The Story Behind "The Town That Dreaded Sundown"

The Texarkana Post Office/Courthouse. The left half  is
 in Texas while the right is in Arkansas.

Texarkana is a nice, small city. With half of the town in the state of Texas and the other half in Arkansas, the road that divides the two halves is named State Line. Shoppers on one side of the street are in Arkansas and just a few feet away on the other side of the yellow line in the middle of the road the stores are in Texas. The Post Office/Courthouse Building sits astride the state line - Texas offices on one side of the building, Arkansas offices on the other. There are plenty of outdoor activities to enjoy as well as several popular parks where families go for a picnic lunch or to play Little League baseball or simply to enjoy a lazy summer day in the shade of the many trees. 

One of those popular parks though, Spring Lake Park, has a sordid history. Many of the old timers still refuse to go into the park after dark. You see, back in the mid-1940's, it was the favorite hunting grounds of a serial killer. The murders shocked and terrorized the quiet, close-knit town. Doors and windows in homes that previously were never locked, were locked and checked several times after darkness fell. Men began carrying guns; women stopped walking alone when running errands and children were forbidden to play outside. As more innocent people turned up brutally killed and the murders went unsolved, neighbors and friends of many years began to suspect and turn on each other. In the mid-1970's, a horror movie, The Town That Dreaded Sundown was made about the crimes. The true horror is that the story was based on fact.

The entrance to Spring Lake Park

On the night of February 22, 1946, 24-year-old Jimmy Hollis and his 19-year-old girlfriend, Mary Jean Larey, went on a date, a date that started off as any number of dates taken by any normal young couple, but this particular date would end very differently. After dinner and a movie, Mary Jean accompanied Jimmy in his car to a dark, secluded spot in the park for a romantic interlude. Jimmy glanced at his watch and noted the time as 11:45. He had promised his father to have the car home by midnight, but the moon was full, Mary Jean was lovely, her sweet perfume filled the air and when he leaned in for a kiss, she didn't resist. Facing the wrath of his father's anger later was no match for the lure of Mary Jean now. Soon, only the sounds of heavy breathing could be heard in the car and the young couple were not aware of anything other than their passion.

When Mary Jean opened her eyes to look into Jimmy's, she saw a dark shape beside the car. When she gasped and pull away, Jimmy looked up and saw the figure of a man. Expecting to see the uniform of a policeman, he began to roll down the window and was startled to see not a policeman, but a man dressed in dark clothing with a hood over his head. In a muffled voice, the man said, "Get out of the car now!" and tapped on the partially opened window with a .32 caliber pistol he held in his hand. 

Fearing the man would shoot through the window if they didn't do as he demanded, they both exited out of the driver's side door. They offered to give him their money and the keys to the car, but the hooded man hit Jimmy in the head twice with the butt of the gun knocking him out. He then turned his attention to Mary Jean. In desperation, she ran, but the man quickly caught her and threw her to the ground. After slapping her several times, he began to rip off her clothes and, still holding the gun, began roughly fondling her. After several minutes but what seemed like hours and frightened beyond words, Mary Jean had resigned herself to her fate when she saw the dirty canvas that covered her attacker's head light up. The man groaned and shouted several coarse cuss words. At first confused, Mary Jean then realized it was a car coming down the road and its headlights had illuminated the scene. The hooded man stood up and after hitting her in the face with his fists several times, ran off into the darkness.

The approaching car, occupied by a kindly farmer and his wife who were coming home from a late movie, stopped to see what was going on. They managed to get Jimmy into the back seat and rushed the injured couple to the nearest hospital. Physically, Mary Jean only had bruises and scratches, but Jimmy's injuries from being hit in the head with the butt of the gun were more serious. Although he suffered from two skull fractures so severe that he had to spend days in the hospital, both he and Mary Jean lived to tell their story. At the time, they were not aware of how lucky they actually were.

When the police failed to find and arrest the attacker, the crime was written off by the residents as an anomaly, a sad byproduct of having a railroad going through town. The perpetrator must have been a transient and he had no doubt hopped a railway car and was long gone. No need to fear.

On March 24th, just one month later, a visitor to the park noticed a 1941 Oldsmobile parked partially hidden about 100 yards from the road in a grove of trees. Thinking it might be a stolen vehicle and he should investigate, the driver approached the car. He saw what he thought at first was a man asleep behind the wheel, but when he got close, he saw a body covered in blood. He ran, jumped in his car and made it to a store nearby where he called the police.

After rushing to the scene, police found not one, but two bodies in the car. The man sitting in the driver's seat was identified as being 29-year-old Richard Griffin who had recently received his discharge as a Navy SeaBee. Laying in the back seat was his girlfriend, Polly Ann More. Both had been shot in the head with a .32 pistol. Polly had been roughly sexually assaulted. Evidence indicated Richard had been shot outside of the car and Polly had been tied to a nearby tree with rope. Police theorized the attacker had incapacitated Richard and then tied Polly to the tree. He had made her watch as he beat and then fatally shot her boyfriend. For some reason, he drug Richard's body back to the car and placed it in the driver's seat. He then proceeded to assault Polly while she was still tied up. She eventually was killed and drug to the car where her body was placed in the back seat. Once again, the police were unable to find any clue that would lead them to a suspect. He seemed to have vanished into thin air.

The town now knew there was a sadistic killer among them. Papers across the state picked up on the news and began calling the case the "Texarkana Moonlight Murders. With the public clamoring for an arrest, the local police called in the vaunted Texas Rangers for help. Three weeks later on April 14th, with the Rangers in town performing their investigation, the killer struck again.

15-year-old Betty Booker was an exceptionally gifted saxophone player. To help with her family's income, she sometimes played in a band which performed at proms and other social events. The band was asked to play for a dance one night at the local VFW and since she was a straight-A student, it would be for good pay, and he had come to trust the band's adult leader, her father gave his permission for her to join her band-mates and then attend a slumber party at a friend's house. After the performance was over at about 1:00AM, a friend and former classmate of Betty, Paul Martin, offered to drive her to her friend's house for the slumber party and drop her off. Paul was a clean-cut, innocent-looking young man who had not partaken of any alcoholic beverages so the band leader said it was OK. After packing her sax in its case, the two said their goodbye's. It was the last time they would be seen alive.

The road going into the park where Paul's car
was found.

Several hours later, parents at the slumber party became worried that Betty had not yet arrived so they called her parents to see if maybe she had decided to go home instead. Soon, the police were notified that Betty was missing and a search was quickly begun. Paul's car was found abandoned on the side of the road just inside the entrance of Spring Lake Park, nowhere near where the slumber party took place. Paul's body was finally found over a mile away and Betty's was found almost 2 miles from the car. Both were riddled with bullets from a .32 cal revolver and Betty had been sexually assaulted. It was a mystery as to why Paul's car was found so far from the slumber party destination. The pair had not be linked romantically and both had reputations for being good kids so there was no reason for them to be at the park. Betty's saxophone was missing and police put out notices in the papers and to pawn shops to be on the lookout for it. The instrument, still in its case, was found 2 months later rotting in the muck around a small pond inside the park several hundred yards away from where the car was found. It had obviously been thrown there the night of the murders as it was half-submerged and rusted. Why it was taken and why it was thrown there so far away from the car and the bodies is unknown. The leader of the band Betty had played in felt so guilty that he had let her go with Paul rather than drive her himself that he disbanded the popular group. The Rhythmaires never played again.

The pond near where Betty's saxophone was found
is now cleaned and maintained.

After testing, it was determined all of the bullets from each of the murders was from the same gun. Once again, the perpetrator had disappeared and neither the police nor the Rangers found anything which would lead to the identity of the killer. The papers began calling him "The Phantom."

Texarkana became a town under siege. Gun shops sold out of shotguns and ammunition; hardware stores completely sold out of locks and latches. Homeowners began constructing burglar devices that would drop nails and tacks on the floor. Shotguns were rigged to fire with strings attached to doorknobs and triggers. Business' closed at sunset when the streets and sidewalks emptied. Groups of vigilantes, men armed with shotguns, patrolled all over town. Unfamiliar cars driving through town were stopped and the passengers made to identify themselves and give a good reason for being there. Older teenagers staged traps in the park - a boy and girl would park along a dark secluded roadway and pretend to make out while a pack of armed boys would be hidden in the trees waiting for The Phantom to make an appearance. The police had their hands full trying to disperse and send the armed groups home before some innocent person was shot. It was all to no avail - The Phantom seemed to be able to sniff out any traps and stayed away.

As to capturing The Phantom, the police were clueless and the Rangers embarrassed. In desperation, the FBI was called in. Over 300 people were detained and questioned - people caught roaming around in the dark, people considered "odd" by their neighbors, hermits, loners, and every person in town who had any kind of criminal record. Soon, the FBI was just as perplexed as the other lawmen. Newspapers around the country picked up the story and Texarkana came into public awareness for the wrong reason.

On May 3rd, with groups of armed men roaming around, police on high alert, the Texas Rangers and the FBI still in town in force, The Phantom struck again. 

Virgil and Katy Starks owned a farm 12 miles outside of Texarkana. About 9:00PM, Virgil retired to his easy chair in the living room, turned on the radio and began to read the newspaper. Katy finished cleaning the kitchen, went upstairs, changed into her nightgown and lay on the bed reading the Post magazine she had recently purchased. As Katy began to relax, she was startled by what sounded like two gunshots and breaking glass downstairs. She jumped out of bed, put on her slippers and rushed down to her husband's side. She saw glass blown into the room from a shattered window pane and then she saw her husband slumped over and covered with blood from two gunshots to the head. She immediately thought, "Phantom!" and rushed across the room to the phone to call the police. Her shaking finger managed to dial 0 on the rotary phone, but as a female voice answered, "Operator, how may I help you?" she felt a tremendous blow to her right jaw and the phone flew from her hand. The blast of a gun shot registered in her brain and she instinctively turned toward the sound only to feel another bullet smash through her left jaw. As if in slow motion, she fell to the floor and saw her shattered teeth flying through the air above her. When she hit the wooden floor, she swallowed a mouthful of blood. 

Incredibly, Katy remain conscious and fighting through the pain and shock, began crawling toward the kitchen away from the window where the shots were coming from. Bleeding profusely, she made it to the kitchen only to discover to her horror that the shooter, failing to gain entry through the locked front door, had ran around to the kitchen door in the back and was trying to get in. It too was locked and she could hear the monster on the other side cursing in frustration as he kicked and slammed his body into the door trying to break in. Struggling to not pass out, Katy found a determination borne of desperation to not be another of The Phantom's victims. She made it to her feet and ran to the front door. As she unlocked it and ran out, she heard the kitchen door finally give way. As she stumbled across the porch and into the front yard, she heard more curses as The Phantom found her to be gone.

She made it into the dark before the intruder saw her and made it to a neighbor's house down the road. After banging on the door, she passed out. Finding her on the porch in her bloody nightgown, the neighbors called police and then rushed her to the hospital. Katy was immediately taken into surgery and spent several weeks in the hospital in critical condition, but, physically anyway, she eventually recovered. She had terrible scars, but the physical scars were nothing compared to the emotional scars she suffered for the rest of her life.

Back at the Starks home, authorities entered to discover no one alive. Virgil's body was found laying on the floor in a pool of blood. Muddy footprints were found going from the smashed back door, through the kitchen, into the living room where the killer evidently had dabbed his palms in Virgil's blood, then up the stairs into the bedroom and back down again through the front door. The walls had been smeared with bloody hand prints. The monster had obviously been hunting for the whereabouts of Katy. Bloodhounds were brought in and they followed the scent out the front door, across the yard and into the woods where Katy had fled. They then doubled back for about 200 yards and disappeared where he evidently had gotten into his car and drove away.

The authorities were ecstatic because this time they had hand prints and shoe prints, plenty of them. However, in spite of the evidence and all of their efforts, The Phantom's identity remained unknown. There was no record of his prints to match, his shoe prints were non-remarkable, there were no witnesses and again the perpetrator seemed to have vanished into thin air without a trace.

As suddenly as the killings started, they stopped. Nobody was ever arrested. Nobody ever confessed. Nobody knows who The Phantom was, why he did what he did, why he stopped, if he fled Texarkana or stayed in town as a neighbor and friend to unsuspecting residents. The case is still open today and unsolved. But that's not exactly the end of the story.

Whispered rumors continue of faint female screams and cries coming from the woods in the park after dark; of cold spots suddenly walked into on a warm summer night's stroll through the park's remote roads and paths. The tree that poor Polly had been tied to still stands; the tree she had been tied to and forced to watch her lover's gruesome death, the tree she had been tied to and forced to suffer a humiliating sexual assault before being killed herself. And legend has it that if you lean against this tree, you will feel a constriction as if a rope is tying you to that tree. It might be Polly's spirit struggling to get loose. Or just maybe, poor Polly is looking for someone to take her place so she can finally be free from that night of horror.

Spirit in the House

Mrs. Keever's house

When John and Donna purchased the 2-story Georgian-style home in Ennis, Texas that day in 1980, they had no idea they would soon be living with the former owner. The problem was, she had died several years before.


The couple had decided they wanted to get away from the crowds and temptations of the big city of Dallas and raise their son, Kevin, in a calmer, quieter place. They had been looking for several months when they found the house on Knox Street in Ennis, a small city about 35 miles from Dallas. Sitting on a large, nicely landscaped lot, it was one of the larger homes in the neighborhood. Painted gray with white trim and forest green shutters, John and Donna both fell in love with it. 

The house had sat vacant for several years, but the real estate company had kept it well maintained. The asking price had steadily dropped and the couple couldn't figure out why such a nice home had not yet sold. Before deciding to make an offer, they visited the house several times and for some reason, on each visit Donna became nauseated and had a feeling of unease, but she thought it was just nerves over contemplating purchasing a house that would strain their budget. They also found it strange that the real estate agent who showed the property would never go inside the house, but would wait in his car or stand on the sidewalk by the street. He always told them to take their time and look around. John and Donna chalked it up to just the real estate's odd personality.

The house was built in 1920 by master carpenters hired by Mr. J. E. Keever, a well respected businessman who owned the local mortuary and funeral home. Every detail of the home was custom made. All of the cherry wood cabinets, doors and trim were hand-made on site. There were three bedrooms upstairs and a sleeping porch downstairs. There was a large living room, formal dinning room, and a library with built-in bookcases, but the real gem of the downstairs was the very large kitchen. This room was actually a kitchen, walk-in pantry, breakfast room, sun room and laundry room all in one. Donna loved it and this more than anything else made her want the house for her and her family.

After several weeks of thinking about it, John and Donna made a low-ball offer for the house. To their surprise, the offer was quickly accepted. Right after they had signed all of the paperwork finalizing the sale, the salesman muttered, "Welcome to Amityville." That movie had been released a short time before and everyone knew what it was about. John asked the salesman, "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" He replied, "You'll soon find out." He then agreed however, for the first time, to enter the house with them to do the final walk-through.

After a few minutes of standing in the living room, the salesman said, "I believe she likes you." Donna asked, "who is 'she'?" Again, his answer was a cryptic, "You'll soon find out." He then told them that his wife and a lot of other people refused to go into the house, but he had a feeling John and Donna would be acceptable to her. They couldn't get him to explain further what he was talking about or exactly who "she" was, but the walk-through showed the house to be in good working order so as quickly as they could they ushered him out of the door and their new home. It wasn't hard as the strange man seemed ready to bolt at any moment anyway.

Within a few days of moving in and getting things out of boxes and in their proper place, strange things began to happen which led John and Donna to believe the house was occupied by a spirit. At odd hours, there would be unexplained banging noises from the kitchen and upon inspection, various cabinet doors would be found standing open. A previous owner had painted over the cherry wood cabinets with an ugly yellow latex paint. When John and Donna began the work of removing the paint and restoring the wood to its original luster, something they had planned to do when they bought it, the strange banging and opening of cabinet doors ceased.

The lights on the front porch then began to turn on and off by themselves. Upon close investigation, it was discovered that what the couple assumed were cheap black and fake stained-glass lamps were actually solid rose-brass lamps with expensive leaded glass stained windows. Someone had simply spray painted the brass black. They began the task of removing the spray paint and then had the brass refinished. They then had gleaming porch lights at the front door with no problem of turning off and on by themselves.

After doing a lot of investigation and talking to neighbors and other townspeople, John and Donna came to the conclusion they did indeed have a spirit living with them and that spirit was none other than the proud and possessive Mrs. Keever, former mistress of the house. They came to the conclusion she simply wanted her home to be as beautiful as it once was and did not approve of the changes that had been done to it over the years. Donna said she felt like they had been guided, compelled even, in each task they took to restore the home to its former beauty.

Mrs. Keever had loved to entertain and show off her fine house which had been the scene of frequent social occasions and open houses. John and Donna frequently smelled roses as they walked around their home even though there were no roses blooming during the winter and there was nothing to account for the smell. Donna hated room fragrance and refused to allow it in the home, but she discovered roses were Mrs. Keever's favorite flower and she always wore tea rose perfume.

Donna and John had a number of family members and friends that would come and stay with them for the weekend, sleeping in the downstairs sleeping porch. Often guests would ask Donna if she had come downstairs the previous night after they had gone to bed and walked around checking all the doors to ensure they were locked. They said they had seen the dark shadow of someone walking around and had heard footsteps. They also heard what sounded like doorknobs being jiggled as if someone were checking to make sure they were securely locked. When she told them it was "just Mrs. Keever checking to make sure everything was ok," they wouldn't believe it really wasn't her.

When they first moved into the home, their son Kevin was just 4 years old. He was the only one whom Mrs. Keever interacted with and purposely showed herself. Within the first few days, Kevin told his mom that a lady in white had come to his room to visit him during the night. John and Donna figured it was just a child's imagination, but over the next several years as Kevin continued to report "the woman in white" visiting him during the night and even telling of conversations she had with him, John and Donna began to believe him. Kevin was never frightened of the apparition and Donna figured Mrs. Keever, the mother of two sons herself, was simply happy to have a little boy in the house again.

Occasionally running into unexplained cold spots while walking around the house and hearing footsteps and noises at all hours didn't bother Donna all that much, but there was one place in the house that made her extremely uncomfortable. The area beneath the stairs was a small storage room which always smelled musty and moldy. It contained a number of boxes, but Donna couldn't bring herself to go in to open them and find out what they contained. Even John said he didn't feel right going in there and Donna became physically sick every time she forced herself to get even a few inches inside. She felt an overwhelming sense that she was trespassing. The door to the room would sometimes fling itself open and when this happened, they both could sense something very unsettling had come out. A new locking latch was put on the door, but the door still managed to come open. John even stacked heavy bricks in front of the door, but every couple of months, they would return home or wake up to find the bricks knocked over, the latch unhooked and the door open.

Several years after moving into the house, Donna became good friends with a young woman named Rebecca who was studying for her master's degree in theology at Texas Christian University's seminary in Fort Worth in preparation for going into the ministry. Part of the program required work as a pastor each weekend and Rebecca found a small church in Ennis to preach at each Sunday. To save the expense of a hotel, Donna invited Rebecca to stay with the family. The very first night she spent in the guest sleeping porch, a bloodcurdling scream was heard throughout the house. John and Donna rushed downstairs to find their guest sitting upright in bed with a terrified look on her face. John asked her what was wrong, but Rebecca answered, "Who screamed? It wasn't me!" After looking around the house and not finding anything wrong, they all went back to bed. The scream was not heard again that night or any other, but Rebecca reported in the morning that she hadn't been able to sleep all night as she kept hearing footsteps and seeing a dark human-like shadow walking back and forth across the room. She also reported becoming almost sick from the overwhelming smell of roses. Rebecca had no idea of what was happening since Donna had never told her about the strange things that went on in their house and she was not from the area so she had never heard the rumors and stories. 

Rebecca got in touch with a Reverend D. Smart who was an Episcopal priest in Ennis. She told him of the terror filled night in John and Donna's house and asked him to perform a "house blessing." Reverend Smart had heard the stories about a spirit in that house so it wasn't hard to convince him of the need. Several days later, he brought his holy water, incense and a cross to bless the house which would hopefully release the spirit to go on to the next level.

The blessing evidently worked as there was no more contact with Mrs. Keever afterwards. No more cold spots, no more footsteps in the night were heard, no more smell of roses, and the door to the storage room under the stairs stayed closed even after John had removed the bricks in front of the door several months later. When Donna dared to open the storage door after he had removed the bricks, she was shocked to find the musty odor had disappeared, though she still couldn't bring herself to venture in and open the boxes. They were convinced Mrs. Keever had moved on, right up until the time when they were talking about her being gone in front of Kevin. The boy told them, "No, she's not gone. She still comes to talk to me at night sometimes."

Current owners say they do not believe the house
is haunted and enjoy living there.

John and Donna eventually sold the house in Ennis and moved back to Dallas. They were not driven out by the spirit; they simply missed their friends and family back in Dallas and they missed the shopping and cultural activities they had grown to take for granted while living there. They just weren't cut out to be small town folks after all. Donna will tell you they love being back with family and friends close by, but they miss that 2-story Georgian home. Sometimes they even miss Mrs. Keever.

Roses for Alice

Ruins of Fort Davis

In far West Texas at the lonely military outpost of Fort Davis, trouble was in the wind. It was early in 1861 and in the civilized area's hundreds of miles to the east, war was coming. Most of the officers at this remote site were from the north and they vowed if war broke out, they would return there to fight for the Union. A few men were from the south and they vowed to fight for the Confederacy.  Military discipline was maintained and for the most part, the men who had been stationed together, worked together, and lived together for many months remained civil to each other no matter which side their allegiances fell.

Alice Walpole was the young, beautiful wife of a lieutenant who had recently graduated from West Point and had been assigned duty at Fort Davis. He was the youngest and most recently arrived officer at the fort, but he worked hard, was a good leader, and had quickly become friends with the other officers. Alice however, was not happy. She loved her husband, but hated the dry, barren land of this part of Texas. She was from Alabama and West Texas could not be more different from the lush climate and green landscape of her Alabama home. 

Having been only recently married, she was young and without child. This left her having nothing in common with the older wives living in the fort with their officer husbands. Alice's husband was often gone on patrol so she spent a lot of time in lonely vigil. She kept thinking of all the things back home she missed and finally decided what she missed most were the roses which bloomed in her mother's garden. She longed for an earlier time, the times when she would be with her mother working the soil in the flower gardens around her home, talking and laughing with no cares, surrounded by the sweet smell of the carefully tended roses which grew in abundance.

In the first week of April with her husband once again out on patrol chasing Indians, Alice decided to hunt for any early roses that might be growing along Limpia Creek just outside the fort. She thought if she could find some, she would bring them back and plant them around the little frame house she and her husband lived in. If she watered and took care of them, maybe they would bloom and their house wouldn't seem so barren. If enough bloomed, Alice could sit outside with her eyes closed and their sweet smell would make it seem as if she was back in the land she missed so much.

The morning air was chilly so she pulled her bright-blue wool cloak around her shoulders and set out to search the creek for roses. She ignored the recent reports of Indians close by as her brave husband and his troops were on patrol and surely had the Indians on the run far away from the fort.

Later that same night, Lieutenant Walpole returned to the fort, but Alice never did. The band of raiding Apaches her husband was in search of had eluded the troops, came back to the creek to water their horses, and there they found and kidnapped poor Alice Walpole.

As darkness fell, word of her disappearance spread through the fort. After being relieved, a guard came in and reported that earlier that day he had seen a woman in a blue cloak rushing by on a trail outside the fort. He had been surprised to see a woman alone outside the safety of the fort. After noting she seemed to be carrying an arm-full of white roses, he called to her, but she didn't stop or answer. He rushed down the trail after her to ensure she made it back to the fort safely, but she seemed to have vanished into the air. With this information, the men searched where the guard reported seeing Alice. Extensive searches were conducted over many days, but other than a blue cloak and an Apache arrow apparently dropped by one of the Indians, no trace of Alice was found.

Soon, word came that Fort Sumter had been fired upon and war had been declared. The men left to go back to fight for one side or the other. One morning, after most of the troops had left, the post commander who had been ordered to oversee the closure of the fort arrived at his office to find that unseen by anyone, somebody had slipped in and left a vase of 7 white roses on his desk. He had never seen roses in the area and was bewildered, but with all of the last minute chores he was seeing to, he didn't have the time to investigate further. The next morning when he arrived back in his office, the vase with its 7 white roses was gone. A short time later that same morning, the last 7 officers left in the fort came to his office and resigned their commissions. All 7 intended to offer their services to the Confederacy. One of those officers was young Lieutenant Walpole.

A few days later the fort was officially closed and the remaining troops left. The last officer to leave was Lieutenant Walpole who made one more search for his beloved Alice. When he left, all searching ended forever and Alice was forgotten.

Buffalo Soldiers (historical photo)

After closing, the buildings of Fort Davis were stripped for their wood and stones by the local ranchers. After the end of the Civil War, Buffalo Troops were assigned to the post to guard against the still raiding Indians. Beginning in 1867, they rebuilt the buildings and grounds, eventually making the fort larger than the first one. It remained in operation until 1891 and today is one of the best preserved historic forts in America.

Stories persist however, that Alice never left the fort. The men who manned Fort Davis beginning in 1867 had not heard of poor Alice or the story of the roses mysteriously left on the previous post commander's desk. They had no idea why they occasionally got a whiff of roses inside a post building or in the middle of the large parade ground. The troops reported this numerous times, but it was always chalked up to wild imaginations or too much of the local rotgut whiskey.

It wasn't until the old fort was being restored and it's history was being researched that the story of Alice was uncovered through letters, diaries, and official reports. Then it all started making sense. Through the years since the Buffalo Soldiers left, visitors continue to report briefly seeing out of the corner of the eye, a young, beautiful woman with a blue cloak over her shoulders hurrying by followed briefly by the sweet smell of roses. Most often though, her visits are unseen. She lets people know she is still there by the scent of roses; the scent of roses where there are none.

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.

The Bell Witch

Betsy was just 6 years old and living with her family in Tennessee when it happened the first time all those years ago. As her mamma stood at the large kitchen table rolling out biscuit dough for supper, she heard Betsy who was right behind her call out, "Mamma! Help me, Mamma! It's got me!"

When Betsy's mom turned to look, she saw her youngest daughter being held up by her long, brown hair, floating 2 feet above the dirt floor of the kitchen. She was a small child, but still, lifted as she was, her face was pulled taught by the weight. She should have been screaming in pain, but she didn't appear to be hurting. Frightened, yes, but not hurting.

As soon as Betsy's mom got her wits about her, she grabbed her little girl around the waist and pulled her down to the floor out of the grasp of those invisible hands. As they lay there crying, Betsy's father, Will, came rushing in to see what the commotion was about. He was afraid an Indian had snuck into the house and was trying to make off with his family. "Oh Will," his wife cried, "something evil got ahold of Betsy! We couldn't see it, but it was evil indeed!" Just then, the heavy wooden table lifted up on one side and as they watched in astonishment, it lifted higher and higher until the flour, the rolling pin and even the sticky biscuit dough slid to the floor. The table then gently and slowly eased back down.

The Bell family, Will, his wife, their three sons and the baby of the family, little Betsy, had moved to Tennessee from Illinois a few months previously. Nobody knows for sure whether the evil followed them from Illinois, but most agree it was either an old Indian graveyard Will had unknowingly disturbed when he built their home on top of it, or it could have been the spirit of the woman the Bells bought their land from - an evil, spiteful widow woman who claimed Will had cheated her on the deal. When she died just a few weeks after the Bell's moved into their newly built home, the woman passed away while cursing the Bell family from her death bed. 

For whatever strange reason, the spirit seemed to focus most of its evilness upon poor, innocent Betsy. It seemed to follow her wherever she went, pulling her hair and tripping her as she walked around the yard. When she went to bed at night, she couldn't sleep as the spirit pinched her, poked her, and made horrible noises in her ears whenever her poor eyes grew so weary they began to droop in spite of her determination to stay awake. Then the spirit seemed to leave, giving welcome respite to Betsy and the other members of her family. But just about the time their hopes were raised that the evilness had finally left them in peace, it would start up again. Several times Betsy's screams in the middle of the night would wake her parents who slept in the room next to hers. They would rush in to find Betsy lying in bed, drenched in cold well water and an empty wet pail laying on the floor across the room.

Betsy never knew when she ate her food whether the witch had strongly salted or peppered it or even poisoned it. Though she ate the same food from the same bowl as everyone else, she learned to take small test bites. Several times she became violently ill and almost died after eating. She was naturally thin, but she soon looked like death itself.

Every morning before dressing, she had to carefully shake out her clothes before putting them on. Not every day, but on most, her clothing would be concealing scorpions or ants or even small snakes.

When Betsy walked by animals, they seemed to sense the evilness that surrounded her - pigs snorted and ran to the other side of the pen, cows wouldn't let her milk them, horses spooked, dogs growled, cats raised their backs and hissed at her.

The family tried a number of times to move away, but a calamity always struck which prevented it. Their wagon broke an axle as they left once. Another time one of the horses that was pulling their wagon dropped dead just 1 mile from the house. The next time they tried to leave, a sudden rainstorm hit and turned the road into a bed of mud so deep nothing could travel on it for weeks. The Bells grew resigned to their sad plight.

Twelve long years passed in the same horrible fashion with Betsy barely clinging to life on many occasions, but she endured and grew to be a pretty and engaging young woman. While attending church, as the family did every Sunday, she caught the eye of a young man, the son of a neighbor. Soon they were betrothed and set a date for their wedding. The young man knew all about what had become known as the Bell Witch, but he loved Betsy and swore to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

The day of the wedding arrived and even though the knife which was used to cut the cake flew through the air by itself to stick in the front door of the church and the table holding the punch bowl tilted up spilling the liquid all over several people, the pair were married. Betsy's father gave them the gift of a brand-new wagon and 2 strong horses to pull it. The couple took the hint and hit the road with the intention of making their life together far away in Texas.

The land in Texas where, according to some
people, the Bell Witch lives.

Strangely, as they entered Texas, the witch that had been deviling them all along on their journey began to settle down. Several days into their travel across the state, it wasn't playing tricks as much and it felt like the meanness wasn't as evident. Texas was a mean country in those days and only the hardy and tough could survive in such a place. Perhaps the witch was getting tired of competing with all the meanness of the country they were traveling in. By the time the young lovers made it to the Big Bend area where they homesteaded a parcel of land, the spirit was no longer with them. Betsy and her husband lived to have a hard, but good life, raising 5 out of 7 children to adulthood and enjoying many grandchildren in their later years. They never experienced the Bell Witch again.

The old ones say the witch found a home here
with the cactus and rattlesnakes.

They didn't experience the witch again, you see, because that horrible spirit had found a spot in central Texas which didn't yet have a full compliment of evil. It stopped right there and made a home for itself. It's there still in the part of Texas where everything either bites, stings, or sticks. In that rocky hill country when horses spook for no reason, when snakes appear in flour bins, when babies scream at night, the old wise ones know the Bell Witch is the cause, still playing mean tricks and bullying the weak.

So when you come upon a sweet innocent child like little Betsy, a child with fear and hunger in her eyes, give all you can. A smile, a touch, a friendly nod. And say a prayer for those like little Betsy, that the evil witches of the world will let them be.

The Ghost of Delores Mountain

Dolores Mountain

Just outside of Fort Davis, Texas is a mountain where mysterious flickering lights are often seen on dark Thursday nights. Even though they can come up with no valid scientific reason, skeptics insist there must be some natural explanation for the strange lights. There are others, however, who know better. The lights are a sign that poor heart-broken Dolores is still looking for her slain lover.


Delores Mountain is named for a tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman named Dolores Gavino Doporto. Although very beautiful, Dolores was a sweet, simple village girl who took a job as a servant in the large house of a prosperous rancher. In the year 1854, Dolores met and fell deeply in love with Jose, a handsome shepherd boy who tended a large herd of sheep in a nearby valley. The two seemed made for each other and they planned to marry and raise a family.

The only thing that kept the couple apart was Jose's job. He had to spend many days and nights tending the sheep, guarding them from wolves and moving them from pasture to pasture so they could graze. Sometimes it would be weeks between the times the young lovers could be together in each other's arms. To show their continuing love and devotion to each other, every Thursday night, Dolores would climb to the top of the mountain near the ranch house where she worked and light a fire of brush and fallen tree limbs. Jose would build an answering fire in the valley. The fires let each know the other was safe, still very much in love, and anxiously waited for the day they would have saved enough money to begin their life together and never again be apart.

One Thursday night, Dolores climbed the mountain and lit her fire, but there was no answering fire from the valley below. Dolores stayed all night, feeding her fire with a dwindling supply of tree branches, but when the morning sun began to peek above the horizon, she knew without a doubt that something horrible had happened to Jose. She rushed back to the ranch house and with tears streaming down her face, begged her employer to mount a hunt for her betrothed.

It took two days, but the group of hired hands and other local ranchers found the mutilated body of Jose several miles from his flock. It was evident the Apaches had also seen the fires and had attacked, tortured and killed the hapless sheepherder.

Dolores was heartbroken and utterly despondent. She lost all joy in life and although she managed to go about her daily chores, there was no life in her eyes. The villagers prayed for Dolores, that her heart might one day begin to heal, but their prayers went unanswered. Several months later, there had been no improvement in her demeanor when one Thursday night, she stole away, climbed the mountain and lit a fire for Jose. It became her sad ritual to again climb the mountain every Thursday as she had when her love was alive, to build a fire and sadly stare off into the distance waiting for an answering flame which would never come. 

Top of Dolores Mountain

For 40 years, Dolores continued her forlorn ritual. She grew old and gray, but never recovered from her loss. When she died, she was buried in a simple grave near the path she had worn from her weekly trips up the mountain. It is in her honor the mountain where she lit her fires is known as Dolores Mountain. 

Poor Dolores has been dead for many years now, but on those Thursday nights when nothing, not even a sliver of a moon lightens the dark sky, the flickering light from her fire can be seen on top of Dolores Mountain. If you climb to the top of the mountain the day after the fire is seen, you will find the ashes of her fire scattered about by the strong West Texas wind. And if you look closely, perhaps you will also find bits of wood charred and blackened by the fire kept burning by a sad woman whose love will never die.

Haunting of the Alamo

One of the earliest pictures of the Alamo - 1858.

There are few people who grew up in America that do not know of the Alamo and the battle that took place there between February 23rd and March 6, 1836. All 182 Texans, including Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie, were killed while defending the Alamo garrison and approximately 600 Mexican soldiers were killed or wounded while trying to take it. Bodies of the Texan dead were dismembered and burned, the ashes left to be blown away by the winds. Today, the Alamo is a shrine, a registered historical site and the literal cemetery of those hundreds of men killed in the battle. Is it any wonder there are many chilling stories of ghostly experiences there? For almost 200 years, there have been reports of strange, smokey spirits floating around the grounds, of screams heard that seem to come from inside the sacred walls, and sounds of gunfire and explosions echo between the buildings in the dark of night.

The Alamo in 2012

The first ghostly encounter is recorded as happening only days after the final battle. General Santa Anna, commander of the Mexican troops and ruler of Mexico, quickly left the scene of the carnage. He placed General Juan Jose Andrade in charge of the battle site and town of San Antonio. Because of the stench of blood and death and the grizzly work of retrieving the Mexican bodies for burial, he made his camp several miles from the Alamo. Santa Anna had ordered him to destroy the Alamo so as soon as the last Mexican body had been buried, Andrade sent a colonel with a contingent of men to destroy and burn what was left of the Alamo garrison. They soon returned telling a story of 6 "ghost devils" guarding the front of the building. As the Mexican soldiers approached, the specters emerged from the walls with flaming sabers in their hands, screaming and charging at them. The men fell back and ran away without fulfilling their orders. General Andrade, scoffing the men's tale, took along members of his staff and went to investigate in person. In his official report he described seeing with his own eyes, 6 men with balls of fire in their hands who screamed and began advancing upon him and his terrified staff when they approached. Andrade hurriedly marched his army out of the city, leaving the Alamo as it was.

Most people believe all 182 Alamo defenders were killed during battle, but after-battle reports from Mexican Generals Castrillon, Perfecto de Cos, and Andrade state that 6 men, although all were wounded, survived the final bloodbath. At least one report states the body of Davy Crockett was found surrounded by 16 dead Mexican soldiers, but the General's reports indicate Davy was one of the survivors who surrendered against the impossible odds. Supposedly, the 6 survivors were brought to General Castrillon who gave them his protection. However, Santa Anna refused clemency and ordered them killed. When Castrillon refused to carry out the order, Santa Anna's staff followed his orders and, with bayonets and sabers, hacked the men to death. Over the years there have been many reports of the ghostly figure of a tall, stately man dressed in the uniform of an officer in the 1830's Mexican army who slowly walks around the buildings and grounds of the Alamo, his hands clasped behind his back, sadly shaking his head back and forth in sorrow. Upon being shown a picture of Castrillon, people who have seen this apparition immediately identify him as the "man" they saw. Could the 6 "diablos" (devils) who protected the Alamo against destruction by Andrade and his men be the 6 massacred survivors whose promise of clemency and protection were so cruelly rescinded?

The Alamo Cenotaph  in front of the Alamo in
San Antonio, Texas - 2012

The night before the final assault, the commander of the Alamo defenders, William Barrett Travis, gathered his men together and told them the end was probably near. They were facing overwhelming odds and the arrival of reinforcements which might turn the battle in their favor was doubtful. He offered any man who wanted to save himself the opportunity to slip over the Alamo walls and try to escape. Only one man, Louis "Moses" Rose, chose escape over honor and sure death. He became known as "the coward of the Alamo" and lived the rest of his life with the shame. Over the years, there have been hundreds of separate reports of a man dressed in "old west clothes," buckskin pants and a dirty cotton shirt, who is seen walking along in open fields and sometimes along the side of the road leading from Nacogdoches to San Antonio. When people ask him what he is doing or where he is going, the answer is always the same - "I'm trying to get back to the Alamo where I belong." The man then disappears, much to the astonishment of the person who was just talking to him.  It is thought this is the restless, guilty soul of Moses Rose, damned for all eternity to try to regain his honor by returning to die in the final bloody battle at the Alamo.

The author's wife & young daughter in
front of the Alamo, 2002. This was
taken with a high-end Nikon camera.
No "smokey apparition" was evident
when the picture was taken. One other
picture taken at the Alamo showed the
same smokey affect, but over 100 other
pictures were taken during the trip and
all others were sharp and clear. 

Numerous visitors over the years have reported seeing 2 small boys who appear to be about 10 and 12 years old tagging along with their tour group. Nobody knows who they are or where their parents are and nobody sees them leave. They never speak and seem to just disappear as soon as the tour group reaches the sacristy room in the Alamo chapel. This is the room where 19 women and children took shelter, seeking safety from the raging battle. It is thought the two boys must be the sons of Anthony Wolfe a defending artilleryman who was killed in the final battle. The boys, age 9 and 12, ran from the sacristy into the chapel during the final seconds of the fight, apparently seeking their father. When the Mexican soldiers entered the chapel, the boys tried to hide, but caught up with the fear of battle and fueled by adrenaline, the soldiers mistook the boys for combatants and killed them.

Each March, for a day or two after the anniversary of the battle, people who live and work in the area around the Alamo report hearing the sound of a single horse galloping across the pavement. Many are of the belief this is the spirit of James Allen, the last courier sent out of the Alamo with a letter from William Barrett Travis requesting aid. Allen left in the darkness in order to sneak through the Mexican lines just several hours before the final early morning assault. Evidently he is still trying to return to report back to Colonel Travis and to fight and die with his friends and compatriots.

For many years during the month of February, a small, blond-haired boy with a sad, forlorn look has been witnessed by numerous visitors to be peering out from one of the chapel windows. The window has no ledge and is too high for him to climb up to. It is said he is one of the children who was evacuated from the Alamo the day before the Mexican Army laid siege to it. He returns every February looking for his daddy, one of the brave men who died in the battle.

The Woman in Blue

In the early 1600's, Spanish missionaries came to the Texas wilderness to teach the Indians about Jesus and God. They found the "savages" were already in possession of a number of religious material - a stone alter with Jesus on the cross, crude but recognizable paintings of several Catholic saints, and some who wore carved crosses on leather strips around their necks. And they all told of white-skinned gods who had once walked among them.. According to the Indians, these divine visitors had spoken to them in a language different from theirs, but one they could understand. These gods had come and gone in ages past, but all promised they would come again someday.

A common story which got the most attention from the missionaries was about a beautiful young white goddess who appeared among several different groups of Indians living in Texas and elsewhere in the southwest. The Indians called her the "woman in blue" because every time she came, she wore a blue cloak.

Intrigued and confused by these stories, the missionaries quickly informed the church back in Spain that something very strange was going on over here. It was a profound spiritual mystery - how could these pagan savages living on the far edge of a strange new world know about the Catholic doctrine and be in possession of symbols of Christian faith? In response, numerous more missionaries were sent to Texas by the church with an assigned task - solve the mystery of the "woman in blue."

One of these emissaries from the church was Father Damien Manzanet. By chance, Father Damien had recently read a new book titled The Mystical City of God. In the book, Sister Maria de Agreda, a cloistered Castilian nun who was then 29 years of age, told how she had been mysteriously transported to a remote wilderness on the edge of New Spain. There she had met a race of pagans and she introduced the Christian religion to them. The sister claimed to have made the mystical journey more than 500 times. She told how she had been well received by a tribe of dark-skinned savages who called themselves "Tejas" and that they had somehow understood her every word. She claimed her out-of-body travels occurred only as she slept when she would suddenly grow rigid in bed and a state of supreme ecstasy would seize her. She would then suddenly be whisked away at blinding speed to the wilderness where she worked and prayed with the naked savages. Most of her visits were with the Tejas tribe, but sometimes she would be sent to a different group of natives. Even though the different tribes spoke different languages, she claimed they all could somehow understand her. All of this was naturally looked on with skepticism by the church since Sister Maria had come to the convent when she was just 15 and had never been outside the convent walls since her arrival. 

The same year Father Damien came to this new frontier, about 50 Jumano Indians appeared at Isleta, a Pueblo mission near Albuquerque asking that missionaries be sent among them to teach them more about God and to baptize them. When asked why they wanted this, they explained that a beautiful white goddess had been coming to them for many years and instructed them in "the truths of Christian faith." She had recently instructed them to come to the mission and ask for missionaries to come to their village and baptize them. She had given them directions from their village to the mission over 300 miles away and had seen them safely during their journey through the territory ruled by the fierce Apache.

Texas Bluebonnets

During Father Damien's travels into and across Texas, he heard more stories about the lady in blue. One chief told how the lady had healed his mother by touching her brow. Another legend told by a number of different tribes was that delicate blue flowers, Texas Bluebonnets, always blossomed wherever she stepped. One old chief who's wife was near death asked Father Damien for a piece of blue cloth to bury her in. When asked why it needed to be blue, the chief explained "that was the color of the cloak worn long ago by the beautiful young woman who came to Texas to tell us about God."

The stories and legends told by so many different Indians and the similarities between them and what Sister Maria de Agreda claimed in the book led Father Damien to conclude that God had indeed sent her among the Indians in the new world to spread the Gospel. He eventually traveled back to Spain and met with Sister Maria. He found her to be extremely pious, always dressed in the white tunic and blue robe of her order, and physically very beautiful, just as the Indians had claimed. She accurately told him not only the names of numerous tribes, but even the names and descriptions of individuals. Nearly all of the tribes and most of the individuals she talked about were verified by Father Damien who had met them during his travels.

Isleta Pueblo where Franciscan friars first learned
about the "Lady in Blue" teaching God to
the Indians.

Sister Maria died of natural causes in 1665. After 244 years in the ground, her body was exhumed in 1909 and was found to have not decayed. She was placed in a glass-lidded coffin and moved inside the convent she had faithfully served for 45 years. Her body is still there and with permission, may still be viewed.

Today, there remains legends about the beautiful "goddess" dressed in blue who supernaturally roamed the southwest teaching Christianity. Some believe she still roams the hills and deserts causing flowers to bloom and bestowing love and riches on the unfortunate. Who's to say she doesn't?

Sister Maria almost 350 years after death