The Legend of Annie Murphy Read Free Page B

formation in the cliff. “Well . . . if it was carved by someone, why is it incomplete? See there, how she has both hands clasped in front of her, but the right arm isn’t finished?”
    â€œIt’s her,” said Lila, totally convinced. “It’s Annie Murphy.”
    Dr. Cooper looked around. “Well, whoever—or whatever—it is, I imagine you’ve marked this spot so we can find it again.”
    â€œIt was already marked,” said Mac. “Take a look.”
    Directly under Dr. Cooper’s feet was a flat grave marker, its inscription weathered but readable. Dr. Cooper could read it when he looked down, but the name he read made him stoop and brush away some grass and dust to be sure.
    The marker read: Cyrus Murphy, 1852–1885. Dr. Cooper immediately looked up at Richard MacPherson. “Mac . . .”
    â€œI don’t have an explanation,” said the professor. “I only know it’s no mistake, and no joke. You’re standing on the grave of Cyrus Murphy, Annie’s husband.”
    Lila stood on the grave marker and looked toward the cliff. There was something about viewing the image of Annie from this perfect angle, this one special spot. “Can you see it? She’s weeping for her husband. She’s mourning.”
    They all huddled close and looked into the sad eyes of the woman in the cliff. It was chilling to see her look directly back at them; there seemed to be a message, a thought behind those eyes.
    Dr. Cooper gazed at the woman for a long moment and considered all he’d seen and heard. Then he turned to Professor MacPherson. “Mac, it looks like you’ve cut short our vacation.”
    Which was fine with Jay and Lila. They gave each other a high five.
    â€œSo what now?” Jay asked.
    â€œWe’ll have to get our gear, bring cameras, climbing ropes, surveying equipment. We need to know how that thing was formed, and why.” Dr. Cooper looked at Mac. “Which means we need to know anything and everything we can about the town of Bodine and about Annie Murphy.”
    â€œI have people doing research back at the university,” Mac replied. “But don’t forget, there’s still one substantial piece of data we haven’t examined.”
    Dr. Cooper nodded, following Mac’s line of thinking. “The ghost.”
    That turned Jay’s and Lila’s heads.
    â€œThe ghost?” Lila asked.
    Dr. Cooper explained, “It seems the boys were right about the woman in the cliff. It stands to reason they saw the ghost as well. Now we have to try and see it.”
    â€œWe can use my tent,” Mac volunteered. “Okay, then. Let’s get moving so we can get back here by dark.”
    By dark, they were back, ready to wait for the ghost. They pitched Mac’s big green tent just below the crest of the hill so nothing would obstruct their view from the top. Then they stowed their food, camping gear, surveying and climbing equipment, and sleeping bags inside.
    But no one was thinking about sleep right now. They were all tense and wide awake. Sitting in a circle around the grave of Cyrus Murphy, they kept watch in all directions as the last glow of sunset ebbed away and darkness filled the canyon. They had no campfire and refrained from using their flashlights so their eyes would remain sensitive in the dark. They spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, so no sounds would escape their notice.
    For Lila and Jay, it was the oddest feeling. Even at night the canyon’s sharp lines and majestic cliffs were beautiful. The desert air was so clear and the darkness so unbroken by city lights that the stars burned like sparklers overhead.
    And yet the place still seemed gloomy. A creepy-crawly dread lurked in every dark shadow; a goose-pimply chill rode on every breath of wind. It was hard to relax and enjoy the still night.
    â€œMaybe it’s because we’re waiting for a ghost,” Jay ventured,