Dear Benjamin

Dear Benjamin

Story and Book Cover by Mike Poppe

Copyright Mike Poppe May 2014

Revised April 25,2021

Smashwords Edition

Dear Benjamin is a work of fiction.

No similarity is intended towards anyone living or dead.

Chapter 01. Prologue

I was but thirteen years old when I was summoned to my Great Aunt Rachel's death bed. I'd never been around anyone who was getting ready to die, and I have to admit, I was plenty scared. My mother passed away when I was eight, but that was different. Mom was thrown out of the saddle, when a bull Elk burst out of the trees in front of the horse she was riding. They said mother landed on her head, and broke her neck. Clyde, our ranch foreman, came to school then took me home, but by the time I got there, she had already passed.

After I reluctantly opened the door to Aunt Rachel's room and stepped inside, I saw Preacher Browning and two women from his church, April Skaggs, and Thelma Bradley, standing beside her bed. As I slowly approached, Aunt Rachel looked up at the preacher.

I want to speak to Benjamin alone.

Rachel, are you sure about this? He asked.

She replied with conviction, Yes, I am. Now please, honor my request, and step outside.

After they left the room and closed the door, Aunt Rachel reached out and took my hand.

I know this is hard for you Benjamin, but please don't be scared. We all have our time to go. It's a part of life. You'll come to understand that as you grow older. Long before your mother passed away, I agreed to leave Cincinnati and come live with her at a time when she was suffering from pneumonia. I enjoyed having family around so much, that I stayed, promising your mother than if anything happened to her, I would make sure you were taken care of. My children were grown and gone, and I was alone, so I was glad to help. I know I could never take your mother's place, but I've done my best. We have had some good times together, haven't we?

Yes Ma'am, I answered. We sure have.

Aunt Rachel was very weak, but she managed a smile.

I'm glad you agree. I can go to my grave feeling good about that. Now, there is one other thing your mother left for me to do. I'd hoped it wouldn't be necessary for a few more years, but, that's not possible.

Pointing to her night stand, she said, Benjamin, I want you to open that drawer. Inside, you will find a key. Put it in your pocket, and make sure you don't lose it.

I walked around to the other side of the bed to the night stand, then carefully eased the drawer open. There was only one key in the drawer. As Aunt Rachel had instructed, I picked up the key, then slipped it into my front pocket.

She reached out and softly patted my hand. Benjamin, after I'm gone, I want you to use that key to unlock the cedar chest in the attic. Inside that chest, you will find a box with your name on it. That box contains information your mother left for you. Clyde is the only other person who knows anything about the box. Your mother trusted Clyde completely, as have I. She wanted someone to be there to help you, in case I died before you grew up. It was your mother's wish that Clyde take over as your guardian if I died. I have provided for that in my will. You do like Clyde, don't you Benjamin?

Yes Ma'am. I never knew my father. Clyde's been the closest thing to a father I've ever had.

She nodded in agreement. He was foreman on this ranch long before you were born. Clyde has always been loyal to your mother, and to me. He will make sure you are well taken care of. You can count on that. Then, she looked me straight in the eye. Benjamin, now do you remember my instructions about the cedar chest?

Yes Ma'am, I answered. I remember.

She nodded her head slowly Good boy. Now Benjamin, I want you to pull a chair up to my bed, and hold my hand.

My hands were trembling, but I did as she wished. The room was dark and quiet. I sat there for some time with her wrinkled hand in mine. Neither of us said anything. At some point, I noticed that Aunt Rachel hadn't moved in a while. When I looked closer, she seemed to be resting with her eyes staring at my mother's picture on her night stand. It was then that I noticed her hand wasn't quite as warm as before. I carefully set her hand on the bed, then ran for the preacher, but I knew in my heart that Aunt Rachel was dead. When the preacher confirmed my fears, I hurried to the smoke house to be by myself.

* * *

After we returned from burying Aunt Rachel, I sat on the steps leading up to the attic for a long time, wondering what I would find in that chest.

What was in the chest?

Why was it kept secret this long?

Was it something bad?

Finally, I could put it off no longer. As I started my climb up the stairs, fearful of what I might find, I took each step as slowly as possible. With my mind filled with questions, I slowly eased open the door to the attic, then stepped inside.

As I went to open the cedar chest, my fingers were shaking so much that twice, I dropped the key. When I finally managed to unlock the chest, and raise the top, I found the box with my name on it, just as Aunt Rachel had said it would be. The attic was dark, and in this situation, I was more than a little afraid. Quickly, I took the box, then rushed down the steps to my room. Just as I went to cut the string around the box, Clyde knocked softly on the door, then eased it open.

Good. I see you have it. Ben, if you have any questions, I'll do my best to supply answers. Just let me know.

Clyde Lane had been working at the ranch long before my first memories. Over time, I had grown to trust and admire him. Clyde never talked to me like I was a child. Somehow or another, he always seemed to know the right time to let me deal with things by myself, and when I might be in need of a friendly ear. He also knew how to offer advice, or constructive criticism without making me feel like I was weak.

Unable to speak, I nodded to show I understood, then watched as he slowly closed the door. I took two deep breaths, set my jaw, cut the string around the box, then lifted the top. Inside the box, I found a large stack of letters, bound together by two strings. The letters were all from my mother, and judging from a quick look at the top few, she had left them in date order for me to read. Then, with sweat forming above my lip, and a chill running down my spine, I picked up the first letter, then began to read.

Chapter 02. March 26, 1870

Dear Benjamin,

My precious son, I shall not waste time indulging in whining about what could have been. Nor do I see any sense in going on and on about how much I wish I could be there with you. No doubt you wish that too, so it comes down to just this. If you are reading this letter, then it means I have passed on. As you begin to read, I'm sure you will wonder why I chose to write these letters. You might be asking yourself, if I knew I was about to die.

The answer to that question, is no. However, in my life, I have encountered many forms of danger. Thus far, I have survived, but I have learned all too well that life is uncertain. You see, as I tried to look ahead, I realized if something did happen to me, you would be left with a great many unanswered questions about our family history. It is my belief that these are things you deserve to know. More than that, there are things I want you to know about.

Therefore, I have decided, time permitting, I shall write every day, until I've told a story I've wanted to share with you ever since your birth. It's my hope that by reading these letters, you may finally come to know and understand, the story behind the unmarked tombstone near the west fence.

Even as a small child, you often asked me about that grave. Somehow, I always managed to put you off, but it was not because I wanted to be dishonest with you. I've always wanted you to know the story, but it was important that you be old enough to understand what happened, and why. Hopefully, as I write, I will be able to find the words that will help make that possible.

Six months ago, quite by accident, my Aunt Rachel, and I, came in contact for the first time through a mutual friend. After we exchanged several letters, Aunt Rachel, who had been living alone, and had no family closer than two hundred miles, accepted my invitation to come live here. Within weeks, I realized she was someone with whom I could safely share my story, should these letters be destroyed, or I die before they are finished. Anyway, my dear Benjamin, it's growing late tonight. I shall try and write again tomorrow. Goodnight, Benjamin.

Love always,

Mom.

Chapter 03. March 27, 1870

Dear Benjamin,

We have had a late spring snow storm with freezing temperatures. The snow is being blown into huge drifts with winds so strong that it's almost impossible to stand up outside. In spite of the howling winds, every time I've checked on you this evening, you have been sleeping quite peacefully.

I hope I shall be able to do as well when I retire for the night. It does seem a bit strange to be writing something for you to read in the future. But then, as you will discover, some of what you will read, will be far from what most people would call normal. However, in a few days, we will have better weather, so I shall get back to trying to tell the story. I suppose I must start with my childhood in eastern Kentucky. I never told you about those days, did I ? Trust me, I wanted to many times, but much of it was difficult for even me to understand. I didn't feel it was right to burden you with it at such an early age.

I was the youngest of three children born to Chester and Abigail Trent. Their first child was the only brother I was ever to have. Well, actually I suppose I never really had him at all. He was gone long before I was ever born. My father said he died just a few days after his birth. According to my mother, my father buried him without ever giving him a name. My sister Sally was the next born, and I arrived three years later.

My mother was a small, soft spoken woman. She had very pretty red hair, which I seem to have inherited. When I was smaller, mother was a beautiful