Cal and Carrie Dodd, each twenty five, left their apartment at 9:00 AM and loaded their car with camping equipment. “It looks like we have everything we’ll need for a week. There’s plenty of food in the coolers, and we can always catch some fish,” Carrie said.”
“I have my hunting knife, and I put the hatchet in the back. We might have to chop some fire wood. I guess we have everything, Carrie, so let’s go camping.”
They left their town and headed for the mountains. After driving for two hours, they entered Running Creek, a small town that was the gateway to the Mitawin mountain range. “I think we should stop and get some lunch before we head up the mountain.” There’s a diner, Cal,” she said and he drove up to it, parked, and they went in and sat at the counter. A waitress went to them and placed silver ware and menus on the counter. “Welcome to Running Creek. You folks planning to go camping?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Cal said. “Say, what’s the meaning of the name of the mountain?”
“It’s Lakota for ‘my wife’. Some time ago, the Lakota lived in this area. Apparently, a Lakota village was attacked by the tribes’ enemies, and a girl, who was recently married to a young brave, was kidnapped by the invaders. The brave was heart-broken. He left the tribe and went out on his own to try to find his wife. What people here believe is that the young brave can be seen on the mountain searching for his wife. It’s a nice love story.
“So, what can I get you?”
After eating, Cal and Carrie drove toward the mountain. “What did you think about the love story?” Carrie asked.
“No matter where you go, there are folktales about spirits and ghosts. They’re just old, wives’tales.”
After driving along a mountain road wide enough for their car, he came to a clearing and stopped. “This looks like a good spot to set up camp,” he said and both unloaded the car and set up the tent.
“Cal, according to this map, there’s a lake about a mile to the west. Let’s go fishing.”
“Good idea,” he said, they got their fishing gear, and headed for the lake. As they approached the lake, they stopped in their tracks. “What the hell.”
“Cal, do...do you see an Indian?”
“Yeah. I see an Indian, and he’s coming toward us.”
“The love story. Jeez, Cal, it’s true. My God.”
“He’s coming straight at us. Jeez, he’s holding a knife,” he gasped, as the Indian ran at Cal and stabbed him. Carrie screamed as Cal fell to the ground, dead. Before she could move, the Indian picked her up and ran into the forest.
One month later, the Running Creek sheriff entered the diner and sat at the counter. “What’s new, sheriff?”
“A mystery. A man’s body was found not far from Crystal Lake. He had been stabbed. We found two fishing poles but only one body. We searched the area and found a camp site and a car. I ran the tag on the car, and found the owners…Cal and Carrie Dodd from Brainerd. We learned that they came up here a month ago to go camping. The mystery: who killed the man, and what happened to the woman?”
While teaching speech and English at a community college, Mr. Greenblatt wrote short stories and plays, one of which won a reading at Smith College. After retiring, he wrote short stories, novellas, and plays. Several of his stories were published in on-line magazines, and others were published in print anthologies.