By Dale Welch
Rick grew up in eastern Putnam County. He married Jane, his high school sweetheart. There had to be more than working for a man as a timber cutter just out of high school. He was looking hard to support his new family.
Strong in faith, he was in church every Sunday, Sunday night and Wednesday night. Its how his momma always brought him up. Rick had a close relationship with his Savior and was soon called to preach the gospel. As a young preacher, he was called to pastor a church in Alabama. He and Jane loaded up their meager belongs, said their goodbyes and headed out on their new adventure.
Just a young preacher, Rick had a lot to learn. He stayed at the church for around three years, before being called to pastor a church back home in Tennessee near family. While the couple were in Alabama, they became parents to a baby boy they named Rick, Jr. The Lord had blessed them well.
Arriving back in Putnam County, it was hard for the three to find a place to rent. They finally found a single-wide trailer on the Clarkrange Road. Before they had a chance to move in, Rick had found a third shift job at a meat process plant. Everything was moving quick.
On their first night at the trailer, the couple decided to let their baby boy to sleep with them, since his room was still stuffed full of their belongings. Sometime in the night, they heard items crashing to the floor in the extra room. Thinking that someone was breaking in, Rick grabbed his shotgun and headed toward the commotion. Entering the room with shotgun pointed and ready to fjre, he discovered that nothing had been bothered. He checked all around and even outside, not even finding a footprint.
The next day, the congregation had a welcoming dinner for the new pastor and his family. After all the ham and chicken and dressing they could hold, it was time to head for home. A young boy from the church came home with them to play with their son. The boy really wanted to play video games with the pastor. As things settled down, it was time to head to bed. The young visitor slept in Rick, Jr.’s room, that had finally been cleared of all those boxes. The baby slept with his parents again.
Sometime late that night, Rick and Jane woke up to their guest repeatedly and loudly banging on their door. “Let me in! Let me in,” the boy was yelling. “There’s a man in my room that is wearing a wolf head!” Once again, Rick jumped up, grabbed his shotgun and headed toward the room. Searching inside and out, he found not even a footprint. From that night forward, Rick wound take Jane and the baby to her mother’s house before heading to his third-shift job.
One night, they had just been so busy, they had run out of time before he headed to work. Jane convinced her husband everything would be alright. Reluctantly, Rick went onto work. He was relived to find out that indeed, nothing happened. Jane did tell him that for some reason, Rick, Jr. kept saying, “Doggie! Doggie!” They quickly remembered their young visitor seeing a man wearing a wolf’s head. Back to momma’s house.
The family had stayed at the trailer longer than they wanted. The final straw came early one morning when Rick came home from work early. It was too early to pick up his wife and boy. He fixed some coffee and a bowl of cereal. He sit down at the table and started to eat his cereal. As he looked up and into a mirror, Rick saw a man standing not far behind him, wearing a wolf head. He jumped up and ran to the door. A deputy who lived nearby helped him clear the trailer. That was it. The family packed up and found other dwellings.
Rick had wondered about the mysterious apparition. His uncle told him that he thought the property where the trailer sat was a Native American burial ground. And the wolf head? The Wolf Clan of the Cherokee were the warrior clan.
No one could live at the trailer for very long. Not long after they moved, the trailer burned and the owner pushed it over a bluff behind the property.
NOTE: Names were changed in this story to protect the preacher’s identity. The story was told to me 25 years ago.
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