On nights when the moon is full, sometimes the distant sound of a horn disturbs the sleep of those in homes perched on bluffs above the Olmos Basin. Not a truck horn from the highway nearby, but the horn of the hunt.
It’s followed by the frantic baying of hounds heading toward Brackenridge Park, where their continued howling awakens some in River Road. Those who peer out their windows report seeing a blur of Vizla hounds racing through the underbrush followed by a lone horseback rider, the tails of his formal coat flapping in the wind.
Continue reading “Brackenridge Park: A ghost gives chase to his daughter’s murderers”
Postcards from Barton Springs 