Billy's Book

Allison knew when she touched the surface of the black notebook that she had found something special. Its cover was worn leather with areas rubbed down from repeated use. She carefully pulled it out of the wall she was tearing down and blew decades of dust off its cover to read the name inscribed at the bottom: William “Billy” Ritter Jr. Sitting on the floor, she unwound the leather strap holding the book closed. Carefully, turning the cover she was surprised to see how well the inside had been maintained. The first page again listed the owner and included his birthdate of January 12, 1889. “Wow!” Allison said to herself. “This notebook is over a hundred years old!”

The next page included the date at the top, January 12, 1902. “Today I am 13 years old.” I am officially a man!” Below was the story of Billy’s birthday party and how his girl, Evelyn, had given him this notebook as a present. The story was well-written and included a drawing at the bottom of Billy and Evelyn smiling at each other. Billy wanted to be a writer and move Evelyn to a big city where he would raise a family with her. Allison was touched by the sentiments of the 13-year-old Billy and hoped as she read further, that those dreams come true.

“Right now, I need to finish tearing down this wall though.” Allison talked to herself quite frequently lately. It helped her not feel so alone in the old turn of the century farmhouse she was renovating. It was the only thing given to her by her recently deceased mother. The breast cancer treatments had taken everything else leaving barely enough money to give her mother a decent funeral. At first, Allison did not really want the broken-down house and thought of selling the land instead. However, her sentimental heart would not allow it. The house and land had been in her family for over a century and meant so much to her mother. Allison, an only child, felt obligated to keep it.

Not having any money to pay professionals, Allison was doing most the demolitions and repairs herself minus any plumbing or electrical repairs she deemed too advanced for her skills and of course, the “Damn Well.” Allison glanced out the window to see the Foreman and his workers surveying the long dried up well on the property. Apparently, the well was hazardous and needed to be sealed for the house and property to be deemed livable. There were concerns of soil contaminants and sink holes as depressions in the ground had formed over the years surrounding the well. All of Allison’s savings was now being used to take care of the Damn Well. Her contempt for the well grew as she watched the men work. Allison had painted a sign to mark the spot of the well “Here lies Damn Well, may it rest in Hell.”

Later that afternoon, the workers left intent on returning in two days with truckloads of bentonite clay chips and soil to fill in the well and seal it off permanently. Allison feeling drained mentally and physically made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table to read more of Billy’s book. Allison found herself lost in the stories Billy told, each written with such grace and emotion. Every story included the date it was written at the top and a drawing at the end. At first the stories were mostly of his mishaps with Evelyn. Like the time he picked wildflowers all the way to school to present her with a huge bouquet only to find out she was highly allergic. Evelyn missed several days of school and had to take medicine for hives but never complained. Or the time he ran up behind her in the town’s General Store and hugged her as he said “Evelyn, you are the most beautiful girl in town!” Only to find out when the girl turned around it was a stranger. Before she realized it, hours had passed. “Billy-boy, it is way past my bedtime – we will convene tomorrow!”

The next morning, coffee in hand, she picked up the notebook and began reading once again. Halfway through the pages, Billy was now 15 years old and had endured so much. His mother became ill, with “stomach cancer” and Allison knew all too well the pain and despair he described. Forced to quit school, Billy picked up odd jobs to care for his mother and younger brother. His father, an alcoholic, was rarely around anymore becoming lost in the bottle as Billy put it. The farm was suffering, with many crops and livestock perished. His mother really needed treatment, but they could not afford it. Evelyn was barely mentioned anymore nor was his dream of becoming a writer, as his attentions were focused on keeping his family alive. Allison wept as she thought of his struggles and hoped as the she read further, that things turned around for him. The stories, however, became shorter and farther apart with gaps of months at a time and drawings were no longer included either.

Things took a dark turn on June 15, 1906. Billy was 17 and it had been almost a year since he last wrote a story. Billy was frustrated and his mother near death. His father had been gone for over 6 months leaving Billy responsible for everything. Billy wrote of a plan he and his friend, Chester, had to get some money quick. They left early that morning and rode to a town about 60 miles away that had a large bank in its epicenter. Billy donned a cloth over his face and with a loaded gun, he and Chester stormed into the bank, yelling for everyone to get on the floor. There were about 5 patrons and 2 workers including a sheriff there that day and somehow, they maintained control of the bank and left with 2 large flour sacks of money.

“Billy – No!” Allison felt distraught and shocked as she read of Billy’s crime. How did this sweet, innocent boy suddenly become a bank robber at 17! Billy and Chester made it out of the bank that day with the money but as luck would have it, a local sheriff was outside with gun drawn, “Stop right there!” Billy panicked and fired his gun, hitting the sheriff in the shoulder who returned fired hitting Chester in the head. Billy escaped, running for hours through fields, down dirt roads, stopping only for short rest periods or to take a drink from a stream. He finally reached his house exhausted, dirty, and locked all the doors and shut the blinds to conceal himself. He held up inside the house for days, feeding himself, his brother and mother what little food was available. He was too nervous to go outside or go in town for food, afraid someone would know what he had done. It dawned on Allison; her house was the house he wrote about.

Billy counted the money, and it was a big haul close to $20,000.00, and placed it carefully back in the flour sack. “Whoa, Billy – that is a lot of money!” Allison thought of all the things that money would pay for including the well cost. The last entry in Billy’s Book was dated June 20, 1908, five days later. Billy, fearful of being caught, stashed the flour sack under the floor of the kitchen. Allison flipped several more pages but that was the story ended there. What happened to Billy? Did he get caught or did he run off? What about his brother and mother? So many unanswered questions filled her head. Then she wondered what happened to the money. Was it still here under the kitchen floors? Surely it had long been discovered or maybe Billy retrieved it?

Her curiosity got the best of her and she nervously went into the kitchen looking at the old flooring. It was a worn-out laminate, not the wood flooring that Billy described. She went to a corner of the room and with a putty knife, gently pulled up the edge of the flooring to expose old wood plank flooring underneath. Her eyes widened as she realized it was probably the original flooring! Like most of the house, nothing had truly been renovated or replaced in the past century. Then she got to work, cutting, pulling, and peeling old flooring back until she felt she had exposed enough of it. Then using tools and shear physical might, she pulled up sections of the wood planks as well.

With the flashlight on her cell phone, she lit up the space below and was shocked when the light bounced off what looked like a dirty, large sack shoved in between foundation beams below. She carefully reached down and pulled up the dirty sack and set it on floor. With her heart racing and her stomach felt queasy, she opened the sack to reveal neatly stacked bundles of money. Hands trembling, she reached in to pull out a bundle of the money. The money looked completely different from money used today and had a different feel to it, even the weight of the paper was different. “This is a gift from above! A miracle!” If Billy’s story was correct, she now possessed close to $20,000! Tears fell down her check and a smile stretched across her face.

Her elation was short-lived, however. She began to feel anxious again, worried about Billy that she came to know and love through the stories. They could even be relatives seeing as how this house had been in her family for so long. And what about the money? How would she exchange it for money used today and put it in her bank account? Maybe since it is old, it may be worth even more? But how would she answer questions of where it came from? If stolen, she would not be allowed to keep it, would she?

Allison hid the bag of money in her closet and went to bed. The well would be finished tomorrow with men and trucks arriving early. She did not want to raise suspicion or seem out of sorts. Allison did not sleep however, asking the same questions in her head over and over. Guilt crept into all corners of her mind when she remembered a sheriff was shot, Chester died and maybe Billy as well from this cursed blood-money hidden in this house.

The next morning, Allison heard the dump trunks approaching the gate at the end of the driveway. In a spur of the moment decision, Allison grabbed the sack of money from her closet and threw on some old boots. She ran quickly out the kitchen door to the abandoned well. After a small moment of hesitation, she threw the sack of money into the well waiting until she heard a distant thump as it hit the ground below. She quickly ran back into the house through the kitchen door and heard loud knocks and the doorbell coming from the front of the house. Brushing her hair back and trying to calm herself as she approached the front door, she opened the door to Foreman from two days ago. “Good Morning, Mam. Was just letting you know we finished all the preliminary work the other day and will fill the well and seal it off for you.” Allison hoped her voice did not sound too strained nor the nervousness show too much on her face. “Great! Thank you!”

Allison then went back to the kitchen and sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, watched as the well was filled with truck load after truck load of dirt and clay chips. Her heart began to feel lighter and the nervousness melted away. “Billy boy, your secret is safe with me. If you could not use this money, then neither will I.”