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Date: Wed, 14 Oct 1998 17:37:30 -0700 (PDT)
To: guestbook@ghosts.org
I was thirteen at the time of this story, and I and my family lived in Pleasanton, Texas. My father at this time was a government trapper and worked over near Junction, Texas, which is quite a drive from where we lived at the time of this story. Anyway, to continue with this account hopefully without putting anyone asleep, I’ll tell you what happened.
My father at first would come home on weekends looking tired and upset but would not tell anyone what the problem was for about the first couple of months; then one day I guess he could hold it in no longer. He took my mother aside and told her what was going on; of course we (myself and my brother) did not know what was going on till a couple of years after we had our own experience.
Now to get the story right I have to start with me and my brother’s experience first.
My mother and father had to go back to Pleasanton to get the rest of our furniture and bring it to Llano, where we were going to live. So Mom and Dad left my brother and myself there at the trapper’s cabin till they they got back in a couple hours. Unfortunately there were problems and they didn’t get back till a little after midnight.
It nearly midnight when I happened to look out the kitchen window and saw a very bright light go past it. Then I heard voices outside clear as a bell, yet I remembered later that I could not understand a word that was being said. My brother, whom I thought was asleep on the bed, was faking being asleep because he was scared. So was I, so upon hearing the voices I went outside to investigate, and to my disturbance there was no one there, and that should have been impossible being that the area around the cabin was quite open and no places to hide.
See, this scared me a great deal since I knew I heard those voices, and to find out later so did my brother.
My mom and dad came home about forty five minutes later, and I related everything to them; my mother told me that I was imagining it and that I should go on to bed.
A couple years later my father told me that it was not my imagination, that it really did happen. The reason why he knew it did, he said, was because for the two months that he stayed there by himself, the same thing happened every single night. He said at first they scared him, but later they just irritated him, because they would get so loud sometimes, until he would yell for them to shut up, and they would, for a little while.
Several years ago my father was reading a true western magazine when he came upon a story about the hill where that cabin was built.
An ex-cavalry captain and some other ex-troops and some ranch owners gathered a group together and went after small band of Apache Indians whom had stolen several cattle.
They caught up with them and a fight ensued, casualties were retained on both sides, and almost all the Apaches were killed; and I feel it is they that haunt there to this day.