I'd like to read two stories from a book called Death Stalk's Moon Valley written by our favorite author D. A. Roberts. You can find this book on Amazon by searching d Dot A Dot Roberts Death Stalk's Moon Valley. You can buy an electronic version or a paperback version. Right now, I'm going to read you a couple of stories from this It's a collection of short stories that I think anyone who likes the scary type genre will like, so go
check him out at Amazon. The Beast of the Valley Osage River Valley, north of Lynn Creek, Missouri, January twenty three, eighteen fifty three. Three days in a row, William West had gone out in the morning to check his livestock and found at least one animal dead. The frozen ground made it almost impossible to find the tracks of the culprit, but William knew it
had to be wolves. There was nothing else anyone had seen in the Osage River Valley that could take down a large steer like that, and then to see the sheer amount of damage it had done to the poor animal. On the third morning, it had struck and killed a heifer who was expecting her first calf. In a few weeks. Not only had the heifer been brutally killed, but the unborn calf had been ripped from her stomach and mostly devoured on the spot. To make it even worse, his best stock dog had
tried to defend the heifer and met a similar fate. The only difference was that it hadn't fed on the dog. It tore the dog to shreds and scattered the pieces around the area, and from the amount of blood and the condition of the body, it was clear that the dog had gone down fighting, not that it had done it any good. With the losses growing expensive to the herd in William's pocket book, he decided it was time to do
something about it. After he dragged the biggest pieces of the carcasses down by the river bank and well away from the rest of the herd, William quickly finished the morning chores and hurried back to the house. He gathered up his hunting rifle, his powder horn, and extra lead shot, and he slung them over his shoulder. Where are you off to, William asked his young bride, Amelia. We had another one of the cattle killed last night,
he explained. They got the pregnant heifer, and they killed the stock dog too. I've got to stop this killing before we lose everything. So what are you doing right now, she asked, nodding at his rifle. I'm going to ride down to the valley to your brother's place and see if he'll help me track and kill this wolf pack. Thomas is a better hunter than I am. In a crack shot between the two of us, will kill enough of the pack that they won't come back. Has he lost any of
his hurt, she asked. Last I spoke to him, he'd lost two calves and a few chickens. I'm sure he'll want this pack put down as much as I do. I'll put on a good supper for the evening, said Amelia. I expect Thomas to bring at least one of his sons. I'll be ready to feed you all before you go out hunting. William kissed his bride and went out and saddled his mule. Once he was set, he headed down the river road. It was only five miles to Thomas's farm,
and they could return by early afternoon. That would give him time to try locating tracks or a possible den before sunset. The sun was warm on his face despite the chill in the air as he rode down the river road. It was a beautiful winter day, and he felt confident they could end the threat to his livestock by mourning. That wouldn't mean every farmer along the River valley could sleep easier knowing his livestock were safe. It might also put
some much needed money in his pocket. If they could collect a few wolf pelts in good condition, they could use the money to recoup the losses from the dead livestock, and maybe some to spare. He'd had his eye on a new plow for a few months. Just after midday, William Thomas and his oldest son, Jonah, arrived at the homestead. He could see the smoke rising from the chimney and smell the fresh bread as he put his mule
back into the barn. Thomas helped put away the mules, while Jonah went inside to see his aunt Amelia. Once they put away the mules, Thomas and William headed to the field to search for tracks. They found indistinct impressions in the frozen ground, but nothing they could identify or follow for any distance. The tracks they could locate were odd and shape differently than they had ever seen before. It almost looked like whatever it had been was walking on two
legs. They both laughed when they discussed that, knowing how preposterous that had to be. No men could do the things that happened to these animals. They returned to the house by supper and sat down for a meal of Amelia's famous chicken and dumplings with fresh baked bread and apple pie. They laughed and caught up on the doings of both families. It had been a few weeks since Thomas had visited, and Amelia was excited to send back some fresh eggs
and bread with him. When they finished eating, the laughter seemed to fade away. Thomas and William got up and started checking over their rifles and equipment. Thomas loaded a rifle for Jonah and set out extra lead balls and powder. We're putting you up on the barn roof where the flat side meets the corral, said Thomas. From there you should have a good view of the pasture. I take your time and aim like I taught to you, and most importantly, though, don't shoot me or your uncle. Jonah laughed.
I won't, Papa, he assured him. Well, at least don't shoot me, said William. Thomas isn't as pretty as I am. That drew a round of LIFs. All right, said William. Let's head out to the field. Jonah wants you're in position. I want you to make an owl call if you see anything moving near the stock. Yes, sir, said Jonah. I'll be watching. William grabbed his own powder, an extra lead ball shot, and headed for the door. Amelia kissed him and put
his hat on his head. Now you be careful out there, she said, smiling. Don't let the wolves get you. We'll be careful, William assured her. They headed out into the darkness, and she watched as they helped Jonah onto the flat section of the barn roof and then headed out into the field. She suddenly had a strange feeling of impending danger. A full moon was in the sky and the cattle were already acting nervous. Shutting the door, she placed the locking bar and sat by the fireplace to pray for
their safety. After a moment's thought, she started praying for them all. Moving away from the barn, Thomas and Williams stopped at the edge of the field. William pointed at the far side near the river, and he leaned close to Thomas. That's where they've been coming into the fields, whispered William. I set up near those willow trees, whispered Thomas, you set up near the big trough. That way we can shoot without getting in each other's
way. William nodded and headed for the trough. He watched as Thomas crept along the edge of the field, disappearing into the shadows beneath the willows. The cattle were already nervous and starting to group up near the center of the field. They circled a few calves in the herb, protecting them from whatever threat they sensed. The cattle started lowing with more intensity. William could tell from the higher pits that they were sensing trouble coming closer. Although he had
not seen anything, he started feeling the tension himself. He saw a dark shadow flip from one bunch of the bushes to another near the river. Whatever it was, it moved impossibly fast. It moved on all fours, so it had to be a wolf. No bear moved that fast. Slowly, William caught back the hammer on his rifle to avoid making too much noise. Even with these precautions, it seemed deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.
The moon peeked intermittently through the scattered clouds, casting its cold, silvery light on the field before them. William got his first clear look at the creature when the beast stepped out from behind the bushes to slip closer to the fence. It looked like a wolf, but it was far larger than any he had ever seen. It was also the deep black that one only sees in a cave, or when the clouds are thick enough to blot out even the light of the stars. He could see it moving in the shadows as
a darker shadow. Only the feral yellow eyes seemed to glow with the light all their own, made all the clearer by the cold, silvery blue of the moonlight. Raising his rifle, he sighted on the beast, placing his sight squarely on the spot just behind the front legs. He wanted to destroy the heart and drop the beast quickly. A wolf of that size could do
considerable damage before it died. If he merely wounded it, the east could turn on one of them, or vanish into the night, only to die deep in the wilds, and if that happened, he would never collect the pelt. He needed that money to replace the livestock it had killed. Closing one eye, he was just easing his breath to take up the slack on the trigger when the resounding boom of a gunshot roared out through the darkness.
William saw the muzzle flash and knew it had been Thomas. At a range of less than fifty yards, there was no way that Thomas had missed his target. William had seen him drop a deer at twice the range with a single shot. William knew that Thomas had struck his target from the beach's reaction, but instead of falling, the beasts whirled around and headed directly at Thomas,
taking careful aim. William knew he had to drop the beast before it could reach Thomas, otherwise it would likely tear out his throat before it died. The boom of Tom's pistol roared in the darkness, and the creature stumbled, but it didn't fall. William fired and saw the creature twist and hit the ground, rolling to a stop a few yards short of where Thomas sat hidden in the willows. To William's surprise, the beast got up and leaped
into the willows, and that's when the screaming started. Getting to his feet, William sprinted toward the willows, drawing his pistol as he ran. In the head he could see the black liquid that seemed to coat the ground in the willow leaves, but there was no sign of Thomas or the beast. The screaming sounded once more, only this time it gurgled and ceased with a wet, crunching sound. The beast had dragged Thomas down the embankment near the
river. Just before William reached the embankment's edge, the creature jumped up before him, and the beast's fur listened and oily black in the moonlight. But William knew it had to be Thomas's blood. Raising his pistol, he shot the beast it almost point blank, ranged directly in the head. He heard the grunt of pain as the beast fell to the ground, and stepping around the beast, William looked down at the river bank and he saw Thomas.
The beast had torn his head from his shoulders and ripped one arm off at the elbow behind him, he heard a strange popping sound, almost like when you rung a chicken's neck. Dear God, William cried. He started to head down the embankment when he felt hot breath on the back of his neck and the ramsid smell of blood and rotten meat enveloped him, and his stomach
almost emptied its contents. Oh no, he whispered. He expected to fill the sharp teeth of the beast sinking to his skin, but was shocked when a pair of massive hands gripped his neck and lifted him from the ground as if he didn't weigh an ounce. As the beast turned him around, William could see directly into the creature's hellish yellow eyes, and new at his feet
were dangling over two feet off the ground below him. Merciful God, he gasped, He can't save you, rumbled the beast's voice, deep and menacing. The beast spoke, and that thought was terrifying, beyond words. He felt his bladder release as he stared into the beast's eyes. It was leaning closer, as if to bite his face off. When William heard the gunshot. Jonah had fired his rifle. William heard the creature grunt softly, but seemed to make no other reaction. It was as if the bullets had done
no real damage. William was sure that he was staring into the eyes of the devil himself, and with a crunch of bone, the beast tossed William against the embankment. It had broken his neck and he couldn't move, but he wasn't dead yet. He knew that was only a matter of time. He watched in horror as the beast turned around and ran on two legs directly at Jonah. He tried to scream for Jonah to run, but his voice
wouldn't work. Only a soft moan escaped from his lips. He saw Jonah get to his feet and look for a place to run, but the beast was too fast. It was on the barn's roof, bearing Jonah to the ground in a single leap. William was grateful that he was far enough away that he couldn't hear the breaking of the boy's neck. And there was a short scream of pain, and then the beast stood up holding Jonah's head.
It looked into the eyes momentarily before tossing the head aside like it no longer mattered, and then William saw the beast slowly turn its gaze to the small farmhouse. It was going after his beloved Amelia. He tried to scream, but no words came out. He tried to force his body to move, but it would not listen. His vision began fading as he saw the front
door smash open with one massive blow of the beast's fist. That was the last thing he saw in this world, And as the light faded away, the last sound he heard was his wife screaming, and then all sensation was gone. Days later, when neighbors came to check on the farm because some of their stock had gotten out and wandered over to the other farms, they were greeted with a gruesome sight. The house was completely ransacked and there was
blood everywhere. There was more blood on the side of the barn and the roof of the barn, and in the field and near the river, but there were no bodies. There was no trace of the four missing settlers. The stories traveled up and down the river valley. The beast had claimed more victim. The beast of the valley was once more stalking the night, and no one was safe Beast of Lake of the Ozarks from the Journal of Deacon
MacCready, dated December twelve, twenty sixteen. Long before the days when they built Begled Dam, farms and homes lined the valley formed by the edge of the Osage River. Our family had formed that river valley since before Missouri was even a state. My great great grandfather Ara MacCready settled this farmstead in eighteen sixteen. By the sweat of his brow and the blood in his veins, my family formed that parcel of land until the government took it from us when
the construction of the dam began in nineteen thirty one. Now I'm old, but I still remember the days of running along that river when I was a
boy, fishing and hunting and play games with my brothers. My memory isn't what it once was, but I remember clearly the tales my grandfather told me by the fire, when the winter wind would howl through the valley and shake the thin panes of glass in our little farmhouse, when the icy grip of old man winter would bite into your flesh like a ravenous jaws of the beast of the valley. Well, what's that? What's the beast of the valley. That's an old tail from even older days, full of death and misery,
that dates to when settlers first came here. I used to think it was a tall tail to scare us children at night around the fireplace. But I could see the haunted look in my grandfather's eyes when the wind would rattle the door, and I knew that it wasn't just a tail. And in the dark past of generations long gone, the beast once walked this valley. I could tell from the look on his face that not only was the creature real, but he had seen it for himself. You don't get that haunted
look from a secondhand story. There were tales of animals found torn to pieces, dogs going missing, and the occasional traveler called out after dark. My grandfather even told me a story of a homestead found with the door smashed in and blood everywhere inside, but no other sign of the family that had lived there. And then the dirt outside were massive tracks that looked like they belonged
to a gigantic wolf, a wolf walking on two legs. I didn't believe him until I found some of those tracks in the fresh mud along the bank of our pond not fifty feet from my bedroom window. Then there were the nights in the fall of the year when my grandfather and father would build large bonfires near the house, and they would keep them burning all night. Sometimes members of the local Osage Indian tribe would come to our home and help with
the fires. They also brought a plant my father called aconite to plant around the house for protection. They cautioned us not to touch it or let the animals eat it. I didn't know until years later that the common name for aconite is wolf Spain. It was even said that during the dam construction, several workers vanished while walking home late at night from the job site. It got so bad that the work crew started walking to and from work in groups
and they carried guns. Many quit their job and never returned to work. And then when the dam neared completion and the water started to rise, the attacks suddenly stopped. I thought that once they had finished building the dam, we would hear the last of the beast. But with the creation of the Lake of the Ozarks, they buried those farms beneath the dark water of the
lake. There were no more attacks on people in livestock, No strange howls in the night that sounded eerily like a wolf, but not exactly, a howl that had an almost human quality to it, a quality that would turn the blood in your veins to ice. Once they finished the dam, it all stopped. It wasn't long after more and more the older generation either passed away or left the area that the Beast of the Valley became a fading memory.
It was all but forgotten by almost everyone. After my brothers died in World War II and my sister died in childbirth, I alone was left to remember the tales. I even began to doubt them as age and time took their toll on me. And that was until the winter of twenty and sixteen, when everything changed. I was rapidly approaching my one hundredth birthday. I still lived in my little house near Lynn Creek, Missouri. It was less
than five miles from where our farm had been. My granddaughter lived with me, partially to care for me and partially because she had nowhere else to go. It worked out well for me because it kept my two sons from putting me in a nursing home. The winter hadn't been all that harsh, but
the coal still crept into my old bones. That first night in December, the wind howled in from across the lake, shaking the windows on my old home, and that night I heard that blood curdling howl drifting on the wind. My blood seemed to freeze, and for a moment I thought I was having a heart attack. The pain subsided, but an icy grip that went to my core replaced it. I don't know what had changed, but the beast was back. I told my granddaughter to make sure that all the windows
and doors were securely locked. She laughed at me and told me I was just being paranoid. She said it was just the wind, but I knew better. I refused to calm down until she had double checked the doors, and she scoffed at me, saying that I was working myself up over an old wives tale. She even laughed when I told her the story my grandfather had told me many years before. She stopped laughing when we saw the hellish red eyes in the darkness and heard the heavy footsteps on the wooden porch,
footsteps that ended with a rasping scrape of claws against the wood. I could see the terror on her face as She slid the heavy desk in front of the door, and I knew from the old tales that if the beast wanted in, that desk wasn't gonna stop it. It's just an animal, she whispered as we hid near the stairs. We both knew that was a lie. Animals don't try the door handle. M