Hi Y'all, Amigos: Fresh Hot Coffee? ...
So I went back over to see Uncle, and he told me how to get to the right creek, and we went over the story and details again... The directions he gave me were closer to Great Uncle's where I had spent the night, and sometime later I made the trip back, and right when I drove back to the place, I recognized it pulling up. It had been over 22 yrs. or so, since that one time I had been there. I walked around detecting, and found that there had been a lot of trash dumped in the area, apparently for some several years, and I kept looking... I carefully thought of the details that had been passed on to me... Then there were the many stories of big cat attacks, all of those wild tales of men being attacked by huge aggressive Panthers, or Cougars, hiding under peoples porch, crying like a baby or a woman, then killing the man when he came out to check on it... Then there was the story of something following Grandpa, as he walked home alone one evening from a long day of lumber work... It was late and getting pretty dim, as he walked the old country mountain road toward his home and family... Something was stalking him and would stop walking if he stopped, then start walking when he did. Several times this happened, with the animal hiding behind trees and bushes just far enough away in that low light, to not be seen... He threw a few big hand size rocks, and whatever it was stopped following him... I looked around quite a lot, but the brushy wooded knolls above the creek banks gave up nothing but bugs, who defied the Deep Woods I had sprayed on waist high... Just didn't know where Grandpa had stepped off of the road that night, it was real dark, and only one lantern with a quick walk down the road and then left... That trip was followed by a couple others, still with no results. Oh well, guess it was a good story I was told... The old story about an Indian woman, that went riding on her horse to the creek fishing one day... There were gold coins spilling out of an old strongbox, rotten and broken, washed out by high water, sticking out of the eroded creek bank... So she gathered them up in her riding skirt, seven times, and carried them up the bank about a hundred yards from the creek, dropping them in a hog wallow and covering the wallow with branches she gathered up... She supposedly told Grandpa to go get that money, that he would never want for money again. But that one time I went, was supposedly the only time he went to check on it... The Indian woman said to him that her husband would kill her, if he knew she had anything to do with anything like that... This was because her old man was the US government Indian Agent of his tribe and nation, and prided himself in his honesty and integrity. They had plenty of good reasons to keep such things safely quiet... The folks had always believed the Indian friend had never told anyone else what she had found, and concealed those many years before the white folks bought up much of the land around that part of the country... Those were some of the last of the old days, about a century after some of those noble people were ordered to move from their ancestral homes, to the new reservation lands, or nations... They had known a lot of changes, & had their concerns in those now olden days...
