Yep. Most of them were chronicled in the book 'Ghosts Along the Brazos' by Catherine Munson Foster. Most famous one of them from around where I was raised was old Brit Bailey, namesake for Bailey's Prairie there in south-central Brazoria County. He was always a cantakerous ornry character, and is probably still looking for his jug of rotgut that was supposed to be buried with him. He wanted his jug, weapons, and dogs with him, to be ready for anything, and demanded to be buried upright facing the West. According to legend, he had never bended his knee to anything in life, and he'd be damned if he would in death, and did not want folks to say 'There lies old Brit Bailey' but rather 'There stands old Brit Bailey'. His wife stated that there had been enough of that during his lifetime, and there was no way he was going to continue drinking in the afterlife. So she grabbed that jug from their slaves who were digging the grave (some variants say they stole it) and tossed it into one of the many swamps and bayous. And that's where old Brit wanders, an yellowish ball bobbing over the murky waters at about 3-4' up, searching for that lost jug.