On a spring afternoon in 1883, a young woman named Sarah was tidying up her farmhouse in the tiny settlement of Eagle Creek, Arizona. While Sarah cleaned, her sister Elizabeth took a bucket outside to fetch water from their outdoor spring. The two sisters lived together in this farmhouse along with their respective families. The American West at this time was sparsely populated and dangerous, so it was not uncommon for families to band together for safety. Their husbands herded sheep and worked the land while Sarah and Elizabeth took care of the household and their collective four children.
As Elizabeth was out getting water, Sarah continued her chores, keeping one eye on the children. Suddenly, the family’s dogs, which were leashed outside, began barking aggressively. This was unusual, as the dogs were typically docile. Alarmed, Sarah told the children to stay inside and quickly stepped onto the porch to see what had disturbed them.
From the porch, she scanned the area but saw nothing unusual at first. To her left and right lay rocky scrubland, and in front of the house was a large sandy hill that obscured the view beyond. The dogs, however, remained fixated on that hill, barking furiously. Then, to Sarah’s horror, a massive, four-legged creature with red fur emerged from over the hill, moving in her direction. Riding on its back was a figure that sent shivers down her spine—a man with a sunken, grotesque face twisted into a permanent grin, and most horrifying of all, he had no eyes.
Sarah, a deeply religious woman, was struck with terror. To her, this was no ordinary man—it was the Devil himself, riding a monstrous beast straight toward her home. Instinct took over. She bolted inside, barricaded the door with the kitchen table, and huddled with the children, praying fervently for divine protection.
Moments later, a blood-curdling scream rang out from outside. It was unmistakably human. Sarah’s heart sank as she remembered—Elizabeth was still outside by the spring. But fear paralyzed her. With four children to protect and believing the Devil was lurking outside, she could do nothing but hold them close and continue to pray.
Hours passed, and there was no sign of Elizabeth. Sarah, still too terrified to leave the house, waited anxiously. Then, footsteps sounded on the porch, followed by the rattling of the doorknob. Panic surged through her—it had to be the Devil returning. She screamed, and the children followed suit. But then, she heard familiar voices—her husband and Elizabeth’s husband had returned from herding sheep. Overwhelmed with relief, Sarah rushed to the door, unbarricaded it, and sobbed as she recounted the terrifying events and Elizabeth’s disappearance.
Realizing the urgency, the two men grabbed their rifles and lanterns and rushed toward the spring. At first, they moved cautiously, calling Elizabeth’s name. When no response came, they broke into a run. As they rounded the bend, they saw her lying face down in a pool of blood. She was dead.
Elizabeth’s husband collapsed in grief while Sarah’s husband rode into town to summon the local coroner. Upon examination, the coroner determined that Elizabeth had been trampled to death, but something about the hoofprints around her body disturbed him. They were far too large to belong to a horse. Though he could not identify the animal responsible, he officially listed her cause of death as “unknown.”
Sarah remained convinced that the Devil and his beast had killed her sister. Her terrifying tale spread quickly, and soon, people across the Arizona frontier were talking about the Devil and his monstrous steed. Before long, the entity was given a name: the Red Ghost.
For years following Elizabeth’s death, sightings of the Red Ghost became more frequent. Campers in the Arizona wilderness reported seeing a massive red creature galloping through the night. Some claimed their tents had been trampled by it. One cowboy even attempted to lasso the Red Ghost but was dragged violently before being forced to let go.
The legend persisted until nearly a decade after Elizabeth’s death, when a farmer in eastern Arizona spotted the infamous creature in his turnip patch. Having heard the stories, he had already decided what he would do if he ever encountered the Red Ghost—he would shoot it. Without hesitation, he grabbed his rifle, took aim, and fired. The Red Ghost collapsed.
Eager to see what had terrorized Arizona for years, the farmer ran to the fallen creature. As he examined it, he realized the legend had been both right and wrong. The Red Ghost was not a supernatural demon—it was a camel.
Brought to the U.S. from the Mediterranean to help transport supplies across the Western frontier, camels were foreign to most people in Arizona at the time. This one had somehow escaped captivity and had been roaming the wilderness for years. However, what had truly terrified people was what it carried on its back.
When Sarah had first seen the rider atop the Red Ghost, she thought it was a man. But upon closer inspection, she realized he had no eyes and an eerie, toothy grin. What she saw was not a living person—it was a decomposing corpse.
No one knows who the man was or how he died, but at some point, he had been riding the camel when it escaped. His body, somehow, did not fall off. As it decayed, his flesh rotted away, giving his face a skeletal grin and empty eye sockets. For years, the camel wandered the Arizona wilderness with the corpse on its back, creating one of the most chilling legends of the Wild West.
Today, the Red Ghost remains a local legend in Arizona. In the town of Quartzsite, a statue of the infamous camel stands as a permanent reminder of the tale that once gripped the frontier in fear.