering intensely into the midwife’s eyes to emphasize his point, waiting for her nod of acknowledgment.

Once in the hallway, Frances turned to the butler. This is an absolute disgrace. I want it out of here before anyone has a chance of finding out about it. She has brought shame on the family, and we can’t handle the kind of negative attention this would bring. Do you understand this, Edelmar?

I do, sir. What are you proposing that we do exactly?

After midnight, the city is sound asleep. I’ll need you to bring the child to the Temple Saint Marie and leave it on the steps. Knock loudly and leave quickly. Ensure you aren’t seen. If you are, you will certainly be traced back to us and we cannot have that. The ladies of the convent will know what to do with the child. It will be in good hands.

Edelmar stood silent in disbelief. He heard the words that his boss, an enormously successful and respected member of the community, was saying but he was having a hard time processing them.

Edelmar, do you understand what I’m asking of you?

Yes, sir, of course, Edelmar replied as his eyes glazed over.

Do you see yourself having an issue carrying this out? Can I count on you to help me? Frances peered at Edelmar quizzically.

Of course, sir. I’ll take care of everything. You have nothing to worry about.

Edelmar’s stomach tied in knots.

Perfect. Thank you, Edelmar. With any luck, this whole thing might blow over without the entire city finding out that my daughter has been whoring around, apparently, instead of concentrating on her studies. Now if you’ll excuse me, I cannot wait to eat any longer. It’s been before noon since I had something substantial to eat and I’m absolutely famished. I trust that you have things under control here.

I do indeed, sir. Enjoy your meal.

The moans and cries of childbirth continued as Frances Baudelaire slowly made his way to the staircase leading to the kitchen, jaw clenched, determined to block out the stressful situation.

Edelmar posted up just outside the bathroom, glanced at the clock on the hallway wall, and sighed loudly.

After several more hours, Edelmar heard a baby crying and entered the room. As the umbilical cord was cut and the midwife began to clean the child, Edelmar positioned himself between Meline and her child. He figured the less she saw it, the less attached she would be.

Once the midwife was done, she swaddled the tiny child in blankets and reluctantly handed it over to Edelmar who tried to make a hasty exit, knowing that any resistance from Meline would only make this harder. As he turned toward the door, Meline was immediately aware of his intentions.

Noooooo! Give me my baby! Let me hold her, Edelmar! How can you do this? Please! She sobbed and cried uncontrollably, unable to muster any strength after the childbirth.

Edelmar couldn’t take hearing her anymore. Every cry was ripping his heart out and he had to get out of there as soon as possible. Avoiding eye contact, he held the child tightly and quickly ducked out of the room and closed the door, muffling young Meline’s cries.

Grabbing a sturdy basket from a hall closet and several blankets to wrap the child in, he made his way outside and into the carriage.

The Temple Saint Marie was roughly ten blocks from the mansion and with Edelmar’s knowledge of the city wouldn’t take much time to reach with the horse-drawn carriage. He cracked the whip and the carriage set out on the rain-soaked cobblestone streets of Paris.

Nearly all of Paris’s residents were fast asleep that night in the wee hours as the carriage creaked its way to the church. No one to see the dastardly mission poor Edelmar was sent to carry out. Nearly no one.

One resident peered out of her second-story apartment window, cloaked in darkness, anything but weary and unaware. Her attention was razor sharp. This was her favorite time of the day, after all, when everyone else was asleep and the city was silent. She could clear her head and think. She could work on her witchcraft. She could gather trinkets and supplies while remaining unseen.

Edelmar parked the carriage under a large tree, out of sight as possible, completely unaware that someone was stalking his every move from the shadows.

He quietly opened the carriage, removed the basket containing the child, and walked to the steps of the large church. He reached up and grabbed the thick brass rings on the wood door and banged three thunderous knocks. He then sat the child just outside the door and ran away.

Cracking the whip, hunkered down as to go unseen, Edelmar never saw the cloaked figure emerge from the tree line, swoop up the basket before the nuns ever had a chance to open the church doors, and disappear into the night.

Chapter 2

Emelisse L’Hernault climbed the stairs to her humble apartment with great anticipation. Though the weight of the basket was significant, it was her heart that was telling her what it contained. She had been hoping, and willing the universe, for this to happen for years and finally the day had arrived.

Once in her apartment, she carefully set the basket down, quickly removed her heavy coats and tossed them in a chair. She then took a deep breath before exhaling slowly and kneeling in front of the basket. Before she could open the top, she heard a single cry that caused Emelisse’s heart to skip a beat.

Opening the top of the basket, she locked eyes with an adorable, healthy baby girl. Emelisse immediately picked her up and held her close to her chest, rocking back and forth.

Oh, I have you precious, I’ve got you. It’s OK. Emelisse gently stroked the child’s head.

The tiny, weak baby cried softly.

No, no, sweet child, you’re home now. Don’t you worry your precious little head another second. Mom’s got you now.

As the baby continued to cry, Emelisse began to unwrap her from the blankets that the midwife had wrapped her in only minutes earlier. She then ran a warm bath and sponged her off.

I will name you Elise, my beautiful one, she said as she stared into the baby’s innocent eyes.

After a thorough sponge bath, Emelisse opened a large chest at the foot of her bed. She removed some fabrics and pillows, gaining access to what appeared to be the bottom of the chest. Taking hold of two discreet tabs, she lifted up, revealing a hidden layer underneath. As Elise cooed and gurgled on her nearby bed, Emelisse began to display a ceremonial pentagram on the floor in crimson candles.

Before turning out the lights and drawing the curtains, she carefully checked the streets outside for any sign of unrest. Nothing. Quiet as ever.

Drawing the curtains tightly and lowering the light in her tiny apartment, she knew that she must get this ceremony underway so that she could get Elise some milk and essential nutrients she desperately needed.

Emelisse removed a small copper vial from a velvet bag and laid it in the center of the pentagram. She then heated a sharp knife in one of the candles for several minutes to sterilize it. Without hesitation, she cut her wrist and captured a few drops in the copper vial. She then, with extreme care, poked Elise in her left index finger and captured a few drops of blood for the vial. As Elise momentarily cried loudly in response to being poked, Emelisse opened a large book and began to flip madly through the pages.

Where is it? Where is it? You would think I would be ready...

Finally, after several agonizing minutes of frantically searching the centuries old text before her, she landed on a page enthusiastically.

Yes! Here you are.

She focused intently for a moment, reciting something in Latin over and over under her breath as if in an attempt to memorize it. Walking over to the bed, she lifted Elise and laid her on the floor among the candles. Finally, she turned, sighed deeply, and knelt before the pentagram.

Emelisse then recited an incantation three times, each time escalating louder and louder. Once she was done, she knelt completely with her forehead touching the floor and held that pose for several minutes before rising to her feet.

She then lifted Elise to her chest, tears in her eyes, and rocked her slowly in her arms.

It is done now, little Elise. You are mine. We are eternally inseparable and no one can ever take you from me. Mother Earth will see to it.

As Emelisse held Elise tightly, listening to her every faint breath, she couldn’t help but think of the many dangers that they both would face on their upcoming journey. Witchcraft was heavily discouraged and still, in the late 17th century, witch hunts continued even in France with no end in sight. She had kept a relatively low profile to this point, but it was much easier when she was alone.

The Protestant brain trust were sure to ask questions if she were suddenly to appear in the market with a baby. Emelisse realized they had to move as soon as possible. Somewhere outside the city. Outside the range of judging eyes.

The church was already curious about you if you didn’t attend church service regularly and single females lived under the awareness that their home could be raided by members of local church congregations until their suspicions were appeased. Having children in the home increased the likelihood tenfold since the community would be bothered that the children were not being raised attending service regularly. Often families that didn’t attend church were shunned in their communities and not given the same opportunities as Christians were.

Emelisse was well-aware of this, having come from a long lineage of pagan family members, both male and female, most of whom were practitioners of witchcraft. Much of her family had been chased around Europe since the 15th century.

It was time to find a place in the countryside to raise Elise. They were going to need plenty of peace and privacy. She had grand plans for Elise. If Emelisse had her way, she would become the most knowledgeable, powerful witch France had ever seen.

Chapter 3

Elise had lived with her mother in the small cottage in the French countryside for nearly nineteen years and never knew that the cupboard had a false floor with a compartment underneath just large enough for one person, until that foggy April morning when they came for her mother with torches and axes.

The dogs began to bark outside just after breakfast and their barking was far more agitated than usual. Emelisse grew concerned and peered out of the kitchen window at the yard, inspecting every tree through the thick fog, half suspecting them to be human instead.

Elise tried to enjoy her bacon and toast but couldn’t help but notice her mother’s anxiety.

Mom, they are likely barking at a rodent. Come and have some breakfast.

Emelisse seemed as if she didn’t hear Elise at first as she continued to gaze out of the window speechless before she turned to Elise. You’re probably right. The bacon does smell incredible.

Just then one of the dogs yelped loudly, as if something had attacked it.

Emelisse quickly stood up and began to usher Elise toward the cupboard. Elise was terrified but not naive. She was well-aware of the Catholic witch hunts. She was raised with an understanding of Wicca studies and spirituality beyond her years. She was also aware of the dangers that came with studying witchcraft. Emelisse warned her many times that too often witches paid the ultimate sacrifice for their beliefs.

Emelisse threw open the pantry, pulled a rug out of the way, and lifted the false floor, revealing the compartment underneath. She then emphatically gestured for Elise to get in.

What about you? Elise asked with tears in her eyes, crouching reluctantly to get in the hole.

I’ll be fine. Get in. There’s no time, Emelisse said, fighting back tears.

As Elise jumped into the hole and turned to her mom, Emelisse kissed her hard on the forehead and grabbed her cheeks with both hands.

You listen to me, Elise, no matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you cannot make a sound or come out of this closet.

But Mom… Elise managed before bursting into tears.

I love you, Elise. Emelisse kissed her once more on the head, pushed her gently down and repositioned the false floor and rug on top of her.

Crouched on all fours in the tiny hole, concealed in the darkness of the cupboard, Elise heard the search party arrive and knock aggressively on the door.

Alright, alright, I’m coming, Emelisse said as she approached the door.

No sooner than Elise heard the squeak of the door as it opened, she heard her mother scream out in pain. No questions, no conversation, and certainly no trial.

Scared beyond belief, cramped, and shaking, Elise tried her best to stay completely still as she heard her mother’s screams fade further and further away. She was trying to decide how long she should stay in the hole when she heard a loud crash followed by a strong smell of smoke. Fearing that they had set the home on fire, Elise began to struggle to rise out of the hole.

Managing to negotiate the board off her, she opened the cupboard to discover the entire home engulfed in flames and thick with suffocating smoke. With tears in her eyes, Elise crawled to the back door and blindly felt around with her hands until finding the latch.

Had the murderers still been outside, she would have been caught because she couldn’t survive in the burning home another second. She released the latch and fell out of the backdoor into the lush grass. As she regained her eyesight and oxygen refilled her lungs, she saw a stagecoach ride off into the distance