The Shrouded Horseman

When the Civil War had finally come to an end, Jeremiah Jones found himself a free man- able to forge for himself a brand new life free from the control and the punishment of the planter. He headed up north toward Millioke, and for several years he worked all sorts of odd little jobs, getting his hands dirty as he toiled to earn his bread. Eventually, he earned just enough money to buy himself a low flatbed wagon- humble, but sturdy, much like Jeremiah himself. He got himself hired as a drayman for the Howard-Day Brewing company, and got to work hauling product to and fro all across the town.

Jeremiah went through his deliveries with spring in his step, greeting everyone he came across with a cheerful smile and plenty of jokes, earning himself a reputation in town as a beloved, charming man who nearly everyone had become fast friends with. He made his rounds every week, taking the time to chat with all his customers, especially a lovely woman by the name of Lucille. Born into an esteemed family of “civilized” sensibilities, she had every reason to ignore Jerimiah, but she was not one shackled to tradition. She always held for him a bright smile, and an equally lovely laugh to match. His route would bring her past her home regularly, the two growing closer with every meeting.

Through working hard in his deliveries, Jeremiah quickly earned enough to buy himself a little property on the outskirts of town, where he built a beautiful little cottage for himself. With a place to call home and a stable job, he decided it was finally time to marry, and of course it was Lucille who he asked. After all, the two had joked lightly about married life, which turned to dreams, which turned to promises; it was only natural he asked for her hand. Lucille's parents were surprised by the match, but they quickly resigned themselves to the situation. Regardless of how they felt on the matter now, they supposed that Jeremiah was a good enough man, and if Lucille loved him, surely they could learn to as well. For Lucille's brother James, however, it was another matter entirely. He thought that Jeremiah was beneath them, and wouldn't dare welcome a former slave into the family, let alone allow him to steal his sister's heart.

Lucille cared not for her brother’s protests, waving her parents goodbye as she left the family home in the back of the Jeremiah’s trusty wagon, choosing never to mingle with the upper crust of the city again. She and Jeremiah lived simply, but they were more than happy in each other's company in their cottage.

Three months of bliss passed until Lucille returned home early one evening to find the barn door open. Inside, she was horrified to find the wagon destroyed, and nearby, a pool of blood. Her beloved Jerimiah was beside his broken cart, his body left in much the same condition. His face had been battered almost beyond recognition-but she knew with heavy heart that it was her Jeremiah. That wasn't the only thing she recognized- below him, half hidden, was a silver pocket watch- one she last saw attached to the waistcoat of her brother James.

By the time the sheriff had arrived for questioning, Lucille's brother had long since fled the city. A warrant was put out for his arrest, but James was nowhere to be found. There was nothing here for her anymore; Lucille put the cottage up for sale, and left town. No-one ever bought the place. The once idyllic cottage had been tainted by such a brutal murder.

That was that, until one evening at dusk, a phantom wagon had appeared riding across the lonely roads of the town. Driving it was a glowing, tall man in a gray shroud that whipped about him as if blown by a great gale. Only six months after these strange sightings began, James had returned to Lucille’s home. Having been on the run, not aware of the ghostly happenings or Lucille’s departure, he’d staggered into the overgrown yard after having fortified his courage with a few strong drinks. She’d not be happy to see him, he knew, but what he’d done was for her own good, after all.

"Lucy!" He called, "Lucy I'm back!"

There was no response... save for the sound of beating hooves in the distance. James suddenly spotted the phantom wagon careening down the road, the shrouded figure upon his hellish wagon racing towards him, a ghostly whip at the ready. It swung forward, wrapping about James' legs and pulling him off his feet, sending him toppling into the dirt. The hooded figure charged forward as James braced for impact- but the stallion and the wagon both passed right through him with a gust of cold air.

James gave one last gasp, falling to the ground, dead. Perhaps he'd died from fright alone- or perhaps the spirit of Jeremiah had made one final delivery, ferrying souls rather than cider.

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Read an excerpt of the original tale here!

The full tale can be found in "Spooky Wisconsin" by S.E. Schlosser