All Natural, Purely Organic, Homegrown Ghosts

Growing up here, I've always lamented the lack of local ghost stories associated with our hometown. Maybe we are a tad too practical-minded for our own good, keeping well away from such foolishness as ghosts. If ghosts exist, experts in such matters state ghosts may be a “replay” of people long since dead, their moments of terror and trauma making an impression upon the environment. In that case Webster County oughta raise quite a crop of ghosts, after all we boast the death and destruction of the 1880 tornado, sites of killings aplenty, cemeteries that gather twilight mist and dark, lonely stands of timber…yet despite these romantic settings, the tales are few and far between. This doesn't mean we are without supernatural fireside fodder, here are a few I've picked up over the years.

The Riderless Horse of Sand Springs:

The first time I’d ever heard this tale was appropriately around a campfire, down the Old Wire Road from the now extinct community. For years folks waited evenings in the abandoned Sand Springs Church to witness the “riderless horse” which appeared about midnight. Witnesses claimed to hear a horse walking in and down the aisle, something heavy hitting the floor, the horse turning around and walking out. Braver souls chased these hoofbeats with flashlights yet saw nothing. This phenomenon occurred until the early 1930’s when the structure was finally razed, the spirit exorcized, apparently gone forever. What set in motion his eternal nightly ride for over six decades? A juicy tale of lust, murder and revenge, set against the backdrop of the Civil War -there’s even a happy ending. (The following is generally taken from the writings Chloe McNabb, Tom Moore, and others)

The old tale goes that a man from Tennessee arrived in the Sand Springs neighborhood where he purchased a good farm and had a large house built. He brought with him wagons full of household plunder, fine blooded saddle horses, and two slaves, Jenny who kept house and Carolyne her daughter, who bore a striking resemblance to the master. Soon thereafter, he died, bequeathing the two women their freedom and a sizable portion of his estate, the land and big house willed to Charles Potter, a nephew who soon ingratiated himself to the neighborhood. With their inheritance Jenny purchased a modest house, where by all accounts they lived moral and upright lives helping their neighbors and attending church every Sunday. Irrespective of race, the nephew became a frequent caller on the single women, some say they were “friendly” others say they were “forced” but to the neighborhood his actions were seen as both brash and untoward. The following spring the Civil War began, men in the neighborhood joined up with local units, Charles joined the Confederate cavalry and was commissioned an officer.

There was a man named Maupins in the neighborhood who was neither a regular preacher or soldier, but frequently commandeered the church pulpit to rail for the Union cause. Unbeknownst to all, he was part of a bushwacker gang robbing civilians unlucky enough to be caught in his path. With Charles Potter away, he too became a frequent caller on the women. It concerned Jenny at the attention given to her teenage daughter by a much older married man. One morning both Maupins and Carolyne turned up missing along with all her clothes. Some whispered that “Elder” Maupins as he preferred to be called, had stolen her away and sold her down south, others thought his actions more carnally motivated. At any rate, several years passed without hide nor hair from either Carolyne or Maupins, who one Sunday returned and took to the pulpit, as if he’d never been absent. Before excoriating the Confederacy, he stated his absence was due to business affairs out of state, and that he had been fighting in the Union Army, also he believed the girl had been stolen. He then led them in prayer that Carolyne should be reunited with Jenny. Many of the old folks knew better.

This pattern went on for some time, Maupins would disappear for a few months, then return with wild tales of the Union front in far away places like Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove, fabricating quite a war record for himself. As the war ended Maupins was in the pulpit “blowing” bigger than ever about his exploits. Battle hardened soldiers returning to the neighborhood heard stories of his true activities including robberies, rape and murder. Honorable men from both sides were sickened by this, including Charles Potter, now a Colonel with a distinguished war record. The Colonel went further than the others saying, “I can put my uniform on and ride my horse straight down the aisle and by looks alone drive Maupins from the church and the community forever!” On a night Maupuins was preaching, he attempted to do just that. Astride a black horse and bedecked in his gray uniform, he rode straight in the church and down the aisle glaring at Maupins, while the sleepy congregants roused. As the horseman approached the pulpit, Maupins with raised arms said, “May the Lord bless you and keep you.” In an instant a shot rang out from the window near the pulpit, striking the young colonel in the head, who fell from the saddle and hit the floor with a thump. The horse turned around and walked out the church. Maupins fell to his knees imploring the now wide-awake congregation to pray, when he suddenly sprang to his feet, with a crazed look in his eyes and dove head first through the same window, running off into the night.

The next morning the men were holding a Coroner’s Jury, it was determined what caused Maupin’s hasty exit. A ne'er do well, who had been present that night, testified he had been sleeping off some mountain dew in a rear pew, when he was jolted awake by the rifle shot, as everyone was looking toward the front he turned to see where the horse was going. Standing in the doorway was a young black woman with a scar on her face, dressed in heavy mens clothes, pointing and laughing at Maupins. The jury, not having more to go on, returned a verdict of “killed by persons unknown”. A week later at church, Mrs. Maupins claimed that her husband was still missing, his disappearance cleared up that afternoon when his corpse was found in a cedar glade, his throat cut and a Mexican dagger stuck to the hilt between his shoulders. After Maupins was buried, Jenny sold all her property, save for a pair of fine blooded saddle horses, when asked why she kept two, she smiled and replied that one would always be rested. Soon she lit out never to return. Sometime later a stranger passed through, remarking he’d met two black women mounted on fine blooded horses on the Wilderness Road south of Forsyth. They were dressed in men's clothes and heavily armed, the younger of the two had a scar down her cheek.

Twenty some years ago when leafing through Vance Randolph’s Ozark Magic and Folklore, the tale of the “Riderless Horse of Sand Springs” as it came to be known was featured in the chapter on ghost stories. Aglow with local pride, I thumbed through the index to see what local notable had been Randolph’s informant. The index revealed another book entitled Mysterious Tales and Legends of the Ozarks published in 1938 and authored by Christian County attorney and circuit judge Tom Moore. After obtaining a copy, within a short amount of reading it became apparent there are a lot of problems with Webster County claiming this ghost story as its own. The largest of the problems lay in the location. Randolph describes it as “between Springfield and Rolla on the Wire Road,” which includes an enormous amount of real estate. Judge Moore’s location is more specific, being “a day's ride from Rolla.” Currently all searches for another “Sand Springs” in Phelps or Pulaski County have yielded nothing. Moore also changed the names to protect their living descendents, making it difficult to track down any historical basis for the story. There are also other problems, Sand Springs in Webster County was nothing more than a watering hole along the Old Wire Road and was not a town until after the Civil War, also there is scant evidence that it ever boasted a church with Timber Ridge so close. During the war fortifications were erected on the slope above the spring, for use by Homeguards and Union cavalry patrolling the Wire Road. Moore’s story never mentions a fort or any of the skirmishes that took place near it. Which is strange for a tale set against the backdrop of the four year conflict.

Where did the confusion start? My theory is, once Moore’s book was published, the story was adopted, told and retold in Webster County as IF it happened here. I also believe many people confuse and convolute this story with the senseless murder of S.S. Headlee, the Southern Methodist minister killed in July of 1866. Denied use of the Pleasant View Church, as it was a “northern” church –Headlee had served in the Confederate Army– his followers assembled in a nearby grove of trees to hear him preach. When walking to join his flock, he was gunned down. This senseless murder, of which no one was ever held to account, made news across the state and highlighted the post-war angst that existed in many communities. Not surprisingly, several oral versions of this story have Reverend Headlee being shot dead in the pulpit! Sometimes from a window; at other times by a mounted rider making his way down the aisle. Gee, I wonder where they got that idea?

A Cold Wind Doth Blow!

In May of 1872 Webster County’s only legal hanging took place on a rise southeast of town locally known as “Bald Hill.” Here Charles Waller paid the ultimate price for killing a family named Newlon near what is now the Seymour area. Upon being pronounced dead, he was lowered into his coffin and hastily buried in a grave at the foot of the gallows. Many years later, local attorney John Hosmer acquired the property and put up a headstone to mark Waller’s grave. It seems during one summer night in the late 90’s some local exuberant youths, hearing the tale of Waller’s hanging, explored the gravesite, in hopes of encountering his ghost. While there, for reasons they still don't understand, it seemed a dandy idea to move his gravestone around on its base. Their curiosity satisfied, they soon ended their wanderings and walked home a few blocks to the west. Once settled in the living room, they were surprised, then terrified as the door was thrown open and an icy blast of wind blew into the room dropping the temperature, –giving all a chill and a distinct impression they were not alone. According to the teller they soon went back to realign the stone, once accomplished they were never bothered again. Which Webster County cemetery are you scared of after dark?

Paint Won’t Cover

During the 80’s and 90’s a story floated among the youth regarding a ghostly face that appeared on the wall in what was then the Marshfield High School. Just south of the main stairwell, above a section of lockers, there hung a memorial to a young man killed in war. As luck would have it, my locker was directly under this memorial during 8th grade, it waS here I first learned the tale of the ghostly face they couldn't paint over. As the story goes, It seems when the poor fellow was killed the family didn't hear of it for some time. However his face appeared on the wall at the top of the landing. The tale varies, some say he appeared over the locker of his younger brother others maintain his sweetheart, either way the face was seen as a sign he’d been killed, something confirmed by telegram a few days later. Thinking perhaps it was a cruel joke, the janitor quickly painted over the face, only to have it reappear. He rolled on multiple coats each drying with the face bold as before. Finally the administration gave up entirely on painting and opted to hang a picture of the deceased over the face. But word got out, as that sort of thing will do and before long curious teenagers were pulling back the picture for a glimpse of the ghostly visage. This prompted the school to screw down a nice memorial plaque, forever hiding the ghostly face that couldn't be painted over. If you remember this tale or can clue us into the backstory, we’d love to hear from you!

That's it for the Ghosts of Webster County…for now. It's my pleasure and mission to preserve as many local stories as possible whether supernatural or not. I want to hear about local history, true crime, stories of the past, and of course that which goes bump in the night. Upcoming for November? We’ll look into albino deer, Ozarks Hunting Lore, Turkey Tales and maybe a murder. Champ Herren can be reached at news@marshfieldmail.co. Follow him on Facebook at Ozark Magic and Folklore–Revisited.