I'd like to read two stories from a book called Death Stalk's Moon Valley written
by our favorite author D. A. Roberts. You can find this book
on Amazon by searching d Dot A Dot Roberts Death Stalk's Moon Valley. You
can buy an electronic version or a paperback version. Right now, I'm going
to read you a couple of stories from this It's a collection of short stories
that I think anyone who likes the scary type genre will like, so go
check him out at Amazon. The Beast of the Valley Osage River Valley,
north of Lynn Creek, Missouri, January twenty three, eighteen fifty three.
Three days in a row, William West had gone out in the morning to
check his livestock and found at least one animal dead. The frozen ground made
it almost impossible to find the tracks of the culprit, but William knew it
had to be wolves. There was nothing else anyone had seen in the Osage
River Valley that could take down a large steer like that, and then to
see the sheer amount of damage it had done to the poor animal. On
the third morning, it had struck and killed a heifer who was expecting her
first calf. In a few weeks. Not only had the heifer been brutally
killed, but the unborn calf had been ripped from her stomach and mostly devoured
on the spot. To make it even worse, his best stock dog had
tried to defend the heifer and met a similar fate. The only difference was
that it hadn't fed on the dog. It tore the dog to shreds and
scattered the pieces around the area, and from the amount of blood and the
condition of the body, it was clear that the dog had gone down fighting,
not that it had done it any good. With the losses growing expensive
to the herd in William's pocket book, he decided it was time to do
something about it. After he dragged the biggest pieces of the carcasses down by
the river bank and well away from the rest of the herd, William quickly
finished the morning chores and hurried back to the house. He gathered up his
hunting rifle, his powder horn, and extra lead shot, and he slung
them over his shoulder. Where are you off to, William asked his young
bride, Amelia. We had another one of the cattle killed last night,
he explained. They got the pregnant heifer, and they killed the stock dog
too. I've got to stop this killing before we lose everything. So what
are you doing right now, she asked, nodding at his rifle. I'm
going to ride down to the valley to your brother's place and see if he'll
help me track and kill this wolf pack. Thomas is a better hunter than
I am. In a crack shot between the two of us, will kill
enough of the pack that they won't come back. Has he lost any of
his hurt, she asked. Last I spoke to him, he'd lost two
calves and a few chickens. I'm sure he'll want this pack put down as
much as I do. I'll put on a good supper for the evening,
said Amelia. I expect Thomas to bring at least one of his sons.
I'll be ready to feed you all before you go out hunting. William kissed
his bride and went out and saddled his mule. Once he was set,
he headed down the river road. It was only five miles to Thomas's farm,
and they could return by early afternoon. That would give him time to
try locating tracks or a possible den before sunset. The sun was warm on
his face despite the chill in the air as he rode down the river road.
It was a beautiful winter day, and he felt confident they could end
the threat to his livestock by mourning. That wouldn't mean every farmer along the
River valley could sleep easier knowing his livestock were safe. It might also put
some much needed money in his pocket. If they could collect a few wolf
pelts in good condition, they could use the money to recoup the losses from
the dead livestock, and maybe some to spare. He'd had his eye on
a new plow for a few months. Just after midday, William Thomas and
his oldest son, Jonah, arrived at the homestead. He could see the
smoke rising from the chimney and smell the fresh bread as he put his mule
back into the barn. Thomas helped put away the mules, while Jonah went
inside to see his aunt Amelia. Once they put away the mules, Thomas
and William headed to the field to search for tracks. They found indistinct impressions
in the frozen ground, but nothing they could identify or follow for any distance.
The tracks they could locate were odd and shape differently than they had ever
seen before. It almost looked like whatever it had been was walking on two
legs. They both laughed when they discussed that, knowing how preposterous that had
to be. No men could do the things that happened to these animals.
They returned to the house by supper and sat down for a meal of Amelia's
famous chicken and dumplings with fresh baked bread and apple pie. They laughed and
caught up on the doings of both families. It had been a few weeks
since Thomas had visited, and Amelia was excited to send back some fresh eggs
and bread with him. When they finished eating, the laughter seemed to fade
away. Thomas and William got up and started checking over their rifles and equipment.
Thomas loaded a rifle for Jonah and set out extra lead balls and powder.
We're putting you up on the barn roof where the flat side meets the
corral, said Thomas. From there you should have a good view of the
pasture. I take your time and aim like I taught to you, and
most importantly, though, don't shoot me or your uncle. Jonah laughed.
I won't, Papa, he assured him. Well, at least don't shoot
me, said William. Thomas isn't as pretty as I am. That drew
a round of LIFs. All right, said William. Let's head out to
the field. Jonah wants you're in position. I want you to make an
owl call if you see anything moving near the stock. Yes, sir,
said Jonah. I'll be watching. William grabbed his own powder, an extra
lead ball shot, and headed for the door. Amelia kissed him and put
his hat on his head. Now you be careful out there, she said,
smiling. Don't let the wolves get you. We'll be careful, William
assured her. They headed out into the darkness, and she watched as they
helped Jonah onto the flat section of the barn roof and then headed out into
the field. She suddenly had a strange feeling of impending danger. A full
moon was in the sky and the cattle were already acting nervous. Shutting the
door, she placed the locking bar and sat by the fireplace to pray for
their safety. After a moment's thought, she started praying for them all.
Moving away from the barn, Thomas and Williams stopped at the edge of the
field. William pointed at the far side near the river, and he leaned
close to Thomas. That's where they've been coming into the fields, whispered William.
I set up near those willow trees, whispered Thomas, you set up
near the big trough. That way we can shoot without getting in each other's
way. William nodded and headed for the trough. He watched as Thomas crept
along the edge of the field, disappearing into the shadows beneath the willows.
The cattle were already nervous and starting to group up near the center of the
field. They circled a few calves in the herb, protecting them from whatever
threat they sensed. The cattle started lowing with more intensity. William could tell
from the higher pits that they were sensing trouble coming closer. Although he had
not seen anything, he started feeling the tension himself. He saw a dark
shadow flip from one bunch of the bushes to another near the river. Whatever
it was, it moved impossibly fast. It moved on all fours, so
it had to be a wolf. No bear moved that fast. Slowly,
William caught back the hammer on his rifle to avoid making too much noise.
Even with these precautions, it seemed deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.
The moon peeked intermittently through the scattered clouds, casting its cold, silvery
light on the field before them. William got his first clear look at the
creature when the beast stepped out from behind the bushes to slip closer to the
fence. It looked like a wolf, but it was far larger than any
he had ever seen. It was also the deep black that one only sees
in a cave, or when the clouds are thick enough to blot out even
the light of the stars. He could see it moving in the shadows as
a darker shadow. Only the feral yellow eyes seemed to glow with the light
all their own, made all the clearer by the cold, silvery blue of
the moonlight. Raising his rifle, he sighted on the beast, placing his
sight squarely on the spot just behind the front legs. He wanted to destroy
the heart and drop the beast quickly. A wolf of that size could do
considerable damage before it died. If he merely wounded it, the east could
turn on one of them, or vanish into the night, only to die
deep in the wilds, and if that happened, he would never collect the
pelt. He needed that money to replace the livestock it had killed. Closing
one eye, he was just easing his breath to take up the slack on
the trigger when the resounding boom of a gunshot roared out through the darkness.
William saw the muzzle flash and knew it had been Thomas. At a range
of less than fifty yards, there was no way that Thomas had missed his
target. William had seen him drop a deer at twice the range with a
single shot. William knew that Thomas had struck his target from the beach's reaction,
but instead of falling, the beasts whirled around and headed directly at Thomas,
taking careful aim. William knew he had to drop the beast before it
could reach Thomas, otherwise it would likely tear out his throat before it died.
The boom of Tom's pistol roared in the darkness, and the creature stumbled,
but it didn't fall. William fired and saw the creature twist and hit
the ground, rolling to a stop a few yards short of where Thomas sat
hidden in the willows. To William's surprise, the beast got up and leaped
into the willows, and that's when the screaming started. Getting to his feet,
William sprinted toward the willows, drawing his pistol as he ran. In
the head he could see the black liquid that seemed to coat the ground in
the willow leaves, but there was no sign of Thomas or the beast.
The screaming sounded once more, only this time it gurgled and ceased with a
wet, crunching sound. The beast had dragged Thomas down the embankment near the
river. Just before William reached the embankment's edge, the creature jumped up before
him, and the beast's fur listened and oily black in the moonlight. But
William knew it had to be Thomas's blood. Raising his pistol, he shot
the beast it almost point blank, ranged directly in the head. He heard
the grunt of pain as the beast fell to the ground, and stepping around
the beast, William looked down at the river bank and he saw Thomas.
The beast had torn his head from his shoulders and ripped one arm off at
the elbow behind him, he heard a strange popping sound, almost like when
you rung a chicken's neck. Dear God, William cried. He started to
head down the embankment when he felt hot breath on the back of his neck
and the ramsid smell of blood and rotten meat enveloped him, and his stomach
almost emptied its contents. Oh no, he whispered. He expected to fill
the sharp teeth of the beast sinking to his skin, but was shocked when
a pair of massive hands gripped his neck and lifted him from the ground as
if he didn't weigh an ounce. As the beast turned him around, William
could see directly into the creature's hellish yellow eyes, and new at his feet
were dangling over two feet off the ground below him. Merciful God, he
gasped, He can't save you, rumbled the beast's voice, deep and menacing.
The beast spoke, and that thought was terrifying, beyond words. He
felt his bladder release as he stared into the beast's eyes. It was leaning
closer, as if to bite his face off. When William heard the gunshot.
Jonah had fired his rifle. William heard the creature grunt softly, but
seemed to make no other reaction. It was as if the bullets had done
no real damage. William was sure that he was staring into the eyes of
the devil himself, and with a crunch of bone, the beast tossed William
against the embankment. It had broken his neck and he couldn't move, but
he wasn't dead yet. He knew that was only a matter of time.
He watched in horror as the beast turned around and ran on two legs directly
at Jonah. He tried to scream for Jonah to run, but his voice
wouldn't work. Only a soft moan escaped from his lips. He saw Jonah
get to his feet and look for a place to run, but the beast
was too fast. It was on the barn's roof, bearing Jonah to the
ground in a single leap. William was grateful that he was far enough away
that he couldn't hear the breaking of the boy's neck. And there was a
short scream of pain, and then the beast stood up holding Jonah's head.
It looked into the eyes momentarily before tossing the head aside like it no longer
mattered, and then William saw the beast slowly turn its gaze to the small
farmhouse. It was going after his beloved Amelia. He tried to scream,
but no words came out. He tried to force his body to move,
but it would not listen. His vision began fading as he saw the front
door smash open with one massive blow of the beast's fist. That was the
last thing he saw in this world, And as the light faded away,
the last sound he heard was his wife screaming, and then all sensation was
gone. Days later, when neighbors came to check on the farm because some
of their stock had gotten out and wandered over to the other farms, they
were greeted with a gruesome sight. The house was completely ransacked and there was
blood everywhere. There was more blood on the side of the barn and the
roof of the barn, and in the field and near the river, but
there were no bodies. There was no trace of the four missing settlers.
The stories traveled up and down the river valley. The beast had claimed more
victim. The beast of the valley was once more stalking the night, and
no one was safe Beast of Lake of the Ozarks from the Journal of Deacon
MacCready, dated December twelve, twenty sixteen. Long before the days when they
built Begled Dam, farms and homes lined the valley formed by the edge of
the Osage River. Our family had formed that river valley since before Missouri was
even a state. My great great grandfather Ara MacCready settled this farmstead in eighteen
sixteen. By the sweat of his brow and the blood in his veins,
my family formed that parcel of land until the government took it from us when
the construction of the dam began in nineteen thirty one. Now I'm old,
but I still remember the days of running along that river when I was a
boy, fishing and hunting and play games with my brothers. My memory isn't
what it once was, but I remember clearly the tales my grandfather told me
by the fire, when the winter wind would howl through the valley and shake
the thin panes of glass in our little farmhouse, when the icy grip of
old man winter would bite into your flesh like a ravenous jaws of the beast
of the valley. Well, what's that? What's the beast of the valley.
That's an old tail from even older days, full of death and misery,
that dates to when settlers first came here. I used to think it
was a tall tail to scare us children at night around the fireplace. But
I could see the haunted look in my grandfather's eyes when the wind would rattle
the door, and I knew that it wasn't just a tail. And in
the dark past of generations long gone, the beast once walked this valley.
I could tell from the look on his face that not only was the creature
real, but he had seen it for himself. You don't get that haunted
look from a secondhand story. There were tales of animals found torn to pieces,
dogs going missing, and the occasional traveler called out after dark. My
grandfather even told me a story of a homestead found with the door smashed in
and blood everywhere inside, but no other sign of the family that had lived
there. And then the dirt outside were massive tracks that looked like they belonged
to a gigantic wolf, a wolf walking on two legs. I didn't believe
him until I found some of those tracks in the fresh mud along the bank
of our pond not fifty feet from my bedroom window. Then there were the
nights in the fall of the year when my grandfather and father would build large
bonfires near the house, and they would keep them burning all night. Sometimes
members of the local Osage Indian tribe would come to our home and help with
the fires. They also brought a plant my father called aconite to plant around
the house for protection. They cautioned us not to touch it or let the
animals eat it. I didn't know until years later that the common name for
aconite is wolf Spain. It was even said that during the dam construction,
several workers vanished while walking home late at night from the job site. It
got so bad that the work crew started walking to and from work in groups
and they carried guns. Many quit their job and never returned to work.
And then when the dam neared completion and the water started to rise, the
attacks suddenly stopped. I thought that once they had finished building the dam,
we would hear the last of the beast. But with the creation of the
Lake of the Ozarks, they buried those farms beneath the dark water of the
lake. There were no more attacks on people in livestock, No strange howls
in the night that sounded eerily like a wolf, but not exactly, a
howl that had an almost human quality to it, a quality that would turn
the blood in your veins to ice. Once they finished the dam, it
all stopped. It wasn't long after more and more the older generation either passed
away or left the area that the Beast of the Valley became a fading memory.
It was all but forgotten by almost everyone. After my brothers died in
World War II and my sister died in childbirth, I alone was left to
remember the tales. I even began to doubt them as age and time took
their toll on me. And that was until the winter of twenty and sixteen,
when everything changed. I was rapidly approaching my one hundredth birthday. I
still lived in my little house near Lynn Creek, Missouri. It was less
than five miles from where our farm had been. My granddaughter lived with me,
partially to care for me and partially because she had nowhere else to go.
It worked out well for me because it kept my two sons from putting
me in a nursing home. The winter hadn't been all that harsh, but
the coal still crept into my old bones. That first night in December,
the wind howled in from across the lake, shaking the windows on my old
home, and that night I heard that blood curdling howl drifting on the wind.
My blood seemed to freeze, and for a moment I thought I was
having a heart attack. The pain subsided, but an icy grip that went
to my core replaced it. I don't know what had changed, but the
beast was back. I told my granddaughter to make sure that all the windows
and doors were securely locked. She laughed at me and told me I was
just being paranoid. She said it was just the wind, but I knew
better. I refused to calm down until she had double checked the doors,
and she scoffed at me, saying that I was working myself up over an
old wives tale. She even laughed when I told her the story my grandfather
had told me many years before. She stopped laughing when we saw the hellish
red eyes in the darkness and heard the heavy footsteps on the wooden porch,
footsteps that ended with a rasping scrape of claws against the wood. I could
see the terror on her face as She slid the heavy desk in front of
the door, and I knew from the old tales that if the beast wanted
in, that desk wasn't gonna stop it. It's just an animal, she
whispered as we hid near the stairs. We both knew that was a lie.
Animals don't try the door handle. M