SEANS’S SECRET ROOM
By Patricia Ann Reid
Cover design by Henry Daigle Photo by Brent Berry
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT © 2008 All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of the publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TO: the hardy people of Trinidad, Colorado, who have lived their history and passed it on.
ALSO TO: Sean West, my grandson, who was my inspiration for the character in the book.
AND TO: my husband who supported and assisted me in every way.
Table of Contents
1 THE SECRET ROOM IN THE OLD HOUSE
2 A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR MAKES AN OFFER
4 A FLOOD ON THE WAY TO THE PICNIC
6 MCGUFFEY’S READER AND DIME NOVELS
8 WHISTLE STOP FOR THE PRESIDENT
9 TEDDY THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many people have helped me in collecting information for “Sean’s Secret Room.” It has been a challenge to distill a wealth of information into a small book. The people of Trinidad are remarkably dedicated to preserving the town’s history. With gratitude I have listed sources of information below.
Kevin and Teresa, owners of the Tarabino Inn have provided photographs and stories about the history of the Inn and its occupants, ghostly and otherwise. They, in turn, referred me to Brent Berry, a photographer and artist who lived in the Tarabino house in the 50’s. He has generously donated photos for the book and provided further information about the house. His photographs are part of the cover design of the book.
The friendly people at the Colorado Welcome Center in Trinidad gave me handfuls of literature about the town, providing me with my first excursions into the history. Ken Fletcher was one of my first contacts in Trinidad. As a reconstruction architect and biographer-documenter for the town and the state, introduced me to the Carnegie Public Library and personal referrals to Cosette Henritze and Dolores Plested. In addition to being a resource for Trinidad buildings and transportation, he and Chris Huffman of the First National Bank gave me copies of the varied, colorful Collector’s
Series Calendars. Cosette Henritze, is a longtime participant in Trinidad community affairs through her work at the Chronicle-News. She has given me many of her “Timeline” historical newspaper reviews and material from the Colorado Historical Society. She personally guided me through the early stages of research and collaborated with the A.R. Mitchell Museum to collect photos for the DVD. She also permitted me to use the map from her coloring book.
Clipping files at both the Denver Public Library and Colorado Historical Society were invaluable as background material, and a source of photographs. Especially interesting were the letters and papers of Trinidad doctor Michael Beshoar.
The Golden Public Library’s energetic and knowledgable librarians helped me research early 1900’s lifestyles, railroads, automobiles, ghost phenomena and Theodore Roosevelt.
The Colorado Railroad Museum invited me to consult their archives and use photos from their Annuals.
The Astor House and Pioneer Village in Golden, Colorado allowed me to take photographs of their reconstructed historical sites of the 1800’s and 1900’s.
Dolores Plested, a one-hundred-year old former Trinidad resident, Joe Tarabino and members of Friends of Historical Trinidad told me their stories and lent photographs for the DVD.
“Tales Along the Highway of Legends” by Allen J. Bachoroski, a self-guided travelogue along Highway 12, added to the mystique of Trinidad.
The book “Trinidad, Colorado Territory,” by Morris F. Taylor, has been a valuable source of carefully researched information about the early beginnings of the town.
I am grateful to generous readers and the members of my critique group who advised me on the book as it evolved. Included were children in the age group of ten to twelve years. Readers and listeners offered many valuable suggestions on wording, history and format.
Editor Barbara Munson, of Munson Communications, edited the book, preserving the author’s style and spirit.
Microsoft-trained engineer Henry Daigle, spent untold hours coaching me on the computer, assembling and formatting photographs and designing the book cover.
Ann Nedrow and Jim Ottmer ably assisted in layout and design of the book.
Patricia Ann Reid
“At the top of the stairs, Sean looked down a hallway with closed doors on both sides. He pushed one door that was ajar, and peered into a small attic room. Wallpaper peeled off the wall when he touched it. His feet crunched on glass from a broken window. He walked toward a small, low door in the corner of the room. Suddenly, he felt prickly and scared. Looking at the door and rubbing his chin like he did when he was nervous, Sean thought, Should I open the door? Maybe it’s one of those hiding places...take a chance...I want to find out!” Chapter One: Sean’s Secret Room
Dear Reader,
In this book I take you on a trip back in time with a ghost for a guide. We go to the town of Trinidad in southern Colorado, just north of the border from New Mexico. I wrote this book because I had a spooky feeling while I was staying at the Tarabino Inn in Trinidad. I began to feel a mysterious presence around me in a small attic room and later in the house. You see, I tune in to energy from people, places and things. Maybe some of you have had experiences like that.
Suddenly a story popped into my head and started writing itself. Maybe you have had that experience too. Anyway, I rushed to find something to write with and began. I wrote about a boy named Sean who lived in an old house and met a ghost in a secret room. Sean was curious about the people who used to live in the old house and about life in the town of Trinidad. The ghost persuaded Sean to travel with him back in time to the year 1907 and see the real thing!
In the story, Sean and the ghost have many adventures in the Old West town. Mystery and history are combined in telling about these adventures; many of them are real people, places and things, but the story is fictitious. On the accompanying DVD with the book, you can see pictures of the old house where the story happens and others that show life in the early 1900’s
While writing the story, I wondered if other people had felt the ghostly presence as I did at the Tarabino Inn. I thought of the saying: “There’s more to it than meets the eye.” Sure enough, I found out that the owner of the Inn, his guests, and a former occupant of the house had spooky experiences like I did. They saw shadowy figures, felt touches on their bodies, and saw objects move. One man who lived in the house for a time drew a picture of two ghosts that he saw. And, a local TV station recorded a program about ghosts at the Inn. You can find out more by checking More About Ghosts in the back of the book.
Are you ready? Saddle up for the ride!
Patricia Ann Reid
1
THE SECRET ROOM IN THE OLD HOUSE
The car bounced up the hill. Eleven- year-old Sean and his sister Alex, nine, were asleep in the back seat. Sean woke up with a start. “Hey! Why is it so bumpy? He yelled to his mother who was driving.
“It’s the streets here in Trinidad,” she said. “They’re paved with bricks that are about one hundred years old. And the town is even older than that!”
Sean sat up and looked out the window. Sure enough, the street was paved with bricks. “Whew! I guess that is pretty old. What are we doing here, anyway?”
“We’re going to look at an old house,” said his mother. “After your father died, I got to thinking that perhaps we should move to a different place, maybe a small town. We’ve lived in Denver for eleven years since you were born. I saw an ad for this house and it sounded interesting. I like old houses.”
“What’s so special about old houses?” asked Sean. “I like our house in Denver.” He poked his sister Alex, who was still asleep, until she woke up and grumbled, “What’s up?”
“Oh,” said Sean, “Mom is telling us about old houses like the one we’re going to visit.”
His mother, turning a corner, continued, “Old houses have things that are different from what we have now.”
“Like what?” asked Sean.
“They don’t all look alike, for one thing. People built them specially to be fancy houses with tall roofs, big windows, and decorated wood paneling inside. They had long staircases with wide banisters you could slide down, high ceilings with hanging chandelier lights, and flowery wallpaper,” said Sean’s mother.
“Sounds boring,” said Sean. “I like the house we’ve got. It’s simple without all that stuff you’re talking about.”
“Wait a minute, I haven’t finished,” said Sean’s mom. “Some of the old houses have mysterious histories: stories about runaway slaves, outlaws hiding out in secret rooms, and even hidden treasure. There might be something like that here. Two brothers from Italy built the house in the late 1800’s, and who knows what might have happened since then!”
“Hmm...” said Sean, “I’d like to hunt for hiding places with treasure as long as they’re not too scary.”
He turned to look out the window. The car stopped. Sean’s sister Alex yawned and stretched. “Where are we?” she asked. The children looked up to see a huge house on a hill in front of them. It was three or four stories high. Windows at the top looked far away and dark against the sky. Sean rubbed his chin thinking, It looks mysterious; this might turn out to interesting after all.
Everyone got out of the car. They climbed a long flight of stone steps to a wide porch across the front of the house. A lady waited for them at the front door. Sean’s mother said, “This is Mrs. Watkins, and she’ll show us the house.”
The woman walked to the door, put a key in the lock and turned it. The door stuck. She rattled the key while she pushed hard against the door. It burst open with a rush of damp, musty air from inside.
Sean sneezed, and pinched his nose. “Whew! Sure is smelly and dusty in here,” he said, and sneezed again. He looked around the hallway inside the front door. Cobwebs hung down from the high ceiling and his shoes left footprints in the thick dust on the floor. He shouted out, “I am Sean! Hello!”
“Sean, Sean, Sean,” echoed through the empty rooms.
“Ugh, this place is old, dirty, and spooky,” Sean said.
“No, it’s not,” said Alex. “It’s pretty.” She ran her hand along the smooth wood railing winding around the staircase in the hall. “Look at the flowers and leaves carved in the wood, like Mom said, and old lace curtains at the windows. And there’s a sparkly light hanging from the ceiling.”
“That’s the crystal chandelier I told you about,” said her mom. “It will be beautiful when it’s cleaned and lit up.”
Alex ran up the staircase that turned around a dark corner of wood paneling and disappeared. The wood floor creaked under her feet. She called down, “C’mon, Sean.”
Sean stood, hands in his pockets, looking up the stairs. He wondered whether secret passageways might be around the corner that looked dark and spooky. But, he thought, wouldn’t it be cool to find places no one else knew about? Pretty scary, though. Don’t know until I try.He started up the stairs, one step at a time, feeling that something might be following him.
Upstairs, Alex opened a rickety screen door, stepped onto a porch on the roof, shouting,“Look at this porch! You could jump off right onto the front steps!”
Sean stood beside her and stared at the street far below. “I don’t think I’d like to try that. Looking down makes me dizzy.” He closed his eyes. When he opened them, Alex was gone. She yelled from another staircase going to the top floor, “More up here. Wait until you see this. It’s even higher.”
Sean wasn’t sure he wanted to see any more. Walls and the stairs spun around him. He could hardly breathe from the dust and smells of the old house. Alex’s feet pounding up the stairs rang in his ears. He dragged himself up.
At the top, Sean looked down a hallway with closed doors on both sides. He pushed on one door that was ajar, and peeked into a small attic room under the roof. Wallpaper peeled off the wall when he touched it. His feet crunched on glass from a broken window. He walked toward a small, low door in the corner of the room. Suddenly he felt prickly and scared. Looking at the door and rubbing his chin like he always did when he was nervous. Sean thought, Should I open the door? Maybe it’s one of those hiding places... take a chance... I want to find out.
Boxes, suitcases, and old newspapers were stacked against the door. Sean shoved the junk away, uncovering a lock with a rusty key in it. The key screeched as he turned it. He yanked the door, and suddenly it opened, and he fell on his hands and knees on the floor. Peering through the doorway, he looked into a long, dark, skinny room with a window at one end.
Sean crept into the room along the wall, toward the window. The window had a rounded top, with glass panes like a sunburst that made patches of light on the floor. There was a seat under the window where Sean could see over the town of Trinidad to fields beyond. He thought, What if I made this my secret room where I could be alone and do anything I wanted? I wonder if other kids have been here? I’d like to find out about them.
Just then he felt something under his foot. Reaching down, he picked up a little toy tin soldier from the floor. It looked old, bent and scratched. As he turned it over in his hand, he felt a light touch on his right shoulder. He shivered, and looked around...nothing there. He felt the touch again and heard a low whistle. “Strange,” he thought.
Just then, he heard his mother and Alex call, “Sean, where are you?”
Sean stuffed the toy soldier into his pants pocket and hurried to the door. He yelled, “Coming!” He locked the door and stacked the junk in front of it, thinking,I want this to be my secret room. I’m not going to tell anyone about it, and I’ll keep the key, just in case...
2
A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR MAKES AN OFFER
Sean’s mother decided to buy the old house. She, Alex, and Sean moved into it two months later.
“Ugh!” grumbled Sean as they unpacked. “This place is a big mess! Look at the writing and faces painted on the walls, and nails pounded into them. The people who lived here left old clothes, books, broken china, and cigarettes lying everywhere. Yuck! The lights don’t work, and rusty water comes out of the faucets. How are we ever going to live here?”
Sean’s mother said, “Now, Sean, cool down. Remember, this house is more than one hundred years old. After the family gave it up, it was a boarding house and apartments. You’d better remember that your room gets knee-deep in stuff if I don’t tell you to clean it.”
“Not this bad,” said Sean. “I didn’t want to move. Now I have to get used to a whole new school and I miss my old friends, and this town is a dump.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Alex. “I miss friends too, but this house is a lot bigger than our old one. Besides, it’s spooky with lots of places to explore. Maybe we’ll find treasure like Mom said.”
Sean stamped upstairs to his room on the second floor, and sulked. Over the next several days he didn’t think about the secret room at all. But late one afternoon he pulled the key and the tin soldier out of his pants pocket. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, and climbed the stairs to the third floor.
“Whew!” he said out loud, “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been up here. The junk is still in front of the door.” Then he said to himself, I wonder if it will be like the first time when I got all prickly? He took a deep breath, turned the key, and pulled the door open. The long dark room looked the same, but no prickly feeling. He thought, It’s not scary or spooky, just a dirty old closet. Oh well...
Sean walked to the window and wiped dust off the glass with his sleeve to see out. Then he sat on the seat. He felt a little dreamy again like the first time. He realized that something was tapping on his shoulder and he heard a low whistle. A misty purplish glow shone beside him that smelled like lilacs. Sean twisted around and stared into the room. A cheerful voice said, “I’ve been waiting for you.” Sean jumped, and pushed back against the window. Strange objects floated by him. In the dim light he saw what seemed to be parts of a body. A leg drifted down in front of him. It had on knicker pants that buckled at the knee, with a long stocking and high-top shoe. Another leg drifted down beside the first one. Next, two arms and a chest dressed in a white shirt with a sailor collar and red bow settled on top of the legs. Then a face floated up in front of Sean with twinkling blue eyes under a flat visored cap on top of curly blonde hair. A wide mouth laughed at him. “Well?” said a voice from the face.
Sean leaped off the seat hitting his head on the low ceiling. He said in a shaky voice, “What are you, anyway? Some kind of ghost?”
“I am what you see. Tell me what you see?” said the voice. “Well, uh...I’m not sure,” said Sean. “It’s...you’re kind of hazy, with parts floating around and wiggling. It’s getting better now. You look like a boy, maybe about my age. I’m eleven. Your clothes look old- fashioned like from another time--or maybe a costume? Do you have a name, and where do you come from?”
“My name is Nicholas. I am twelve years old in the year 1907, from Trinidad, Colorado. These are the only clothes I have.”
Sean trembled with excitement and fear. He sat down again on the window seat. “What are you doing here, and why did you say you were waiting for me?”
“Well,” said Nicholas, “I live here most of the time, when I’m not traveling around. This is my hideout. Not many people know about it. You said you’d like to know about other kids who lived here.” Sean jumped up off the seat again.
“How could you know that? I didn’t say that, I thought it. You must be a mind reader.”
“It’s one of my many talents.” Nicholas laughed. “I like doing it because it confuses people. But that’s not why I’m here. I want to make you an offer. I can take you back in time to 1907 and show you the people who lived here. It’s like walking through a mirror into another place, like Alice did in the book Through the Looking Glass. It’s not hard, and I’ll show you how to do it. I’ll be your guide.”
Nicholas straightened up into a tall body in front of Sean. He clicked his heels together and saluted with his hand against his forehead.“At your service, no charge.”
Sean giggled, then clapped. “Hey, you’re pretty good at that act. But how come you’re still in this house? The ghosts I’ve seen on television come back or stay around for a reason. What’s yours?” “I stayed because I didn’t want to leave.
Our family had just moved into this house, and I liked it,” said Nicholas. “I died of diphtheria in 1907. A lot of children had it then and there weren’t shots for it like now. There’s another reason too, but I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, part of me stayed. I float around. I can move anywhere in time, like into your twenty-first century, or other times. That’s where I first saw you. Mostly I stay here in Trinidad, watching people, spooking them and laughing at how scared they get.”
“You’re scaring me, all right,” said Sean. He scratched his chin. “I really don’t believe you can take me back in time. I figure you’re just going to show me a bunch of old pictures and books. I’m not interested in stuffy old history. It’s boring, remembering all those names and dates. It’s my worst subject at school.”
“Yes, I know about you and history, and other things too,” said Nicholas. “But this is different. I promise I’ll take you to the year 1907 for real. You’ll meet my family, go to my school, meet my friends, see the town of Trinidad and hear the stories about it. I’ll show you things you’ve never seen or heard of before.”
“I don’t know.” Sean shook his head. He started to walk around the room. “I’m sure things must have been different back then, maybe interesting. I’ll give you that. But coming from the twenty-first century I bet it was pretty dull. Probably there were no electric lights, running water, cars, telephones, movies, televisions, and computers--nothing exciting like we have today.” “You’d be surprised,” said Nicholas. “Take this house. The Tarabino family built it as one of the biggest in Trinidad with all the latest inventions-- many of the things you just talked about. My family, and others like the Bacas, the Blooms, and the Chappells started the farms and businesses that made the city into what it is today.”
“You seem pretty proud of your family and the town,” said Sean. “But what can you show me here that I’d like? Maybe it isn’t exactly the dump I called it, but it’s small town, like small towns everywhere.”