Jacob's Spirit - 4th and last installment.

Chapter 13 Two weeks later Ellen decided after morning chores, it was time she weeded her flower bed in front of the house. Lambquarters and dandelions were about to overshadow the flowers. She stepped out on the porch and breathed in deeply. Nothing beat the fresh country air mingled with a hint of mowed hay and fresh-cut grass in the house yard. From the cheeps and chirps coming out of the trees and bushes, the birds sounded like they loved the day as much as she did. Wrens flew in and out of the two wren houses Jack hung in the lilac and spirea bushes. Those spunky little birds were favorites of Ellen's. She loved to hear them chortle when they were happy. They made her laugh when they were irritated. The way they darted at her with warning chatter made her duck when she came too close to their birdhouses while she was mowing the yard. She didn't blame them for being very protective of their nests. Splotches and the other cats were always on the prowl for baby birds that fell out of the nests. The land was flat so Ellen could see for over a mile, but that wouldn't be for very long. She could row the corn plants in the fields right now. The corn stalks grew fast and would soon be so tall she wouldn't be able to see any activity in the neighborhood unless it was right in front of her driveway. Ellen listened to the cattle bawl to their scampering calves in the pasture behind the barn. The worried cows were telling their calves to slow down and stay close. The fat hogs nosed feeder lids up to eat and let the lids fall with a tinny bang when they backed away. Once in a while, a bossy hog would squeal roughly at another one. The rooster crowed often and clucked to his hens to join him when he found a swarm of juicy bugs. Pleasant country sounds to a farmer and his wife. Once she sank to her knees in front of the house, Ellen pulled the weeds and sprigs of grass from around the yellow and orange marigolds as she hummed Ain't No Mountain High Enough. She'd heard Diana Ross sing that song on the radio. A disturbance among a flock of crows pecking at gravels in the road and at corn spilled from a grain truck made Ellen curious. She twisted to look over her shoulder toward the road. Something caused a squirrel to scamper up a buckeye tree at the end of the driveway. She put her attention back on the flower bed until she heard gravel crunch under a slow-moving car's tires behind her in the driveway. That was what was the matter with the crows and the squirrel. A car had slowed down to turn in. The shiny black Buick drove close to the house and stopped. Two women were in the front seat. The driver's side window whined down as Ellen stood up and slapped the dust off her knees. “Hello,” called a lady dressed in a fashionable, navy blue pantsuit and white ruffled blouse. “Good morning,” returned Ellen as she shaded her eyes from the sun and walked to the car. “Can I help you?” “I'm Susan Chester. Years ago, this farm used to be my mother's childhood home when her family homesteaded the farm. We were driving by, and Mother thought she'd like to see the place one more time. Would you mind if Mother and I looked around?” The driver asked. She opened the door and turned sideways so her black loafered feet touched the ground. “No, I don't mind at all,” Ellen said. “As a matter of fact, I'd love to hear the history of this farm. I know very little about it.” “Thank you so much. Wait until I help Mother out. She's going to be delighted by this.” As Susan rushed around the car, Ellen noted she had dark brown hair with gray threaded through it. If Ellen guessed right Susan looked to be in her fifties. Standing against the open door, Susan helped her mother from the car. The frail, short, elderly lady supported herself with a wooden, ornately carved cane. Susan held a protective hand on her mother's elbow to help her walk across the gravel driveway. Slowly they walked around the front of the car toward Ellen. Susan introduced, “This is my mother, Alice Reasoner. Her family name was Stonebaker. Ellen stuck her hand out to shake hands with the older woman. “Nice to meet you, Alice. I'm Ellen Carter. My husband, Jack, and I own this farm now. We've lived here fifteen years.” The woman's eyes saddened as she stared at the fairly new, ranch style home. “I wish I had stopped in sooner. This isn't the house I lived in with my family.” “No, but we lived in the same house you did when we first moved here so I know what the two-story house was like. We tore the old house down a few years back. It was in need of a lot of expensive repairs when we moved in. We decided it was wiser to build a new house,” Ellen explained. “I took plenty of pictures of that house before we had it demolished. If you would like to have copies of them, I'd be glad to get them made for you.” Alice smiled at her. “Yes, I believe I would. Looking at pictures would be nice to help refresh my memory since I don't recall as good as I once did.” “You have a nice home,” Susan complimented. “Thank you, we like it. Leave an address with me so I can send you the pictures when I get them developed.” Ellen replied. Susan smiled. “I'd be glad to.” Ellen suggested, “Maybe we can walk behind the house for a better view of the farm site if you would like that. At least, you can see as far as the corn and bean fields. Behind them is the hayfield and pasture where we keep the cattle.” She led the women to the back yard. That gave them a full view of the outbuildings and the flat Iowa farm fields that once belonged to Alice's family. The sheep had bedded down in the shade of the barn and were chewing their cuds. They rose at the sound of strange voices and headed single file to the pasture. Susan pointed at the sheep. “Quite a flock of sheep you have there. Oh look, Mother, see the cute lambs.” When her mother didn't answer, she looked at her to see why. Alice turned her head one way then the other with her full concentration on the surroundings. “Susan, it's hard to believe how things have changed.” Astonishment filled the elderly woman's voice as she recalled the way the farm looked in her youth close to a century ago. “The outbuildings are gone that stood over that way.” The woman pointed near the barn. “Pa had a tool shed and chicken house next to the barn.” She pointed at the grass beyond there. “What now is your sheep pasture used to be a large grove of walnut trees and apple trees of several varieties. We kids picked the nuts up. What we didn't crack and pick out for Mom to use to bake with, we sold to earn money. Part of the apples Mom canned into applesauce. She had us pick the red delicious apples by the pails full and carry them down to the root cellar. It set just west of the house. We poured the apples in bins, and they lasted us all winter. My oh my! What a treat those apples were during the winter when Mom gave them to us on special occasions. On years when we had a plentiful bounty, there were plenty of apples left to sell. We were a large family, and my folks were always looking for ways to make money.” The elderly woman twisted on her cane and grew solemnly quiet as she stared at the barn. Her face saddened. “Is something wrong, Mother?” Susan asked. “My brother, Jacob, fell off that old barn's steep roof and died.” Chapter 14 “That is sad. Mother, you never told me before that you lost a brother to an accident. How did it happen?” Susan asked. “Jacob wanted to help the men re-roof the barn so bad he pestered Papa to let him help. Papa said no. He told the boy he was too young to be up that high with the men. Jacob wasn't one to give up if he wanted something. He was stubborn that way. So he kept wheedling Papa until when the neighbor men came to help with the roof our papa gave in. He said Jacob could help put the tin sheets on. My brother was thirteen if I remember correctly. My oh my, that happened so long ago, but that dreadful day feels like it happened yesterday in my head. I was two years older than he was. It was a day that stuck with every member of my family until the day they died. Jacob was so proud when Dad handed him his own hammer and a nail apron of his very own just like the grownups. He put that apron on and filled it with roofing nails. Then he strutted around in front of the men to show them his apron, bulging with nails. Only Papa never thought about Jacob being a boy who never did know any fear. If he'd had time to give his decision a second thought he'd have told Jacob to stay on the ground where he belonged. For the rest of his life, Papa said many times he sure wished he had done just that. Jacob always liked high places. He would climb higher in the apple trees than the rest of us to pick the apples. He shinnied up the walnut trees just like a squirrel to shake the limbs so the nuts would fall for us to pick up. Poor Mom missed Jacob so much after he was gone. If she knew the tricks he pulled, she'd have tanned his hide good for doing them stunts. If she had known how that day was going to end, she sure would have told Papa to keep Jacob off the barn roof. Anyway, Papa did tell the boy he didn't want to catch Jacob climbing up on the high pitch, but my brother didn't listen. As soon as Papa wasn't looking, Jacob climbed up to the pitch of the roof to work. He lost his balance and slid all the way down and plummeted off the barn. It was right over there in front of that barn door where he landed.” Alice pointed to the door that Ellen let the sheep out of each morning. She continued, “When Jacob hit the hard barnyard ground, he lit wrong on his leg, and it snapped.” Ellen gasped as she remembered the little boy she saw sitting in that very spot with a broken leg. Alice and Susan focused on her. “Oh, I was just thinking how terrible that was for him. Do you remember how Jacob dressed?” “Sure, he wore what all other boys did back then. A chambray shirt and overalls,” Alice replied. “Did he have a straw hat?” Ellen asked. Alice nodded. “Of course, he did. All the men and boys wore a straw hat in them days. They were out in the sun most days. Why do you want to know that?” Ellen knew she sounded too eager so she said casually, “I was just trying to picture your brother on the ground. Do you happen to have a picture of him?” Alice nodded. “No, cameras cost a lot of money in those days. We couldn't afford one.” “Mother, go on with your story,” Susan encouraged. Ellen patted the elderly woman's shoulder. “Yes, I am so sorry I interrupted you, Alice.” “Where was I? Oh, yes, the women fixing a meal in the kitchen heard Jacob scream all the way to the house from the barn. They dropped their spoons and knives and boiled out of the house to run to the barn to see what happened. The men and my other brothers scrambled down the ladders and gathered around Jacob. Everybody watched as Papa gathered the little fellow in his arms and followed along as Papa carried him to the house as fast as he could. Jacob was in bad shape, and my folks had their hands full taking care of their hurting youngun, crying, and moaning like he did. The neighbors stood around on the front porch for a while, talking, and waiting for news of Jacob's condition. Finally, they decided to go home and come back another day. Oh, they could have finished roofing the barn right there and then that day, but the banging would be loud and irritating to an anxious family and a hurting boy. You can imagine how all that banging would sound to an upset family I reckon.” Ellen thought about how she'd felt while she listened to the banging noises she'd heard for months. “You bet! I can agree that would be annoying all right. The neighbor men were just being thoughtful.” “Yes, we had good neighbors back in them days,” Alice assured her. “What happened to Uncle Jacob after that, Mother?” Susan asked. “Yes, finish the story,” Ellen encouraged. “Well, Jacob's shin bone poked clean through the skin about halfway up his lower leg. It was a horrible sight for all of us to see. I'll never forget it, and the rest of my brothers and sisters said the same thing. The poor little guy was in so much pain it hurt the rest of us to hear him crying. We felt so helpless since we didn't have a close doctor in them days. We all took turns caring for his needs and sitting up with him. Mom and Papa had to tend to Jacob's injury themselves. Papa got the bone set as best he could, but Jacob remained in pain. He groaned, cried, and talked out of his head from the high fever brought on by infection. In a few days, the leg swelled up to three times its normal size. The leg turned black, and the wound oozed green pus under the bandage. We knew he didn't have long to live when Papa told us his leg had blood poisoning in it. He died of what we now know as gangrene a week after the accident.” “How sad for your family.” Ellen patted the woman's bony shoulder. “It was. Jacob was my youngest brother and such a mischievous little guy. Everyone in the family loved him so much.” Alice pointed toward the sheep pasture. “Papa dug the boy's grave over in the back of that pasture under one of those oak trees in that row. I believe it was the third one from the end headed this way. I've looked over this way every time we drive by and think about my brother's grave. It saddens me the wooden cross that marked his grave has been gone for years.” “Mom, the wood would have rotted a long time ago,” Susan said. Alice nodded agreement. “I know.” “You didn't have a funeral for Jacob?” Ellen wanted to know. “Sure we did. Just as luck would have it, we heard a traveling preacher was close by on his circuit. Papa went for him. My folks had Jacob laid out in the parlor in the wooden coffin Papa and my other brothers made him. Neighbors from all around came for the funeral.” Chapter 15 “Why didn't your family bury Jacob in a cemetery?” Ellen asked. “Wasn't a community or church one around. Why, it was miles to the nearest town. Back then, farmers had their own family cemeteries and some let the neighbors bury their family members in them. Papa and Mom migrated here from Germany and homesteaded this farm. Jacob was the first to die in our family, so Papa thought we should have a resting place on our own land. Besides, Papa always felt guilty after that for giving his permission to Jacob to go up on the barn roof. He wanted his son's grave close by so he could go visit the boy when he felt like it. Just to pray over Jacob and tell him how sorry he was for letting him get hurt. Mom always had a yard full of flowers so she'd walk out there often with a bouquet of whatever flowers were blooming at the time. It gave my folks comfort to be able to tend to Jacob's grave. When the depression hit, one of my brothers was having a poor go of it on this farm. My folks lived with him and his family. Finally, my folks lost the farm when they couldn't pay the property taxes. None of the rest of the family died before we moved away, and Papa had never gotten around to putting in a fence around Jacob's grave. My other brothers, sisters, and me had already all grown up and moved away from home. We had families of our own. By then there were well-kept cemeteries for everyone to be buried in. No one in this neighborhood wanted to be buried by Jacob. Once the farm changed hands, it wasn't likely the owners would want a growing cemetery taking up space in their pasture. So Jacob's grave wasn't taken care of after my parents and brother and his family moved. By the time, the farm changed hands a few times more the cross was gone, and the next owners didn't know about the grave. It's been so long now, I guess no one in the neighborhood is left to remember that Jacob is even laid to rest by that tree except me. My generation of the family is about gone and the one before me is gone. My oh my! No one left to care about poor Jacob's resting place.” Alice wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks to dry the tears. The three women stared at the base of the third oak in the row of trees. Each consumed with their own thoughts about the little boy who didn't get to see his fourteenth birthday. Three years before, Ellen buried her border collie, Sherman, in the pasture under the oak tree second from the end. A dreadful thought came to her now that she was reminded of burying her dog. What if she had picked that third tree to bury her dog under and dug down into the rotted coffin? The only reason she didn't choose the third tree was she'd noticed the sunken ground. At the time, she thought the ground looked odd and decided to bury the dog by the next tree. Now she knew a human being was most likely buried in the sunken spot. She vowed she wasn't going to dig in that spot for any reason. She might even let Jack invest in weed spray to kill the thistles in the pasture from now on. It had been her idea to save money by spading off the thistles each spring. Not that she ever spaded deep enough to disturb a grave, but she just didn't like the idea of poking the ground over a grave. It wasn't respectful. “I buried my favorite border collie by the second tree about three years ago,” Ellen shared as she pointed across the pasture. “What happened to him?” Susan asked. “Sherman wasn't trained well enough to follow commands yet. One morning, he happened to see the neighbor's hogs in the cornfield across the road. Before the field was planted, the neighbor let the hogs run. Sherman thought it wasn't right that the hogs were close to the fence. Guess he thought they were going to get out and come over here. He barked and growled, then took off on a dead run. I yelled at him to stop, and he didn't listen. About the time he was in the middle of the road a grain truck loaded with grain barreled down on him and killed him.” “I bet you missed him if you thought enough of him to give him a grave. Just think, the spot you picked is right next to my brother.” Alice smiled as a comforting thought came to her. “Jacob loved dogs. He must be pleased to have a dog resting next to him. He's probably claimed your dog as his own by now.” An image of the boy in pain Ellen saw from the window on that May night flashed through her mind. “Alice, what time of year did you say Jacob's accident happen?” “Early May best I remember. Just when the days began to warm up so the men would be comfortable working on the roof on a sunny day.” The old woman's eyes clouded over at long ago put away memories coming to the surface. “Mother, how old did you say Jacob was?” Asked her daughter. Hoarse from so much talking, Alice croaked, “He turned thirteen in January and thought he was near growed.” Ellen digested the information, thinking that was about the age of the boy she saw. “Alice, which leg did Jacob break?” “Oh my, oh, that was so long ago. I think it was the left one.” Yes! The little boy in front of the barn might have had a broken left leg. Suddenly, the details she saw that night in May and what the elderly woman was describing seemed so eerily similar. Enough so that the very idea made Ellen scared and excited all at the same time. Alice wobbled as she shifted on her cane to face her daughter. “Susan, reckon we better go. I'm getting a bit tired from standing on my feet so long. I need to sit.” “You're welcome to come in and have a cup of coffee with me while you rest. I'd love to visit with you some more,” Ellen invited. Alice shook her head as she trudged on heavy feet toward the car with Susan hanging on to her arm. Her weary voice trembled. “Not this time. I want to thank you for letting me look around though, but it has brought all the sadness back connected with this farm. Believe I just ought to go home and rest.” “Maybe another time for sure, Alice. You are both welcome to visit any time you want,” Ellen assured her. She could see remembering back to a sad time for her family had taken a lot out of the elderly woman. Susan nodded as she helped her mother get seated. “Understand, Mother has buried that story about her brother so deep in her memory, she didn't ever bring it up. Looks like doing so today has taken a lot out of her.” Ellen sighed. “I agree. Poor Alice summoned up a lot of energy to tell us her story. I appreciate that she did.” “Anyway, we both enjoyed the scenic view of the countryside as I drove here today. This is a lovely part of the country. I'd love to bring Mother back for another visit. Maybe next time won't be so hard on her,” Susan replied. “I've always thought this area is pretty. I can see why homesteaders picked here to farm a century ago. You're right about your mother. Now that she has the story of Jacob out in the open, coming here next time will be easier for her,” Ellen said. “Oh, don't forget to give me Alice's address.” “Oh yes. Thanks for reminding me.” Susan opened the glove box and got out a small, black leather box. She opened it up and took out a business card. “I'm an insurance agent. My address is on the card. Mother lives with me now.” “I'll get her the pictures soon,” Ellen assured. She backed out of the way and waved at the car as it moved down the driveway. Chapter 16 About an hour later, Jack's old farm truck rumbled into the driveway and took off toward the outbuildings. Barely able to contain her excitement, Ellen peeked out of the living room window to see which way Jack headed. When she saw him stop the pickup and back up to the feed shed, she ran to tell him she had company while he was in town and what she'd found out. “Guess what happened, Jack?” She spoke in-between pants as she stopped by the back of the pickup. “The hogs got out while I was gone to town after the feed. Sorry you had to get them back in by yourself,” Jack guessed as he concentrated on unloading the feed sacks from the pickup bed. Ellen shook her head as he lifted a sack to his shoulder and took it to the stack inside the feed shed. “No, not this time. I had visitors.” “Who was it?” Jack asked, placing the sack on the stack. He returned to the pickup with his eyes on the next sack. “An older woman and her daughter. The older woman lived here when she was a child.” “What did they want?” Jack lifted the sack onto his shoulder and returned to the shed. “The older woman wanted to walk around the place and reminisce about living here. She liked growing up on this place, but she missed the old house we tore down. It was her childhood home. I told her I'd send her some pictures of it. Remember all those pictures I took inside and out before we had the house razed. They are going to a good cause now.” Jack laid the sack on the stack. “Uh huh, I guess.” “Well, her name was Alice, and she told me the most amazing story about what happened on this farm,” Ellen said, mounting excitement growing in her voice. “That right.” Jack reached for another sack in the pickup bed and walked back to the shed. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” Ellen snapped. She was tired of watching her husband pace back and forth. She wanted him to stop working and pay attention to her. What she had to tell him was important. Jack laid the sack down and headed back. He stopped on his return and focused on her. “Sure, what did she have to say?” “Years ago, her brother, Jacob Stonebaker, was killed when he fell off our barn roof. Well, he didn't exactly die when he fell. His leg broke, and the bone came out of the skin. They didn't have a close doctor, so the wound got gangrene and then Jacob died,” explained Ellen. “Really? That poor kid must have really suffered.” Jack's face scrunched up as he heard the excitement in Ellen's voice. He was curious now. What did she found so exciting about such a sad story? “Really and get this. He turned thirteen in January and fell off the barn in May.” Jack wrinkled his nose at her, not getting the point. “So?” “Don't you see? The banging we've heard started in January and ended in May. The boy's father gave him his own hammer and nail apron. That hammer we found where I saw the little boy sitting in the barnyard has J.S. carved on the handle. I know because I looked the hammer over. That could easily stand for Jacob Stonebaker's initials. Another thing! The older woman said Jacob broke his left leg. Remember the boy I saw that night in front of the barn. I told you his left leg twisted under him like it was broken. Don't you think that's quite a coincidence that I saw a boy who matches the description of Alice's dead brother?” “I might if you hadn't been dreaming while you were sleepwalking that night. I don't believe a spook named Jacob lives in our barn. In fact, I don't believe there are such things as spooks.” Jack threw another sack on to his shoulder and turned his back on Ellen. He was ready to end this weird conversation. “He doesn't live in our barn exactly. Don't you see? He just wanted to finish the roofing job he didn't get done before he fell off the barn and died,” Ellen said, exasperated by Jack's attitude. Jack twisted around half way to the feed shed. “You telling me you do believe in dead people who you can see?” He responded with a serious face. Ellen tried to defend herself. “No, of course, I don't believe in dead people returning, but I have heard stories about such things. There are people who believe such things.” Jack turned around to face at the feed shed door. “Yeah. Sure! Answer me this. Why after all these years would this spook wait until now to suddenly appear?” “Well, I don't know the answer to that, but I happen to think Jacob did return to help roof the barn. His sister said he had looked forward to helping the men and was really eager to get on the roof. Besides, you haven't found out any other reason for the banging noises, have you?” “Nope,” Jack said shortly on his way back to the pickup. “You didn't tell those two women what you think you saw did you?” Ellen slowly shook her head. “No, I wouldn't do that.” Jack looked relieved. “Good! Want to help me unload the rest of the feed?” “No way! I have to start lunch.” Jack didn't appear to believe her. She might as well drop the subject and retreat to the house before he put her to work. That evening after supper, the Carters settled down in the living room. Laid back in his recliner, Jack watched television as usual, and Ellen read her Good Housekeeping Magazine while she rocked. Mid-evening, the banging began in the barn. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Oh no! Jacob is back. Guess I was wrong. He isn't done roofing yet,” Ellen blurted out. Jack scowled at her, causing Ellen to put her hand over her mouth. “I don't know what to think about that overactive imagination of yours, but you have got to stop thinking this nonsense. You just wait here. I'm going to find out what that banging noise is right now and put an end to all this nonsense.” “Don't worry. I haven't any intention of going to the barn with you. I don't want to run into Jacob face to face. The one time I saw that poor little boy spirit with a look of suffering on his face was enough for me,” Ellen assured him. Jack was exasperated by what he thought was his wife's twisted logic. “I am going to prove you wrong once and for all, before you tell the neighbors our barn is haunted. I don't want the word to get around the neighborhood that you are mentally ill. What would people think of us?” “Go ahead and find out for yourself. I'll let you meet Jacob this time. I understand from his sister, Alice, he was a nice little boy but mischievous. He liked monkey antics just like you and playing jokes on his sisters. You two will get along just fine.” Jack waved his hand downward at Ellen as he opened the front door. While he was closing the door, Ellen called, “Tell Jacob I said hi and to knock off the banging. We're tired of listening to it.” Chapter 17 Ellen rocked as she listened to the night time noises outside, filtering through the open window. The tree frogs were in a sing-along with the crickets, and a hawk moth flapped its wings against the screen. She closed her eyes and pictured when Jack entered the barn. The door banged shut. When he flipped the light switch on, the ewes muttered. As he walked among them, they baaed louder. In a few minutes, the hammering noises started again. This time the noises took on a faster tempo and grew louder. The sheep sounded upset. They tried to drown out the noises with deafening, protesting bleats. Ellen grew apprehensive, trying to figure out what on earth was going on in the barn. Jack was out there alone with those noisy sheep and with the spirit of Jacob or whatever was causing the banging. He should have been back by now if he didn't find anything wrong. She didn't like the idea of going to the barn after Jack told her to stay in the house, but she couldn't stand the suspense. She had to go find out if Jack was all right whether he liked it or not. Maybe he needed her help. Walking quietly, Ellen slipped in the barn's walk-in door and edged her way along the hallway. She glanced at the wall. Jacob's hammer was gone. He must be hammering away with it from the sounds of things. Easing between the now empty lambing pens, she opened the door to the holding room. As she looked around the room, she spotted Jack on his knees by the corn bin wall. Ellen couldn't believe her eyes. He was nailing a piece of tin on the bin wall with Jacob's hammer. “Jack?” He looked over his shoulder at her and went back to hammering. “I thought you didn't want to be in the barn tonight. What you doing out here?” “The hammering didn't stop after you left. The banging was worse. I thought you must need help. It sounded like you and Jacob were in a hammering duel to see who could drive a nail the fastest. I couldn't imagine what was going on. My curiosity got the better of me so I had to come see if you were all right,” Ellen explained. “So the banging I heard all these months was you doing it by yourself?” “No, just part of the banging was me tonight. If you remember, I've been with you in the house when we heard the banging noises.” Jack stood up. He pointed to the piece of tin on the corn bin wall and a small pile of shelled corn in the straw bedding. “See that tin I nailed over a hole. That rat hole has been the problem all along.” Ellen squealed, “I don't believe you. The rats made the banging noises for all these months.” “No, Silly. The sheep did the banging,” Jack declared. “Sure! The sheep did the banging all those times,” Ellen said in a disbelieving tone. “They sure did. The rats gnawed a hole through the corn bin wall,” Jack explained. He was overdoing it on the patient tone as if he had to be explicit and simple for her at the same time. He wanted to make sure Ellen understood. “The rats went inside the hole to eat corn. The sheep smelled the corn and saw a few kernels on the floor the rats dropped. The ewes ate those. They were smart enough to know how to get more. Each time one of them banged on the corn bin with her hoof, corn fell out of the hole. When we came into the barn to look around, the ewes stopped what they were doing to see if we were going to feed them. I just happened to catch one of the ewes in the act this time of hitting the wall with her hoof.” “So Jacob wasn't here,” Ellen said, clearly disappointed now that Jack had solved the problem to his satisfaction. Jack nodded. “No, Jacob wasn't ever here for sure, and I just put an end to the banging noises unless another rat gnaws a hole in the corn bin.” “Okay, you win.” Ellen started for the door. “Let's go back to the house.” Jack hung the old hammer on its nail in the hallway and followed her outside. He sped up and rushed around her. The program he'd been watching on television must be about over. He wanted to see how it ended. Ellen trailed behind, thinking about the time she saw Jacob with his broken leg, sitting in front of the barn. She paused and turned to look up at the steep barn roof. Then she stared at the spot on the ground in front of the barn where she saw Jacob. How could she have imagined him? He looked just like his sister described him and so alive. If she hadn't seen the real Jacob, how could her description of the boy be so much like Jacob's sister's. Besides, that hammer Jack picked up off the ground had the initials J. S. on it. The hammer had to belong to Jacob, and he'd taken it off the barn wall that night to use it. Jack couldn't explain away the hammer so he'd just ignore that detail. That husband of hers needed a practical explanation for everything in his life. His problem was he didn't have any imagination. Well, at least not like the suggestive imagination she had. Jack needed to use logic to explain the banging noises. The ewes kicking the corn bin wall was the right explanation for Jack. In his mind, her seeing Jacob was only a dream. She smiled at a thought. Wouldn't Jack groan if I suggested that Jacob's spirit might return every year from January until May to work on the barn roof since he seemed to like them? It made perfect sense to her. Jacob's sister, Alice, said Jacob turned thirteen in January and was roofing the barn in May when he fell and broke his leg. The months coincided with when they heard the first banging noises to when she saw Jacob. Then again, maybe she better stop trying to convince Jack and keep that notion to herself from now on. Jack might quit waiting for the neighbors to have her committed and do it himself. Jack turned around and realized Ellen wasn't right behind him. He came back to where she'd stopped. “Come on, Slow Poke. Give that imagination of yours a rest. I don't believe I can stand your cooking up anything else for a while.” Ellen could see from the glint of humor in his eyes that she'd be in for a fair amount of teasing in the future. “You're like an old dog with a bone. You're going to gnaw this bone for a long time, aren't you?” “Not a real long time,” Jack drawled, grinning at her. “I won't have to. I know you too well. You will come up with something new and far fetched before long.” “Oh, you think you're so funny.” Ellen slipped passed him and headed for the house. She stopped short, thinking she wanted to get the last word in with Jack just once, and she had an idea. “I've been thinking.” “Oh no! Now what?” Jack grumped, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets as he waited for her to let him in on her idea. “It's not right that Jacob doesn't have a marked grave. Now that we know his resting place is by that third oak tree I want to plant flowers for him by the tree. I'm thinking I can transplant some of my mums, irises, and peonies there. That way he will have blooming flowers over him all summer. Those perennials were here when we moved in, and I imagine the same flowers were here when Jacob was alive. I'll bet that was the kind of flowers his parents put on his grave ever so often. Maybe it will help him rest easier so he doesn't have to return if someone still remembers him.” Jack shrugged. “Sounds like work to me.” “No, it's not. I transfer flowers around here all the time. Now where was I? Oh, yeah! Jacob's sister said his father made Jacob a wooden cross. It had rotted away a long time ago, so no one even remembers Jacob's resting place but her. Could you make another one? I could paint his name on it. I'll ask Alice for the exact dates to put on the cross. She will like seeing a marker at the head of Jacob's grave when she drives by.” “I suppose I could do that much. You know don't you that the sheep will eat the flowers down to the ground right away,” Jack declared. Ellen tapped her lips with a finger as she thought. “Oh yeah, you're right. We can fix that problem. You need to buy hog panels to fence in the grave to keep the sheep away from Jacob's cemetery. That will keep them from eating his flowers. Fix one panel so it swivels in and out so I can take the mower in there to cut the grass.” Jack's eyes narrowed as he calculated the cost of panels. “How many hog panels are you talking about?” Ellen shrugged. “I don't know. Measure the spot. My border collie is buried under the next tree. The pen might as well be large enough to include him, too. I'll plant the flowers in a row between the two graves.” “Sure thing. Any other animals you want to bury in that spot as long as you're taking pasture grass away from the sheep?” Jack asked sarcastically. Ellen shook her head, ignoring Jack's tone of voice. “No, not yet, but there will be plenty of room if I need to bury one. One thing is for sure, Jacob's going to rest easier if we fix up his resting place. It must have been sad for that little boy to think he had been totally forgotten all these years. Maybe that was the reason for the sad look on his face instead of the painful leg when I saw him.” Her face lit up at another thought. “Alice said he probably liked the idea of having a dog buried beside him. She said he liked dogs. You should make a cross with Sherman's name on it, too. Don't you think Jacob will be happy with a cemetery with his very own dog in it, Jack?” Before Jack could answer, Ellen took off for the house. The soft groan she heard emitted behind her was satisfaction enough that she'd had the last word. Jack was too soft-hearted not to fence in the graves. Two weeks later, Jack had Jacob's cemetery fenced in. The irises and peonies were blooming behind the two crosses for Jacob and Sherman, the border collie. On another board painted white Ellen wrote in black letters Jacob Stonebaker's Cemetery. She nailed the board to the third tree, facing the road so Alice could see the sign if she happened to come by. Ellen was so proud of the way the cemetery looked she took a picture of it to send Alice. That way she'd see what they had done right away in case the elderly woman didn't get another chance to drive by their farm. On a night it was too hot to sleep, Ellen knew a few cooler nights were still yet ahead with blackberry winter a few days away. She hated to turn on the air conditioner just yet and have to turn it right back off. She tossed and turned. Finally, she decided to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. On her way by the hall window, her mind went to the night in May when she saw Jacob. When she retold the tale later, she'd always say the fact she saw him would always be a puzzle to her. Ellen parted the lace curtains and glanced out at the barnyard. What she saw made her freeze to the spot. Jacob was back, and beside him was Sherman! Only this time, the boy was standing on both feet. On his head, his straw hat was in better shape. The boy smiled at her to let her know he wasn't in pain anymore as he mouthed the words, “Thank You.” Ellen understood what he meant. He wanted to tell her that he appreciated her concern for him, and he was content now. He patted Sherman on the head then gave her a sideways wave goodbye with his right hand. Beside his leg, he held his hammer in his left hand. He gave the appearance of being done with his work, and he wanted her to know she wouldn't have to worry about him coming back anymore. Ellen wondered if he'd hook his hammer back on the nail on the hallway wall before he left. She hoped he did. Next time Jack looked for the hammer, he'd accuse her of losing it. She didn't intend to explain about her latest visit with Jacob so she'd just have to take the blame. While she watched Jacob's spirit fade away, Ellen returned his wave and whispered, “You're welcome, Jacob. I'm glad that you can rest in peace now.” THE END About the author Fay Risner lives with her husband on a central Iowa acreage along with their chickens, goats and cats. A retired Certified Nurse Aide, she now divides her time between writing books, working in her flower beds, the garden and going fishing with her husband. Fay writes books in various genre and languages – historical mystery series, Stringbean western series, Amish series set in southern Iowa and books for Caregivers about Alzheimer's. She uses 12 font print in her books and 14 font print in her novellas to make them easy to read and reader friendly. Now her books are in Large Print. Her books have a mid western Iowa and small town flavor. She pulls the readers into her stories, making it hard for them to put a book down until the reader sees how the story ends. Readers say the characters are fun to get to know and often humorous enough to cause the readers to laugh out loud. The books leave the readers wanting a sequel or a series so they can read about the characters again. Enjoy Fay Risner's books and please leave a review to make others familiar with her work. Other Books by Fay Risner Nurse Hal Among The Amish Series A Promise Is A Promise Doubting Thomas The Courting Buggy The Rainbow’s End Amish Country Arson Joyful Wisdom Hal’s Worldly Temptations Second Hand Goods As Her Name Is So Is Redbird Emma’s Gossamer Dreams You have Got To Love Adalheida Wasser Amazing Gracie Historical Mystery Series Neighbor Watchers Poor Defenseless Addie Specious Nephew Will O Wisp The Country Seat Killer The Chance Of A Sparrow Moser Mansion Ghosts Locked Rock, Iowa Hatchet Murders The Wayward Preacher Westerns Stringbean Hooper Westerns Tread Lightly Sibby The Dark Wind Howls Over Mary The Blue Bonnet-novella Small Feet’s Many Moon Journey A Coffin To Lie On - novella Ella Mayfield's Pawpaw Militia-Civil War Christmas books Christmas Traditions - An Amish Love Story Christmas With Hover Hill Leona’s Christmas Bucket List Fiction Listen To Me Honey novella Jacob's Spirit-novella Cowboy Girl Annie -novella Robot Grandma - novella Katrina's Gift - novella Nonfiction about Alzheimer’s disease Open A Window - Caregiver Handbook Hello Alzheimer’s Goodbye Dad-author’s true story Detective Renee Brown Mystery Series The Answering Machine Knew - novella One Big Bat – novella Crystal's Beau - novella Mrs. Pestkey's Cat Knew Innocent Until Proven Guilty