Jerry Bowen, 1999

During a conversation with Cherry Creek residents the following story about a “Honeymoon Cabin," was revealed.

Three long-time friends were mining in the nearby mountains south of Cherry Creek, Nevada around 1908. Feeling the need for female companionship, one of the miners decided to send for mail-order bride then set about anxiously awaiting her arrival from back East

As a gesture of friendship and practicality, the two friends built a cabin as a wedding gift for the newlywed couple. It was a magnificent creation made of local logs, flattened powder cans for shingles and wall lining and even sported a wooden floor and shaded porch. The miner’s friends were rightly proud of their gift.

Finally, it was time for the bride to arrive. The lonely old miner headed for the Cherry Creek railroad station to claim his bride to be. He found her standing outside the station gazing at the formidable desert landscape which surrounded this isolated area. Surely the eastern city girl must have had some misgivings as she looked around the barren, inhospitable area. Quite likely she had expected to live in the town of Cherry Creek which was barely visible off in the distance and that would have been fine.

After giving his bride-to-be a hand-up into the buckboard, they stopped in Cherry Creek and were married by the local priest. Then they headed not for a cottage in town, but toward the mountains to the south. An uneasy feeling must have befallen the woman but she remained silent and hopeful. As the road wound its way up the mountain it gradually grew steeper and soon became a real heart stopper. By this time the lady must have had some very serious misgivings about her decision to come West to this mystifying destination.

Eventually, the miner and his bride reached the top of the mountain and crossed a lovely valley. Although the beauty of this area may have had a calming effect, she realized it was becoming more and more remote as they made their way down a pair of well-worn ruts across the valley. By the time the buck-board began to thread its way through a forest of trees the young woman, faced with the prospect of complete isolation, was overcome with terror. It was then that the forest opened up into a small clearing, revealing the honeymoon cabin.

It is from this point of the story that it differs depending on the teller. One version has it that the woman took one look at the cabin, let out a horrifying shriek and disappeared into the woods. Later, when her body was found, her face was frozen in a silent scream and her once auburn locks where whiter than virgin snow. Another version portrays a wailing, weeping woman being taken back to the Cherry Creek train station, and the thoroughly dejected miner returning to the “Honeymoon Cabin” to live out his life with his friends.

My brother, Warren, and I found the cabin and after a day of exploration, settled into camp for the night. Elated but worn down from the day’s activities, we were lulled to sleep with a gentle breeze blowing across the mountain.

Suddenly we were ripped from our slumber by a shriek so horrifying it was as though demons of hell were let loose. The gentle breeze had become a gale and was wreaking havoc with our camping equipment. Scrambling out of the sleeping bags, we began to collect our belongings. Warren reached over and touched my arm and said, “Look there.” With our mouths agape, we stood and stared in utter amazement at a ghostly image drifting through the moon-lit forest.

Before I could say a word, Warren hollered, “C’mon let’s check it out, there ain’t so such things as ghosts,” and ran toward the apparition. Now, I don’t believe there are such things as ghosts either, but, I must admit to some serious misgivings as my brother disappeared into the tree shrouded darkness. For a minute I completely lost sight of him, then I heard my brother start to laugh. When I caught up to him he had a the “ghost” wrapped around his neck. It was a nothing more than an old discarded piece of bed-sheet that had been blowing amongst the trees.

The shriek? Well, more than likely it was nothing more than the wind blowing through the trees and the howling of the wind sounded like a shriek in our drowsy state.

In the morning while conducting a more thorough investigation of the area, we found a partially concealed 6’x 3’ rock-covered mound about twenty-five feet in front of the cabin. Perhaps the story of the lady running off into the woods and then later found in a less than lively condition may have been the correct version. Is this her final resting place, or one of the miners? Or . . .

Obviously recalling the events of the previous evening, my brother turned to me and said, “Naaah, it couldn’t be. . . .or could it?”

I said, Well, what the heck, let’s take a picture of the cabin and head back to town. I don’t know if it was our imagination or the wind that was still blowing, but I swear we heard a mournful moan just as I shot the picture before we high-tailed it out of there.


Last Updated on 07/11/2001



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