I grew up at the Genesee Buffalo Ranch just
west of Denver,
Colorado. My Father is still the caretaker of the ranch and
lives in the two story house, built by the Patrick family in the 1860s. Headed west from
the Patricks, along with their five boys, built the house and operated a
stage stop on Genesee Mountain.
I remember when we moved into the house, the
former caretaker lived in a house trailer in the back yard. His wife would
not set foot in the main house because she saw strange things and said the
house was haunted.
When I was about 12, I remember a night when
my Mother was upstairs, screaming hysterically, as our dog barked loudly
at the wall. My
Dad and I ran upstairs to see what the commotion was all about. When
we arrived, she related that she had seen a floating, glowing green ball
go down the hall and disappear through the wall. I slept with the covers
over my head for the next several weeks!
next haunting came about six months later, a night that still feels as
if it happened yesterday. As I was sleeping, my father woke me
up and asked me if I could hear music in the house. Barely, I
could make out the faint sounds of a fiddle or violin.
Dad had already checked all the radios
and they were not turned on. We searched for the source of the music
and went downstairs, where you hear the music coming from the upper
story and vise-versa. When we went outside, we could still hear
the music coming from the house. We continued to hear the haunting
music a couple more times that same year.
few years later we received a book from a local historian, describing
the complete history of the house and the Patrick family, information
that was unknown to us until we read the book. The first murder
in Jefferson county happened in our front yard in the 1870s, when one
of the Patrick brothers shot and killed another brother in a dispute
over a dog! The brother that he killed was known to be very lazy
and the only thing he liked to do was sit around and play his fiddle!
When I read this and remembered the
fiddle music during those nights, a cold electric sweat ran through my
body. We also found out that the father of the boys is buried
somewhere in the yard but there is no marker.
The house has been peaceful now for a
several years and hopefully the Patricks are now at peace.
I still get a chill when I
hear fiddle music!
About the Author: Jason Homola loves the
West and spending time relic hunting and bottle digging. He
also likes early military and
outlaw history and most recently, has become involved in western
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