Squire Williamson took to farming and cattle ranching after coming to Colorado, and his "Glen Plym Ranch" prospered. After his death his son, also named John, took over the ranch and also did quite well. Sometime in the early 1900's (I'm guessing, here), a large three story barn was built about 200 feet (60 meters, for you metric folks) from the house. About the time my father bought the place (1960), the roof and top floor of the barn were in serious disrepair. So when our new neighbors bought the section of land the barn was on, they took the top floor completely off, and made it a two story barn. This would have been about 1968.
Right from the start, the neighbors felt that something wasn't quite "right" about the north end of the barn. It somehow made them feel cold and uneasy. Come to think about it, it always affected me the same way. I was eight years old when they moved in. My older brother and I played in the barn a lot, but I always felt ill-at-ease in the north end. It apparently bothered the neighbors enough that they wouldn't use the north end at all. They stored all their hay and feed and such in the south end, and left the north end empty. As a kid I always wondered why they didn't use that section, but just figured they used the other side because it was twice as big.
A couple of years after they moved in, we (unfortunately!) got a horse. When the neighbors saw us trying to cover a stack of hay for the winter with plastic tarps, they offered to let us use the north section since they had no intention of using it. We gratefully accepted. It became my job to fetch a bale of hay from the barn every two days. For some reason, it bothered me more to go in there then than it did when I played in there as a kid. Daytime wasn't so bad, but at night I could hardly force myself to do it - I'd screw up my courage, race to the barn, grab a bale, and dash like hell away from place. I wouldn't feel safe until I got back across the road that ran midway between our house and the barn.
It wasn't just the barn that was creepy. South of the barn, the other fork of the road runs between a couple of sandstone rocks about 100 feet (30 M) high. Even now, the place plays on my nerves, but I attribute it's spookyness to the single-echo effect. You see, the place is always dead quite, except for a single echo of your footsteps. One rock face is vertical, the other slants at about 45 degrees. So every step you take bounces off the vertical face, passes by you, bounces off the slanted face, and disappears skyward. Thus making it sound like you're being followed.
By now, you're probably saying "so what?". Well, here's what. One evening when I was about 17, I was visiting the neighbors along with my brother Colin (about 11 at the time) and his friend Chris (about 9) when the neighbors told us why they wouldn't use the north section. As I mentioned earlier, it creeped them out from the start. but there's more to it than that:
One night when Evelyne went down to feed their horses, Something caught her eye as she passed by the north section. Looking in, she saw the faintly glowing, tranparent figure of a man with a long beard and wearing an old style "cowboy" hat standing in a back corner of the room. She responded with a quite normal reaction - she let out a scream, and ran back up the hill to her house. After she calmed down enough (and got her breath back - it's a steep hill!) she tried to describe to Shelby what she saw. In the process, she realized that one of the things that made this vision so unsettling was that she could see moonlight coming in through knotholes in the boards directly behind the figure. "Aha", thought Shelby. Just a trick of the light, most likely shining through cobwebs. So he went down to feed the horses, and see if he could see exactly what was causing the illusion. But he didn't see anything that looked like a glowing figure of a man.
The next night, Evelyne refused to go down and feed the horses. So Shelby went down again. Just as he started passed the doorway of the north section, he glanced toward the doorway - and skidded to a halt. There was the apparition, standing in the doorway this time! He let out a yell, and threw his flashlight through the figure. The flashlight went right on through, and bounced off the back wall. So he bolted back up the hill, and the poor horses didn't get fed that night. After that, they made sure to feed the horses before dark.
Some months later, while touring the Littleton Historical Museum, they came to the section on our house. It included several photographs of Squire Williamson. They took one look, and knew that it was him they saw in the barn.
By the time we left the neighbors, it was getting fairly dark. As we were walking down the hill - towards the barn - Chris turned to Colin and asked "Do you think they were serious?". "I don't know", Colin replied, "but they sure sounded serious.". Chris then said "I'm a little scared to walk home.". His house was a little ways up the fork that ran between the rocks, behind the barn. Colin said "I'll go with you.". At this point, I was wondering myself if this story was true (still do!). Shelbly has been known to pull people's legs on occasion, but Evelyne is as straight-talking as any woman you'll ever meet. I just can't see her telling tall tales.
Well, we made it passed the barn ok - we didn't have to get that close, and we didn't see any spooks. Colin walked Chris home. But then Colin decided HE was afraid to walk passed the barn alone. So Chris decided to walk Colin home. But of course, that just put them right back where they started. So Colin walked Chris home again, etc. etc. until finally Chris's father took pity on them, and drove Colin home.
So is the neighbors story true? I don't know. They still claim it is, but maybe they're still pulling our legs. But one thing's for sure - neither Chris nor Colin ever walked passed the barn alone again after dark.
PLEASE NOTE:The owner of this barn does NOT want anyone contacting her about it. Please respect her wishes and her privacy. Thank you.
