I discovered the little resort town of Eureka Springs while at the University of Arkansas.  My then wife Gail and I would drive over once a month, or so, and continued to visit even after we moved to Oklahoma.  My first marriage ended but not my fascination with Eureka Springs.  My love and fascination continues and I have made the trip many times since my first visit.

My second wife Anne also loved Eureka Springs and she and I went there many times during our marriage, the last time about a year and a half before to her untimely death.  She was sick during the trip but at the time we had no idea how serious was her cough and persistent lung infection.  Of all of our Eureka visits, one stands out in my memory, and for a reason I would never have anticipated.

Anne and I were close friends with Gary and Carroll.  They also liked Eureka Springs so a trip was not a hard thing to coordinate. Cheryl, a friend of ours, accompanied us on the excursion.  Gary's brother Roger and his wife Patty joined us the following day.

We had rooms at the New Orleans, a hotel in downtown Eureka built in 1892.  Although we didn't know it, the hotel was in financial disarray during our visit.  The two elevators in the three-storied hotel weren't operational and we had to use the stairs to reach our rooms.  Supposedly, a contractor had fallen into an open shaft, and there was talk that his death may have been self-inflicted because of a love affair gone sour.  There was also talk that the ghost of the contractor might still haunt the hotel.

The owners at the time had a large Maine Coon cat named Cajun.  The friendly cat usually napped on the front desk during the day and prowled the hallways and guest rooms at night.  Anne, Gary, Carroll and I were all cat people and were instantly taken by the beautiful feline.

We had a great time, shopping, dining and sight seeing, but something strange and unexplainable happened our last night in town.  It was late, almost midnight.  Anne and I were lying in bed, reading when we heard something scratching on the door.

"It's Cajun," Anne said.  "Let him in for a minute."

I got out of bed and padded toward the door, expecting to see Cajun when I cracked the door.  Instead, I stared down at bare carpet and no kitty.  Then I heard a noise down the hallway.  Dressed only in my pajamas and house shoes, I hurried out the door toward the stairwell.

The old Victorian-style hotel was dimly lit and sound buffered by the porous wooden walls.  As I gazed over the banister, expecting to see Cajun walking down the stairs, I saw something quite unexpected - a smoky cloud, lit by an ephemeral, pulsating light.  My own unexpected reaction was to call out.

"Hey!" I said.

The specter halted, flashed a brief phosphorescence and then disappeared.

"Who was it?" Anne asked when I returned to the room.

I had no answer.

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