* * * *
They stood at the foot of the landscaped hillside and looked upward to the top of the rise where the house sprawled, surrounded by the tall pine trees and live oaks native to the area. John Carter eyed the two women in amusement as they stared at the monumental structure. Fashioned with native stone and ornate carvings in the dark stained wooden trim, the three-story house was a massive anomaly against the backdrop of the surrounding Lost Pines Forest and Colorado River.
"It's beautiful,” Kim said as she walked up the unmanicured portion of the hill, bending to look at the wild flowers in bloom. She moved around, taking in the native plants displayed in abundant profusion on the grounds.
Liz watched as Kim appreciated the lush greenery. Her friend always did like to see things for herself, by herself. They would catch up soon. She turned to John, who remained beside her. “Wow!” Liz breathed. “This is incredible. Built in the late seventeen hundreds, you say?"
"That's right,” John answered. “Most of the structure and out buildings were built by McCann and his workers. The Tatums refurbished the place in the forties, just after they bought it. The interior has since been restored and further modernized with new plumbing, electrical wiring and central heating and air. Other than that, it looks just about the way it has since McCann finished it.” He had noticed how they had split, Liz to talk to him, Kim to explore close by.
"It appears so modern, and yet, it looks ancient. I had the impression McCann was alone in the world. This house is big enough for a very large family, and then some,” Liz observed, as they took the gravel and flagstone path up the slight rise.
"McCann was alone, Liz. He built it for the woman he loved and he hoped they would share it and raise a large family here. For some reason, his lady love never came to this house, and McCann never married. In time, he even dismissed all the servants and lived here alone."
"Gosh,” Kim interjected, for she had been listening as she walked beside them. “It seems like an awful waste. You can see and feel the love he put into it.” She shook her head, speaking with an air of melancholy, “His neighbors must have thought the house was totally out of place out here."
John nodded. “Probably would have, but McCann owned all this land, clear back down to the main road and it is unlikely many of the folks who lived in the area saw it often, if at all. The township wasn't even incorporated until around 1810, and it wasn't known as Bastrop for some years after that. I guess he picked the spot because it was isolated and accessible to the Old San Antonio Road, El Camino Real, or the King's Highway, as the natives have called it for a long time. He could carry on his business without anyone knowing what he was up to. There is supposed to be an underground passageway from the house down to the river, where he stashed the goods he smuggled."
Kim frowned at John, “Supposed to be?"
"No one has ever found the passageway or no one lived to divulge its location, if they did find it. According to local legend as told by the Spencer family, the passageway went all the way from the river to one of the rooms in the house. The forest was impenetrable where this road is now and the only way in was by river.” He waved his arm and pointed toward the river. “There is a little docking area down there with a stone pathway leading from it. It has been maintained over the years, but there is no clue about where the secret passageway is or may have been."
"Maybe it never existed at all, John. You know how these local legends get blown out of proportion,” Kim suggested.
"Well, that is a possibility, of course, but again supposedly, McCann also kept his gold in the passageway, along with the forbidden cargo. It was conjectured to have been a cave which McCann built the house on top of, seeing it as the perfect place to keep his booty."
"So, when did McCann die?” Kim asked.
"Good question, Kim. No one knows for sure. McCann disappeared and was never heard from again."
"Then who owned the house when the Tatums bought it?” Liz asked.
"Well, after McCann had been gone a couple of years, David Spencer claimed the property for what McCann owed him,” John said.
"Spencer? Well, that's interesting, isn't it? I thought Spencer dispossessed himself of his partnership with McCann after he found out McCann was a crook,” Liz said.
"Spencer had a lot of clout in the area and apparently McCann did owe him a good deal of money. When Texas became a state, they laid claim to the property and received the deed. Anyway, the Spencer family owned it until they sold it to the Tatums, although none of them ever lived here and they could never sell it or even rent it out for any length of time. It was something of a white elephant to them, you might say, so when the Tatums showed an interest in it, the Spencers were all too grateful to unload it at a fantastic price, since it was pretty run down by then."
"So, McCann disappeared, Spencer took the place over, but he never lived here; he never sold it and he didn't even have renters? Why did he want it?"
"Liz, he wanted McCann's gold, don't you see? Except, according to the Spencer family, he never found so much as an ounce of gold and he died penniless because the only thing he had that was worth anything was this house, but he could never get any money out of it; after a while, everyone was petrified even to set foot on the property."
Liz smiled, shook her head. “This is nonsense. If he believed there was that much gold hidden under the house and no one wanted to buy the house, he could have just knocked the place down and started from ground level. Surely if there is a cave McCann built on, one would be able to find it with the house gone."
John rubbed the back of his neck, in frustration over the bombardment of female logic. He smiled as he regarded Liz and spoke, “I never said the story made any sense, Liz; I was just telling you the low-down as it was told to me. Besides, apparently no one would come out here and work to tear it down, or anything else, for that matter. Before McCann had it, the property was known to be full of evil spirits, according to the Indians who lived nearby. They wouldn't set foot here, but McCann just saw that as being attractive because no one would try to prevent his being here."
Liz laughed. “I guess McCann wasn't afraid of evil spirits, huh? And what about his workers? Were all of them men of steel as well, or were there reports of strange happenings while they were building the place and before McCann disappeared?"
"You ask a lot of questions, lady!” he laughed aloud.
Liz smiled and hesitated before asking another question, “How long did McCann live here before his mysterious disappearance?"
"Ten years, maybe."
"Strange, don't you think? The man moves in here, builds a mansion he is doomed to inhabit all alone, estranges himself from his business partner and stays here for a decade before he vanishes. Doesn't that seem odd to you?” Liz quizzed.
"Yeah, I guess it does, now that you put it that way.” John was amazed at the workings of her mind, so different from his own. “What are you trying to say? That he didn't disappear? That someone bumped him off instead?"
Liz nodded, her smile widening, “Maybe; something like that, John. What if Spencer was the villain and after he knocked McCann off to steal his gold, there was none. Wouldn't that be justice? Or what if there was gold and Spencer hauled it off and squandered it? What could be more just than that?"
"Well, I have to hand it to you; you've got a fertile imagination! Maybe you will write a best-selling novel about old McCann while you're here ... that is if you stay. You do want to go in, don't you?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
Liz shot Kim a glance. Kim, who had been staying close-by listening in, was smiling, which meant she felt all right about going in. “By all means. John, take us in!” Kim said.
"All right. You asked for it. Here goes.” John led the women up a wide mosaic stone walkway toward the front door of the rambling mansion. Key in hand, he paused a moment to look again into Liz's eyes before he opened the door. “This is the new entry the Tatums built onto the house. The original entr
y was on the north side of the house, but there were no windows there and Betty thought it too austere to be the main entrance. So they put this in and seldom used the original front entrance,” he said as he pushed the door ajar.
Liz thought he looked as though he would rather have sent them in to look things over and waited for them outside. She brushed past him as he eased the door open, and peered inside.
She found herself standing in the spacious entry hall and moved farther inside to wait while John and Kim came in. The long hallway was paneled in lustrous cherry wood with ornate trim. Half a dozen closed doors, three on each side, punctuated the length of it before it opened into a large chamber at the far end. A long, plush patterned Oriental rug ran the length of the luminous hardwood floor. She opened the first door on the right, found a massive closet, closed the door and moved to the next. Opening it, she discovered a hallway that led to the back of the house with a staircase at the end.
"That is the back hall,” John said. “The staircase leads all the way to the third floor. On the second floor is the master suite; the third floor is the retreat. Each of the three floors has an identical hall that connects to the main hallway, just as it does here. The air conditioning unit is down here behind the stairway, in case you need to know that at any point. Do you want to go up?"
Liz and Kim studied the wide hall, lined in the same soft gleaming cherry paneling, with an abundance of fine antique artifacts hanging along the walls. Here, too, was another luxurious Oriental rug running the length of the hall. Kim looked at the apprehensive face of their tour guide, “Maybe we can go up another time. Show us the rest of the first floor."
John nodded, pointed at the two doors on the other side of the hall. “These first two doors are also closets,” he said, opening the first door on the left side of the hall. “There is a walk-through in this closet that leads to the parlor, or den, as Betty and Leonard called it."
Liz peeped into the closet. “Gee, these closets are huge,” she commented. “Did the Tatums build them?” she asked as she walked on through the closet into the room beyond. “Interesting that anyone would put a door to the adjacent room in a closet,” she commented.
The den was a spacious chamber with windows all along the west wall toward the new front of the house. Six of the eight windows were stained glass depictions of young women and children. The other two were heavy leaded glass with exquisite beveled edges and gold etching. On the original front of the house, or the north side, was a huge fireplace located in the center of the wall with the rest of the wall rocked in. Shelves lined the wall opposite the windows.
"No, all the structural and inside walls were already here when the Tatums moved in, with the exception of the half bath they added to the living room,” John said, leading them back through the closet into the entry.
"What were the closets used for?” Liz asked.
John shrugged. “I don't know. They are large, though, aren't they?"
"I'll say!” Kim said. “We could almost put our travel trailer into this closet."
He moved past the second closet door on the left side of the entry and opened the third door. “This is the front hallway, the original entrance before the Tatums built the new entry. The stairs here to the left of the hall door also go up to the second and third floors. On the second floor, you have a front hallway that opens into four more bedrooms with baths. On the third floor, Tatum's screening room and theater is above the parlor and the solarium is above the living room."
"Theater?” Liz asked, more than a little surprised.
John smiled, “Why yes; I guess you don't know many actors, do you? We are all such hams; most of us have theaters in our homes with all our movies. In Leonard's case, he was also a fine photographer and film editor, so he added a darkroom, a camera and equipment room and a video library, which back then, consisted solely of reel-to-reel films."
"Wow!” Kim grinned back at him, imagining the fun of viewing the collection.
"Yes, and all the films are still up there. You could have your own film festivals up there, should the urge hit you,” John had noticed the light in her eyes. “And from the look on your face, it will."
"Imagine that,” Liz commented. “What about the darkroom equipment and cameras and such?"
"Everything is just as he left it,” John said. “Are you into photography?"
"I used to be when I was in college,” she answered.
"Then I imagine you would enjoy poking around up there. Feel free to use any of the equipment you know how to handle,” John assured her.
"This place is like a fairy tale castle or something,” Kim observed.
"You have to remember, it was built by a passionate man as a lavish monument for the woman he loved. Then the Tatums came along and doted on it even more,” John said. “Moving right along, back to the tour. Here, through this door to your right is the library, one of the most unusual of its kind I have ever seen.” He indicated the third door on the right side of the main entry, leading the way into the room.
Kim and Liz stared in silence at the huge octagonal-shaped room. Across from the entrance, two walls were made up of heavy leaded glass panels that looked out over the river. Each panel of clear glass was etched with intricate gold twining designs around the edge. Rich carvings on the bookshelves made of the same cherry wood lined five of the other six walls. The bookshelves rose to a height of about twenty feet with artifacts, tapestries and paintings hanging above the shelves.
An exquisite wrought metal staircase spiraled up on either side of the window-walls to two levels of narrow walkways leading around the room in front of the bookshelves to give easier access to the books. In the center of the room stood a huge square old desk that matched the paneling and was carved in elaborate motifs of ivy leaves and wood nymphs.
John observed the two women a moment before speaking, “I can see the room appeals to you two as much as it always has to me."
"Who takes care of the place?” Liz asked, trying to bring herself into the moment.
"Oh, I engaged a team of workers from Austin to come out once a week. They come early on Saturday morning and leave the place gleaming before dark. There are about twenty of them and they hit here like a cleaning cyclone, inside and out and then they are gone again."
"That must cost a bundle!” Kim said.
"Well, it isn't too bad and that way Betty is assured the place has been seen to at least once a week. She likes to think of it as being cared for. I'm afraid we have neglected the outdoors, though. The old gardener died and I haven't been able to find another who would care for the place the way it needs to be tended."
"Kim and I like gardening; maybe we can whip it into shape again,” Liz said. She found herself wondering once again why Betty cared so much for the house if everything John had told her was true. She let John lead her out of the library and on through the hall to yet another mammoth open room.
"The living room,” John announced before sitting down in a nearby chair. “To your right is the kitchen and dining room. Above that area is another bedroom suite on the second floor and a conservatory on the third floor. Both the conservatory and the second floor bedroom suite have the same bay windows."
The living room also had a huge native limestone-trimmed fireplace that commanded the entire north end of the room. The east wall was made up of the same type of heavy leaded beveled glass windows as the den, three on either side of a huge sliding glass door clearly not of the same period. “The Tatums put in the sliding glass door in?” Kim asked.
"Yes,” John answered, “They had it custom made to be as close to the original glass as possible, but it still stands out, doesn't it? Since they were adding decking on three sides of the house on the first and second floors, they wanted a showy entrance that went out onto the custom deck.
"They had this Italian glass manufacturer make all the glass doors they added and the glass tiles they used upstairs in the bedrooms and bathrooms. He also made smaller bay win
dows for the solarium on the third floor. He did an incredible job, but the original windows are so much older that the newer ones still look a bit out of place. Maybe in another two hundred years they will all look the same.” He shifted in his chair.
Kim took a few moments to scan the room. Every room she had seen had the same deep cherry bookshelves and built-in cabinetry. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. The furniture was all ornate, antique and high quality. The hardwood floors were immaculate with plush Oriental area rugs scattered here and there. “Are there hardwood floors on all three levels?” she asked.
"The Tatums carpeted the upper two levels, except the solarium, since they had parties and dances and the like up there. They put marble in the bathrooms. These floors down here have been refinished. The solarium has the finest parquet flooring I have ever seen in the middle with an elegant dark marble around the edges,” he explained, as though he had memorized a realtor's spiel about the house.
He looked like a frightened little boy, Liz thought, as he sat there, his hands folded, scanning the room. What was he looking for? She asked, “John, you said you stayed here for a while yourself?"
"Yes, that's right; I was here for almost six weeks before it got to me,” he admitted.
Liz sat in a plush chair opposite him, looked around the room. Aside from seeming a bit on the sterile side, the room felt comfortable and inviting to her. She looked at Kim, who was also surveying the chamber with interest. “What got to you about it?"
He tensed and she thought she saw him shiver as he looked at her again. “Oh, the noises, the boot prints in the hall, the nightmares ... take your pick. I just couldn't handle being here anymore. I still get a little bent out of shape when I have to come over here."
Liz raised her eyebrows. “A little, yes I can see that! Tell me about the boot prints in the hall."
He reflected a moment before he spoke. His eyes glazed a bit as he began, “Muddy boot prints. No matter what you do, they keep showing up in the hall, there. The noises you could say are just the sounds of an old house creaking and popping as the place cools at night, maybe; nightmares, you can attribute to your own overwrought mind, but the boot prints; they have to have been made by someone—someone not living, because they start out of nowhere and lead to nowhere, like a spirit suddenly materialized and then dematerialized again."
McCann's Manor Page 4
