by Akart, Bobby
Dr. McKeon set the pad on the table and hung up the phone. She slowly rolled the pen through her fingers from her pinky to her index finger.
“What did she want?” asked the young woman who took the call, obviously ignoring the request for discretion.
Dr. McKeon hesitated and looked at her watch. Her deadline was already coming at her like a freight train. Then she responded, “The White House wants us to provide them a space weather report for the Southern Hemisphere, with a particular emphasis on South America and the South Pacific. Also, they want us to calculate a proposed flight path for a jet to depart Arlington, Virginia, for New Zealand, one that would not be impacted by the coming geomagnetic storms.”
“New Zealand? Why there?” one of her aides asked.
The head of ALMA shrugged. She didn’t work for the United States, much less the White House itself. However, when the president’s chief of staff made a direct request, despite being highly unusual, she was not one to question their purpose.
“She used words like top secret, discretion, and need to know. They’re looking for an answer within thirty minutes.”
Her assistant quipped, “Well, somebody seems to be in a hurry.”
Chapter 30
Squire Boone Caverns
Mauckport, Indiana
They say if rain falls during a funeral, the dearly departed will go to heaven. Sarah Boone didn’t expect Squire’s ticket through the pearly gates would need the assistance of the continuous downpour that had besieged Southeast Indiana. Her husband had been a good and honorable man, a loving husband, and a proud dad.
Squire’s untimely and unexpected death had struck the family hard, but their Boone DNA prevented them from succumbing to the despair. Squire needed to be buried without all the pomp and circumstance associated with modern-day funeral services, such as the viewing of the body, visitation at the family’s home, ceremonies and then the burial, followed by a reception.
This was the beginning of a new era in the history of the world, one that harkened back to the days of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in America. Grief was more than just an emotion during those times, it was a way of life. When the Boone family was known for their exploring and developing of new settlements, the threats they faced were many. From brutal battles with Indians to deadly disease, life expectancy was much lower than it was at the time of Squire’s death.
The world had become spoiled by the wonders of medicine to the point many people took their health for granted because they were certain doctors and hospitals would be there to save them in the event of a catastrophic illness. They relied upon one basic assumption—electricity would be available to power the intricate medical devices required to perform the so-called miracles of modern medicine.
The power to save Squire’s life had been taken away from him at a critical time, resulting in his death. The reason for his death left the Boone family bitter, yet they managed to put their anger aside that afternoon in order to provide their patriarch a proper burial. By day’s end, all of that pent-up animus would boil over, however.
“Mom, Mr. Gehlbach is here to see you,” announced Kristi as she returned from New Amsterdam. Word of Squire’s death had traveled quickly throughout the southern half of Harrison County. When Allen Edmund learned of the circumstances and the need for urgency, he’d traveled into town to locate the longtime friend of Squire.
“Oh?” Sarah was surprised by her visitor. “I’m not really dressed or ready to see anyone.”
Kristi approached her mother, who was alone in her bedroom, sitting in front of her dresser, where she was supposed to be getting ready for the burial. She knelt down on one knee and looked her mom in the eyes. “He’s here to help with Dad’s burial. He promised he wouldn’t be long.”
Sarah reluctantly acquiesced. As promised, the well-known funeral director visited with Sarah for just a moment. He offered to take one of Squire’s suits and properly prepare him for burial. He was driving his Cadillac hearse, had a casket picked out, and some of the tools of a mortician’s trade to prepare the decomposing body the best he could away from his funeral home.
An hour later, Mr. Gehlbach had finished his work, and the family followed the hearse to Squire Boone Caverns. As the procession arrived, Sarah was surprised to see so many people had already gathered there in the pouring rain. Some were huddled on the front porches of the pioneer-styled cabins located throughout the tourist destination. Others stood at the top of the rise, holding umbrellas, waiting for the family to arrive with Squire.
They’d told people to gather at the grave site around five o’clock that afternoon. When their friends learned of Squire’s death, they came early by all manner of transportation. Mostly, they walked. Gasoline was a precious commodity, and a few were concerned about the possible effects of the solar storms on their vehicles. So, despite the heavy rain, out of respect, nearly a hundred locals found a way to be there.
Genealogy, the process of researching a family tree, had become a popular hobby with the advent of the internet. Search engines and websites made it easier to learn and research. Private and public record databases were infinitely accessible, available day or night, and able to be supplemented with familial updates.
People yearned to learn about who came before them and whether their pedigree was unique or somehow extraordinary. The desire to search their family history was about more than learning names, dates, and places. People wanted to know about the lives of their ancestors—what made them who they were, and the trying times they endured.
The Boone family didn’t have to go through the machinations of internet searches and visitations to grave sites. Historians did the work for them, and their history could be traced directly to Squire Boone Caverns.
The cave had been discovered by Daniel Boone and his brother Squire in 1790 when they were on the run from a band of hostile Indians. They found a hole beneath a rock, which led deep into the caverns. Once the attack had abated, the Boone brothers paused to admire the rolling hills and valleys that stretched along the Ohio River. Because the caverns saved their lives, Squire considered them to be holy ground and ultimately settled in the area with his wife, Sarah, four sons, and eventually their families. Now, his namesake would be buried by his side, with his loving wife, Sarah, saying her goodbyes.
After the Boone family settled along the Ohio River in 1808, they built a grist mill on the site where the cavern tourist exhibit existed. Squire Boone—who’d already become known throughout Indiana, Kentucky, and Tennessee—soon came to national prominence as an explorer and statesman.
When he died in 1815 of heart failure, he was buried in a small pit cave on the side of a hill. Over time, relic hunters and grave robbers began taking parts of his original coffin and remains to sell to antiquity collectors. In 1973, when the property was sold by the Boone family to the State of Indiana to make it a historical site, his remains were placed into a new coffin and relocated inside the protected part of the caverns to become part of the historic tour.
Sarah and her children were the first to exit their vehicle when the procession of four cars arrived from Riverfront Farms. They walked arm in arm up the hill, followed by Carly and the grandchildren. Tommy and Isabella, the new additions to the family, brought up the rear.
Folks stepped into the rain to greet them and pay their condolences. It took twenty minutes to walk up the hill, barely a quarter of a mile from where they had parked. Condolences were given and offers of support were abundant.
Men in denim overalls and rain gear stood waiting for the family to arrive. They held shovels and steel-tooth rakes. Some waited with umbrellas to hold for the family during the burial. Six others waited until the Boones were settled in front of the grave site before they returned to the parking lot to assist Mr. Gehlbach.
They were some of the Boone family’s closest and dearest friends. Fellow farmers and orchard growers who’d lived along the river for generations. They were the pallbearers. They would
carry Squire’s body to its final resting place near his famous ancestor.
Chapter 31
Squire Boone Caverns
Mauckport, Indiana
As everyone gathered around the comparatively shallow grave, which was starting to fill with rainwater, Chapman considered the fact he’d only attended one funeral, his grandfather’s, when he was a freshman in college. He loved his granddaddy, but he hated the concept of funerals.
Truthfully, nobody likes funerals. Yet we attend them to pay our respects to the family and to honor the departed loved one. Squire had died without a will. He didn’t even have a list of suggestions on how he wanted his burial handled. He wasn’t naïve about death. He just didn’t think it would happen anytime soon.
Squire was wrong, and now, with the help of his friends and neighbors, his casket was being gently lowered into the muddy grave.
Sarah began to sob as she caught her last glimpse of his body, although hidden from sight. He’d been the glue that held their family together, a patriarch in the truest sense. As a provider, he was incomparable. He worked tirelessly in the orchards, up with the roosters and down with the setting sun.
Chapman hugged his Mom. She sniffled and tried to suppress her tears. “He’s with God now, son. He’ll be watching over us and guiding our family through these troubled times.”
Her words struck Chapman as odd. They implied she was concerned about external factors affecting their family, not simply the loss of her husband. Whether it be facing the prospect of life without electricity, the incessant rain, or the vile methods employed by Bully Billy, it upset Chapman that his mother couldn’t grieve the death of her husband without worrying about how she was supposed to survive without him.
He looked down into her eyes and provided a slight nod coupled with a comforting smile. Chapman intended to stand by her side as he delivered a brief eulogy. She patted him on the arm and gave him an encouraging nod. She was indicating she had the strength to continue with him by her side.
Chapman turned to Kristi and Levi, making eye contact with both as a signal for them to join by his side as he spoke. The four of them stood arm and arm again, overlooking Squire’s grave and facing the throng of people who unselfishly came to say goodbye to a dear friend.
“Everyone, as a family, and as a community, we’ve suffered a terrible loss with the death of my father. I know Dad would be honored you’ve all come here today to say goodbye, but it doesn’t mean we’re saying goodbye forever.”
Chapman paused and took a slight step forward to look down at his father’s casket. He fought back the tears, but the emotion poured out of him as he spoke. “Dad, we’re simply saying we’ll miss you, until we meet again.
“We Boones have a pioneer spirit about us. I suspect there’ll be trails and woods alike to explore. Like you, and our ancestors before us, we’re grateful for this land. We depend upon it for our survival, and we’re thankful for the sacrifices you and those before you made to provide us the opportunity to live on it.”
Chapman stopped again as he got choked up. This time, it was his mother who provided comfort for him to continue. His eyes welled up in tears and immediately flooded his face, mixing with the raindrops that soaked his hair.
Sarah whispered in his ear, “It’s okay. Speak to us, and your father, from the heart.”
Chapman nodded and cleared his throat. “Dads are someone we look up to. We follow your lead. We admire your deeds. And we respect you for raising us. Most importantly, you were someone we could call on whenever we needed you.
“To say we loved you, Dad, is an understatement. I can’t imagine not having you to get help or advice from. None of us, whether family or friends, will ever be able to forget your kindness, generosity and the unconditional love you showed others.
“You’re proof that in this life, few things matter but our honor. In the short time you’ve had here, like your father, and his father before him, you’ve passed on your honor to us. It’s the thing we hold onto until we pass it along to our own children, into eternity.
“Please know, Dad, this Earth was a better place with you on it, and now, we’re all prepared to share you with those in Heaven. God bless you, Dad. We’ll always love you.”
Chapman stepped back with his brother and sister, leaving his mom alone with her husband for a moment. Sarah slowly dropped to her knees, not out of despair, but rather, to be closer to Squire. She softly whispered to him in a voice nobody could hear. They were words of love, and even humor, as she managed to laugh at one point through her tears. Sometimes, one has to use their imagination to understand the special bond people have for one another when you can’t hear them expressed aloud. Clearly, Sarah Boone loved her husband and was going to miss him by her side.
It began raining harder, not that anyone thought that was possible. Sarah rose and hugged her children and grandchildren while their neighbors quickly filled Squire’s grave with dirt. Once it was full, the men with the steel-tooth rakes raked the soil into neat furrows before spreading a combination of winter rye grass seed and Kentucky 31 fescue over his grave.
Then, with the assistance of one of the Boones’ farmhands, Levi carefully placed Squire’s hand-carved hickory gravestone above Squire’s head on the upslope. It was carefully positioned to line up with the granite marker created for his namesake, Squire Boone Jr. The hickory slab paled in comparison to the ornate granite headstone, but it honored another fallen Boone all the same.
Chapter 32
Squire Boone Caverns
Mauckport, Indiana
Over a hundred people attended Squire Boone’s funeral, and each of them stopped to say a few words to the family. The farmers who resided in south Harrison County had been part of a close-knit community for generations. There weren’t a lot of secrets, as everybody eventually knew everyone else’s business. The families shared a kinship and would be there for the Boones if needed. That’s how rural America was.
Allen Edmund was one of the last to pay his respects, and when he was finished speaking with Sarah, he pulled Chapman aside. “Listen, this may not mean anything, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided,” he began in a hushed tone of voice.
Chapman studied his eyes and asked what he was referring to.
Edmund continued. “Well, about halfway through the service, Billy Clark and his brother, along with a couple of deputies, arrived. I don’t think most folks noticed right away, as they were focused on what you were saying. Now that people are leaving, they’re starting to wonder what the Clarks are doing here.”
Chapman rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Well, they certainly weren’t invited. Have they spoken to anyone?”
“Not that I can tell,” replied Edmund. “Do you want me to go ask?”
Chapman glanced toward his family and sighed. “No. Listen, I wanna believe they’re here to pay their respects like everyone else. Surely, we can put aside our two families’ animosity for one afternoon while I bury my father. Right?”
Edmund raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Chapman patted him on the shoulder and thanked him for coming, before returning to his mother’s side. They were sharing a few words with the last of their neighbors when suddenly Levi tensed up and rushed away from the family.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?” he asked angrily as he walked right up to Billy’s portly belly. In that moment, Chapman wondered if Levi had learned of the demand letter Randy and his deputy had served upon their mother. Then he relaxed, but only somewhat. If Levi had known about the letter, Bully Billy would be flat on his back in the mud already.
“Back off, son,” said Randy as he reached for his service weapon and stepped toward Levi and Billy.
“I ain’t your son, Sheriff!” Levi yelled, sarcastically stretching out the word sheriff. “Y’all got no business bein’ here!”
Levi’s face was red and his forearm muscles tensed as he began to ball his fists. Chapman moved down the hill to diffuse the situation before Levi got himse
lf in trouble. Unfortunately, Carly, the wildcat, beat him there.
She was five feet three, one hundred fifteen pounds soaking wet, as they say, which she was today. But she also possessed a sharp tongue and a willingness to fight anyone who crossed her family. Unlike Levi, she was aware of the letter, and perhaps she escalated the confrontation to pull him out of it. All Chapman knew was that a bad situation just got worse.
Carly ended up shoulder to shoulder with her husband and began to curse at Billy, standing on her toes in the muddy conditions to get right up in the banker’s face. She kept jabbing her finger in his chest, calling him all forms of names synonymous with human scum, before Billy had enough.
“Are you gonna let this bitch continue to assault me?” He shouted the question at his brother the sheriff.
Bully Billy never saw Levi’s punch coming. His right fist connected with the chubby jawline of the crooked banker, knocking his head back and causing Billy to lose his balance. He waved both arms in an attempt to prevent his fall, but gravity did its job. Billy landed in the mud, coating the back of his pin-striped banker-turned-councilman’s suit.
“That’s it!” yelled Randy. “Arrest this man for assault!”
The deputies moved toward Levi, who turned his body into a fighter’s stance. It was clear he was ready to take on the two men despite the fact they were armed. The deputies were two of Randy’s new recruits and were not trained in proper law enforcement procedure. As they approached Levi, they fumbled for their weapons.
“Stop it! Please, stop right now!” Sarah pleaded with Randy and the deputies. Tears were streaming down her face. “Can’t I bury my husband in peace?”
Kristi and Isabella rushed to her side and held her as she wept. A crowd had gathered around the melee, and several of the locals who had rifles slung over their shoulders, a sign of the times, now held them in front of their bodies, a sign of force that didn’t go unnoticed by the sheriff.
