Sara Brown

I was workin for a ranch back in '88 or 9, I was prowlin first calf heifers on the Smokehouse at the time. My horse was actin silly, you'd thought he'd seen a bear, the wind was blowin hard and he was smellin of the air. I thought I heard a woman's voice, moanin in the wind, I stopped to roll a cigarette where the Smokehouse makes a bend. As I smoked, I led my pony into the winter breeze, and tried to track the cryin noise driftin through the trees. I found two lonely tombstones, together on the ground, on one it just said "Baby", on the other Sara Brown. I called this ol cowpuncher that night when I got in, and asked him who this Sara was, and if he knew her kin. He said she was his uncle's wife on his momma's side, the baby died right after birth, a few days later, Sara died. The labor was a hard one, but she never quit the fight, it started late one evening and lasted through the night. Her husband helped the best he could, but sometimes things go wrong, a little girl was born that night, but didn't last too long. Sara lost a lot of blood, her body tired and weak, drifted for two painful days, in and out of sleep. She started doing better, she seemed to be okay, her husband finally told her the little girl had passed away. The tragic news was just too much for Sara's mind to bear, she held the doll that she had made and combed its golden hair. One night her husband jumped from bed when he heard his Sara scream, he went in to check on her and wake her from her dreams. But she was gone, so he went out, to look for her outside, through the cold and windy darkness, he could hear his Sara's cries. He found her frozen body restin in eternal sleep, right beside the baby girl he buried near the creek. That was ninety years ago, but every now and then, someone hears a woman's voice, cryin in the wind. Perhaps it's just a coyote, say folks in disbelief, but maybe it's the hauntin moan of a broken spirit's grief.