The Regulators - Stephen King [157]
Johnny started in that direction, already hearing the song as it would come from under his hand and out of his mouth: 'Oh, Robert Ford, Robert Ford, I wonder how you must feel? For you slept in Jesse's bed, and you ate of Jesse's bread, and you have laid Jesse James down in his grave.'
'Hey!' the cop who looked like Ben Johnson called truculently. 'Just where in the hell do you think you're going?'
'To sing a song about the good guys and the bad guys,' Johnny said. He put his head down and felt the hazy heat of the summer sun on his neck and kept walking.
Letter from Mrs Patricia Allen to Katherine Anne Goodlowe, of Montpelier, Vermont
June 19, 1986
Dear Kathi,
This is the most beautiful place in the whole world, I'm convinced of it. The honeymoon has been the sweetest nine days of my whole life, and the nights — ! I was raised to believe that certain things you don't talk about, so just let me say that my fears of discovering, too late to do anything about it, that 'saving it for marriage' was the worst mistake of my life, have proved unfounded. I feel like a kid living in a candy factory!
'Enough of that, though; I didn't write to tell you about the new Mrs Allen's sex life (superb though it may be), or even about the beauty of the Catskills. I'm writing because Tom's downstairs for the nonce, shooting pool, and I know how much you love a 'spooky story'. Especially if there's an old hotel in it; you're the only person I know who's read not just one copy of The Shining to tatters, but two! If that was all, though, I probably would have just waited until Tom and I got back and then told you my tale face-to-face. But I might actually have some souvenirs of this particular 'tale from beyond', and that has caused me to pickup my pen on this beautiful full-moon evening.
The Mountain House was opened in 1869, so it certainly qualifies as an old hotel, and although I don't suppose it's much like Stephen 'King's Overlook, it has its share of odd nooks and spooky corridors. It has its share of ghost stories, too, but the one I'm writing you about is something of an oddity — not a single turn-of-the-century lady or 1929 Stock Market-crash suicide in it. These two ghosts — that's right, a pair, two for the price of one — have only been actively haunting for the last four years or so, as far as I have been able to find out, and I've been able to find out a fair amount. The staff is very helpful to visitors who want to do a little 'ghost-hunting' on the side; adds to the ambience, I suppose!
Anyway, there are over a hundred little shelters spotted around the grounds, eccentric wooden huts which the guests sometimes call 'follies' and the Mohonk brochures call 'gazebos', you find these overlooking the choicest views. There's one located at the north end of an upland meadow about three miles from the Mountain House itself. On the map this meadow has no name (I actually checked the topographical plans in the office this morning), but the help have a name for it; they call it Mother and Son Meadow.
The ghosts of the eponymous mother and son were first spotted by guests in the summer of 1982. They are always seen around that particular gazebo, which is located at the top of a hill and looks down toward a rock wall which is pretty much buried in honeysuckle and wild roses. It isn't the most spectacular place on the resort, but I think it may prove to be my favorite when I think back on my honeymoon in later years. There's a serenity there which certainly beggars my powers of description. Some of it's the scent ofthe flowers, and some is the sound of the bees, I suppose — a steady, sleepy drone. But never mind the bees and flowers and picturesque rock wall; if I know my Kath, it's the ghosts she'll be wanting. They aren't spooky ones at all, so don't get your hopes up on that score, but they are well-documented, at least. Adrian Givens, the concierge, told me they have been seen by perhaps three