Three Rivers, Texas. When I was a child just 12 years old (now I'm 70), my family and I would go to work in the fields picking cotton. My dad got a job with a man who hired the family, so the owner took us to a ranch in Three Rivers.
When we got there, in front of the house or gate sat a car, very old, and it was full of bullet holes from hood to trunk. It sure didn't look good at all. What I'm going to tell you next will make your skin crawl.
That day we worked, it was summer, either July or August. There was a creek and there was a long rope at the end was an old tire. The water was shallow. My sister and family members were having fun. My sis, a little older than me, said, "I'm going to jump in the water. Look, everybody!" She went in head first and got stuck in the mud.
After a long day and getting refreshed in the river, we went home to the house where my dad's cousin and his wife also lived. Well, we hadn't seen the house yet. We had to do some cleaning. We started working, everyone with something to do. Strange but true, we saw the frames of the windows marked East, North, and South in red, like blood marks. The hallway was dug from one side to the other.
Mom washed clothes and cooked dinner; we helped some. It was getting night time, so we went to sleep. My dad said, "Okay, we have to get up early to work, everyone. Let's get to bed."
So we were asleep around 1:30 a.m. when something woke us up and we were very afraid. It was a hammering sound from under the house. It stated to knock slow, then louder. Dad said it was probably some kids or grown ups playing games, but we were scared.
The next day, we worked, came home, ate, went to sleep. Day two, again the samehammering noise. Daddy said it was probably nothing, maybe the well was close by. Days three to six, same but extra loud and more intense.
On day seven, mom, my sister Pat and I were home. Mom was sewing some dresses and Pat went outside to hang clothes. We had an old basket. I saw her out the window hanging clothes. Then mom asked where Pat was and I told her outside. Then I looked in the hall area... and my sister Pat was standing there looking totally pale, red eyes, with an evil smile and holding the basket.
I said, "Mom! Look at Pat!"
Mom looked and said, "Blessed Mother of God!" We turned to look outside... and my sister was outside, too! We ran outside and stayed there until daddy came home. That night again, the noise worsened. It was unbearable.
Days eight, nine, and ten, we would see shadows, ugly things, and the diggings in the hallway looked more like someone had dug more dirt out. We would hear laughter, men's voices, hammering at night. Daddy would say, "Ha! It's the well. Some kids playing tricks.
We had nowhere to go because we had a deal with the boss. Our food started to burn when mom was cooking, the clothesline would fall. In the day it was okay because we were working in the fields, came very tired, ate, went to bed. We had gotten used to all this as my father said they were just crazy games.
On days eleven and twelve 12, we were kept up all night with the noise, so dad went to tell the rancher what was going on and that we just couldn't take the noisy house. The rancher said that the car that was full of bullet holes belonged to some gangsters who robbed banks, and the law got into it. There were four or five and were wounded. Some ran in the woods, some into the house. Somewhere, they buried the money and either died in the house and or in the woods, but before they died marked where the loot was, but no one has ever found the money.
Well, daddy told us the long, unwelcome tale. On day 14, we again came home and went to sleep after a long day. That night was so scary, my uncle started screaming, "There's someone here!" He got a knife and shredded the clothes on the little clothesline inside the house. My aunt was crying, the house shaking, hammering, the kerosene light turning off. My brothers and sisters were hiding under the table, very quiet and embracing each other.
When mom, dad, and my brother Fred went outside to investigate what was really going on, dad and my brother went under the house. It was around 3 a.m. There was a hole, and my brother started going in head on. It was full of big red ants, and he said he felt like something was pulling him in. Dad and mom pulled him out and went inside.
My sister Pat and I ran outside to look for mom and dad, and we couldn't find them. They had gotten in already. We ran to the front porch when all of a sudden we heard laughing voicesand saw in a spotlight what looked like a pirates: two men, one had a hat and a long sweater with stripes, and the other was just looking at us -- evil, ugly ghosts.
As we stared and screamed for someone to open the door, dad and mom said that they could hear us, but door would not open. The porch broke beneath us and we started to fall. Mom pulled us up and we got in the house. Our legs were all bloody and scratched from the porch. We all started praying, asking God to give us another day to get out of this situation.
The next day, the front porch was not broken at all, like nothing had happen. But our legs were all scratched, so we packed everything and we went to stay with our uncle. He was working at a different ranch. Daddy told the rancher what had happen and showed him that we were hurt. His reply was, "You were the only ones that stayed the longest -- fourteen days."
We never went back for seconds, and many times we have passed by there. Now that my sons and grandchildren are grown up, I keep telling them this true tale, and they get very emotional. As long as I live I will never forget this ordeal. Sincerely and without saying a lie, so help me God, it's the truth.
