Zeb's Black Book

I'm sorry, son, but we'll have to put him down."

"Oh, please dad, is there nothing you can do?" Joshua cried. "Anything, dad, I'll do anything you ask, if you just save Bert!"

Joshua looked into his ten-year-old son’s sad eyes and wished there was something he could do. He’d watched the black stallion, Bert, suffer for three days. Bert contracted tetanus; his jaws had locked; he’s unable to eat. Joshua had endured too many days of Bert’s stare, pleading for help. Joshua also suppressed feelings of guilt and blame. Money was tight, and a tetanus shot would mean a healthy Bert today.

"I'm sorry, but you see what’s happening. Nothing can be done. If there was hope, I'd try," Joshua said. "You don't want to see him suffer."

"I know dad," Mike replied. "He's my best friend. I love him! I don't want him to go away."

"I know, and we’ll never replace him."

"I don't want another horse!" Mike cried. "I want Bert. He was beautiful. He loved me. I loved him. I don't want him to die. I don't want Bert to die.”.

The conversation was interrupted when Nora, his wife, yelled from the deck.

"Dr. Phillips is here!"

Joshua replied, his voice breaking, "Send him to the barn!"

"No, dad! Please, no! Not yet," Mike cried.

"I'm sorry, Mike. We can't wait any longer. It's not fair to Bert. It won't hurt him. He'll be running around heaven with other horses," Joshua said, his heart hurt aching.

"Just a little longer, please," Mike begged.

"I'm sorry. We've waited too long. Go say goodbye to Bert."

When the two men entered the barn Joshua said, "Mike, go to the house while the vet does his job.”

"I don't want to go, dad," Mike replied, through streaming tears. "Can I stay with Bert? He trusts me, and and I want to be with him til’ the end."

"Okay, son," his father replied, sadness mixed with pride.

"I have to inject directly into his jugular vein. Hold his halter Joshua," Dr. Phillips stated,

"I'll hold his neck," Mike tearfully interjected.

Later, Mike remained with the horse, while Joshua and the vet walked outside.

"What are you doing with the carcass?" the doctor asked.

“I’m digging a grave. Thanks again for coming, doc. Nora will write you a check."

Doc left and Joshua reentered the barn; Mike was praying.

Mike ran to his father, grabbed him and bawled; Joshua let his own tears flow.

"We'll bury him in the shade of that cedar tree. He enjoyed that spot," Joshua softly spoke.

"Bert would like that," Mike sobbed, "and I can talk to him every day."

"Yes, but now I want you to go comfort your mother. She's been crying all morning."

"Okay. Goodbye Bert. I love you," Mike said and ran away.

Joshua used his old backhoe to dig the grave. While digging, he said a prayer for Bert, but he couldn't forget his own financial problems. The point was approaching when he’d be forced to sell the farm; a farm that had been in the family for 150 years.

Joshua carried Bert in the frontend loader and met his family at the grave.

"Wait! Wait!" Mike hollered as Joshua prepared to lower Bert.

"What's wrong?" Joshua asked.

"This ground’s cold," Mike sobbed. "We can't put Bert in without his blanket,"

"You’re right. Go find his favorite," Joshua replied. Nora burst into tears.

Bert was lowered into the ground, words were said, and handsful of dirt were thrown on him. They retrieved shovels and began filling the hole. It felt more personal than using the loader.

Digging into the dirt, Joshua’s spade struck something. Probably a rock, he thought, but it wasn't. He’d unearthed an urn. Surprisingly, it wasn’t broken.

"Look, maybe I've discovered Grandpa's moonshine stash," he remarked.

"Wow!" Nora shouted, "that looks neat. Open it, and we'll have a sip."

"Maybe it contains somebody's ashes," Joshua said.

"That would be creepy."

The container was a foot tall and about six inches in diameter, with no inscription or artwork on it.

"There’s something inside," Joshua continued.

"Be careful. It’s old," Nora said. "Open it."

Joshua responded, "It’s sealed shut."

“Don't break it. I’ll take it to the house, Josh.”

Nora and Mike returned to the house and Joshua inspected the dirt at the grave. He’d noticed it contained bits of wood.

"Oh my God!" Joshua shouted.

Kneeling, he moved a some dirt. He picked up the two items. They were remnants of a pair of leather shoes. The pieces of wood and shoes indicated he’d unearthed a grave. He tossed the leather into the hole and filled it in. When finished, Joshua stuck the shovel into the ground. It clanked and bounced back. He looked. He’d hit a granite marker. He tossed the shovel.

At the dining room table, Joshua opened the urn. It contained a leather black book with a small clasp. Carefully opening the book, he saw a page filled with words and numbers. Inscribed atop the page was "property of Zeb Taylor".

"It’s a ledger," Nora remarked.

"Maybe," Joshua answered.

The entries began in 1858 and ended in 1864.

"It’s exciting to think we found it." Nora responded. “I love that clay pot."

After lunch, Joshua walked to the barn, sat upon a hay bale, and carefully read each page. The book had itemized bookkeeping information but also contained small notations, not unlike a diary: "bought Mary a dress...etc."

"Dinner!" Nora yelled.

Joshua had spent hours engrossed in this black book. Had it cast a spell upon him? It continued after dinner, and into the night.

The next day Joshua visited the library to learn about the book’s owner. Joshua found Zebediah and Mary Taylor. Zebediah was a retired colonel. Mary inherited the plantation. They retired there in 1857. In 1861, Zebediah was made a colonel in the CSA. The Taylors had three children who died young. They owned slaves. Zebediah was killed in battle at Waynesborough in 1864. The plantation was burned by Sherman's army. It was confiscated in 1865.

This data helped Joshua understand the book. Most of the names listed within its pages were slaves. Many names were mentioned, but B.T. seemed to be a favorite. "B.T's wife - third child, bought a crib - took B.T. to Atlanta ….May, 11, 1864 - Dr. examined B.T.'s wound - ..May 17, - doc returned - spasms bad, toothed grin – sad. May 26, withdrew $1200 -purchased B.T.'s mother. May 28 - marker for B.T.'s grave " - the final notation on B.T.

By Wednesday, Joshua had read every page - at least once. The final page intrigued him.

"July 15 - returned home - Sherman marching - purchased - brl flour 8.50, 50 lbs sugar 6.50, ..etc. -Withdrew money - $18,473.00.

July 18, 1864 - returning to rgmt.

Sreets of London are far from here.

The air is dirty, and never clear.

My dear brother, God rest his soul,

Lies nearer, beneath a marked hole.

He went to war, like all the rest.

Returned home - lead in his chest.

His impish David, my only nephew,

Eternally yearns, without a clue.

If heaven you miss, and wind up in hell,

You'll hunt water in a dried up well.

Fifteen mourners are leaving here,

No more, no less, let's make that clear.

While reading these confusing words,

Dream of milk and honey, not whey and curds.

For I have left this world below,

Taking nothing with me where I go.

This final part baffled Josua. He needed help. He'd call his cousin, Aaron, a history teacher.

"Hello, Joshua. Glad you called," Aaron said, shaking his cousin’s hand. "You mentioned a black book."

"Come inside and tell me what you think.”

"How did you come across this?"

"It's a long story," Joshua replied.

"Thanks for sharing it with me," Aaron responded. "I've been struggling for data for my master's thesis; our family’s connection with this plantation."

After several hours revisiting each page, neither man understood the final entry.

"It's late," Aaron said. "My head needs a rest. I'll copy this poem and study it."

The following afternoon Aaron returned.

"Did you figure anything out?" Joshua asked. "I've uncovered something."

"Lay it on me," Aaron replied.

"Read lines seven and eight," Joshua stated.

Aaron repeatedly read, then shouted, "I see it! Reading the first letters of the words. 'HID MONEY.' Sherman was coming; he hid his money and returned to the war. He knew Sherman was burning everything. And 'clue' immediately follows it. There must be clues hidden in the nonsense. Was there anything on the urn?"

"Nothing.”

"Can you think of anything else that might help solve this mystery?" Aaron questioned.

"Let's go outside," Joshua replied.

Returning to the grave, Joshua explained the shoes.

"Someone was buried here. Did you uncover a marker?" Aaron asked.

"Grab a shovel."

Three inches below the surface was the toppled marker.

"A marker was mentioned in the book. Let's go back to the book.”

"Zeb didn't have brothers,” Aaron stated, “so he meant the urn was buried. ‘Chest’ - the money is in a chest. ‘Well?’ Do you know of a well?"

Joshua thought - "Grandpa warned us about playing near a well behind the barn."

"Think, cuz. Where? Without it, we could dig forever."

“I'll get the tractor and dig around. I know the vicinity.

Within ten minutes, Joshua had scooped up bricks.

"That’s it!" Aaron yelled.

"It says '15 mourners are leaving here'", Joshua read. "They’re leaving the grave heading towards the well. How far?"

"Fifteen," Aaron responded. “Maybe fifteen mourners means 15 feet."

"Measure it, and I'll dig." Joshua dug a 6x6x6 hole. Nothing.

"Maybe we're dreaming," Joshua said.

"Don't give up, Josh. We're missing something. Zeb says the distance is precise. The answer is here. Let's think about it tonight. I need to grade papers."

Back at the house, Joshua read the poem again. What are we missing?

Later, standing in the shower, his eyes closed, he envisioned mourners walking. “Yes!”

Turning off the water; his body relaxed. He laughed. "That’s it! "How stupid of me."

The morning sun crested the horizon as Joshua sat atop his backhoe. He’d located the marker, paced the distance, and marked the spot. The backhoe struck something on his first scoop.

Joshua excitedly moved the dirt, exposing the corner of a metal chest. He’d found it. He took the chest to the barn, sprayed it with lubricant, and opened it. He stared and laughed.

"The jokes on me; confederate bills - worthless confederate money."

He’d solved the mystery. His reward - thousands in useless currency.

Aaron returned that afternoon and was amazed by Joshua’s discovery.

“How did you find it?"

"It came to me in the shower, 'Fifteen mourners are leaving here' - fifteen mourners walking. Fifteen mourners equal 30 feet - the distance was thirty feet."

Aaron remarked, "Now about the 'worthless currency'. Much of it was printed in 1861. These bills are perfect. You said there was more than $20,000 in that chest and those confederate bills are worth more than face value. You have a small fortune."

"You're kidding," Nora wept.

“Are we rich, dad?" Mike asked.

"I was rich before I found this chest, he replied, smiling at his wife and son.”

"I’ve something to share with you," Aaron said. “Let's return to the gravesite."

At the grave, Aaron raised the overturned marker.

"You recall B.T.? Everyone assumed it meant buck teeth. B.T. married Elizabeth. They had 3 children. The name Elizabeth Taylor mean anything to you? Betsy Taylor?"

"Grandpa’s mother, Betsy. B.T. was our great grandfather?"

"In 1866, Betsy and B.T.'s brother were each deeded forty acres. That’s this eighty-acres homestead."

"B.T had a wound, then ‘spasms and clenched smile’. Do you know what that meant? Tetanus. B.T. died of tetanus. Nora, clean the marker and read it.”

Nora stared in amazement as she read:

Bertram Turner - 1864

RIP Bert