ROBERT MORRISS: CANNIBAL SLAYER

[Rebel - KGC]

Lister returned wide eyed,"we have visitors" he exclaimed.
Outside a fire had been started and being of green wood during an approaching rain; smoke hang heavy.
A curious custom wagon was off the far side of the trail. Three men,two with great beards were setting iron pots upside down on rounds of wood. One man with no beard the others called beard would turn a pot, add burlap then reset it and thump it with a stick.
Satisfied he then began balancing the lids on other sticks.
The two bearded men then retrieved over sized fiddles and a case of peeking otter alchemy brew from the fancy,almost a racing design freight wagon, set the bottles between us and the fire with extended hands saying have at it, and began plucking those fancy fiddles vigorously with their fingers.
These men wore glasses with extremely dark lenses, darker even than Franklins..
The unbearded one then began a stacatto, galloping beating of the pots and utilized the lids for other, much higher tones.
Were these madmen? They acted as if they belonged here.
Singing began and seeing no arms presented we watched astounded as smoke swirled and the music hummed and throbbed.
A fiddle plucker sang.
"Rumor spreadin round, in that Lynch burg town , bout the cave up in the range.
Well the air is fine ,if you've got the nerve , enough nerve to get yourself in.
Ah how how how how.
Well there's gold in sight, most every night , but then, I might be accurs-ed. A how how how how."

Soon my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim,I had to stop for the night....I figured the cave would suffice for a nap.
A wave of my hat and a bow received nods from all. The band played on.
"Stay out the cave, or your senses will rave, ya that cave four miles from Bufords, ah hmm hmm hmm hmm."

Funny I thought ,they must know the same shaman....
I sensed they knew exactly what contents the cave held, twas likely even they had placed it there.
Who were these strange minstrels and why did they seem kindred and not concerned we would disturb the wealth?

The peeking otters were peaking and a nap wrestled with me. In my semi lucid state I thought of zzzzz's.
Then the thumping on pots. Hmm t.o.p..
Smiling into my nap I thought,ZZ T.O.P. would suffice for this swarthy musical group's name.
A voice sang clear about some cowgirl floating on the ceilin, "she was talkin to some Howlin Wolf, about some voo doo healin...."

SPOOKY! Put a "SPELL" on 'em!

 

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[ECS]

With a start, I awoke from my fever dream to the sight of Indian warriors surrounding us.
The medicine man stood in the center of a many colored sand circle, shaking a rattle in his left hand, a burning bundle of sage in his right, all the while chanting in his tongue.
He then turned his eyes to me, and spoke.
"You were warned not to enter the cave of the ancient ones. You steal from the dead. What you caused to wake will follow you and your men. Stay and die now, leave and die later."

 

[ECS]

I ordered our immediate departure, at which, Laf raised a mutinous protest about leaving all that treasure behind.
His attempts to convince the others to join his rebellious stand failed, except for his lackey, Simpson. Lister stared at Laf with eyes that had become mere slits, walked up to Laf, saying obey the Captain, then knocked him out cold. Simpson, suddenly silent, backed away with palms out, desiring none of Lister's wrath.
We hurriedly gathered our supplies under the watchful stares of the Indians, Simpson loaded Laf into the wagon as if he were a croaker sack of potatoes.
We then departed, with warriors following from a distance behind.

 

[ECS]

Progress was slow due to the heavy weight of the wagon load which taxed our draft horses. During this tedious journey I became concerned with Laf and Simpson, who were showing signs of that malaise known as gold fever.
When not keeping their own company, they constantly asked how the treasure would be divided, Laf claiming that he, and he alone was the first to discover this trove. Lister always put an end to this, and Laf and Simpson sulked away into their own private council.
It was agreed when we finally made St Louis,that we would lighten the load by trading some of the strangely marked silver bars for supplies and items of possible value.
While at a livery in St Louis I saw the Hancock girl, now a full grown women, the cause of that duel with Risqué many years before-I surmised that she must be a guest of her Kennerly uncles.
Not wanting to be noticed, I gave Lister the charge of trading the silver for goods at the Kennerly Merchantile.
Laf and Simpson insisted on being included in this , so I agreed, praying that I could trust this men. I knew Lister would keep them in line.

 

[releventchair]

Seeing to other necessities for our trip I encountered Adolphus Busch who offered a group of thirty (barrels) to our cause at an irresistible price.
Otter peek's rivalry had left him a surplus.


From a coffee house near the docks I heard a familiar, "Ah how ,how, how ,how". A sudden tiredness overtook the urge to seek it out and I returned to our meeting place at the French Masons Fellows Veterans Evangelical Riddles and Puzzles Society.

 

[releventchair]

Arriving at the society I went to the bar to await stragglers. I ordered raw oysters and a hurricane.
I was shocked upon espying Laf and Simpson seated in a dark corner quite near and un noticed at first, eating steak tartare with their bare hands and not using their napkins.
Their smelling as of onions was not unusual, yet the savageness with which they devoured the raw meat was near off putting as I politely slurped my snack.

 

[ECS]

When we reached Bedford county, we waited well into the dark before continuing our journey, lest we be observed by local eyes. It was well past midnight when we passed Buford's Inn on our way to Fincastle.
Our finial destination was a long abandoned homestead beyond Fincastle in the forest. Long overgrown, it was once the home of an early settler family of French Huguenots, who along with their indentured servants, were massacred by Indians many years before.
Our intention was to use their old root cellar as our treasure vault.

 

[ECS]

After days of shovel and pickaxe work, the old root cellar became our vault.
We lowered large iron pots, bought with the silver bars at Kennerly's Merchantile, then filled them full with the gold items and silver bars from the cave of the ancient ones.
Lister claimed some jewelry was also purchased at Kennerly's, and believed it was on the persons of Laf and Simpson.
It needs to be noted that the hunger cravings for raw meat exhibited by Laf and Simpson in St Louis, now seemed to grow more intense, first with squirrels and rabbits, then onto the deer of the wood.

 

[releventchair]

In the absence of L.@S we covered our prize with seasoned timbers from the fallen outbuildings being sure they were properly supported on stone pillars,covered them with stones, then a layer of sand and duff from original floor. Then covered the entrance with boulders and doused them with the now sour gallon of milk from Orleans to promote lichen.
Great restraint was shown in not planting our wayward duo with the pots. Their poor and repeated shooting was telling of our presence and risked our "secret".

 

[releventchair]

This would be our last full day on site. All were fatigued.
Resting till the moon came up the risk of leaving any party members was discussed.
If they did not rejoin us by midnight the balance of darkness would be spent and they were to be hunted down in the morning, then we would be away.
A guard was chosen and the rest slumbered. When the guard awoke me with a "shhhhh" the dark had arrived.
"Listen " he whispered. A fox barked near, then another farther towards the valley. Then another the opposite way across the overgrown field.More sounded at intervals.
"Someone is being hunted by the natives I'd say " the guard whispered even quieter. 'We are being watched as well."

 

[ECS]

It was ten that Laf jumped from out of the wood and attacked Andrews, who had stood guard. I pushed Laf off as Simpson leap upon my back, forcing me face forward into the ground. Lister and the other men were now up, beating our attackers with shovels and pickaxes, chasing them back into the forest.
That was the beginning of the hunger, as we called it, and in the following days, the men succumbed one by one.
Lister was the last to go, departing before the hunger overtook him.
I intend to see the rising sun over my Uptown Plantation, so I am going back to New Orleans to wear the ball and chain of my guilt.
Your sincere friend,
T.J.B."

 

[releventchair]

Dropping the wagon at the livery the old bow legged sachem stepped out from nowhere and handed me of all things Lister's sword.
'Do not return to the stones and speak of them to no one." A long sad look and he turned back into the stables.
Arriving home my dog growled and skulked in the yard.
My long suffering wife made tea, heated a bath and while I soaked appeared with her valise and parasol.
"I'll be at my sisters" she said. "You need some time to return to civilization".
Alone I asked, "is there balm in Gilead?" And laughed. Then answered, "Nevermore!" And laughed again.
The dog howled and I thought, the old man did not say I could not write about it.
Though to share the location would also share the curse.
But the story must be shared somehow without actually disclosing the location, or my involvement, or I won't be able to tolerate it ...........
Ahh, I might know a way.
T.B.J.

 

[ECS]

As summer slowly bled into fall, I gave all my property and business affairs to mine and Chloe's son, Thomas junior.
Celeste objected, screaming that her born children of mine should have possession of Uptown Plantation and the hotel. I did not relent for reasons known only to my person, and my son, who shares in confidence, the events which befell Bedford county and, most important, the cause.
I concealed by growing hunger crave for raw flesh by purchasing the butcher's freshest meat, which I ate in secret in my office at the Merchants & Planters Hotel.
It is now September of 1820, and I no not how much longer I can keep this never ending hunger at bay.
T.J.B.

 

[ECS]

POST SCRIP-James Beverly Ward
I invited my cousins, F C Hutter and John William Sherman, along with my good friend, Max Guggenheimer, to my study for some imported French brandy. Max supplied us all some very fine Cuban cigars that he recently acquired for his store. I showed them the account of Uncle Morriss, and discussed into the night.
Sherman, a member of the Lynchberg Thespians a actor and playwright, novel writer, and always a dollar short since he purchased the newspaper, said this would make a great western treasure story, with a touch of Poe, but what it needed was a cipher like in Poe's "THE GOLD BUG".
Cousin Hutter said he had experience with ciphers during the Confederate War, and could create one using his father's copy of the Declaration of Independence.

 

[texasred777]

Finally got around to reading this story. Great tale! I really enjoy tales such as this one. Wish there was more to it!
My question is: How are ECS and relevantchair sharing the telling of this tale? Am I missing something?

 

[releventchair]

T-Red: this lil boy is just winging it from previous accounts,disputes, and imagination following ECS's post's..
ECS is fun to follow on this thread.
No communication between us over it beyond what you have read.
He could have said "knock it off" and I would have.

 

[ECS]

Releventchair added an additional dimension to the tale, and illustrations, while not expecting, but always welcome, kept me on my toes to maintain continuity.
P.S.-Those who are familiar with the Beale Papers and the various theories that had been posted on TN's Beale thread, will recognize those were incorporated into this tale.

 

[Rebel - KGC]

Releventchair added an additional dimension to the tale, and illustrations, while not expecting, but always welcome, kept me on my toes to maintain continuity.
P.S.-Those who are familiar with the Beale Papers and the various theories that had been posted on TN's Beale thread, will recognize those were incorporated into this tale.

HA! It a Mind-Mind "thing" (MIND MELD)... EA Poe would be PLEASED! (TWILIGHT ZONE "theme" playing here...).

 

[ECS]

One hundred years from now, someone will discover this thread, call it "THE WARD PAPERS" , write a book about it, claiming it is the true authentic account behind the never found Beale treasure and hunt is on once again!

 

[releventchair]

I,m nervous now. We need ghost writers...