California ghosts seem to be a gentle lot. Jan, one of my close friends in college, rented a small guest house in the "old town" section of Chico, CA.
The cottage had a reputation for being haunted by an old Indian, "Chief," for as long as any of us could remember. Whenever Jan played classical or easy listening music, her rocking chair would sway slightly, pipe tobacco odor would permeate the living room, and a soft glow filled the rocking chair.
When Jan would change the radio channel to rock or R&B, the rocking chair slowed to a stop, the pipe odor would fade away, and the the soft glow in the chair dimmed, then died.
About 25 years ago, the city condemned sections of "old town." Among the houses leveled for a new apartment complex was Chief's. No one was surprised to learn that Indian graves were discovered under some of the demolished homes..
Chief and the others were reburied in the "old cemetery," not far from the university and Presbyterian church. I like to think of old Chief enjoying his pipe while listening to college concerts, choir practices, and church services.
My uncle managed the Llano Seco Rancho, an old Spanish land grant, outside of Willows, California. The Pony Express route cut through a boggy pasture on the ranch, and legend has it that more than one hapless horse and rider sunk to their death.
My dad and his nephews decided to check out stories of ghostly riders on a cold, bright November night. They waited... and they waited... and they waited. The quiet itself was unnerving. Then they heard the rumblings of an approaching thunderstorm. As the approaching rumbles became louder and louder, the deafening sound became less like thunder... and more and more like a galloping horse.
The thundering hooves passed over them... and stopped in the boggy pasture. A dark shadowy mist sunk into the bog.... and the thundering hooves were gone.
In California's Sacramento Valley are two towns: Paradise (which was called "Pair of Dice" before the Founding Mothers changed the name) and Chico, named after the Chico Creek. Connecting the towns is Honey Run Road with the original covered bridge still intact.
Although California's Indians didn't welcome intruding gold miners, they feared the invading settlers even worse. The local Indian tribes were not a warrior people. But as settlers chopped the forests and plowed the land, the Indians became desperate.
Not far from the old covered bridge are a group of boulders on the edge of the Chico Creek. Here, according to legend, Indians pushed these rocks down onto settlers' children playing in the water. When the youngsters didn't come home for dinner, their mother searched......and found them.
In the old part of Chico Cemetery is a tall, marble obelisk with the date, five children names, and "kilt by Injuns." On dark nights, a slender, shadowy form behind a flickering light may be seen wandering along Chico Creek.
