DONAHOE — There’s no such place as Donahoe anymore. There is Donahoe Road and Donahoe Creek, but the rest of the once-thriving community has been relegated to memory, legend and the Blackland soil on which it once thrived.

An old windmill and a cemetery (both on private land) along with a somewhat mysterious grave by the side of Donahoe Road in southeast Bell County are about all that’s left of Donahoe (pronounced “Dunnyhoo”).

On the east side of Donahoe Road, not far past the Donahoe historical marker, is a single grave protected by a wrought-iron fence. This is the final resting-place of Sarah Herndon, who drowned in Donahoe Creek in 1863. Old folk legends have it that you can sometimes at night still hear her screaming for help.

Bruce Swope grew up on the land where much of Donahoe once stood. Even for somebody who grew up here with all the stories from Donahoe’s long gone heyday, he finds the peace and quiet almost a contradiction of the community’s history and folklore.

“You almost can’t imagine that this place used to be the hub of the entire area,” he said during a recent visit. “It’s not hard to see why people chose to live here.”