Goatman and the Haunted Bridge

The Old Alton Bridge

The one-lane, wooden-floored "Old Alton Bridge," as it is now known, was constructed in 1884 to connect the Texas towns of Lewisville and Alton. It well served the communities and surrounding farms until it was replaced by a new bridge in 2002. My family and I lived just a few miles from the old bridge and before it was replaced, often drove over the creaking, rather scary structure to visit friends on the other side of the creek. Although the bridge shaved three miles off the closest alternate route from our friend's house to ours, I rarely drove over it after dark. 

For several miles the little 2-lane black-top road on either side of the bridge goes through an isolated area with almost no houses and no street lights to break up the dark. Large trees grow in thick profusion on both sides of the roadway and their tops have grown together above it so you feel as if you are driving through a dark, forbidding tunnel in a jungle. Very pretty in the daytime, extremely spooky in the dark time. The bridge itself takes courage to drive an auto across. The bed is made of wooden boards laid crosswise and you have to steer your car just so to keep your tires on the thick lengthwise boards. While you cross, the bridge creaks and pops, the boards moan and you see water rushing by in the creek below through the spaces in broken slats. It's impossible to not hold your breath and clench your hands on the steering wheel until you reach the far side. Unsettling in the daytime, positively unnerving in the dark time.

One night, for some illogical reason, I did dare to drive that spooky route. As if to prove to myself that I'm not afraid of the dark, I stopped my car on the road just before reaching the bridge. As usual, there were no other cars in sight and it was extremely dark as even the moonlight was blocked out by the overhanging trees. I turned off the headlights and rolled down the window, but even though my car was rather new and the engine was very quiet, its hum was all I could hear so I turned the key off. The silence in that blackness was total; no birds chirping, no dogs barking in the distance, no traffic noise on some distant road, no nothing. I marveled at how loud silence can be. 

Suddenly, there came a noise from the woods and it was very close! It sounded like some animal, maybe a coyote or a feral pig skulking through leaves. It was just a short sound and before I could react, all was quiet again. I looked as closely into the woods as I could, all my senses on high alert, but for a number of seconds there was still no sound. The seconds seemed to be minutes until with no warning, I heard a sound like a twig breaking under a footstep and then a rustling of leaves several times in procession. It sounded for all the world like somebody, a 2-legged somebody, was slowly walking through the leaves in that black jungle. I didn't wait to see if I could find out what it was. It took about 2 seconds for me to start the car and begin rolling up the window, put it in Drive and get the heck on down the road!

I made it to the bridge and didn't take my foot off the gas even where it is usually prudent to slow to a crawl to be sure your car is situated correctly on the boards for the drive across. Fortunately, I made it over safely, fearing at any moment that something, man or beast, would pop up in front of me at the end of the bridge. That was the last time I ever drove that route after dark. I decided to see what I could find about that bridge and the area around it. I figured it was just too spooky to not have some kind of history associated with it. I figured right.

Graffiti under the bridge

In the early 1860's as the Civil War raged, a bunch of area cowboys took it upon themselves to punish an slave goat-herder named Jack Kendall for some offense which has been lost to history. They tied one end of a rope around his neck and the other end around a sturdy tree limb  of a large oak tree which was growing next to the creek right where the Alton Bridge would later be built. They drug him to the top of the creek bank and threw him out toward the water. It was a long fall and the rope used was thinner than it should have been so when poor Jack Kendall hit the end of the rope, his head was severed and his body dropped into the creek. Stories of a headless apparition wandering up and down the creek, apparently in search of his missing head, have been told for over 150 years now.

The story which has taken hold and gained the most notoriety though is of Oscar Washburn, an African-American man who gained a reputation in the 1930's as an honest, dependable business man who raised and sold goats and goat products. He and his wife and children lived in a small cabin in the woods a short distance from the Alton bridge. He was popular with many of the locals for the quality of the goat meat, milk, cheese and hides he sold at a very reasonable price. To help the unfamiliar easily find him, he hung a big sign on the end of the bridge which read, "This way to the Goatman." Unfortunately, this popularity came to the attention of the local Ku Klux Klan who didn't take kindly to a black man taking away business from other local goat raisers.

The middle of the bridge where the Ku Klux Klan put the
noose over the Goatman's head and threw him over.

One dark night in 1938, with their car's headlights off, the Klansmen drove across the bridge to the Goatman's little cabin and dragged him away from his wailing wife and crying children. They took him back to the middle of the bridge to a noose they had prepared ahead of time and after roughly slipping it over his head, flung the pleading Goatman over. Much to their surprise, they heard a watery splash below the bridge and when they looked over the side, they were shocked to see an empty noose and no sign of their victim. 

The Night Riders split up and quickly ran to both ends of the bridge where they scrambled down the embankments to the water's edge. After frantically searching for half an hour with no sign of their intended prey, they returned to the Washburn residence. After a quick search proved he was not there, the men barricaded the front door and with mother and children huddled together inside, the cabin was set on fire. They hoped the screams of his family would bring the Goatman into the open where they intended to capture him, securely tie him up and throw him alive onto the raging inferno, but their plan didn't work. The screams of the innocent mother and children were silenced as the burning walls crumbled.

Oscar Washburn was never seen again. Some believe that just like poor Jack Kendall, the Goatman's head popped off that night when he was hung and his body was washed away by the quickly flowing waters after it dropped through the noose. Others believe he survived the botched hanging and ran far away from the area, leaving behind his poor family to suffer a horrible death. To this day, what is certain though are the eerie and strange happenings on and around the Alton bridge. 

Many say the unforgiving spirit of the Goatman still haunts these woods. Locals warn to not cross the bridge with headlights turned off for if you do, you will surely be met on the other side by none other than the vengeful Goatman himself. There are persistent reports of a ghostly apparition herding a bunch of almost transparent goats being seen in the dark on the road leading from the bridge. The apparition and goats disappear as quickly as they appear. Others have seen a pair of unholy red, glowing eyes staring at them from the tree's or have glimpsed the fleeting image of a large goat-headed-man-beast in the shadows of the forest which is usually accompanied by the revolting smell of rotten flesh. Often there are tales of unexplained noises such as hoof beats of goats running across the bridge, loud splashing in the waters below the bridge or a low non-human growl coming from the trees near the bridge.

Graffiti under the Old Alton Bridge

There has been a rash of documented cases by the police where people have vanished with no trace around this seemingly cursed bridge. In the 1950's, a local high school boy and his girlfriend were reported missing when they failed to return from a Friday night date. The boy's car was found the next morning parked in the woods beside the bridge with both front doors open. They have still never been found and the case is a total mystery. On November 15, 1967, a Ford Mustang was found by police parked at the end of the bridge. They eventually found out who owned the car, but the person has never been found.

In 2002, a new road and bridge was built to replace the old one. The original Alton bridge is still there, but since then, the odd happenings and reports of strange apparitions and unexplained phenomena seem to have decreased some. Daring teenagers like to hang out there at night in groups, spray-painting graffiti and trying to scare each other. But even the most daring teenagers do not go there at night alone.

I don't know what I heard the night I stopped on that dark, lonely road. I didn't stick around trying to find out. One thing I do know for sure though, it wasn't just my imagination...something was out there.

Lady in Black

One evening not so long ago, a passing truck driver south of Refugio, Texas saw a woman standing all alone at the end of a dusty dirt road where it intersected with the highway he was traveling on. She was young, very beautiful, and wore an old-fashioned black dress. She looked to be in some kind of distress so the kind-hearted driver pulled over to offer her a ride. As she approached his truck, he moved quickly to the passenger door and held out his hand to help her up the steep steps into the cab.

"There's a gas station in the next town," he said. "If you need to make a phone call, you can make it there." Softly, she replied "Thank you, sir" and stared straight ahead.

They drove down the road in silence until reaching a small gas station on the outskirts of a sleepy little community. The trucker eased his eighteen-wheeler into the station next to the one diesel pump to refuel. He walked around and opened the passenger door to help the lady out of the truck, but when he opened the door, she was gone.

For a long moment, he looked at the empty seat in confusion. When he turned, the owner of the station, an elderly gentleman, was slowly making his way toward him. "Did you see the lady that was with me?"

"No," the owner replied, "I saw you drive in, but you were by yourself."

"No, there was a lady in a black dress. I picked her up a few miles south of here."

The owner's eyes grew wide as a look of terror crossed his face. "A lady in black?"

"Yes," said the trucker.

The owner made the sign of the cross, moved quickly back into the little station, turned out the lights, locked the door and hurried off into the darkness.

The truck driver stood speechless for a long while, not knowing what to do. Then a very old man came limping from behind the building. He was so old his face looked like it had worn out two bodies. He walked with the aid of a hand-carved cane and wore a simple white shirt, cotton pants and sandals. "Mister!" he said. "You had the Lady with you?"

"Yes, a young lady in a black dress."

"Ah," the old man said. "The Lady in Black. Sit down on the curb here and I will tell you about her." The old man eased himself down and began his story.

"Many years ago when Texas was still a part of Mexico, a huge ranch covered this whole region. A very fine old couple owned the ranch. When they died they left everything to their handsome son. He was a fine young man and a catch for any senorita, handsome, rich, and not married. Everybody thought this young, handsome ranchero would go into the nearby village and find a wife."

"Instead, he journeyed into Mexico and married a poor woman. She became the woman boss, La Doña and governed the large ranch with her husband. The women in the village were very jealous, especially one woman who thought it would be she who married the ranchero. She began spreading lies about La Doña.

About 6 months after the young couple had been married, the young husband had to travel to Spain to settle a land dispute. He left La Doña in charge of all matters. She proved to be very kind to the servants and fair with their pay for she was a woman with a good heart. A few days after her husband had left, La Doña discovered she was going to have a baby.

Months later, as the time of birth neared, she prayed for her husband to return. Her prayers were answered and one night he returned to the ranch. He had won the battle in the courts and all the land was legally theirs. As he dismounted from his horse and ran to hug his wife, he saw the life inside her.

The ranchero was delighted and eagerly awaited the arrival of a son or daughter. But that mean woman in the village had spread the rumor that the baby was not the young husbands and when he went into town one day, he heard the evil rumor, the ugly lie. Sadly, he believed the lie and was filled with jealousy. He no longer trusted his wife and when he returned home, he accused her of being unfaithful to him.

La Doña fell to her knees and cried, 'I am your wife. I would not be unfaithful to you. Never! Believe me!'

But he did not. A fury possessed him. He called two of his servants and ordered, 'Hitch horses to the wagon. You two and my wife will ride one full day to the north. Find a strong tree and hang my unfaithful wife from its branches. I will ride one full day to the south. That way, even if I become softhearted, I will be too far away to prevent the hanging.'

Now, there was an old man who always sat on the front porch of the ranch house. The old man had faithfully served many years for the young ranchero's parents and this was his reward, a job with pay for the rest of his life, to sit in the shade on the porch of the ranch house and see all the comings and goings. Nothing took place on the ranch that this old man did not know.

The ranchero said, 'Saddle me up my favorite horse, and saddle up a burro too. The old man will go with me.' And so for the first time in a very long time, that old man left the ranch and his well-worn chair on the porch. He rode one full day south with his patron as the two servants and La Doña rode a full day north on a dusty little used wagon trail. 

La Doña was brokenhearted. She cried and cried for her unborn baby and for her husband, not even thinking about herself. At sunset, the obedient servants stood La Doña up on the wagon and put a rope around her neck. Staring at the men as they tied the end of the rope around a sturdy branch, she declared, 'You and all of your descendants will know that I am a faithful wife. For many generations you will see me. I will wear this same black dress and I will never stop telling what you have done.'

The men jumped down off the wagon and one of them swatted the horse. The wagon rolled away leaving  La Doña swinging back and forth until her neck broke and she mercifully died. The servants were deeply ashamed of what they had done and they quickly cut her down and buried her in a shallow grave. No one has ever found that grave.

At the same time La Doña was giving voice to her curse, the old man was pouring a cup of coffee for the young ranchero. They had stopped for the evening in a clearing beneath a hill one day's ride from the ranch house.

'I have done the right thing,' the young man said. 'She was unfaithful.' The old man said nothing. He thought for a second and then he remembered. That old man sat by the ranch house door all day and slept on the porch all night. "Old man!' the ranchero shouted, 'speak to me!' Still, the old man said nothing. 'Old man, you know who is the father of that baby, don't you?" The old man nodded. 'Tell me!' cried the ranchero. The old man remained silent.

The ranchero pulled his pistol, cocked it and placed the muzzle next to the old man's head. 'You better speak, old man. I swear to you, either the child's father dies or you will die."

The old man looked up, his eyes rimmed red with tears. 'Mi patron,' he said. 'The father of the child is you.'

When he heard that, the young man put the pistol to his own head and pulled the trigger. The old man buried the ranchero by the campfire in an unmarked grave. No one has ever found that grave.

A year passed and on the anniversary of her hanging, the Lady in Black kept her promise. She stood by the dirt road near her unmarked grave. A family stopped their wagon to help her, thinking she had been involved in an accident. They helped her onto the wagon and she told them the story as if it had happened to someone else. When they pulled into the little village, they turned to speak to her, but she was gone. They then realized they had seen La Doña herself.

This went on for years and years. They say it still goes on to this day. La Doña will never rest. The old ones who live in Refugio, the closest big town, all know of and talk about the Lady in Black. The people know she was innocent.

And with that, the ancient story-teller fell silent. As he thought of the story for a few moments, the truck driver closed his eyes. "Whatever happened to the old man, the man who lived on the porch of the ranch house?" he finally asked. He heard no reply and when he looked, the old man was nowhere to be found.