This ghost story was first passed from frontier wagon train to wagon train in the 1860s. Oral storytellers often tell this story today.
A long wagon train rolled into Texas 150 years ago on a hot August day. The train followed the trail blazed by the army just a few short years before.
As they crossed into Texas these pioneers saw their first rattlesnake and promptly shot it. The second day they encountered a band of peaceful Delaware Indians. Once they reached the Brazos River they stopped to rest at a nearby military fort.
One couple and their son–the Millers– had experienced more than their fair share of bad luck since they had joined the train. Their hope was their son Jack would regain his strength soon for he had been ill for the past 10 days.
When his condition worsened, the Millers stayed behind when the train moved on a couple of days later. They promised they would catch up as soon as possible.
Despite a persistent fever, Jack seemed to rally so the Millers headed west on the trail 3 days later. Jack spent his days sleeping in the wagon and one night he begged his parents to let him sleep outside under the stars–they reluctantly agreed.
Under a full moon he fell asleep. Hours late he awoke to see something sitting not far from his bedroll. He spotted red, red eyes staring at him in the dim light.
Jack watched the form carefully but when it didn’t move he wondered if his fever might be playing tricks on his mind. He fell back into a restless sleep.
When he awoke again the moon was higher and the form was sitting closer, staring at him with its red, red eyes. Now nervous, he rubbed his eyes and looked once more, the figure was still there. But again it didn’t move and his head hurt so he gradually drifted off to sleep once more.
The third time he awoke, the form was sitting right beside him looking down at him with those red, red eyes. Jack realized it was a dog. He reached out to pet it. “You’re just a big white dog, aren’t you.” The animal leaned down and licked him on the face. Jack laughed and fell back asleep.
But Jack never woke up again. The high fever had taken his life. On a nearby mesa top a lone white wolf howled long and low.
The next day his parents buried him under a mound of sand with a cactus growing on top. As their wagon rolled on they wondered at the set of tracks in the dust that had surrounded Jack’s bedroll. But stricken with grief their thoughts soon wandered elsewhere.
From high on the mesa red, red eyes watched them go.
Wagon trains that stopped in the same area for the night often reported seeing a ghostly white form with red, red eyes walking near their camp.
One family that camped near Jack’s grave spotted white bones sticking out of the sand. They saw a huge, white wolf with red, red eyes come bounding over the mound of sand. It snarled at them and they packed up and left quickly.
One family that camped near Jack’s grave spotted white bones sticking out of the sand. They saw a huge, white wolf with red, red eyes come bounding over the mound of sand. It snarled at them and they packed up and left quickly.
After this, people came to believe the white wolf protected the grave. Others stated the wolf had killed the boy in the grave.
As more years passed the story changed. The legend now passed from wagon to wagon was the white wolf was actually the ghost of the boy.
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| “Post on the Clear Fork of the Brazos” Fort Phantom Hill |
The fort near the Brazos river was christened Fort Phantom Hill. Many believed that it was named for the boy who once traveled on a wagon train–and now was a white wolf with red, red eyes.