Chapter 17: The Ghost of Old Man Travis
Two weeks later, the day of Harmony's belated birthday celebration had arrived. The HawkTails and Buzzards loaded their wagons with supplies and set out for the great outdoors, eager to leave the tension of High Wind Gulch behind. The camping trip was to be a chance for the families to bond, to laugh and share stories around the campfire without the shadow of prejudice out there hanging over their heads.
The journey was filled with the sweet scent of sagebrush and the sound of hooves beating against the earth as they traveled along the dusty trail. Harmony's eyes lit up with excitement as they approached the lush meadow where they would set up camp. It was a place Clarence had often spoken of. A place where the sky stretched on forever and the stars were so close you could almost touch them.
As they arrived, the families set to work unloading the wagons, their laughter carrying on the gentle breeze. Clarence helped Avery with the horses, while Becky and Ruby worked together to set up the tents. Baron and Harmony, unable to contain their excitement, raced off to explore the surrounding hills, their friendship a stark contrast to the tension that had been building in High Wind Gulch.
The camp grew lively with the crackling of the fire and the smell of roasting marshmallows. The adults shared stories of their youth, the firelight dancing across their faces, as the children listened with wide eyes. Avery pulled out his fiddle, and soon the night was filled with the sweet, mournful tunes that seemed to speak to the very soul of the meadow. Harmony clapped along, her laughter ringing out as Becky sang in her soft, lilting accent.
But as the night grew darker, Clarence leaned back, his gaze drifting to the distant silhouette of the abandoned gold mine that loomed over the hills. His voice took on a grave tone, and the children leaned in closer. "Ya know, young'uns," he began, "This here spot ain't just famous fer its charm. Folks are talkin' 'bout ghosts and gold that linger in these hills."
Ruby's eyes widened, and she shot a quick look at Becky, who had gone quiet, her needlework forgotten in her lap. "What kind of ghosts, Clarence?" she asked with a mix of excitement and fear.
Clarence leaned in, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. "The kind that don't take kindly to those who disturb their rest," he said, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Folks say there's an ol' shack up yonder, right by the deserted gold mine. Word is them miners found somethin'... somethin' from beyond this here world. They claim it was a hoard beyond reckonin', but it packed a hex. Any critter that steps into that cabin with a shady heart ain't never found again."
The children's eyes grew wide with wonder, and even the adults couldn't help but listen as Clarence spun his tale. "It's said that the ghosts of those greedy miners still roam the hills, protectin' their treasure from the likes of us," he continued, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of his story. "They got a mighty howl that carries 'cross the night, and if yer alone out here, it'll freeze yer blood right out."
Harmony and Baron exchanged glances, their imaginations running wild. "Could we go see it?" Harmony asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and fear. Becky shot her a look of concern, but Clarence just chuckled.
"Can we Pa?" Even Baron was getting a bit jumpy from Clarence's campfire tales.
"Now, now, young'uns," Clarence said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm just spinnin' yarns to keep the night lively. Best not to go pokin' around in places that'll get ya in trouble. Besides, it's late. Time for ya'll to hit the hay."
Baron and Harmony exchanged disappointed glances before reluctantly heading to their tent. The adults shared knowing looks, their smiles hinting at the memories of their own childhood adventures. But as the camp grew quiet and the stars twinkled above, their thoughts turned to the whispers of gold and ghosts.
Avery picked up his fiddle again, playing a softer, more solemn tune. Becky cleared her throat, her voice carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. "Way back in Buzzard's Spring, we sure had our share of folks who looked down their noses at us," she began, her eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "But we had each other, and we had our kin."
Avery nodded, his eyes misting over with memories. "Yep, at Buzzard's Chapel, we weren't doin' much better neither," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But we sure learned to stand proud, didn't we, Becky?"
Becky looked at her husband, her feathers ruffling gently in the night breeze. "We did, Avery," she said, her voice strong. "Whenever folks called us names or chucked rotten eggs at our porch, we just dusted ourselves off and kept ridin'. We knew we was better than their mess."
Ruby leaned in closer, her eyes thoughtful. "But it ain't just 'bout takin' on the varmints, aint it?" she said, her voice soft. "It's about showin' kindness to those who might not look like us or come from where we do. That's what Harmony and Baron have been doin', ain't it?"
Becky nodded, a proud smile crossing her beak. "They sure have," she said. "And it ain't easy. Sometimes, you gotta stand up to folks who think they're better than you, just 'cause of what you are. But you know what? We're all the same underneath these feathers and fur. We all got hearts that beat, and we all got dreams that keep us flyin'."
Ruby squeezed Becky's wing, her eyes misting over. "That's the truth," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But it ain't just them two-legged critters we gotta keep an eye on, ain't that right?" She cast a meaningful glance at the distant hills, where the gold mine lay hidden in shadow.
Avery nodded solemnly. "You're right, Ruby," he said, his fiddle resting against his chest. "There's all sorts of dangers out there. But it's the ones that hide behind masks and fine words that you gotta be wary of." He hadn't forgotten about Jackalope Jasper.
The conversation grew quiet as the adults took a moment to reflect on the trials they had faced and the bonds they had forged. Inside the tent, Harmony and Baron whispered excitedly about the treasure Clarence had mentioned, their eyes wide with wonder.
"Do you think there's really gold up there?" Harmony whispered, her heart racing at the thought of adventure.
Baron shrugged. "Ma and Pa have seen a lot of strange things, Harmony. Who's to say?"
The two friends lay on their stomachs, their heads poking out of the tent's flap as they stared into the distance where the gold mine was rumored to be. The fire outside had died down to embers, and the adults' voices were a faint murmur. They were lost in a world of whispers and shadows, their young minds racing with tales of adventure and treasure.
"What if it's true?" Harmony whispered, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "What if there's a fortune just waiting for us to find it?"
Baron's beak curled into a sly smile. "We'd be the richest kids in Moo Mesa," he said, his imagination running wild. "We could buy as many caramel corn husks as we want, and Pa could get the best horses to race in the derby."
Harmony's eyes grew wide at the thought. "But what if the ghosts are real?" she whispered, a hint of fear in her voice. "What if they don't like us taking their gold?"
Baron chuckled, though his voice was tinged with nerves. "Ghosts are just stories, Harmony," he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Besides, we got the sheriff and the best fiddle player in the west to protect us, right? I mean, Pa told me they don't exist."
Harmony's eyes searched his, looking for the truth. "But what if they do?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper. "What if they're up there right now, watching us?"
Baron took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "Then we'll just have to be braver than them," he whispered back, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Suddenly, the warmth of the campfire was ripped away by a cold, eerie wind that seemed to come from nowhere. The flames hissed and sputtered before dying out completely, leaving them in darkness. The adults' voices grew hushed, and the horses whinnied nervously. The children exchanged a look of horror as the flaps of their tent billowed in the sudden gust.
A shadowy figure emerged from the edge of the meadow, its eyes glowing a haunting blue in the moonlight. It was tall, with ragged clothing that fluttered around it like tattered wings. The adults gasped; their smiles frozen on their faces. Becky's hand flew to her mouth, and Avery's grip tightened around his fiddle.
"Everyone, to the tents!" Clarence called out, his voice firm and authoritative. The campers scrambled to gather their things; their laughter replaced by a palpable fear. The spectral figure took a step closer, its eyes never leaving the group. It raised a bony hand, and the wind grew stronger, snuffing out the remaining embers of the campfire. The once comforting warmth was replaced by a cold that seeped into their bones.
The adults hustled the children into their tents, their movements swift and protective. Baron's heart hammered in his chest as he watched the figure approach. Harmony clutched his arm, her eyes wide with terror. Becky and Ruby ushered them inside, whispering soothing words that seemed to have little effect against the chilling presence outside. Avery and Clarence stepped in front of the tents, standing tall despite the fear that washed over them, praying that the Spirit of the West was with them to drive the evil away, whatever it was.
The figure grew closer, its eyes piercing through the darkness like cold, blue stars. The very air seemed to tremble with its power, and the ground beneath their feet felt as if it might crack open and swallow them whole. The children held their breath, their hearts pounding in their chests. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the wind died down, and the figure vanished, leaving nothing but the echo of its haunting howl in the stillness of the night.
The adults shared worried looks, but said nothing as they stoked the fire back to life. The warmth was a welcome relief, pushing back the cold that had invaded their very souls. Yet, the tension remained thick in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh realities that waited for them back in High Wind Gulch.
"Don't you worry none, young'uns," Clarence said, his voice firm but with an underlying tremor. "It's just the wind playin' tricks on us. That's all."
Baron peeked out of the tent, his eyes searching the meadow for any sign of the ghostly apparition. "But Pa," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "what if we... what if we made the ghost mad, talking about the gold nuggets?"
Clarence turned to look at him, his eyes serious. "Now, Baron," he said, his voice low and soothing, "We ain't sure if them old tales hold water. But if there's a ghost up yonder, I reckon we've stirred it up more'n our chatter 'bout gold."
Baron swallowed hard, his feathers standing on end. "But what if it's because we talked about the gold?" he persisted, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if it's protecting something?"
Clarence sighed, setting Avery's fiddle aside in a safe spot. "Baron, son," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Ghosts and gold... those are just stories. They ain't nothin' but tall tales to keep kids like you and Harmony in line. Just like that old ghost tale from Cow Town bout the legend of another mean miner called Tom Duggery who staked his claim on Skull Mountain Mine. It's meant to discourage travelers from goin' into the mines alone and not get caved in."
But the look in her eyes told a different story. Becky had always had a keen sense for the unusual, and the sudden chill in the air had stirred something in her. The ghosts of her own past, perhaps. The thought of the enchanted fabric and the dark whispers that had led them here in the first place swirled in her mind like the dust devils that danced across the mesa. But those voices should have stopped after she and Avery returned it all to Whispering Wings two years ago. There was no way they should still be here. It hardly made enough sense for them to still do that.
"Ma?" Baron's voice was a soft whisper, bringing Becky back to the present. She forced a smile, pushing her worries aside.
"What is it, little one?" she asked, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.
Baron looked up at her, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "Ma, do you think the ghosts are mad at us?"
Becky felt a shiver run down her spine, but she kept her expression calm. "No, darlin'," she said, stroking his feathers. "Ghosts are just stories folks tell to keep the young ones from strayin' into dangerous places. Just like Clarence says. Nothin' to worry 'bout. Now go to sleep."
The night remained still, the meadow silent except for the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of leaves. The children, despite their fear, eventually drifted off to sleep, lulled by the comforting whispers of their parents. But Becky lay awake, her eyes scanning the darkness, her mind racing with thoughts of the enchanted fabric. The ghosts of the past seemed to have followed her to High Wind Gulch, and she couldn't shake the feeling that their peaceful life was about to be upended once more. She wanted to believe that it was all in her head, that it was just a traumatic phase from when they almost lost everything, Harmony included, understanding Ruby's fear that led her to become overprotective of her daughter. But she had learned that it only did more harm than good keeping her away from Baron and the other children.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, the sun casting a golden glow over the meadow. The adults tried to shake off the previous night's eerie encounter, focusing on packing up the camp and preparing for the journey home. Harmony and Baron, however, couldn't help but sneak glances at the distant hills, their thoughts lingering on the haunted gold mine. They had faced down so much together, but this felt different. This was a real adventure, one that called to the very core of their being.
As they rode back to High Wind Gulch, the air was thick with anticipation. The children whispered about the gold and the ghosts, their imaginations running wild. Becky and Ruby watched them with a mix of amusement and concern. They knew the power of stories, especially in a world where the line between myth and reality often blurred. They also knew that sometimes; those stories had a way of becoming all too real.
Days passed, and the camping trip grew into a distant memory. Baron and Harmony threw themselves into their chores, eager to leave the whispers of the night behind. But the call of adventure is a siren's song, and it was not easily forgotten. They tried to bury their curiosity under mounds of ranch duties and lessons on horse riding, but it was like trying to hide a rooster in a henhouse. It was bound to come out sooner or later. And it would be another year or two before they were able to go to school, depending on the completion to the schoolhouse, leaving it up to the parents in town to teach their children for the time being.
One sun-drenched afternoon, as they played outside, their games took them further from the safety of their homes than they had ever ventured before. They stumbled upon a dilapidated shack perched atop a hill, a relic of the mining days. The schoolyard rumors of the haunted gold mine had painted a vivid picture in their minds, and now, the sight of the abandoned house sent a thrill down their spines. It was as if the ghosts of the past had reached out and grabbed them by the scruff of their necks, pulling them back into the heart of the mystery.
Baron looked over at Harmony, his eyes wide with excitement. "You don't think the ghosts live here, do you?" he asked, his voice a mix of hope and trepidation.
Harmony squared her shoulders, trying to appear braver than she felt. "Maybe," she said, her voice betraying a slight tremor. "But if they do, we'll show 'em we ain't scared." Then she started having second thoughts about this, remembering what their parents told them about staying away from buildings and not stepping on someone else's property which can not only be disrespectful, but dangerous, just like staying away from abandoned areas for more than one good reason. "Reckon we oughta hightail it home 'fore we miss supper."
Baron nodded; his curiosity tempered by the setting sun. "Yeah, you're right," he said, though his eyes remained on the gate. "But one day," he whispered, his gaze flicking back to the house, "we'll come back. And we'll spend the night in there. We'll show everyone what we done."
Harmony looked at him, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "You're on," she said, holding out her hand. They shook on it, their pact sealed in the dusty air.
The iron gate that surrounded the house was rusted and tall, with sharp spikes that seemed to whisper of the dangers within. The NO TRESPASSING sign creaked in the breeze, flapping like a warning flag. The children of High Wind Gulch had long ago turned the shack into a challenge, a rite of passage of sorts. Whispers of bravery and foolishness swirled through the schoolyard like dust devils.
Baron and Harmony stood before the gate, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had heard the stories, the taunts of the older kids who dared each other to spend a night within the haunted walls. They had seen the proud grins of those who claimed to have survived the encounter, though their wide eyes and trembling hands often told a different tale.
The house loomed before them, a silent sentinel of secrets and shadows. Its once grandiose structure had been ravaged by time and the elements, leaving only a skeletal frame that whispered of the prosperity and greed that had once fueled the town's obsession with gold. The children looked at each other, the gravity of their promise weighing heavily on their young minds.
Just as they were about to turn away, a group of older kids from the neighborhood sauntered up, their laughter cutting through the stillness like a knife. They stopped when they saw Baron and Harmony, eyeing them with a mix of curiosity and contempt. "What're you two doin' here?" sneered one, a young coyote named Billy Bobtail. "You ain't got the guts to face Old Man Travis's ghost, do ya?"
Their taunts hung in the air, and the two friends felt their cheeks burn with embarrassment. Harmony looked at Baron, and he knew what she was thinking. They couldn't let these bullies think they were scared. "Who's Old Man Travis?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Yeah, who is he?" Baron wanted to know more.
Billy Bobtail's smirk grew wider. "Why, he's the meanest, scariest ghost in all of Moo Mesa!" he said, his tail wagging with glee. "He used to work in the gold mine until it caved in on him. Now he haunts this place, lookin' for his lost gold!"
The other kids snickered, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of scaring the younger ones. Harmony felt her nerves tighten, but she forced a brave smile. "We ain't scared of no ghost," she said, her voice steady despite the quiver in her belly.
Baron puffed out his chest, standing tall beside her. "Yeah," he added, trying to mimic Clarence's calm confidence. "Ghosts are just stories to keep kids like us in line."
The older kids snickered, their laughter echoing off the rotting boards of the house. "Oh, is that so?" said Billy Bobtail, his grin turning into a sneer. "Then why don't you two prove it? Spend the night in there, and maybe we'll believe you ain't chicken."
Baron and Harmony exchanged glances, their hearts racing with a mix of fear and curiosity. They didn't believe in ghosts, but the house was undeniably creepy. Yet, the challenge from their peers was too tempting to resist. It was a chance to prove themselves, to show that they weren't just the sheriff's daughter and the outcast buzzard kid.
"Fine," Baron said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We'll do it."
The group of older kids erupted in laughter, thinking it was all a bluff. But Harmony stepped forward, her eyes flashing with determination. "We ain't just flappin' our gums. We're spendin' the night in that ol' shack, and we'll rustle up somethin' to show for it."
Baron swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but the thought of facing the house alone was terrifying. Harmony, however, looked as if she was ready to tackle the challenge head-on. They both knew that to be accepted, they had to stand up to the bullies and show them that fear had no hold over them. With a deep breath, Baron turned to face the shack. "Alright, I'll go first," he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.
The gate screeched open, and the house seemed to loom even larger before him. The shadows grew deeper as the sun began to set, casting a long, eerie shadow across the yard. Baron took a tentative step forward, his eyes scanning the interior of the house for any signs of movement. The floorboards groaned under his weight, sending a shiver down his spine. He stepped into the gloom, each footfall echoing through the empty rooms like the tick of a doomsday clock.
Outside, Harmony watched with a mix of admiration and fear. She didn't want to let her friend go in alone, but she also knew that calling for her father would only make things worse for Baron. The town was already wary of the Buzzard family, and she didn't want to add fuel to the fire from anyone that still believes them to be bringers of catastrophe. So, she bit her lip and held her ground, her talons tightening around the wooden fence post.
Baron took another step into the darkness, and the house groaned in response. It was as if the very walls were alive, protesting his intrusion. Harmony could see his silhouette moving from room to room, the dust dancing around him like a cloud of specters. She heard the occasional thump and rustle, and she wondered what was making those sounds. Was it just the house settling, or was there something more sinister at play?
The kitchen was the first room he came across, its cabinets bare and shelves cobwebbed. The table was laid with plates and silverware, frozen in a dinner that had never been eaten. Baron felt a pang of sadness as he pictured a family sitting around the table, laughing and sharing stories. Now, all that remained were the echoes of a life long ago. The pots and pans hanging from the ceiling rattled in the breeze, sending a chill down his spine. He shivered, pushing the feeling away. He had to be brave for Harmony, for their friendship, and for his own pride. Turning away, Baron resisted the urge to look and see if those dishes were about to fall.
Moving into the living room, the dusty furniture looked like it had been abandoned mid-use. A rocking chair swayed back and forth, as if an invisible hand pushed it in a soothing rhythm. The fireplace was cold and dark, the remnants of a forgotten fire scattered across the hearth. Baron stepped closer, half expecting to see a ghostly figure sitting in the chair, but it was just a trick of the light. He told himself that there was nothing to be afraid of, that it was all just a bunch of old junk. But the house had a way of making even the most mundane objects feel alive with secrets.
"There ain't nobody in the chair," he said to himself. "Nobody there." Although he did get a little closer to the rocking chair just to see that it was just a draft coming in, even sweeping his hand around it to prove himself right.
Baron pushed through the cobwebs in the hallway, leading to the staircase. Each step creaked under his weight, as if the house itself was groaning in protest. The banister was smooth from years of use, and he could almost feel the ghosts of hands that had slid down it in happier times. The wallpaper peeled away, revealing the bare bones of the house, a stark reminder of the transience of life and the relentless march of time.
The picture frames along the wall caught his eye, their contents obscured by layers of dust and grime. Yet, as he moved, it was as if the faces within were following him, their painted eyes tracking his every move. His feathers stood on end, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, judged even, by the ghosts of the house's past inhabitants. The frames felt like accusatory fingers pointing at him, the only living soul daring to disturb their slumber.
"Nothing in those pictures, nothing at all," He whispered to himself, resisting the temptation to look back and see if the eyes were moving.
Baron pushed open the first door, revealing a dusty, cobwebbed room. The bed was unmade, its sheets stiff with age. A chest of drawers stood against the wall, its contents spilling out onto the floor. Baron approached it cautiously, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of a ghostly presence. His heart hammered in his chest like a woodpecker on a hollow log, and he swallowed hard to keep his nerve.
In the corner, a glint of metal caught his eye. It was a tarnished pocket watch, its chain snaking through the dust. He picked it up, the cold metal feeling strange in his feathered hands. It had to be worth something, and it would serve as proof of his bravery. He slipped it into his pocket, feeling a strange heaviness as if he had stolen more than just an old timepiece.
As he turned to leave, the floorboards beneath his feet creaked ominously. A shadow fell across the doorway, and Baron's heart stopped. He spun around, expecting to see a ghostly apparition, but instead, he found himself face to face with Harmony. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was clutching a broom she had found in the corner. Both of them jumped and screamed at the same time.
"Harmony!" Baron yelled, his heart racing. "What're you doing here?"
"I-I couldn't let you go in alone," she stuttered, the broom shaking in her grasp. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
Baron's initial fright morphed into relief at seeing his friend. "It's okay," he said, his voice still trembling. "I'm just... I'm just happy you're here."
Harmony took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "The kids outside," she began, "they said if I aim to show we ain't fearful, I gotta fetch somethin' from this here house. Somethin'... mighty important."
Baron looked at her, his feathers ruffled. "What do they want you to get?"
"The diary of Old Man Travis," Harmony replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "They said it's hidden up here, and if I don't bring it out, they'll... they'll say we're both chickens."
Baron's eyes widened. "The diary? That's just a story, Harmony. There ain't no such thing."
But Harmony's expression was determined. "They said it's real," she insisted. "And if I don't get it, they'll say we're both yellow-bellied. And we'll be the laughin' stock in school."
Baron's heart sank. He knew all too well the sting of the cruel games of children. He didn't want Harmony to go through that, especially not because of him. "Alright," he said, gripping the pocket watch in his pocket. "We'll find it together."
They searched room after room, their eyes peeled for any sign of the mythical diary. The house was a labyrinth of shadows and dust, each corner hiding a new surprise. They found a sewing room, a study filled with dusty tomes, and even a nursery with a rocking horse that seemed to rock by itself. But the diary remained elusive. The whispers of the past grew louder, each room telling a story of love and loss, of dreams shattered by the harsh realities of the gold rush.
They approached the piano with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Harmony's eyes widened as she recalled the campfire tales her father had shared about the diary's supposed location. "This is it," she murmured. "This is where he said it would be."
Baron nodded, his own heart racing. The piano looked like it hadn't been played in decades, its once gleaming finish now dulled by the relentless march of time. He cautiously approached it, feeling the weight of the room's history pressing down on him. His feathers brushed against the dusty keys, sending a shiver down his spine. The sound of their whispers echoed through the room, punctuated by the occasional creak of the old house.
They searched the piano's exterior, looking for any sign of a hidden compartment. Harmony's eyes lit up as she found a tiny lever on the side of the instrument. "Here it is," she exclaimed, her voice hushed with excitement. Baron watched as she gently pulled the lever, and a panel clicked open. Inside, nestled among the dust and cobwebs, lay a leather-bound book.
Baron took a deep breath and leaned in, reading the words that seemed to almost bleed into the pages. The diary spoke of the dark pact Old Man Travis had made to find the gold, of the sacrifices he had made, and the price he had paid. His heart raced as he took in the grisly details of the miners' fates from the drawn illustrations, each one more terrifying than the last. They had all disappeared, one by one, never to be seen again.
Baron's feathers stood on end as he took in the grim tales of the miners' demise. Each entry spoke of greed overshadowing friendship, of deals made with shadows that could never be undone. The diary revealed that Old Man Travis had known all along about the curse that had claimed the lives of his comrades. Yet, he had kept silent, allowing the gold mine to continue claiming its toll on the desperate and the hopeful. The diary's revelations painted a picture of a man torn between his own ambition and the need to protect those he had once called friends.
"We've seen enough," Harmony whispered, her voice trembling. She slammed the book shut with a finality that echoed through the room. The dust danced in the sudden silence, and the house seemed to sigh with relief. "We need to get out of here, Baron. Now."
They turned to leave the room, the diary clutched tightly in Harmony's hands. The house seemed to groan in protest, as if it didn't want them to go. Each step down the stairs felt like a betrayal to the whispers that had filled their ears. The hallway grew narrower, the shadows stretching out like grasping hands. They quickened their pace, the creaks and groans of the floorboards following them like a mournful chant.
As they reached the bottom, a sudden gust of wind howled through the shack, slamming the door shut with a thunderous boom. The noise was so loud it seemed to shake the very foundation of the house. Baron and Harmony froze, their eyes wide with terror. The wind outside grew into a furious storm, the kind that only visited High Wind Gulch when it had something to hide. The windows rattled in their frames, and the candles flickered, casting eerie shadows across the walls.
The whispers grew louder, now angrily demanding they leave the secrets they had stolen. Baron and Harmony exchanged a look of dread, realizing they had become a part of the very legend they had set out to disprove. The diary in Harmony's grasp grew warm, almost pulsing with a life of its own. It was as if the house was alive, and it didn't want them to leave with the dark knowledge contained within its pages.
They approached the door, only to find it stubbornly unyielding. The wind outside had turned into a full-blown tempest, the shack groaning and shaking as if it was trying to expel them. Rain lashed the windows, creating a cacophony of sound that made their hearts race. Harmony gripped the doorknob with trembling hands, her knuckles white with the effort.
"What's happening?" she yelled over the storm.
Baron's voice was firm, though fear crackled at its edges. "We gotta get outta here."
As if in response, a deep, gravelly voice boomed through the shack. "You've seen too much," it growled, a chilling echo that seemed to come from the very walls themselves. "Give me back what's mine, and maybe I'll let you leave."
Baron and Harmony whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. It was Old Man Travis, his specter flickering into existence before their very eyes. His ghostly form was tall and skeletal, with piercing eyes that bore into their souls. The diary in Harmony's hands grew hot, and she dropped it with a yelp, the pages fluttering open to reveal more gruesome tales of the gold mine's dark history.
The air grew thick with a malevolent presence as the diary lay open on the floor, its pages fluttering in the storm's fury. The whispers grew into a cacophony of angry voices, all demanding the return of their stolen stories. The wind outside grew stronger, and the shack felt as if it would collapse at any moment. The walls seemed to close in, the floorboards warping and twisting as if the house itself were seeking to keep them contained.
Baron stepped forward; his resolve unwavering. "We ain't giving it back," he declared, his voice strong despite the tremor of fear that ran through him. "The town deserves to know the truth."
The specter of Old Man Travis grew more substantial, his eyes burning with an otherworldly rage. "Fools," he bellowed. "The truth will only bring you despair!"
Harmony clutched the diary to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "We ain't givin' it to you," she shouted back, her voice shaking. "We know you're hidin' somethin' from them!"
The spectral figure of Old Man Travis grew more substantial, his eyes blazing with a fiery rage that seemed to burn through the very fabric of the room. The air grew colder, the shack's walls groaning in protest as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within. "You know not what you do," he roared, his voice echoing through the shack.
Baron stepped in front of Harmony; the diary forgotten in her trembling hands. "Go away Old Man Travis," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "Pa says ghosts ain't real."
The specter's cackle filled the room, a sound like dry leaves being crunched underfoot. "Your Pa was a fool," the voice hissed. "You think you can outsmart me?"
Baron took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "We ain't here to fight you," he said firmly. "We just want the truth. And we're takin' this diary back with us."
The specter's laughter grew louder, the walls of the shack shuddering with each mirthless chuckle. "You think you can just waltz in here and take what's mine?" The temperature dropped, and the candles flickered as if the very air was alive with the anger of the restless spirits.
"We ain't leavin' without it," Harmony shouted back, her voice gaining strength. The diary felt like a living thing in her grasp, pulsing with the echoes of the town's dark past.
The storm outside grew wilder, as if the very sky was joining in the ghostly chorus of rage. The walls of the shack trembled, and the floorboards beneath their feet felt as if they were about to give way. But in that moment, a beam of light pierced through the darkness, and the tempest outside seemed to still.
Clarence HawkTail burst through the door, his feathers drenched and his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. In his hand, he clutched a talisman that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. It was a feather, one that looked remarkably similar to the ones adorning the hat of Whispering Wings, the wise pigeon they had met on their last visit to the mystical lands beyond the desert.
The specter of Old Man Travis recoiled at the sight of the talisman, his laughter turning to a snarl of rage. "You've brought a toy to face me?" he bellowed.
Clarence stepped forward; the talisman raised high. "This ain't no toy," he said, his voice steady and strong. "It's a gift from Whispering Wings herself. It's got the power to protect against the likes of you."
With a swift motion, Clarence threw the feather talisman into the heart of the storm. The moment it left his hand, the shack was bathed in a warm, golden light that chased away the shadows. The specter of Old Man Travis let out a howl of anger, his form flickering and distorting as the power of the talisman hit him like a physical blow. The diary on the floor grew quiet, its pages no longer fluttering with the restless whispers of the dead.
The wind outside abated slightly, and the house stilled as if it had been holding its breath. The feather talisman hovered in the air, spinning and glowing brighter with each passing second. The floorboards beneath it began to shift, revealing a hidden compartment that had been sealed for decades. The children watched in amazement as the ground split open, revealing a set of stairs that descended into the cold, damp earth.
"The gold mine," Clarence murmured, his eyes never leaving the glowing feather. "It's right beneath us."
Baron and Harmony stared at the opening in disbelief. The secrets they had sought were literally at their feet, but Clarence's firm grip on their shoulders told them they wouldn't be exploring it tonight. The storm outside had lessened to a whisper, the only sound now the gentle patter of rain on the shack's roof.
"You two have had enough adventure for one night," Clarence said, his voice stern. "We've got to get home and let your folks know you're safe."
Baron and Harmony looked at each other, the excitement of their discovery warring with the disappointment of being told to wait. But they knew Clarence was right. They had defied the town's most feared legend, and now they had to deal with the consequences.
As they stepped out into the rain-soaked night, Clarence began to explain how he had found them. "Thunder here," he said, patting his horse's wet neck, "has a nose for trouble. When I realized you two had gone missin', I knew I had to find ya before the storm hit. And hit, it did," he added with a wry smile. "But ol' Thunder here sniffed out your trail and led me straight to the property line. Then, it was just a matter of trackin' you down through the house."
The children looked at Thunder with newfound respect, the stallion's dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight. The horse had saved them from the wrath of Old Man Travis's ghost, and they both knew they owed him a debt of gratitude. "Thank you, Thunder," Harmony whispered, stroking his nose gently. The horse whinnied softly, as if in acknowledgment.
Now Baron was curious about where the schoolchildren went. "But where did the others go? Did they tell you what happened?"
Clarence's expression grew solemn. "They was waitin' outside fer y'all," he said. "When they caught wind o' the ruckus, they deduced you were in a pickle. They tried to bust in, but the door was blocked from the inside. They feared the worst and came runnin' up when they saw me ridin' forward."
Baron and Harmony glanced at each other, the weight of their secret pressing heavily upon them. They knew they couldn't keep the truth from their friends forever, but the gravity of what they had found made them hesitate. The town wasn't ready for the dark history contained within that diary, not yet. At their age, six years old or not, they were not ready themselves to handle the truth that their parents didn't want them to know.
As they rode through the storm, the children huddled together, sharing warmth and comfort, each lost in their own thoughts. Harmony was the first to break the silence. "Do you think we did the right thing?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the patter of rain.
Baron nodded solemnly. "We had to know," he replied. "But maybe we shouldn't tell the whole town yet."
Clarence looked over his shoulder at the two, his expression unreadable. "The truth can be a powerful weapon," he said finally. "But it's also a heavy burden. You two have seen more than most folks in this town ever will. You gotta decide when the right time is to share it."
Baron nodded, understanding the gravity of Clarence's words. He felt a strange mix of excitement and fear at the thought of keeping such a huge secret from the town he had grown up in. High Wind Gulch had always been his home, but now it felt like there was a part of it that was hidden, a part that he and Harmony were the only ones who knew about.
As they approached the outskirts of the town, the rain began to lessen, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Clarence slowed Thunder to a trot, the rhythmic clop of his hooves echoing in the quiet night. The children clung to each other, the warmth of their friendship a stark contrast to the cold, hard truth they had discovered.
When they reached the Buzzard homestead, Clarence pulled to a stop, his gaze softening as he looked down at Baron. "Now, son, you got a whole heap of 'splainin' to do," he said, his drawl thick with concern. "Your ma and pa are gonna have a few choice words for ya."
Baron swallowed hard, the weight of his disobedience settling in his stomach like a rock. "I know, Sheriff," he murmured, his voice small and trembling. He slid off Thunder's back, his legs wobbly from the fear of the night's events.
Clarence dismounted too, his clothes and hat dripping with rainwater. He looked at Becky and Avery, who had rushed out of the house to meet them, their faces a mix of relief and fury. "Found 'em in the old shack on the north ridge," Clarence said, his voice low and serious. "They were just lookin' for a bit of adventure, I reckon."
Becky's eyes narrowed, her feathers ruffling in the damp air. "What were you two thinkin'?" she demanded, her voice tight with worry.
Baron took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his mother's gaze. "We were just... explorin'," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "We only wanted to watch the house from outside, but then the children from school double dared us to spend the night inside and take out whatever we find to show that we made it." He would hate to look at his father's face right now.
Avery stepped forward, his own feathers ruffling in anger. "You know better than to go into that place," he snapped, his eyes flashing. "You could've been hurt, or worse!"
But Becky's gaze had softened, and she took a step closer to her son, her arms spread protectively around him. "It's alright, Avery," she murmured. "They're safe now. And they've learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of curiosity."
The tension in the air was palpable as Avery looked at Becky, then back at Clarence. He knew she was right, but the fear of what could have happened still gnawed at him. With a heavy sigh, he nodded. "You're right, Becky," he said. "But you still gotta learn, son," he told Baron, he said firmly. "You can't just go off like that without tellin' us where you're goin'. We'll talk about this in the barn tomorrow mornin'. You and me. Now go to bed."
Baron's shoulders slumped, and he cast a sorrowful look at Harmony before trudging back to the house. As he climbed the porch steps, he couldn't help but look back at Clarence and his parents, their silhouettes framed by the flickering candlelight from the window. He knew he was in for a lecture, but he also knew that he had done something important tonight, even if he might end up going to bed without supper. Something that might just change the way folks saw his family, and all the other buzzards in High Wind Gulch.
The rain had lightened to a gentle drizzle, and the sound of it on the rooftop was almost comforting as he settled into his bed, his thoughts racing with the events of the night. He could hear Clarence's deep voice rumbling outside, explaining the situation to his folks, and he wondered if they would ever be brave enough to tell the town about Old Man Travis and the gold mine.
Baron leaned closer to the window, the cool glass against his cheek as he strained to hear every word. Clarence's voice grew more urgent as he spoke of the diary and the talisman. "We can't let this get out," he heard Clarence say. "Not yet. The town ain't ready."
Avery nodded gravely, his eyes meeting Becky's. "We'll keep it safe," Becky assured him. "But we've got to figure out what to do with it."
Clarence looked down at the diary in his hand. "We can't let Edna and Edward get their talons on this," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "They'll use it to stir up more trouble."
Baron's ears perked up at the mention of the Nosedives. He knew all too well the kind of prejudice they harbored against his family and others like him. If they found out about the gold mine, it could only mean more suffering for the town of High Wind Gulch. He had to tell Harmony about the conversation tomorrow.
But for now, he was tired. The adrenaline of the night's adventure had worn off, leaving him drained and feeling the sting of his bruises from the spectral encounter. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the gold below the town and the secrets it held. Whatever it was, his parents would more than likely tell him that he and Harmony are too young to understand and not ready for such things.
The next morning, Baron woke up to the sound of rain tapping against his window. He groaned, rolling over in his bed, the mattress protesting with a squeak. His body felt heavy, his mind still reeling from the events of the previous night. Normally, he'd be up before dawn to help his pa with the chores, but today, he couldn't muster the energy. The house was quiet except for the distant sound of his parents' muffled voices and the clank of pans from the kitchen.
He lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the images of the ghostly encounter from his mind. The copper watch and the diary felt like a burden now, a secret that was too big for his small shoulders to carry. Harmony was probably up by now, her mind racing with the same thoughts. He wished he could talk to her, but he knew she had her own chores to do and her own family to face. He wondered if she felt the same way, if she too was lying in bed, lost in thought about the gold mine and the dark history of High Wind Gulch.
Finally, the smell of Becky's cooking wafted into his room, and his stomach rumbled. He dragged himself out of bed and padded down the hallway, his bare feet cold against the wooden floorboards. The house was quiet, too quiet, and he knew his parents were waiting for him in the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, Becky looked up from the stove, her eyes full of concern. "Mornin', sleepyhead," she said, her voice unusually soft. "You're just in time for breakfast."
Baron took his seat at the table, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that look on Becky's face; it was the same one she wore when she had something serious to say. Avery sat across from him, his beak set in a firm line, his eyes dark and brooding. He could almost feel the lecture coming, the words that would remind him of his place and the responsibilities that came with it. But before they could start, Becky placed a steaming plate of eggs and biscuits in front of him, the aroma making his mouth water.
"Eat up, son," she said gently. "You've had a long night."
Baron nodded, picking at his food with a lack of enthusiasm. The silence in the room was thick, each bite echoing in his ears like the ticking of a clock counting down to his punishment. Avery's eyes never left him, and he could feel the weight of his father's gaze, but the anger he had expected wasn't there. Instead, there was a sadness, a quiet understanding that made Baron's feathers stand on end.
Becky placed a gentle hand on his shoulder after breakfast was over. "You know your pa loves you," she said softly. "And he's just worried. We all are."
Baron nodded; his eyes downcast. He knew that his mother had probably spent the night trying to convince Avery to go easy on him. Becky had always had a way of calming his father's fiery temper, a trait that had likely been passed down from her own mother. It was a skill she had honed living in a town where prejudices often boiled over into outright hostility.
Avery finally broke the silence. "Baron," he began in a gruff, but not unkind manner. "We're mighty proud of ya. But ya gotta know, the world ain't always fair. Sometimes, ya gotta hunker down to make it through."
"Oh Pa, I'm so sorry it happened," Baron had responded weakly. "I won't go over there again, not even if the other children told me to."
Avery's eyes searched his son's for a moment before he spoke, his voice a mix of disappointment and love. "Baron, I reckon yer just lookin' to belong, but that ain't the path. You and Harmony are one-of-a-kind, ain't like them other buzzards. Y'all got hearts bigger'n Moo Mesa. Don't let no one tell ya different, and fer Pete's sake, don't let 'em steer ya into trouble like that again."
Baron nodded, his feathers ruffling with the realization that his pa knew more about the town's secrets than he had ever imagined. The house on the hill had been off-limits since they had moved to High Wind Gulch, and now he understood why. It wasn't just about the ghost stories or the risk of getting hurt; it was about protecting him from the darker truths of their town's history, the truths that could rip apart the fragile peace they had all worked so hard to maintain.
"I know, Pa," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I just wanted to show everyone that I ain't afraid."
Avery's beak tightened. "Baron, you can't let fear of what others think rule ya," he said firmly. "You've got more important things to worry about. Like your future. Like the future of our kind in this town."
Baron swallowed hard, the weight of his father's words sinking in. He knew the prejudices they faced daily, the whispers and the glares, but he had never fully understood the extent of the struggles his parents had endured to build a life here for him and for each other.
Becky reached over and took Avery's hand in hers, her eyes filled with determination. "We'll face it together," she said. "As a family."
Baron nodded, his eyes glistening. They had been lucky. If Clarence hadn't come looking for them, who knows what could have happened in that old shack. The ghost of Old Man Travis had been scary enough, but there could have been other dangers lurking in the shadows, things even the diary hadn't warned them about.
"That gold and its secrets ain't for folks like us to tinker with," Avery continued in the same firm tone. "Them's for the big folks to wrangle. If we're ever gonna stomp out the hate and fear that turned that gold mine dangerous, we gotta show folks we're more than just a bunch of buzzards. We're kin, we're pals, and we're all ridin' this trail together."
Baron knew his pa was right again, as the diary had talked of strange occurrences, of folks disappearing and of the gold's power to drive men to madness. It was a heavy secret to keep, but he knew he couldn't let it go. The thought of what could have been too much to bear.
"Pa, I know we can't tell nobody," Baron began, his voice shaky. "But we can't just ignore it. What if there's more to it than just gold? What if it's something that could help our town, help all of us?"
Avery's gaze softened, but the sternness didn't leave his voice. "Baron, we're buzzards. Some of the folks around here already got their feathers ruffled just by the sight of us. If we start goin' around, stirring up trouble over some old gold, it'll just make things worse. We gotta live by the rules, for all our sakes. Do you understand this?"
Baron nodded in response to this, feeling the weight of his father's words. He knew that Avery had faced more than his fair share of adversity in High Wind Gulch, and it was because of his pa's hard work and Becky's care that they had a home here at all. "Yes, Pa," he murmured. "I understand."
Avery let out a sigh, his eyes softening. "Good," he said, his voice a little less gruff. "Now, your punishment is this: You're gonna stay home for a week. No gallivantin' around the gulch without one of us by your side. You're gonna help your ma in the kitchen and me on the farm. Extra chores, extra help, and no fun until you learn to think before you act."
Baron's heart sank. A whole week of no fun? No riding Thunder, no playing with Harmony, no racing the wind as he soared through the gulch. But he knew he had brought it on himself. "Yes, Pa," he said, his voice small. "I'll do whatever it takes."
The thought of the upcoming week filled him with dread. He had always watched the girls in town doing chores like washing dishes, windows, sweeping floors, or doing laundry, and he had felt a mix of pity and relief that those tasks weren't for him. Now, he realized that he was about to get a taste of that life. He wondered if Becky had something like that in mind for him, something that would make him feel the same way Harmony did when she had to balance her chores with her riding lessons.
As Becky cleared the table, she caught his gaze and must have seen the worry etched on his face. "Don't you worry, Baron," she said with a small smile. "I got plenty of chores around here that'll keep ya busy without you feelin' like you're doin' a lick of 'women's work'."
"But that's a lot of chores to do," Baron said in a small voice.
Becky's smile grew a little wider, and she leaned down to look him in the eye. "Son, that's the price of your freedom," she whispered. "You and Harmony showed some guts last night in that house, but it ain't just 'bout y'all anymore. You're part of a larger tale now, and you best act like it."
Baron had accepted defeat. "Well, alright."
Becky nodded, her feathers fluffing in a way that meant she had made up her mind. "Remember to be a good boy and mind your father," she said before grabbing her bonnet and walking out the door. She had a way of leaving things that felt final, but somehow still left room for hope. "I'll be goin' out later to pay Ruby a visit at the restaurant she works at."
Baron knew that Ruby HawkTail, Clarence's wife, had worked in the restaurant that was run by Darla Dove. He was grateful that the two families had a bond that had grown stronger over the years, especially after Becky had made lovely compliments about Harmony on the day she was born. The thought of his mother and Ruby sharing a cup of tea and discussing the recent events made Baron's feathers itch with curiosity. What would they say about his adventure? Would they be proud or worried? He pushed the thought aside as he followed Avery outside. In other words, he hoped that Ruby and Clarence did not punish Harmony too harshly as he spoke with his parents.
Once Becky had disappeared down the dusty street, Baron took a deep breath and looked over at Avery. "What's first, Pa?" he asked, trying to sound more eager than he felt.
Avery looked at him for a moment before pointing to the barn. "Those horses ain't gonna feed themselves," he said gruffly. "And Checkers could use some extra lovin' today."
Baron felt a sigh of relief that the conversation about the haunted house and the gold mine was over, at least for now. He had half-expected Avery to forbid him from seeing Harmony or riding Thunder for a month at the HawkTail Ranch.
"Baron," Avery had said his son's name so suddenly the moment when Becky left.
Baron looked at him, feathers ruffling nervously. "Yes, Pa?"
Avery's gaze was firm. "You're gonna learn the most important lesson of your life today, son," he said, leading the way out the door. "It's about responsibility, about what it truly means to be a man... or a buzzard." He saw as Baron walked out the door and Avery followed him, grabbing a strap off the wall.
AN: Based and inspired by a fan drawing I made for a friend on DeviantArt years ago, where Baron and Harmony are stuck and terrified inside a haunted house, clutching onto each other protectively. And Old Man Travis is brought up in a roleplay I've been doing with others over at Discord, Moo Mesa related. Now the two children have had their first terrifying encounter with an evil spirit who doesn't want anyone to know of his evil secrets that he had planned to take with him to the grave. What connection might Old Man Travis have with the history of High Wing Gulch and why else would he not want anyone to know what he's been keeping with him? We might find out in later chapters.