Just nine miles north of Llano along Texas State Highway 16, a small, paved pull-off leads to a gate marked “walk in gate.”
Beyond it lies Baby Head Cemetery, a sparse patch of Hill Country earth dotted with sun-bleached stones, twisted live oaks and the uneasy silence of legend.
“It’s right off the side of the road. You can walk right in. It’s just an old cemetery,” said Rebecca Flynt, who works at the visitors center in Llano. “There’s a marker there that tells that story.
“It’s the age of the stones,” she added, “the
age of the graves and the lore on the marker – that adds an element to it.”
The historical marker tells the official story, but locals know it runs deeper, darker and closer to myth than history.
Historians admit the details are difficult to verify. Some accounts place the tragedy around 1850, others as late as 1873.
The Texas Historical Commission marker at the site carefully notes that the tale “is based on local oral tradition,” a phrase that walks the line between history and folklore.
Frontier Tragedy
The name “Baby
Cemetery Head” dates back to the mid-1800s, when early settlers claimed that a child, said to be a young girl, was killed near the mountain that now bears the same name.
According to oral history, her head was found on the ridge, and the place became forever known as Baby Head Mountain.
The nearby creek, school, community and cemetery all carried the haunting name forward.
But as with most frontier tales, truth and rumor blur.
Some historians suggest that the story may have been exaggerated, or even invented, by settlers to justify violent retaliation or to stir fear.
It’s possible that a rancher blamed local tribes for a tragedy of unknown cause.
In the mid-19th century, the region of Llano County was frequented by Comanche and Lipan Apache who were known to move through the Highland Lakes area long before settlers fenced the land.
Whether the story was born from grief, guilt or superstition, no written record confirms the crime that gave Baby Head its name.
Cemetery Generations
Inside the fence, a handful of aged and weather-worn stones and family plots mark generations gone by.
“For people that would be interested in old graves, it’s looking at the family names,” Flynt shared. “Baby Head is a farming community cemetery with simple stones.
“Old cemeteries are an interesting time capsule for the area.”
The oldest recorded burial belongs to Jodie May McKneely, who died in 1884.
Yet the story of Baby Head hasn’t ended, there are a few recent graves, as new as 2025, proving that this once-forgotten hilltop still draws families to lay their loved ones to rest.
During a recent visit, pennies glinted on several headstones, small copper coins left behind by unseen hands.
The custom of leaving coins dates back centuries, symbolizing remembrance, respect, and gratitude.
In military tradition, each coin holds a meaning: a penny means someone visited, a nickel that you trained together, a dime that you served with them, and a quarter that you were there when they died.
Even outside the military, coins have come to represent a quiet acknowledgment that the departed are not forgotten.
Halloween Legend
Every October, talk of Baby Head Cemetery rises again across the Highland Lakes, often with a knowing smile and a half-serious glance toward the hills.
Some swear they’ve felt a chill on still nights or heard whispers carried on the wind from Baby Head Mountain.
Others simply call it one of Texas’ eeriest names, a magnet for ghost hunters, storytellers and curious travelers.
Across cultures, graveyards are viewed as thin
places where the veil between the living and the dead grows light.
Cemeteries like this often stir such feelings, especially around Halloween.
“It’s super easy to get to. It’s a beautiful drive (on Texas 16) all year long, not just for the bluebonnets,” said Flynt, who visited the site during the day when she was part of a photo club. “To me, I didn’t think the cemetery was scary, but I wouldn’t go at night.”
Associate Editor Connie Swinney contributed to this report.
