by J. L. Salter
Mitch just shrugged — Kelly wasn’t addressing him anyway. He waited a moment, likely to see if she’d ended her thought. “What about the reference to a tune? You figure it’s the same one Pop mentioned?”
“Possibly, but no title though.” Kelly leaned forward, slightly over the porch rail, with her eyes closed. “And who was the Yankee from the Somerset garrison? Why did he merit mention to Mary’s sister in Missouri?”
“Maybe the sister knew him.”
Kelly thought a second. “Nah, if Mary thought Ethel knew the Yankee, she would’ve mentioned his name.”
Mitch shrugged again. “Are you getting hungry yet?”
Chapter Sixteen
Monday, May 14
Over the previous week, Kelly had rolled all the assignment information around in her brain, sifting and resifting the details she already knew and seeing whether air and light would expose any glimmers of something she didn’t yet comprehend. She’d already spent over five weeks inside Belva’s mind, but the investigation seemed to have dried out or hung up on something. Now she’d been some ten days inside the head of Belva’s mother, Mary. Having two antebellum heads to deal with was giving Kelly an ache in her own. She swallowed an ibuprofen caplet from her bathroom cabinet.
Earlier, she had finished her e-mail at the library but skipped exercise at the Y because of her headache. Maybe another coffee would help.
Kelly took her coffee and phone out to the cabin porch and called Mitch.
He said he was somewhere along the vast lake and had an intermittent signal. Suddenly the call dropped. Must have driven into a dead spot.
After a few minutes Mitch phoned back. “I was just the other side of Fishing Creek on the Parkway. There’s a big dead zone or something right there where the highway’s carved through the mountain. Couldn’t keep a signal, sorry. Anything new on your lurker since yesterday?”
“Not a sign. Unless he or she’s been back when I’m not here, and then Perra is keeping the secret.”
“Must’ve found somebody else to haunt. So, what’s up?”
“Pop said he recently spoke with one of his Cincinnati siblings who’d remembered a Fulton cousin had once mentioned something mysterious the Fultons were buzzing about at one time. Supposedly something hidden in a piece of furniture. Could’ve been anything. Might be nothing, but maybe it pertains to the Butler business.”
“Sounds pretty vague. What’re you planning to do?”
“Well, I figured I’d call Pop again and find out which Fulton cousin it was. Then go from there.”
“Need any help?”
“Depending on which cousin, I might want somebody with me if I have to go anywhere out of the ordinary.”
“Count on me.”
I do, Mitch. I do.
A few minutes later, when Kelly phoned Pop, he didn’t remember much but agreed to call his brother in Cincinnati. Later that day Pop called Kelly back.
“Turns out it’s Greg Fulton, your neighbor ta the north.”
“The one with all the cows?”
“Yeah. Also owns the land where the Butler cabin used ta be. Maybe he’ll show ya what’s left of it.”
“I’ll ask.” She already had Greg’s number. “Pop, you got any idea what Greg has?”
“Nope.”
“Then why do you think it’s, uh, important to this project?”
“Might not be.”
“But you want me to check it out anyway.”
“I guess.”
“Okay, Pop, you’re the boss. But remember, you’re paying me by the hour.”
Kelly thought she heard a hard gulp on the other end of the line before she flipped her phone shut.
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday, May 15
Having phoned the previous evening, Kelly met Greg Fulton the next morning while he was tossing hay into feeder bins near one corner of his farm. She and Mitch parked in the driveway fairly close to the Fulton house and walked through the gate to the feeding area.
“Why on earth are we meeting this guy in the cow patties?”
“Pop wanted me to see what’s left of the old Butler cabin. Behave yourself, Mitch.”
As they reached Greg, he stopped tossing hay, turned to face them, and took off one glove. Kelly introduced everyone; they all shook hands. Greg seemed friendly but cautious.
“After your call last night, I called up Pop Walter and asked him if this was on the level.” Greg twirled a coarse stalk of hay between his thumb and finger. “Pop backed up what you said, research for a cemetery article.”
“I’m hoping to get it in the local paper when I’m finished. A history of how it started and how it grew.” As she spoke, Kelly pointed to the cemetery, about 500 feet up the hill.
“Pop didn’t say how he found out I had what I’ve got.”
“Well, I don’t yet know what you’ve got or if it even pertains to what I’m writing about. But Pop seems to think so. He just said one of his brothers mentioned he’d heard something about it several years ago. Though I don’t think the brother knows what it is either.”
Greg seemed satisfied nobody really knew what it was. “Okay, back in a minute.” He tossed away the single stalk of hay.
Kelly watched Greg walk back up toward his house. He could bring back a rubber chicken and say it’s the Butler family secret.
“What do you figure he’s got?” Mitch seemed more concerned about where he stepped.
“Not a clue. All I know is, it’s not Mary Butler’s letter to her sister Ethel.”
Greg’s absence gave Kelly and Mitch a few minutes to poke around the space which was formerly the partial cellar beneath the Butler dwelling.
“So are you getting any vibes from standing on the site of the old cabin?”
“Pop said it was originally just one large room, basically. Must have been right over this part.” Kelly’s hands outlined a large rectangular. “I think the attic or loft was part of the main original cabin. Then they added a kitchen and something else to the front.” She pantomimed another rectangle, somewhat smaller. Then Kelly pointed to the few visible stretches of the tops of the cellar’s stone walls. “That’s where they added to the back of the cabin later. Must’ve been beds back there. Pop showed me a painting he keeps in his bedroom. It shows four little windows on the side facing the wagon road.”
As he listened to Kelly, Mitch stepped carefully around the leveled area, because the cows obviously liked it there.
Greg returned carrying something in a flat brown envelope, tied with rough string. He held it up in front of his midsection, but did not extend it. “When Grandma was pregnant with my mom, she was trying to refinish the old chifferobe she got from the Butler cabin… to put the baby stuff in. It had a small, uh, compartment she didn’t even know about. When she accidentally found it and finally got it open, this was inside. That’s all I know about it. Me and my sister read them a good while back. Couldn’t get too much sense from it.” Greg still had not released the slender package, even though Kelly had started to reach for it. “I promised Grandma we’d take care of it, even if we don’t know why.” With both hands still on the parcel, Greg extended it slightly toward Kelly.
It had to be a document of some kind. “I’ll just make copies and be very careful. I understand it’s a valuable heirloom and I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. Promise.” There was a brief silence, except for the unhurried movement of heavy-footed cattle nearby. “Greg, I don’t yet know what this is.”
Greg’s expression suggested Kelly ought to know by now, just because she’d been near it for the past few minutes. “Grandma said this was her Aunt Belva’s diary, or at least pieces of it.” Greg finally released his grip on the parcel. “Don’t open it out here with the cows.”
She wouldn’t. Belva’s diary deserved to be read indoors, maybe in a parlor. Kelly understood. She started to respond but couldn’t form words around the lump in her throat.
Greg cleared his own throat. “Well, I’ve
got cattle to feed…”
“I’ll take good care of it. You’ll have it back tomorrow.”
Mitch turned to leave but Kelly stayed still.
Clearly, Greg had something additional on his mind. “I expect you’re also going to want to see the letter of Great-Grandma Butler’s that was tucked in the old Butler Bible. I’ve never seen it, but I know it exists. One of the cousins kept hold of the Bible and this letter. It was a Norman, I think.”
Len Norman, to be exact. “Thanks, Greg.” She turned to join Mitch, already stepping carefully toward the Wrangler. As Kelly got into her seat, she realized Greg hadn’t moved.
“Whatever’s in this envelope sure seems important to him.” Mitch took a final glance toward the cows walking over the Butler cabin’s filled in cellar.
“You got that right. Pop’s never even seen these pages.” She handed Mitch the package. “Hang on carefully. I can’t wait to read Belva’s diary.”
Back at the cabin, Kelly shooed out the animals and laid the envelope on the table.
“Want scissors?”
“No, let’s untie it. I want to give it back just like we got it.”
Kelly worked on the knot and finally got it free. One loose loop of twine spanned the long side and two along the short plane. “Finally!” She carefully laid aside the pieces of rough string.
The top flap was not sealed, the glue having dried up long ago. One of the thin metal clasp prongs was missing, and the other one wasn’t grasping the reinforced hole in the flap. Kelly turned over the large envelope and traced her finger over the large cursive letters as she read out loud, “Diary of my Aunt Belva.” The ink was faded brown.
Kelly pointed. “This inscription resembles the handwriting on the outside of Mary Butler’s letter.”
“Who wrote both of those inscriptions?”
“Absolutely no idea, but it doesn’t look like Mary’s hand.”
“When did Belva die? I forgot.”
“I remember like it was my own. She was seventy-two when she died in the second week of April, 1919.”
“What period is the diary from?”
“We’ll find out in a minute.” Kelly flipped the envelope again, pulled up the flap, slipped her finger under the edge slightly, and peered inside. A stiff piece of cardboard obviously kept it from bending. “Not many pages.” Then she reached inside and gently, slowly, removed the cardboard and papers. On the thin and brittle papers were numerous brown spots of various sizes with many small tears in their edges. The top page had an ear-marked corner. The other page had a two-inch tear somebody had patched on the back side with old, heavy cellophane tape… which had turned an oily mustard color long ago. Both pages were about four inches wide by nearly seven inches long. “Seems like they’ve been cut along this left side. Maybe they were bound at one time. Wonder why they were removed from the rest of the diary?”
“Will you quit playing with those and read them?”
“Hold your horses. We need to get a sense about them, not just what the words say.”
Mitch rolled his eyes and sat next to her at the table. Kelly wiped her hands, which she’d already washed, on the tops of her denim thighs and then touched her fingertips to the fading pages.
She started reading out loud but then realized Mitch was close enough to read for himself, so both read silently.
.
Mr. 30th — terible battle
hid wounded Rebs
girls out the attic
soldeers asking around
horses pine thicket
.
Mr. 31st — buried amongst hill oaks
(Paw & U. Levi)
Maw burnt greys keep buttens
Sis keep buckel et.
.
Ap 1st — still downstair
HH leaving soon
barn loft ♥
little bro. snitched
got whiped
.
Ap. 2nd — Paw sent him on
wraped some food
Tater Cave
cried lots
.
Ap. 3rd — Good Friday
Church
hid wounded Reb
.
Ap. 4th — miss HH so
scared to go
cried lots
.
Ap. 5th — Easter Sunday
Church
.
Ap. 6th — don’t care
got to go
brung blanket
cave ♥
dress tore
got whiped
wont tell
.
Ap. 7th — Paw learn’d
never so mad
belt whiped
cried lots
.
Ap. 8th — took food
HH ankious
Yanks back
bananas ♥
.
Kelly broke the reading silence. “We’ve got more of his name! H.H. Finally a break. So Hank is Corporal Hank H.”
Without responding, Mitch silently surveyed those ancient pages.
“You know, Mitch, bananas seem to me to be out of place in this part of Kentucky. I can picture large coastal cities having access to tropical fruit, in season, but would a place like Somerset have bananas in the 1860s?”
“Burnside had a big port. I could picture food shipped up from Memphis.”
“But for civilians? During the war?”
Mitch just shrugged and each of them resumed reading.
.
Ap. 9th — whiped
dont care
Paw threats & kill
.
Ap. 10th — took food
warn’d
♥
ask’d his horse
.
Ap. 11th — brung horse
little bro. stole bridle
Paw’s belt ha
leave tomorrow
cried lots
♥
.
Ap. 12th — my Reb gone
cried Church
wont say
.
Ap. 13th — went school
teacher fuss’d
.
“Mitch, the Corporal stayed until April twelfth! That’s, uh, fourteen days… two whole weeks. So the nursing home lady was right. The other soldier did stay in Possum Knoll!”
He shook his head. “Stayed where? On April second she says the old man sent him packing. Where’d he go, if he was still here ten days later?”
Kelly reread the first part. “Well, Belva hid him somewhere. See? April third. She hid the wounded Reb.”
“Where do you hide a wounded soldier when Yankees are prowling around every tree trunk?”
“Well, there’s a mention of a cave, but it’s on the previous day.” Kelly sighed. “Let’s get to the end and see what else she says. Hmm, a lot of time goes by between these next entries.”
.
Ap. 19th — bin gone 1 week
cried
.
Ap. 24th — miss’d time
.
Ap. 25th — HH gone 2 week
.
Ap. 26th — prayed Church
cried
.
Ap. 28th — stomack sick
.
Ap. 29th — calinder says new year new momma
.
Ap. 30th — Paw raged
whiped bad
.
May 1st — took to bed
.
May 2nd — terible pain
Maw ask
wont say
.
May 3rd — more terible
.
May 4th — lost little Reb
.
Mitch finished first and seemed perplexed.
Kelly carefully placed the first page on top of the second, laid both on the cardboard, and inserted them together back into the tan envelope. She stared at her lap quietly.
“Old man Butler was definitely a stern disciplinarian. Belv
a stayed in trouble and got punished a lot.” Mitch pointed to the envelope. “A cave was mentioned, and presumably H.H. was in the cave for a while.”
The growing sadness weighed heavily in Kelly’s gut, and Mitch obviously noticed. Clearly to give her some space, he went down the short hall to the bathroom. Kelly heard the lavatory water, then Mitch returned and sat quietly.
Eyes moist, Kelly spoke softly. “She lost her baby, Mitch.”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t read that part? Belva missed her period, had morning sickness, and was due to have a child around January first.”
Mitch appeared confused.
“Her father beat her while she was newly pregnant. We can only assume he didn’t know. She was bedridden for a day or two, and then she miscarried.” Kelly turned away, toward the cabin’s front door window. “I don’t think her mother even knew, until…”
Mitch stroked Kelly’s shoulder.
She dabbed both eyes with the heel of her hand. “I need to leave this for now. I’ll make some copies at the library in the morning and then run this back over to Greg.”
“What about all the rest? Could you make out anything about the first half? I’ve never seen a diary like this, not from that era. She writes, uh… it’s very cryptic.”
“Bits and pieces. We’ve got the corporal with initials H.H., which matches Mary Butler’s letter calling him Hank. I’ll check with Pop about the reference to Tater Cave. I’ll go over it again from the copies, so I can make notes. Belva left a lot of information in her own odd kind of shorthand.” Kelly paused. “But later.”
The sometimes dense Mitch apparently understood. “I’m going to head back to my place, unless you feel like something to eat.”
Kelly shook her head silently. Mitch leaned over and kissed her cheek, damp with tears. He trailed his hand over the back of her shoulders as he paused, then passed on by. He left, closing the front door softly.
Chapter Eighteen
Thursday, May 17
First thing the following morning, Kelly photocopied Belva’s diary pages at the library and returned the originals to Greg Fulton.
