Story of the Talking Bones
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Hunting season had invaded the
Last week he counted ten points
on a buck. Maybe more. That was the area he was going
to hunt this weekend. As he got out of bed, he looked out the window and liked
what he saw. Foggy, and light wind that should blow off the fog, around
"Looks like a good day for
deer hunting. I wonder if Peggy will let me hang a big deer head in the house
this year?" He chuckled, because every year they
went through this, almost like it was a habit. He had always teased her about
hanging up a deer head. Every year, she gave the same answer.
"You are not hanging a
stuffy, old deer head in this house."
If I get that big one this
weekend it is going somewhere, he told himself.
If he got a big one she might let
him do it. If, the littlest, yet one of the biggest words in the dictionary.
The buck had been in the rougher
part of the Hills, so he loaded his gear into his four-wheel drive. That way he
could go about anywhere he wanted to with that winch in the front. Last week he
had gone with a friend in his two wheel pick-up and after they saw the deer
they weren't able to go where they wanted to. With the four-wheel, he could
even go on the old trails that hadn't been used for a hundred years. At least it looked like it. They were covered with under-growth, old pine
needles and the trails were barely visible now. He told Peggy he was leaving
and as always, where he would be hunting.
He drove out on the four lane highway that would take him to the
As he drove out, he made his
hunting plan for the day.
"If I don't see him this
morning, I will come back as the day ends, and sit on the trail he uses. With all those scrapes, he will be
back."
He parked his pick-up in a place
he was not too familiar with. However,
by coming in this way, the wind would be in his face and the deer would not catch
his scent. As he moved deeper into the
forest, he was glad he had brought his compass.
Not being used to this area, he would know the way back to the truck,
using the compass, if need be.
"Gee, after hunting these
Hills for thirty years, here I am, in a new area to me. I thought I had been every where in the
Hills." Every time he took a step
forward, it gave him an eerie feeling, an odd sensation that he could not
explain. For one thing, there was no
litter.
"Weird." No pop-cans, beer-cans, not even the usual plastic bags blowing around. None of those cardboard pop or beer
containers either. There was no sign of
these so called civilized, crazy people.
Not even any footprints or tracks of any kind. Except animals. A lot of them. A big rock appeared out of the fog in front
of him. He decided to use this for his
prominent landmark in relation to the compass.
It was at least fifteen feet high and twenty feet across. Be easy to see that, even in a fog. As he went around it, he saw something
unusual. The rock had a wide lightning
like streak in it. Rose
quartz, pinkish-white, all most all the way through it. He walked around the rock as the fog started
to lift, and went further into the forest.
He came upon a clearing and saw some rock formations that were actually
foundations.
Old foundations
that were used a hundred years ago as building foundations.
There were no buildings
though. As he got closer, the fog lifted
completely, and he could see logs laying over them, scattered and strewn, as
they fell in.
"Must be an old
homesteader's place, and they were used for building foundations." He put his foot on the foundation and looked
down on them.
They had been violently burned,
seared by a fire, and below there were ashes inside the foundation. They were almost as hard as cement. The roof must have collapsed and fallen
inside too. They also had been seared by
a fire.
Maybe a forest fire had come
through and destroyed the buildings. However there was no trail like a forest
fire leaves, as old burnt stumps and a path.
He moved through the old
foundations, and saw five up-right rock formations sticking up. As he got closer he saw they were grave
stones and they had engravings on them.
Someone had taken a long time to do all this carving, and had done a
fine job. The carvings were neat, well
spaced, and had to have been done by a hammer and a chisel. They couldn't have
been done better.
He knelt done to read them.
Father; Jacob Stone, Mother; Mary
Moss Stone, Brother; Daniel, Sister; Susan, Sister; Faith. They all had birth-dates
and day of their deaths.
Died; May 16, 1866.
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Book Details
About the Book
This is a story about a modern
day hunter that is hunting in a strange area, even though he hunted the
It goes back to 1866 through what happens, causing these deaths. It goes to 1877 and tells how the Davey is adopted. It follows the lives through the Deadwood gold discovery days. He and Russ have a ranch partnership and the story shows problems and events involved in ranching, and Indian problems. Many things happen, building friendships, also facing perils in those days. It explains the deaths of the family and finally uncovers the murderous deed and those responsible. It’s based on historical facts, no one is written about without their permission. If it does cover anything or anyone, it is unintentional.
I have written this book based on Christian background, without any swearing or sex, so it is readable for all ages.
About the Author
Jim was born in 1930 and lived
through the depression with his folks and 2 brothers. Completing High School he went 2 years to a
trade school. He was the Sports Editor
for his school paper, editor on board ship going across to
He is a Korean combat veteran, 4 battle stars. After the war he spent nine years in the National Guard, which he says, gave men better training than the Army. He is married and has 2 children. Active in his church, he taught Sunday school 27 years, 8 years. First time publishing a book.