Devil of a Ghost Tour 7

1885

Crouse crashed through the front doors of Mary Ann’s house and ran up the stairs. He grabbed a large black satchel and ran from room to room collecting his money from their various hiding places.

When he reached the top floor, he examined Mary Ann passed out on the bed. Good, he thought, I can make a clean get away. He quieted down and moved around the room collecting what few belongings he wanted to take with him. The satchel was bulging when he knelt before the dresser to sweep Mary Ann’s jewelry into its maw.

He jerked his head up as a familiar chill wormed its way under his skin. Behind his reflection in the mirror, the air vibrated in front of Mary Ann’s body. When she sat straight up in bed and turned to face him, his eyes widened. Her green eyes were now swallowed in blackness like gaping holes. He struggled to get to his feet, but she threw him forward, cracking the mirror with his head. Ears ringing, not only from the blow, but also from an unearthly howling and screaming, he cowered as she tore at his neck, back and arms with her nails.

Crouse managed to push Mary Ann away. She sprang forward, sinking her teeth into his arm. He wrapped his fingers around her throat, pried her off, drew back and landed a solid punch to the side of her face. The gold rings on his fingers left bloody gouges on her cheek. When she rushed him, a kick to her abdomen sent her flying backward.

She charged again - red hair streaming behind her, black eyes boring into him, mouth screaming, face contorted in rage. He aimed his pistol and fired point-blank into her face. She dropped like a stone to the floor.

Crouse ripped off his holster and clothes, sticky with blood and bits of Mary Ann's face. His pistols clattered to the floor. Sounds of a commotion drifted up from the front of the house. After putting on clean clothes, he leaned out the back bedroom window and tossed the satchel to the ground. He hung off the back porch for several seconds before landing beside it. The backyard was enclosed by a low rock wall. He cleared the wall and made a beeline to the center of town - San Jacinto Plaza.

***

J. Fisher Satterthwaite was commissioned by the El Paso Parks and Streets Commissioner to create something beautiful out of the sand and mesquite filled property.

Satterthwaite fenced off the park, put in a walled pond, built a gazebo, and planted seventy-five Chinese elm trees. Then he brought alligators. By the time he was done, the pond held at least seven. No one knew the reason behind his choice, but the unique reptile attraction drew shoppers and on-lookers to the downtown area.

Crouse entered the crowded Plaza expecting to hide himself among the crowd as he made his way to the train depot. He surveyed the people going about their day and hurried to the southern part of the plaza. Couples, families, and lone men passed him without a second glance.

Nearing the alligator pond, he forced himself to shrug his shoulders, take a deep breath and relax. Sunset Heights wasn't safe now. The last train would be here in a couple of hours to take him far away from El Paso.

He paused to admire the alligators bathing in the sun, when a chill dried the sweat on his shirt and made him shiver in the desert heat. Swiveling his head from side to side, he caught other people pulling at their clothes or hugging their bodies.

The shimmer appeared on his right. His mouth went slack as a face with black holes for eyes focused on him. He reached for his holster. Nothing there. Dread clouded his mind as he realized he’d left his holster and pistols at the whorehouse. Panicking, he hopped over the low concrete wall into the alligator pond.

The splash of water as the alligators plunged into the moat reminded him of the danger he'd jumped into. He turned around to climb back over the wall. People with pitch-black eyes peered down at him.

Crouse kept one eye on the alligators floating nearby and the other eye on the increasing number of inky black stares aimed directly at him. When he tried to make his way over the wall, the hands attached to those stares, shoved him down.

Crying out in frustration, he ran to another point along the wall and was pushed back again. On his third attempt, a huge man punched him in the face sending him tumbling down almost to the edge of the moat. He shook his head, trying to clear it, then started up the grassy slope. The alligators charged out of the water. One clamped down on his leg.

He screamed and twisted around using his heavy satchel to beat the reptile’s nose. The satchel popped open on the third blow sending its contents into the air.

Another alligator clamped onto his arm. Crouse tilted his head back to scream. Money floated down in graceful twirls from the sky above him.