Ghosts along the Texas Coast (28 page)

The Attacapa Indians used to live in a little village close by the lake. There they hunted, and fished, and lived their daily peaceful lives. The chief of the tribe had a lovely only daughter, who had been named Kisselpoo because she was born when the moon was at its fullest, and the tribal leaders believed she would be under the protection of the moon goddess.

When Kisselpoo was 15 years old, tales of her beauty and charm had spread among other tribes, far and wide. Many young braves came to woo the fair-skinned, almond-eyed beauty. Her father and his tribal leaders finally singled out a man to be her husband. He was much older than the chief himself, and already had many wives. But he was powerful, ruling over much land to the north of the Attacapa territory. Arrangements were set in motion for the nuptials. It didn't matter that little Kisselpoo did not love the man.

The arrangements for the wedding festivities were far advanced when a young stranger, a brave named Running Bear, appeared in the village. He lived “seven sleeps” away, towards the west. Tall, straight,
and handsome, he brought gifts of stones bluer than the sky (these must have been turquoise, much valued among Western tribes) to show Kisselpoo of his interest in her. She fell in love immediately with the handsome young man, but she could not back out of her betrothal to the elderly chief whom her father and his council had chosen. So it was with a heavy heart she waited in her father's lodge for her hand-maidens to come and accompany her to the lodge of her husband-to-be.

As she waited in her father's lodge, she heard Running Bear's voice softly calling her name. She crept out of the lodge and with him she fled to the big lake where his canoe lay waiting. They swiftly took to the waters. The princess was missed almost immediately, and the chief from the north, along with some leaders and medicine men from her own tribe, followed close behind the young lovers. Kisselpoo's father had had a strange, mystic dream in which the moon goddess had appeared to him, urging him to relent and let his daughter marry the young Indian from the west, so he did not join those who were in pursuit of Kisselpoo.

The Attacapa medicine men called up the wrath of their gods and soon a terrible storm came up, causing great waves to form upon the lake. The little canoe could not bear up under the turbulence and soon was upset. Kisselpoo and Running Bear were last seen being swept away on the turbulent waters. Only the shimmering water glistening in the light of the full moon was to be seen. . . .

When the moon goddess, the guardian of Kisselpoo, learned what had happened, she called upon her kinsman, the tropical storm god, and he swept down with a furious hurricane, causing the waters of the lake to sweep over and destroy the Attacapan village. For a long time after the storm, the lake waters became murky with silt and there were very few fish. The shore birds that used to nest around the lake disappeared, and the shores of the lake were stained and ugly.

Finally, many years later, the moon goddess has loosened the curse that almost destroyed the lake, and today the beauty of Lake Sabine has been restored. Fine sand again covers the lake floor, and tall cypress trees grow along its banks. Schools of fish have returned to make their homes in the lake and waterfowl and shore birds nest in the reeds along the banks once more.

To those who have the power to see such things, on the nights of a full moon, a little canoe can be seen, riding a trail of moonbeams across the still and peaceful waters of Lake Sabine, according to the legend.

According to an article which was printed in the
Port Arthur News
on October 27, 1984, entitled “Love Legend Lives for Kisselpoo,” by staff writer Regina Segovia, there are those who live around Lake Sabine who have seen the canoe and its occupants on more than one occasion.

It seems there was to be a big Halloween party at the home of pretty young Tammy Theriot. Her father was a schoolteacher, and he very clearly preferred that she date Roger Landry, who came from a wealthy family, to young Buddy Boudreaux, whose dad was just an old Cajun country boy who worked over at one of the refineries. Buddy was just plain crazy over Tammy, but he knew he wouldn't be welcome at the Halloween party she was having that night . . . at least her father wouldn't be glad to see him. So Buddy talked his cousin Kevin into going fishing on the lake that evening. He just didn't have the nerve to show up at Tammy's party, knowing how her dad felt about him.

His cousin Kevin didn't really want to go out on the lake that night. It was cold, wet, and misty. But Buddy talked him into getting his dad's boat out and the boys headed out into the lake. As they started out, they suddenly heard a sad and mournful cry. A deep voice was heard as the full moon appeared from its covering of grey clouds. The voice said, “Kisselpoo.”

Buddy asked Kevin if he had heard the voice, but he could already tell by the startled expression on his cousin's face that he had, indeed, heard the voice. They could see each other clearly as the moon had come out full now, and cast its light upon the waters. At the same moment, they both saw a canoe, with a huge man standing in it with his giant arms crossed over his chest. Seated in the canoe and looking up at the man was the most beautiful woman the boys had ever seen.

The couple were bathed in a golden light, and the girl, whose hair was jet black, wore beads and feathers, and looked to be in an authentic Indian costume. The brave was dressed in fur pelts.

Buddy told Kevin, “Don't take your eyes off them for a minute. I brought my camera, and I have to get a picture or nobody will believe that we saw them.”

At just that moment the wind picked up and the water started getting choppy. The boat swung around, and they lost sight of the canoe. By the time Buddy got his camera out of its waterproof case, the moon had slipped behind the clouds, leaving them in the darkness. But they could hear the sobs of a young girl, crying as if her heart would break.

According to the article, “They cranked the motor on and could still hear the sound of the cry. They slowly moved in its direction. They were scared to death, but even so it could be the cry of someone who needed help. The boat began to buck, and they picked up speed. Suddenly there was a thud and everything in the boat was flying around. Kevin was looking at small bubbles and sinking. “I'm underwater,” he thought, and then panic gripped him.

“Buddy managed to grab a life jacket and he held it with one hand and swam to save his cousin. He grabbed for Kevin's hand and felt the strong palm of something he knew was not his cousin. It was the Indian!

“ ‘Your friend will live,' the Indian said, his voice thundering so loud it hurt Kevin's ears. “But what is life without love. And I, who have given a century of sadness for love as a brave who fought a tribe and the gods for my Kisselpoo, say this: Love is for the heart and not for those who use it to gain land or wealth. You are a coward to run from the challenge of the heart.

“Then the Indian silently but forcefully pulled Buddy under the water. ‘I'm dead,' he thought. ‘This is it. This is death . . . dark, wet, and cold holding onto some big red man's hand. Who would have thought. . . .' ”

Before he could gather his thoughts, Buddy saw before him a village of huts with fires burning . . . and he heard singing . . . yet he knew he was underwater . . . how strange. . . .

He heard the voice of a woman speaking, but he could see nothing but the Indian village. He tried to swim, but the big hand of the Indian brave pushed him back down. The woman's voice was telling all about the betrothal of the lovely Kisselpoo to the old Indian chief. Buddy saw the beautiful Indian princess, who was surrounded by women who were combing oil into her long black hair and rubbing her feet with flower petals. He knew she was sad. Then the woman's voice he had heard told all about how the princess was betrothed to an old man, even though she loved a handsome young brave. The voice continued to tell Buddy all that had happened, including the princess' escape from the village, and the way the canoe had been upset by the storms. All the time Buddy felt he must be dead . . . maybe even in hell . . . maybe he was even a ghost by now!

Then, suddenly, Buddy's head bobbed up from the water, and Kevin, who was still spitting and cursing, pulled him into the boat.
“Did that all really happen?” was all Buddy could say. Kevin had climbed back into the boat, and was sitting there sorrowfully thinking how could he tell everybody Buddy had drowned. Just as he had begun to accept that Buddy was really gone, up he popped from the water, and Kevin was very angry with him, thinking he had played a Halloween trick on him. As for Buddy, “He was as silent and as white as the underbelly on a fish.”

When they got back to Buddy's uncle's house, it was clear the old man had a few drinks under his belt. Even so, he could tell by the way the boys were acting that something was wrong. “You two boys got some gumption going out on the lake on Halloween night with the Indians out there and all,” he said. “What?” the boys both asked, in unison. Buddy thought maybe his uncle had pulled a fast one on them so he told his uncle what had happened.

Their uncle, his grizzled beard working and his eyes glittering with excitement, said he believed the story the boys told him. When he was 17, he saw the Indian once, he said. And then he told them the legend. Buddy had never heard the story before, but he had seen it re-enacted before his very eyes. His uncle missed a few things, but Buddy didn't say anything. It was close enough.

According to the
News
account, Buddy Boudreaux cleaned up and hustled himself on over to Tammy Theriot's Halloween party after all. He decided to take the big Indian's advice and keep an eye on his own little “Kisselpoo.” Whether her daddy liked him or not, Buddy decided that he'd give old Roger Landry a real run for his money!

This old legend came to me through the generosity of Yolanda Gonzalez, librarian at the Arnulfo L. Oliveira Memorial Library at the University of Texas at Brownsville. It appeared in an anthology of stories entitled
Studies in Brownsville History
edited by Milo Kearney.

The story was told by Felipe Lozano to some of his grandchildren at the beach in 1964, and was recorded by Peter Gawenda.

It seems that many centuries ago this part of the country belonged to a fierce tribe of very tall Indians whose hunting grounds reached from Tampico all the way up to Corpus Christi across to San Antonio and Laredo and back into Mexico. They were feared because of their size, and of their ability to throw a spear more than four hundred yards. Sometimes they are said to have been cannibals who ate the hearts of their enemies, but this is not proven. [Author's note: This sounds like the Karankawa tribe.] There is an old story, though, that has been told for a long time.

The young Indian male had to prove his bravery to his young bride before he was permitted to take her with him. At times this proof of bravery cost the young lad his life. The young bride had to follow her groom to insure that he would be permitted into the eternal hunting grounds. As it was believed that the hunting grounds started beyond the sea, the young maiden was taken in a boat to Padre Island and was permitted to keep her loincloth, a small bowl with water and one cob of corn. The boat then went back to the mainland. The marriage marks for the Indian maiden were one black streak across the forehead and two white streaks on the cheeks. The girl would first sing her wedding song and then perform the customary death ceremony. Then she would get up and very slowly walk into the sea. When only her head was still above
the water the face would look almost like a sea gull. But the maidens had to keep on walking until they were completely under water, and it is said that the gods of these Indians would allow the soul of the maiden to return to earth as a sea gull.

Hardly any traces or artifacts are found that have been left by these Indians. But if it's true that the souls of Indian maidens return as sea gulls, many young Indian lads lost their lives before their wedding ceremonies!

When Padre Island was not yet covered with concrete and still had sand dunes, every once in a while one could hear the marriage song in the soft winds at night or the death cries coming from the water, and Felipe insisted that sometimes you could even see the image of one of the maidens kneeling on the beach.

There are several really hair-raising legends that have been around South Texas for many long years. They concern headless horsemen. One of the best known stories is that of the “dead man” or “El Muerto” as he is most often called. I first read of him in a column written by Henry Wolff, Jr., columnist for the
Victoria Advocate
. He had interviewed Marilyn Underwood, an English instructor at Victoria College. Underwood was brought up in San Patricio, and she had first heard the grisly tale from her father, Woodrow Hicks, Sr.

Later on I came across other versions of the story, in newspapers, in the late Ed Syers' book
Ghost Stories of Texas
, and from several individuals who had heard the story at one time or another. It's the sort of tale you
don't
tell little children before tucking them into bed for the night!

It seems a man known only as Vidal roamed South Texas earning his questionable livelihood by stealing and selling cattle. Then, as now, cattle rustling wasn't exactly an acceptable occupation. Vidal had stolen some livestock from a man named Creed Taylor, a rancher who lived “up river, in the hill country” according to Wolff. Taylor got a party of horsemen together to track down the thief. One of the group was a frontiersman who had earned the reputation of being a pretty tough man to come up against. His name was “Bigfoot” Wallace. A pioneer Texas Ranger, he was a tough lawman, fast with a gun. You just didn't want to tangle with “Bigfoot.”

The posse caught up with Vidal and justice was swiftly carried out. Wallace had the hapless man beheaded, and with the help of the other men of the posse, he lashed the dead outlaw to his saddle, which was placed on the back of a wild mustang. His hands were tied to the pommel and his feet to the stirrups, so he would ride sitting up straight. His head, still wearing its big sombrero, was lashed by means of a rawhide thong to the saddle horn. The terrified horse was turned loose to wander the countryside, unable to get rid of his grisly burden.