“Thanks, but I’ll be OK.” Amanda grinned. She was grateful for his concern, but she could look after herself.
Walking through the dark, quiet lounge, she entered the library. The magazine wasn’t on the coffee table where she left it. She looked around the room and spotted it on a couch, open.
‘Hmm, someone else must have been reading it. I wonder who?’
She picked it up and started to walk out of the room when a flash of white appeared in the corner of her eye. Amanda stopped and looked to the side. There was nothing. The flash appeared again as she entered the lounge. She stopped. Her heart quickened. “This is ridiculous. There’s nothing here,” she whispered.
She took a step, then stopped abruptly. In front of her stood a young girl in a white flowing dress with her hands over her face.
Amanda gasped, closed her eyes and mumbled, “I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts. There is no such thing as ghosts.”
When she opened her eyes, the image was gone. Not looking left or right, she ran back to her room.
Cleo looked up from her drawing. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
“Wh—what do you mean?” Amanda quivered.
“I can tell that you saw the girl. The one I’ve seen. I think she wants to tell us something.”
Amanda laid on her bed. “I didn’t see anything.” Her heart raced. She took a few deep breaths to calm down.
She opened the magazine and flipped through the yellowed pages. Cartoons of ghosts floating over people in their beds and articles about paranormal activity in Taos caught her attention.
‘Really? I can’t get away from this stuff. No wonder my eyes are playing tricks on me.’ She turned a page. A folded piece of newspaper floated to the floor.
She picked it up, unfolded it and started to read. “Listen to this, Cleo. This article says that a letter written by a teenage girl to herself arrived twelve years after she died. How weird is that?”
“Let me see.” Cleo took the article from Amanda’s hand and skimmed it. “It says here her parents, Jim and Alma Jaurez, knew nothing about the letter and were shocked when it arrived at Alma’s mother’s place. The young girl wrote about her life, her family and her future. She wrote how thankful she was for everything her parents had given her and that she loved them very much. It doesn’t say how she died. No one seems to know who mailed it and why it was sent to her grandmother’s address.” Cleo looked up from the article. “Incredible!”
“Jim Jaurez?” asked Amanda. She wondered if that was the same angry Jim they encountered at the pueblo and the church yard.
“Yeah, that’s what it says.” Cleo’s face glowed with excitement.
Amanda rubbed her eyes. “This day is just getting weirder by the minute. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Tomorrow is our last full day here. I really hope it doesn’t involve ghosts or messages from the dead. I am so done with all of this.” She looked around. “Now where is that magazine? I thought I left it on my bed!”
18
“ARE WE GOING SOMEPLACE ON THE BUS AGAIN TODAY?” Blueberry juice ran down Caleb’s chin as he stuffed pancakes in his mouth.
“Caleb, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Ms. Bowler puckered her brow. “No. Today we’re going to the Kit Carsen Museum. We can walk to it from here.”
“I don’t like museums,” another student said.
“This one is very interesting. It’s the house Kit Carsen lived in with his family. You will learn all about Taos’ most famous frontier man in the 1850s. Another chance for great photo ops, drawings and story ideas.” She turned to Amanda. “I’m surprised you didn’t write anything about the St. James Hotel on Kidblog.”
“I wrote something but just didn’t post it yet.” Amanda looked away and thought, ‘No one would believe what I wrote anyway.’
When they arrived at the museum on Kit Carsen Road, the students collected around Ms. Bowler in the courtyard.
“Who has heard of Kit Carsen?”
Caleb’s hand shot up. “I have. He was a mountain man and gunfighter. My grandpa has a book about him.”
“You seem to be the resident authority on cowboys and the Wild West, Caleb. You’re right, but he was much more than that, as you will see. Among other things, he was a devoted husband and father. This house is where he lived for twenty-five years with his wife, Josefa, their eight children and several Indian children they adopted.”
“Why did you call them Indian children? Shouldn’t it be, First Nations children?” asked Amanda.
“In Canada, we now call the indigenous people First Nations, and in the United States, they are called Native Americans. In the 1800s, the time of Kit Carsen, they were called Indians,” replied the teacher.
“This is the courtyard where much of the daily family activity took place. Inside the home, you will notice the rooms are sparsely furnished. They are exactly like when the Carsen family lived here. Fireplaces heated each room. The floors would have been dirt mixed with ox blood and wood ash to keep them hard and dust free. In one room, there is a video about Kit Carsen’s life. Take notes and pictures. There may be a test later.” Ms. Bowler laughed. “Just joking.”
The students entered the simple one-story adobe building through the long porch at the front. Amanda and Cleo worked their way through the kitchen, bedroom and children’s room. Pictures of the family hung on the walls alongside articles about them.
Cleo stopped in front of a picture of a beautiful young woman holding a baby. “Who is this?” she asked.
“Let’s see.” Amanda read the plaque beneath the picture out loud, “Josefa Jaramillo, the third wife of Kit Carsen, was the beautiful fourteen-year-old daughter of a prominent Taos family. She was a tough, hardworking woman who almost singlehandedly raised their seven children and three adopted children while Kit was away during the war. Josefa and her sister, the wife of New Mexico Governor, Charles Bent, were in the Bent home when the Governor was attacked and killed. They escaped by scraping a hole in the wall.”
Amanda looked up. “I remember this. We learned about that attack when we went to the Bent Museum.” She returned to the article.
“She died in 1868 after giving birth to their eighth child, Josephine. Kit Carsen was so broken-hearted he died less than a month later.”
Cleo gulped. “That poor baby never knew her parents. I wonder what happened to little Josephine.”
Amanda looked closely at the picture. “To think Josefa got married when she was only fourteen. She was only two years older than us!” Amanda cringed.
Just then Caleb burst through the door. “You guys need to come and watch this video. It’s just in the next room. Did you know Kit Carsen was illiterate? Like he couldn’t read or write, but he could speak English, Spanish, French and a whole bunch of Native languages. Amazing! He accomplished so much and had no education. He couldn’t even sign his own name until he was older.”
“OK. OK. We’ll come.”
The girls followed the eager Caleb into what would have been the office. The video explained how Kit Carsen was a mountain man, explorer, scout, trapper, cattle and sheep rancher, officer in the US Army, transcontinental courier, and US Indian Agent. He became a mythical folk hero to many Americans.
Amanda was finding the video interesting when it stopped abruptly and the lights went out. Cleo clutched her arm. A girl emerged from the darkness, her tattered white dress fluttering. Her hands covered her face. She floated above the floor and disappeared into the shadows.
Seconds later, the lights came on and the video continued.
“Did—did you see that?” Amanda looked at Caleb.
“Did I see what? I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. Probably just a power outage.”
Cleo stared at the wall and quivered.
“Don’t tell me you’re seeing things now too, Amanda.” Caleb tilted his head to one side and frowned.
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Let’s go into the gift shop.”
The hair lifted on the back of her neck.
Why was he always around when strange things happened?
19
“CAN WE SEE SOME BOOKS ABOUT KIT CARSEN?” ASKED Amanda.
The woman in the gift shop smiled and pointed to a bookrack. “There are some good ones over there.”
Caleb picked up a book. “Hey, this is the one my grandpa gave me to read.”
“There were lots of other books written with him as a hero but they are just fictitious adventures. He was America’s first western hero. It is said Mr. Carsen was embarrassed by it all,” explained the woman. “In everyone’s eyes he was a huge man but in real life, he was only five foot six. His wife, Josefa, was actually a bit taller than him.”
“I was wondering, what happened to the children after both parents died, especially the baby, Josephine?” asked Cleo.
“From what I understand, the five younger children were raised by Kit Carsen’s brother-in-law, Thomas Boggs, and his wife.”
Cleo leaned over and whispered in Amanda’s ear, “I wonder if it was the ghost of Josephine we just saw.”
Amanda pursed her lips and shook her head.
“Let’s go. I’m hangry!” said Caleb.
“Uh, ‘hangry?’” asked Cleo.
“I’m so hungry it’s making me angry.” Caleb rubbed his stomach.
Ms. Bowler entered the shop. “I heard that. If you are finished looking around, we can all go to Doc Martin’s for lunch.”
“That’s so funny.” Amanda giggled. “My dad wears Doc Martens. Why would they name a restaurant after shoes?”
“It’s not named after the boots, Amanda. They’re actually spelled differently. This is a restaurant located in the former home of Doctor Thomas Paul Martin, the first, and only doctor in Taos for a long time.”
After a delicious lunch, the students walked around the town square, stopping in the shops surrounding it. A band played in the centre under the American flag flapping in the breeze.
Ms. Bowler pointed to the flag. “Did you know in Taos that flag flies 24-7? Not many places are allowed to fly the flag continually. It is allowed at this spot because Kit Carsen and three other men guarded it for four days and four nights to protect it during the American Civil War.” The teacher glanced at her watch. “We better get back so you can get your costumes ready for the Halloween party tonight. Come to my cabin if you want your face painted.”
Amanda entered the dining room and was greeted by a cowboy. A black hat hung low over his face.
“Caleb, is that you?” she asked.
The cowboy lifted his hat revealing an evil skeleton face. “I’m T.J. Wright, here to avenge my untimely death.” His mouth twisted as it produced a menacing laugh.
Other students appeared in Day of the Dead costumes. A skeleton wearing a doctor’s smock joined them. “Cool costume, Amanda. You’re the best dressed skeleton here. Great job on the painted skull face. Who are you?” asked the voice of a classmate.
“I’m La Catrina.” She smoothed her fancy dress and ran her hand up the large feather sprouting from an oversized hat. “I read about the elegant skeleton in the Laughing Horse magazine. Who are you?”
“I’m Doc Martin. Would you like me to check your heartbeat?” The skeleton held up his stethoscope. “Or do you have one?”
“Where is your weirdo friend?” asked the dead cowboy.
“If you mean Cleo, she’ll be along soon. She wasn’t ready yet.”
Boom! Thunder crashed. The lights went out.
Audrey came in the room and quickly lit candles, giving the room an eerie glow. White skeleton faces of the students bobbed in the air looking like disembodied heads.
The kids gasped as a girl with a pale face and flowing white dress rose from a well of darkness. The apparition hovered in the doorway then slowly drifted into the room.
Amanda’s heart quickened. ‘Was this the girl I saw last night?’
The girl looked straight at her and smirked. “Do I look like a ghost, Amanda?”
A tall, white haired Doña Sebastiana, in a black dress painted with a white skeleton, emerged beside the girl. “You children must behave, or I will take you away.” She waved her long finger.
The lights came back on. “That’s a good costume, Cleo. I think you had everyone believing you were truly a ghost.” Ms. Bowler lifted her Doña Sebastiana skeleton mask. “We’re ready for our ghost walk, so meet me at the front door in ten minutes.”
“That should be fun. Don’t you think?” Caleb shoved his toy pistols into their holsters. “Hey, Amanda, why are skeletons so calm?” He paused a minute and chuckled. “Because nothing gets under their skin.”
“Ha ha! You think you’re such a funny guy, Caleb.” Amanda headed toward the door.
She wasn’t sure about going on a ghost walk but decided it would be fine since she didn’t really believe in ghosts anyway. Besides, it might be fun.
A full moon shone between the branches of an old tree in front of the Governor Bent Museum where Ms. Bowler and the kids met a guide for the ghost walk. The air felt heavy with mist. Shadows from streetlights sprang in front of them. A yowling cat broke the silence.
Cleo hung onto Amanda’s hand with a tight grip as they followed the guide. They listened with wide eyes to her stories of ghost encounters around town. It seemed like Taos was a haven for ghosts.
The group rounded a corner. Through the mist, a girl stood in a delicate white dress. She pointed to Cleo and opened her mouth as if to say something. Cleo screamed. The apparition vanished.
“Cool trick,” said Caleb as he continued down the street. He stopped suddenly and bounced back. “What’s this? Looks like someone strung a rope across the path. In this dark and mist, I didn’t see it.”
The guide examined the barrier. “Now that’s odd. Who would do that?” She led the group to the town square and waited under the flag until all the children gathered around her. “This is where the people who murdered Governor Bent were hung. Some say their spirits haunt this place at night.”
Amanda shivered. Maybe going on a ghost walk wasn’t such a good idea.
Bang!
The streetlights went out. The kids huddled together in the dark. A few minutes later the lights came on. Ms. Bowler and the guide had disappeared.
“Now what do we do?” Amanda asked as she peered into the distance.
Cleo whimpered and grabbed onto Amanda. “Where could they have gone?”
“Don’t worry. We can find our way back to our rooms,” said Caleb in a somewhat shaky voice.
Caleb led them down a dirt road past some creepy old houses. The students kept close together, Amanda on the heels of Caleb. No one said a word.
Suddenly, the door of one house flew open. A tall man emerged from the shadows.
“Get away from here! Stop coming around where you’re not wanted,” he hollered.
The kids changed direction and sprinted down the road. Heavy footsteps thumped closer and closer behind Amanda. She stopped abruptly, bumping shoulders with Caleb. Someone had grabbed the back of her collar. She noticed Caleb was also in his grip.
“You can’t fool me with your costumes. I know who you are.” The foul smell of alcohol wafted over their heads.
Even in the dark, she knew who the man was. Amanda squirmed until she got loose from his hold. She spun around and looked straight into Jim’s bloodshot eyes. “What—is—your—problem?”
Jim let go of Caleb. He grasped Amanda’s shoulders. His eyes softened. “Tomorrow is Dia de los Muetros, The Day of the Dead. Come to the graveyard.” Shoulders slumped, Jim turned and walked back to the house.
Amanda heard Ms. Bowler calling them and then saw her across the street.
“We’re over here,” Cleo shouted.
“Oh, thank hea
ven.” Ms. Bowler let out a big breath. “We’ve been frantic. We went to investigate what happened and when we came back a minute later you were gone. How many times have I told you to stay in one place? Amanda, I thought you would know better.”
Later that evening, Caleb found Amanda sobbing in a corner of the garden.
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. What’s wrong?”
“This trip has been a disaster. I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t believe in ghosts, but something pushed me into the graveyard at the pueblo. There sure seemed to be one in that hotel in Cimarron and last night I thought I saw one here in this house. And I keep getting into trouble. It’s as if a ghost is causing it.”
“That’s just plain crazy and you know it. Cleo must be rubbing off on you.” Caleb held out his hand. “Besides, it was my fault we left the square tonight, not yours or a ghost’s. Come inside. You don’t want to ruin your cool costume. They’re serving hot chocolate in the dining room.”
Amanda wiped tears off her face, smudging her makeup. “Oh no! Now I look a mess.”
“Not any worse than usual.” Caleb laughed as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along into the house.
20
THE NEXT MORNING AMANDA APPROACHED MS. BOWLER. “Today is the Day of the Dead. It’s when people here go to visit the graves of loved ones. I’ve done some research and it sounds interesting. Can we go to the cemetery to see this?”
“That’s a good idea. We have nothing planned for this morning.”
On the way to the cemetery, Ms. Bowler explained some of the history. “The Day of the Dead is an old Mexican tradition. It’s a time of celebration and remembrance. Families visit the gravesite to clean and decorate the graves of loved ones. Often candles, flowers and the favourite foods of the deceased are placed on the grave. The family eats, sings and tells stories about those who have passed away. Participation by the children is important as they dance with cartoon figures of death, eat skull sugar candies and learn not to fear death. They learn to enjoy and appreciate every moment of life.” She caught Cleo’s eye and smiled.
Amanda in New Mexico Page 7
