An Angry Ghost in Texas

Many years ago, I was looking for boarding stables outside of Austin for my horse. I happened to find a place close to my home that was hosting a social potluck dinner for customers. The owners were delightful. They let me help in the kitchen and made me feel very welcomed. While preparing the food, a couple of the women started talking about the housekeeper and her many predecessors. It seems the ghosts in the house had high standards for employment. The last maid in a string of many had quit the day before because of a wall hanging.

We all migrated to the hall joining the living room to the kitchen to see the 9' x 12' foot tapestry made out of shag carpet. Each thread was smoothed down so the pattern was undisturbed. The former cleaning lady swore she smoothed the mural each day while cleaning. And each day the pattern looked like someone had run his or her hands through the carpet, messing it up. She quit in frustration.

Later that night the ghost stories continued as we sat outside around a bonfire, enjoying the crisp night air and each other's company. Suddenly, the horses, standing near by, threw their heads up in the hair and started stomping and snorting, warning each other of danger. The group got quiet. We all heard a loud bang inside the house. We knew there was no one missing from the group. Someone asked the owner if horses could tell when a ghost was present. He laughed and said he didn't know. I was nervous and tried to dispel the mood by being a smart ass. "Well," I said, "If it is a ghost he sure could do a better job of telling us he's here." Right on cue, the banging escalated to tornado strength. The horses ran as far away from the house as the fencing allowed.

It took several minutes for us to gather enough courage to enter the house. When we did, all pretense of strength in numbers immediately vanished. Each drawer in the kitchen had been ripped from its frame, dumping all the silverware on the floor. Upper cabinet doors were wide open. The wall hanging looked like twenty children had walked up the wall messing up the shag threads. The sofa pillows lay across the room on the floor. The other guests found more damage in the house. I found myself standing with the horses.

The next morning I paid a visit to the owners. I wouldn't be lodging my mare at their stable. I couldn't get them alone because they were busy loading horses. Apparently, other customers felt the same. As time went by the livery stables declined in business. Eventually, the University of Texas bought the property when they found it was part of an old burial ground. Since then I've learned to be sarcastic to ghosts exclusively when I have a pasture full of horses to hide in.