Capeworld Comics

Their search for the Red Ghost was as fruitless as it was the day before. Mr. Reeves performed the Perkunos Operation to keep their ghostly carriage solid enough to not drop several yards above Eagle Creek. Matthew performed the Aldi Operation to track the Red Ghost until the ghost felt their approach and teleported away, at which time Joseph would use the noise box to lead Whistle in a new direction.

Martin felt a little useless, and wished he was back at the station picking bird peppers in the wilderness. To relieve the tedium of the search, Mr. Reeves would sometimes sing a song.

It was a comfortable, albeit frustrating, hunt.

When the manesologists suddenly spotted a body lying on the ground, the shock disrupted the steady tedium of their search and made them feel as if they had been shaken out of a dream.

This time they were sure it wasn’t a bear. It was a man, and a whole one at that. Fortunately, he was not lying in a red spot, but he was lying face down, on his belly, and the ground around him was upturned and disturbed in such a way to suggest that he had been dragged through the dirt a long, long way.

“Oh God…” Martin muttered as the body came into sharp focus as Matthew lowered the carriage with the Ozien Operation. ‘He looks dead!”

“No.” Joseph said. “He can’t be dead. He’s not torn apart like the woman and the bear.”

As the carriage landed, Mr. Reeves drew his gaeite lantern, gaeite core locked inside, fresh bullets loaded.

“What the hell do you need that for?” Joseph asked.

“In case this is an ambush.” Mr. Reeves answered.

The Englishmen stared at him.

“I told you gentlemen, this isn’t Blackwall. This is hard territory. I’m not going to shoot him, not unless he flips over and aims a gun at us first.”

“You really think that could happen?” Martin asked.

“It’s happened to me before. And shoot, it’s not like I’m the only one with a target on my back. Quite a few people want you three dead, and some of them even have special powers.”

“Yes, but that’s neither here nor there.” Joseph said. He nudged the door of the carriage with his large fingertips and it flew open. “Let’s not let the man die while we stand around wondering who he is.”

The three Englishmen rushed to the man’s side as Mr. Reeves covered them from a distance. He aimed his gun, but he kept his finger away from the trigger.

“Easy, boy, easy.” Joseph said as he helped the man to his feet. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah. I’m alright.” The man gently brushed Joseph’s hands aside. “Thank you kindly, but I’m just bruised, not broken.” he looked Joseph up and down. “Lord, you’re a big feller!”

“I’m English.” Joseph said.

“English, huh? What’s an Englishman doing out in Arizona territory?”

“Hunting what I think you just had a nasty run-in with.”

“Well, best of luck to you. That red devil, he’s got the temper of Satan himself, and he pulls like a goddamn steam train.”

The man extended his hand. “Name’s Silas Johnson.”

Joseph shook his hand.

“Whew!’ Silas withdrew his hand and shook it like a glove. “Feels like I just shook hands with a grizzly bear!”

“Thank you.” Joseph said. “Mr. Johnson, my name is Dr. Joseph Morton. My associates are fellow Englishmen Dr. Matthew Ernst, on my right, and Dr. Martin Glass, on my left.”

Silas made a face as he saw Mr. Reeves.

“Who’s that nigger aiming a gun at me?” Silas asked.

Mr. Reeves holstered his gaeite lantern. ‘Bass Reeves. Deputy Marshal and member of the American Manesological Society.”

Silas looked at the Englishmen. “He for real?”

“You mean you’ve never heard of Bass Reeves?” Joseph asked. “The legendary lawman?”

“No. But I never heard of Englishmen in Arizona looking for furry devils, either.”

“So the alert hasn’t reached you yet?” Matthew asked.

“What alert?” Silas asked.

“Then it hasn’t.” Matthew said.

Mr. Reeves knelt down and picked up something off the ground. “Red hair.” he said. ‘Mr. Johnson has indeed encountered the Red Ghost.”

“Red Ghost?” Silas asked. “That’s what that devil was called? What exactly is it? I’ve never seen anything like it, it was like a horse but it’s legs were long, and it’s neck was like a snake! It was shaggy, like a bear, and it pulled like a whole goddamn herd of cattle!”

“It pulled you?” Matthew asked.

“Yes sir, like nothing ever pulled me before!”

Silas looked past Mr. Reeves and saw Whistle and the light shining through his body and carriage.

“What in the blue hell is that?” Silas asked. “Is that a ghost?”

“Ghost horse.” Matthew said.

“There are goddamn ghost horses now?” Silas asked.

“There are such things as animal manes.” Matthew said. “In fact, we may be hunting one, though our current theory is that it’s really a man’s manes in the shape of a monster.”

“You mean that devil…you mean that creature that I roped, that creature that dragged me God only knows how long through the dirt, that was a ghost? No way!”

“You roped the Red Ghost?” Matthew asked.

“If that’s what you call it, then yes, I roped the Red Ghost! But it wasn’t a ghost! It was solid, solid and strong!” Silas exclaimed.

“You make a common misconception.” Matthew said. “Manes can be as solid as a wall or as immaterial as the wind.”

“Are you serious?” Silas asked. “That’s how ghosts work?”

“That is how ghosts work.” Matthew said. “We should know, we’re manesologists.”

“I thought that was what the nigger said, but I…well, I didn’t think I heard him right.” Silas said. “God, this world has gone strange. Englishmen in Arizona. Solid, fuzzy ghosts that look like horses from out of a nightmare, and a nigger that’s a Deputy Marshal and a ghost man!” Silas turned to Mr. Reeves. “How the hell did that happen?”

“I speak several languages, most fluently the language of violence. It comes in great use in Indian territory.” Mr. Reeves answered.

“But aren’t niggers afraid of ghosts?”

“Not this one. But I’ve met a few that were afraid of me.” Mr. Reeves said.

“No fooling?” Silas asked.

“No fooling.” Mr. Reeves said.

“You’re very lucky to be alive.” Joseph said to Silas.

“I feel lucky to be alive!” Silas said. “The damn thing dragged me for miles!”

“You’re even luckier than you imagine.” Joseph said. “The Red Ghost has killed before. It stomped a woman into a puddle and eviscerated a grizzly bear.”

“A whole grizzly bear?” Silas asked.

“And tossed its parts around like sawdust. It spared you, Silas Johnson, and we need to know why. It may inform us as to the origin of the Red Ghost.”

“I believe you when you say the devil spared me. It had me on the dirt. It could have turned around and trampled over me in a flash. But for the life of me, sir, I can’t think of why it would spare me.”

“Tell us everything that has happened to you. How did you come across the Red Ghost?”

“Well, I was out with my horse, damn thing’s probably ran off to God only knows where by now, and I was just going down the creek, just to have a little ride, when I see the red devil, and at first i think he’s a horse distorted by the light, because the way it was built didn’t seem right, but then it got closer and I saw it was something real but no quite natural. And there was this white thing on the back, hunched over with a cloth over it, and I couldn’t quite tell what it was. So I think to myself, I have no idea what kind of creature this is, but someone tied something to its back, so it’s carrying something someone probably wants, so I take my rope and I lasso the devil. Then the damn thing goes wild! He pulls me like nothing ever pulled me before! He knocks me to the ground and he starts dragging me, but I hold on. Lord have mercy, if I didn’t have my gloves on, my hands would be bloody rags. Eventually, it was too much of a bumpy ride for me and I had to let go. Why the devil didn’t end me right there on the spot, I don’t know, Dr. Morton, I rightfully don’t know.”

Silas brushed at his pants. Dirt fell from his buckle to reveal a metal plate that read CSA.

“You were a Confederate?” Joseph asked.

“Just a Virginia infantryman. Decided to go west while I was young. I wanted to see the continent, you know?”

“I understand.” Joseph said. “England is a dreary, wet island. You could drop it several times in the American west and still have room for grand vistas the likes of which you see everyday.”

A chestnut colored horse trotted up close to the group.

“And there’s my damn horse!” Silas exclaimed. “And my rope’s around the Red Ghost’s neck! Damn it!”

The horse trotted around the group, interested, but cautious.

“Will he come if you call him?” Joseph asked.

“Not that horse.” Silas said. “Especially not with so many people around he doesn’t know. I don’t suppose there’s a fancy manesological magic spell you could do to make my horse come over?”

“Does your horse look like a ghost horse?” Joseph asked.

“Why is it that you magic men can do so much to ghosts but next-to-nothing to a living creature? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Firstly, we aren’t magic men. Those are thaumaturgists and we’re manesologists.” Joseph answered. “Except for Dr. Glass, he spent a few years training with the thaumaturgists.”

“That doesn’t rightfully make me a thaumaturgist.” Dr. Glass said. “Though I did learn a few tricks from them.”

“Secondly, we do have a few things we can do against the living.” Joseph said. “It’s just that none of them would be appropriate for roping a horse.”

“I could order my thought-forms to grab your horse.” Martin said. “But the poor thing would get startled, and might hurt itself in its confusion.”

“All the power in the whole universe is inside those little candles of yours and you ghost men can’t do anything?” Silas asked.

“There is something we can do.” Mr. Reeves said. He cracked his modified LeMat revolver and revealed its gaeite core. Silvery-white light washed over him.

Silas flinched.

Mr. Reeves touched the olprt radiance with his hand.

A Dyeus architect touched the side of his recently constructed palace. The palace laughed at his tickling touch. The young princess always wanted to be a palace.

The Molvi Operation

The olprt radiance softened and yellowed as Mr. Reeves’ touch pulled metaphysical ectoplasm away from physical photons until a glowing silver rope was around his arms. In a moment, the free photons were bound by fresh ectoplasm from the gaeite core and the olprt radiance was once again its characteristic silvery-white.

“Tell him I can rope his horse with this.” Mr. Reeves said to his friends.

“He’s going to throw that on my horse?” Silas asked.

“It’s just a rope.” Matthew said.

“If it’s just a rope, then give it to me.” Silas said. “Let me rope my own horse.”

“You don’t want to do that.” Joseph said. “Mr. Reeves can pull a rope out of olprt radiance because he knows how to keep the right images and stories in his head. You aren’t a manesologist. If you touched that rope, your mind wouldn’t know what to do with it. It might burn you or even make your hand vanish completely–gobbled up by the Astral!”

“Is this really okay?” Silas asked. “I mean, for him to do it?”

“Mr. Reeves is the most dexterous manesologist in the world.” Joseph said. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Alright, but if your nigger burns my horse with that glowing rope of his…”

With deft skill, Mr. Reeves formed a spinning hoop with the ectoplasmic rope and threw it over the horse. The horse didn’t resist. It was used to being led by a rope and Mr. Reeves was used to leading men and animals by a rope.

“Here you are.” Mr. Reeves said as he dissolved the ectoplasmic rope and handed the reins to Silas.

Silas did not thank him.

“If we have any more questions for you, a man in a white cloak will visit you one night.” Joseph said.

“This man wouldn’t happen to be a ghost right? Please don’t send any ghosts after me.” Silas asked.

“Oh no. He’s just as flesh and blood as you or me.” Joseph said. “His name is John Leeds.”

“That’s a relief! I wouldn’t want anything spooky to visit me! I’ve had enough spookiness for a lifetime encountering the Red Ghost.”

Silas mounted his horse. “You all take care.” he said to the Englishmen.

Silas spurred his horse and rode away, muttering about ghosts, nigger marshals, and other things he couldn’t understand.

Shortly after, the manesologists boarded Whisper’s carriage and flew into the sky.

“That man was rather rude, wasn’t he?” Martin said to Mr. Reeves.

Mr. Reeves chuckled. “So?”

‘I’m sorry he made those disparaging comments towards you.” Martin said.

“He was more ignorant than malicious. Not that I care either way.” Mr. Reeves said.

“Mr. Reeves, do you know a place nearby where we can regroup and refresh ourselves?” Matthew asked.

“Need to take a break from the search?” Mr. Reeves asked.

“Though some water and food would be nice, I want to stop so I can use the Zacare Operation to summon an old Confederate friend of ours, a manes named Theodore.”

A look of realization flashed in Mr. Reeves eyes. “Ah! The haunted Confederate buggy ghost! I remember him. You think he can help us?”

“For some reason, the Red Ghost spared Mr. Johnson when he trampled Ms. Richards to death. I have a hunch that his big CSA belt buckle might be the reason. I think we may be dealing with the ghost of a Confederate. Maybe the shape of the monster means something to old Confederates? Maybe it was some sort of symbolic figure, like something they put on one of their flags?”

“Would Theodore know?” Mr. Reeves asked.

“Teddy was an operator in the Confederates armored cavalry. They were going to send an attack force up the Mississippi to attack Washington as soon as they finished building a pillbug shaped version of the electric buggy that could go underwater. Theodore is rustic in his attitudes and speech, but he was a capable engineer, and well-connected with the Confederate military. If the Red Ghost is some sort of esoteric Confederate symbol, Teddy would know.”

“Then let’s go.” Mr. Reeves said. “But we might as well head back to that station. It’s not that far away, and we don’t have to worry about people asking us if they can touch our ghosts.”

“Oh, don’t you just hate when they do that? I can’t tell you how many times people have asked if they could touch Nick.”

“Isn’t Nick made out of fire?”

“Yes. You think that would deter them, but it doesn’t.”

Back at the station, the manesologists found that Mr. Leeds had gone. He had left behind his white clothes, which were, as usual, neatly folded, and a note.

“Fort Bowie sent an electrogram.” Mr. Reeves read. “There were reports of the Red Ghost near Clifton. I have gone to investigate. Will be back soon.” Mr. Reeves placed the note down. “They saw the Red Ghost all the way out in Clifton? The damn thing is running circles around us!”

“Truly a formidable adversary.” Joseph said.

“Hopefully Teddy will be able to provide us with a lead.” Martin said.

“I’ll carry out the Operation.” Matthew said. He unclipped his gaeite candle from his belt and turned it on.

“Summon Teddy above the stuffed goat sucker.” Joseph said. “It’ll be funny!”

“It would, but he’s already doing us a favor by coming.” Matthew said. “Let’s not antagonize the man that might be our only lead. Summon him right in that clear spot next to the Snallygaster tentacle, Martin.”

The Dyeus warrior snapped his fingers. He wanted his old swordmaster to see this–his wedding. He had only survived this long thanks to his tutoring.

The Zacare Operation

A pile of metal scrap that was once one of the CSA’s finest mechanical buggies materialized in the center of the station. Sitting comfortably in the fractured driver’s seat, unphased by the metal jutting from his body, was a smiling man.

“Ah, it feels good to be back in America!” Teddy exclaimed. “Thanks for calling me over, sirs. As fun as it is driving buggies for Hermes Transportation, Blackwall is just so…wet.”

“He doesn’t drive those buggies looking like that, does he?” Mr. Reeves asked.

“No. He alters his appearance when he’s on the clock.” Matthew said. “He wouldn’t be a very good driver if his passengers saw that metal rod sticking all the way through the back of his head.”

“So you’re the famous Bass Reeves!” Teddy exclaimed. “The man with over a hundred arrests–and that’s just the living men, am I right, sir?” Teddy extended his hand–the one that didn’t have nails and screws sticking out of it.

Mr. Reeves shook his hand, being careful not to squeeze the ectoplasmic limb into mist. “I have brought many men to give an accounting of themselves before Judge Parker. A few men I’ve brought before St. Peter.”

“Strange that I’d be helping a Federal Deputy Marshal. “Teddy said. “To think, only a few years back, I’d have been shooting at you Federals. But I guess time heals all wounds, as they say, sir.”

“I hope you don’t begrudge me for preferring the Union to the Confederacy.” Mr. Reeves said. “My employment opportunities were rather limited in the Confederacy.”

“It’s all water under the bridge, sir.” Teddy said.

“More like blood under the bridge.” Mr. Reeves said. “But the war was then, and this case is now.”

“Listen closely, Teddy.” Matthew said. “We’re dealing with a manes called the Red Ghost. We believe it to be the manes of a Condefeate, because while the Red Ghost was violent enough to kill a woman and a grizzly bear, he spared a man with a CSA belt buckle.”

“Ah, another “Red Ghost.”” Teddy said. “It always seems like they’re always either red or white, don’t they, sir? Shame they’re hardly ever blue, or green. Esmee is blue and Nick is green, but they don’t call themselves the Blue Ghost and the Green Ghost. I wonder why?”

“Focus here, Teddy.” Matthew said. “The Red Ghost has been sighted in the form of a large, hairy, horse-like creature. Its legs and neck are long. Its feet are cloven. Its fur is blood red.”

“Why sir, that sounds like the ghost of Old Douglas!” Teddy said.

“Well!” Mr. Reeves smiled. “We’re actually getting somewhere!”

“Old Douglas, you say? Was this someone you met in the service? A captain or a general?” Matthew asked.

“No, sir. Old Douglas was a camel. But he was loved like he was a good captain, the gentle beast…”

The four men stood speechless for a moment.

“Did you just say that he was a camel?” Mr. Reeves asked.

“Yes. An Arabian camel. A dromedary, sir, if you want to be fancy.”

“You Confederates used camels?” Joseph asked.

“Yes sir. We had a lot of things the Federals didn’t. We had camels, we had mechanical buggies, we had Stonewall Jackson…”

“You used camels? In North America?” Joseph simply couldn’t believe it.

“Shipped from Arabia.”

“Are you sure?” Joseph asked. “Camel isn’t like, southern slang for a stallion or something?”

“No sir, I’m not talking about a stallion or any other kind of horse. When I say a camel, I mean a camel, hump and all. Why, there used to be an entire Camel Corps, or didn’t you know?”

“No, we didn’t.” Matthew said. He turned to Mr. Reeves. “Did you ever hear anything about a Camel Corps?”

“Never.” Mr. Reeves said.

“Then allow me to fill you all in and give you a bit of a history lesson. You see, back in 1855, people were looking to see if there wasn’t a better way to haul things across the West than using mules and horses. The thing about America, sirs, is that unlike England, there’s a lot of different climates. Up North, you have climates like what you have back in Blackwall, but the South sure is different from the North. Down South, you got places that aren’t too dissimilar from the desserts of Araby. Just take where we are now, sirs. Arizona’s got the Mojave and the Sonoran, both desserts, both hot, both dry. 1855 was like a different world. People thought ghosts weren’t real, the Ror Raas hadn’t formed yet, and Jefferson Davis wasn’t President of the Confederacy, he was Secretary of War for the United States. Now, Jefferson Davis, along with some others, got the idea to purchase around 70 camels from Araby and take them on reconnaissance missions around the Colorado river. That’s around the border between Arizona and California, so only a little east of where we are now. They figured that if camels were good enough for Araby, they were good enough for America.”

“I take it the camels didn’t do so well?” Matthew asked.

“No sir, they did wonderful. They outperformed the horses and the mules. The camels could carry around 600 pounds. They could last 15 days without a drop of water. They even ate greasewood, sir.”

‘Nothing eats greasewood.” Mr. Reeves said.

“What’s greasewood?” Matthew asked.

“A weed.” Mr. Reeves explained. “It grows out here in abundance. It’s also called hediondilla, has yellow flowers, and smells a little like rain. Nothing eats it. I mean, a jackrabbit, if it’s hungry enough, might, but nothing bigger than a jackrabbit will.”

“Camels would.” Teddy said. “And camels did, sir.”

“Well, if these camels were such wonderful creatures, how come we don’t see them running around America like horses these days?” Joseph asked.

“Part of the reason has to do with those who already had a vested interest in selling people horses and mules. They didn’t much appreciate the competition that came from camels, and they let their local congressmen know all about their concerns over steak dinners, if you catch my meaning. Another part was that the camels were just plain different from horses and mules. You know, they had a different sort of temperament, sirs. Camels don’t settle for the kind of treatment horses and mules do. You try to whip them or spur them, and they will spit in your face–literally, spit in your face, sirs. Spitting is a thing that they do when they’re mad. But they brought some camel drivers from Araby to show people how to handle the beasts. The best of the drivers was a chap by the name of Hi Jolly.”

“Hi Jolly?” Joseph asked.

“Yes sir, that was his name, Hi Jolly. And he did live up to his name, sirs. He was a jovial fellow, and everyone liked him very much.”

“I doubt he was actually named Hi Jolly.” Martin said. “That’s not an Arabic name, and I’ve read enough of Abdul Alhazred to know my Arabic.”

“I’m telling you sir, he was named Hi Jolly, as in “Hi how are you?” and “Thanks, I’m Jolly, how are you?”

“He was probably called something like Hadji Ali or Ali al-Hajaya.” Martin said.

“He was only known to the Camel Corps as Hi Jolly.”

“So in 1855, the United States military experimented with using camels in the West. I get that.” Joseph said. “But how do we get from the United States having camels to the Confederacy and Old Douglas?”

“Through Jefferson Davis, sir. He never stopped believing in the usefulness of camels. He was always one for new ideas, Jefferson Davis. He believed in the Armored Cavalry Corp. He believed in the Confederacy. He believed in camels. While he never went as far as to establish a Confederate Camel Corps, if the winds of fortune had blown our way after the Ror Raas forced a cease fire, I bet you everything that he would have. Still, the great praise he heaped upon the camel caused it to be purchased by various Confederate farmers and plantation owners. That’s how Old Douglas came to be in the possession of the 43rd Mississippi Infantry. Old Douglas was purchased from Araby by a Mississippi farmer by the name of William Hargrove. Hargrove found Old Douglas a fine animal, hard-working and patient, and being a firm believer in the cause of the Confederacy, Hargrove gave Old Douglas to Colonel W.H. Moore.”

“A question, Teddy–how old was Old Douglas?” Joseph asked.

“Honestly sir, I have no idea. For all I know, Old Douglas may have been a young camel. How can one even tell an old camel from a young one? I don’t think their hair grays with age and falls out.”

“Some mysteries are for the universe.” Martin said.

“The men of the 43rd Mississippi Infantry loved Old Douglas. They had him carry all the instruments of the regimental band. They even let him roam free, though at first they tied him up.”

“It sounds like Old Douglas liked the men.” Joseph said. “Since he didn’t run from them.”

“No sir, Old Douglas never ran, though early on, when they tried to tie him up, he broke free. Eventually the men got the message and stopped tying him up. But Old Douglas never ran. He liked the boys, and the boys liked him.”

“I had no idea camels were so strong.” Joseph said. “I wonder if a camel could beat a lion in a fight–or maybe even a tiger?”

“You get the strangest ideas, Dr. Morton.” Mr. Reeves said.

“Oh he does.” Martin said. “You should hear what sort of inane statements come out of his mouth back home in Blackwall.”

“Old Douglas was so loved by the boys that they even forgave him for getting their horses killed.” Teddy said.

“Oh no.” Joseph said. “Don’t tell me he also ate them?”

“Oh no, sir. Old Douglas did nothing of the sort.” Teddy said. “Old Douglas was a gentle giant, he would never hurt another creature, sir. You see, what happened was that the horses didn’t like Old Douglas. I think they were jealous. Whenever he got near, they got spooked, and bolted. One day, when a horse ran from Old Douglas, it caused a little stampede. Two horses died.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t shoot Old Douglas for that.” Joseph said.

“It cannot be stated how much they loved that camel, sir. When a Union sharpshooter shot Douglas in the head, they were furious.”

A sigh of disappointment and disapproval came from the manesologists.

“They killed the camel?” Joseph asked.

“Yes sir. Bullet right between the eyes.”

“That’s just wrong.” Martin said. “Shooting a man, that’s war, but to shoot a unit’s mascot, that’s just…no, that isn’t right.”

“The men of the 43rd Infantry Regiment shared your sentiments, sir. Colonel Moore deployed six of his best sharpshooters to get the son of a bitch that killed Old Douglas.”

“Did they get him?” Joseph asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m happy to report. They got him.”

“Good.” Joseph said.

“So is the Red Ghost Old Douglas?” Martin asked. “That cloth covered mass on the Red Ghost’s back could be an ectoplasmic image of the regimentary band’s equipment.”

“I don’t think it is, sir. Though Old Douglas was a true Confederate at heart, they even buried him in Vicksburg, in Cedar Hill Cemetery, with the flag on his grave, I don’t see the gentle giant taking vengeance on innocent women.”

“That must have been quite a large grave.” Joseph said.

“How would he even know Mrs. Richards was Union?” Teddy asked. “Did they fly the Union flag outside their homestead?”

“We don’t know, Teddy.” Matthew said.

“And what about the bear? Why’d he kill the bear, if this was all because he was mad about a Union sniper killing him? Furthermore, sirs, how would Old Douglas have known it was a Union soldier that killed him? I doubt he saw the color uniform of the man that shot him from yards away.”

“Good points, Teddy.” Matthew said. “It’s probably not the ghost of Old Douglas, but didn’t you say that there were other Confederate camels?”

“Yes sir. None were actually enlisted like Old Douglas, but there were other camels owned by Confederate officers. It was something of a fashion among Confederate gentlemen due to Jefferson Davis. I suppose it’s possible that a Confederate gentleman owned a camel of a dark and violent disposition. The creatures are generally patient, so long as you don’t tie them or beat them, but animals are like people, sir, they come in all kinds. That camel might have been the kind of animal to like killing things for the fun of it, but the sight of the letters C, S, and A reminded him of his old master and calmed him.”

“Good lord, the ghost of a kill-crazy Confederate camel.” Mr. Reeves said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Teddy, but I’ve always found Confederate ghosts to be very strange among all the different kinds of ghosts.”

“Oh, we certainly are, sir.” Teddy said. “Just look at me and all my riveted glory. So far I’m the only ghost of a man that’s died in a motor vehicle. It’s a distinction I hope to hold onto for a few more decades. There’s just one more thing you should probably know concerning camels and the Confederacy, sirs: there was the matter of Camp Verde. That was where most of the camels used in the original US experiments ended up. We captured Camp Verde in 1861 and when we did, we came into the possession of about…eighty camels or so.”

“So what did you do with them?” Joseph asked. “Put bonnie blue blankets on them and put them to work?”

“Only a few. Most of them, we just let loose. We were on the march and in contested territory. We didn’t have the time to wrangle a bunch of camels. But here’s what I’m thinking, sir: perhaps one of the camels felt obliged to the CSA for giving it its freedom.”

“There’s a delicious irony here.” Mr. Reeves said. “But I won’t stress it, it’s fairly obvious.”

“I don’t see the irony, sir.’

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t, Teddy.” Mr. Reeves said.

‘So we’re after a Confederate camel, that shouldn’t be too hard to deal with.” Joseph said. “We just mix some greasewood in with a mint julep and he’ll come to our side like a cat to a bowl of milk.”

A knock suddenly came from Mr. Leed’s office.

Everyone save for Mr. Reeves jumped.

“I have something I need to show you all.” Mr. Leeds called out.

“He did it again!” Matthew exclaimed. “He moved in and out without any of us seeing him! Mr. Reeves, are you sure there isn’t a secret door in his office?”

“I’m sure there isn’t, though you’d think there would be one around here somewhere given all the haunted house stuff we collect. He’s just fast. Very fast. Superhumanly fast, naturally.”

“Oh, Mr. Leeds! He’s the…special one among the Poeists, isn’t he?” Teddy asked. “Do you think I could see him? You know, as thanks for helping you all out here?”

“I think we should part ways for now, Teddy.” Matthew said. “Tell Esmee and Nick we are doing well and that we should be home before Friday.”

“Well, hold on! I didn’t say I wanted to see him without his cloak on, sir, if that’s what you’re thinking I was getting at! It shouldn’t be hard thing to see him with his–”

Matthew turned off his gaeite candle and Teddy returned in an instant to England.

“For the best.” Mr. Reeves said. “I don’t think Mr. Leeds would have been able to stand him.”

The four men entered Mr. Leed’s office to find that the shrouded man had placed a strange, white object on his desk.

The men would have figured out what it was in an instant, but the brown detritus and black strands clinging to it in certain spots threw them.

“…Is that a piece of skull?” Joseph asked.

“Oh God, did it kill again?” Martin asked.

Joseph suddenly thought of Tybalt back in Blackwall. The little fellow would sometimes bring him dead birds and rats–and sometimes pieces of dead birds and rats.

“This is a piece of skull.” Mr. Leeds answered. “But it’s not from a victim. While you were out, I checked the electrograph, and found that Fort Bowie had sent us a message. A group of men came across the Red Ghost and shot at it with their rifles.”

“Why do they always do that?” Martin asked. “You’d think by now everyone would have heard the old adage “The living have no defense from the dead.”?”

Mr. Leeds chuckled, and the sound was like a muffled horn. “I’m proof that people always like to shoot what can’t be killed.”

“So these men were alright?” Mr. Reeves asked. “Did the Red Ghost attack them?”

“No. The Red Ghost turned and ran.”

“Were any of the men Confederates?” Mr. Reeves asked. “Were they wearing anything that would have identified them as Confederates, uniforms, CSA belt buckles, things like that?”

“Not that I could tell, but I did not pay much attention to what they were wearing.”

“We learned quite a bit today about who the Red Ghost might be.” Mr. Reeves said. “It’s a long story, but he may have Confederate sensibilities. He may spare those that wear emblems of the Confederacy and kill those associated with images of the Union.”

“That’s an interesting development. Perhaps one of the men that fired on the Red Ghost was a Confederate? That is something worth following up on. Anyway, the men chased after the Red Ghost but, to no surprise, the Red Ghost teleported away, leaving behind the standard red hair–and this bit of skull.”

“They all said that something white was riding the Red Ghost.” Joseph said. “White like a skeleton wrapped in a blanket, apparently.”

“They were good enough shots to blow a bit of ectoplasm off the Red Ghost.” Mr. Reeves said.

“A skeleton atop a camel…” Martin mused. “…It reminds me of depictions of the demon Gremory in the Ars Goetia…”

“Excuse me, did you say camel?” Mr. Leeds asked.

“The Red Ghost is either the ghost of a camel or an actual camel.” Martin explained. “I know, it sounds very odd for there to be a camel ghost in the United States, but that’s what we’ve determined. The Red Ghost is the ghost of a camel or camel driver related to either the US Camel Corps or, more likely, later Confederate camel operations.”

“I lived well before the Revolution, and I don’t remember any sort of Camel Corps.” Mr. Leeds said.

“A lot of people don’t.” Martin said. “But it was, indeed, real.”

“But the Red Ghost manifests not as a camel, not exactly, but as a skeleton riding a camel.” Mr. Reeves said.

“And now because of the men, he’s another headless horseman.” Joseph said. “Unless he’s the kind of ghost to regrow his ectoplasm. Good Lord! What’s with this country and headless ghosts?”

“It seems rather queer to me that the skeleton was so still people confused it for luggage.” Mr. Reeves said. “Normally when you get a ghost that manifests itself in the form of a skeleton, they’re very animated. Old Bloody Bones is an example of that. They know they’re dead and delight in being dead, they want everyone to know they’re dead. But this skeleton had a cloth over him, like he was hiding himself. That’s queer.”

Matthew took out his gaeite candle. “I’m curious about something. I’m going to illuminate the room for a moment.”

Silvery-white olprt radiance washed over the room–and the bit of skull.

The men and Mr. Leeds were stunned. It did not turn black.

The skeleton was a physical skeleton. A real corpse rode the back of the Red Ghost.

“What made you think the skeleton was physical, Matthew?” Martin asked.

“What Mr. Reeves just said.” Matthew answered. “Along with a hunch of my own. The Red Ghost is a violent ghost. Violent ghosts usually spring from messy ends. I’m not sure what sort of circumstance would have placed a corpse on the back of a camel, but it couldn’t have been clean.”

“I think this development further points to the Red Ghost being the ghost of an animal instead of a man.” Mr. Reeves said. “If this was the ghost of a man, I don’t think he would keep his corpse riding in the same saddle he was in. I think he would have dropped the corpse and rode as a ghost rider.”

“Some manes are very attached to their corpses.” Martin said.

“But they tend to animate their corpses when they’re attached, and no one’s seen the corpse move so much as a jerk.”

“Hm. True, true.” Martin said. “A loyal camel, still carrying its rider after all these years…such a sad manes.” Martin said.

“But if it’s the manes of a camel, why did he attack a woman and a bear?” Matthew asked.

“His violence doesn’t make much sense for a man either, and yet his violence remains a fact.” Joseph said. “In time, we’ll figure it out.”

“Anything more to report, Mr. Leeds?” Matthew asked.

“Nothing more, save that there was a slight decrease in the jackrabbit population tonight.”

“Then I say to you, Mr. Leeds, have a good stroll under the moonlight, and to the rest of you, good night.” Matthew said. “Let’s get our rest, gentlemen. We have made great progress today, but there is still much more work to do tomorrow. Tomorrow, I feel that I can try the Zacare Operation.”