By Diana Yeado

Once long ago and not so far away lived a lovely young maiden named Anna Story. She and her mother and the rest of their family lived in a little shack by the railroad tracks close to Leyden. About the same time there lived a Syrian peddler by the name of Sam Kalil who rode around the countryside selling from his wagonload of pots, pans and household items. He wanted to marry the beautiful Anna but her mother would have none of it. But she did have an eye for a good deal. So she told the peddler to come back when Anna was sixteen and he could have her hand in the meantime she could help herself to his wares.

He agreed to this condition and returned in a year's time to fulfill the bargain and have Anna for his wife. When he came for the girl, the mother refused and offered him the door. In his anger at being unable to have the hand of young Anna, he pushed his way past the mother and shot Anna dead in her nightclothes. The mother tried to intercept but Kalil then shot her in the face, the bullet breaking her jaw.

Other members of Anna's family jumped out a window and ran to a neighbor's home for help. Meanwhile the peddler, after having shot Anna and her mother, pulled his pistol on himself in an attempt to take his own life. As it was not a quality firearm, and in fact was probably something he sold from his wagon, it failed to fire and the disgusted old man threw it to the floor.

Still bent on doing away with himself, he drew his rusty old pocketknife from his overalls pocket and tried to slit his own throat. Well, that being harder to do than he had initially thought, along with the fact that his knife was not very sharp, he failed in his second attempt at the dastardly deed. About this time the authorities came on the scene and the peddler gave himself up without a fight.

Mr. Kalil was sentenced to life in the state penitentiary in Bismarck, but was released about ten years later at age 71 to relatives in Minnesota.

The mother lived on to tell the tale...although she had a dent in her lower countenance all her days. Not so for young Anna. She lay quiet and cold in the ground. Or did she???

Dear sweet Anna, torn down in the peak of her youth and blossom...was not ready to be dead. And so she walks, they say...every Halloween night near a misty bog called Eddie's Bridge.  Her white flannel nightgown flowing out behind her slender frame...looking...searching...for an eternity...for the peace in death that she did not find in life. And thus ends the Legend of White Lady's Lane.   


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