Quest for the Truth

Kennedy

PROLOGUE

The old man moved slowly and cautiously as he reached for another piece of firewood and tossed it into the blazing fireplace. He knew he had to be careful or take the risk of another f all. He was unsure of just what had happened. Three days ago, he was simply walking into his kitchen when he felt himself lose his balance, fall, and hit his head on the wooden floor. Dazed and somewhat confused, the old man lay there for a long period of time before he was able to finally stumble into his bed. There he remained for most of the next day, building up the courage and the will to get up. The cabin had grown quite cold while he was incapacitated with no one to stoke the fire. The old man looked at his bruised face and arm in his shaving mirror. He had been lucky—he had been very lucky. This time.

Looking into the flames of the fireplace, he let his mind wander. There is something soothing, or even magical, about watching afire as it flickers. A man's thoughts can easily drift off while the mind produces visions before his eyes. It all seems so clear and real. Visions of yesterdays long ago, memories of events that seemed as vivid today as the day they happened.

Loneliness was the worst part of his life now. The days were long, but the nights even longer. If he was ever going to accomplish that which his inner voice had instructed him to do, that which he had planned to do someday, he needed to make up his mind and do it now. He had known many yesterdays and expected few tomorrows.

Reaching up to the top of the bookshelf, the old man took down his writing equipment. It had been a long time since he had any use of it and hoped that the ink in the bottle had not dried out. Placing everything on his kitchen table, he lit the oil lamp and brought it near. Oil costs money, and he tried to use it only when absolutely necessary. Funny how the oil from a dead whale would assist him in his quest tonight. He hoped the whale would agree. Pausing briefly in order to compose his private thoughts, the old man began…

1

Introduction

Sold!

The word was still ringing in his ears as Jeffrey Logan, a native of Corbin, Kentucky, stood next to his wife, Stephanie, on that cold February day at the court-ordered real estate auction sale. They had really gone and done it this time. He and his young wife were now first-time properly owners, having purchased a 4.3 acres tract with structure from the estate of old man Fletcher. He was known locally as the blind man, and he and his wife had lived there since the late 1970s, and the last three years by himself after the loss of his wife. He managed to do many things that other folks thought were near impossible for a blind man to do, such as raising a garden and selling strawberries to the community. It seems that almost everyone went out to his old farmhouse to buy produce and strawberries from the old man. Local charities and churches offered help, food, and assistance from time to time; but most of their offers were declined. Poor but proud, he held deeply to his independence and feared that any official involvement might force him from his home and into a VA hospital, or worse.

Fletcher was a friendly old man, who, despite his war disabilities, was able to read using Braille books and listen to books on tape. His Bible was his greatest comfort, and he could quote scripture passages by heart. Fletcher was found dead outside his home last summer, having died from natural causes. The community turned out handsomely for his funeral, which would have tickled the old man to no great end.

Jeff had to chuckle to himself that the auctioneer had presented the sale as a 4.3-acre track of land with a family home, but anyone looking at the long-neglected log structures with an add-on rear bathroom would easily conclude it was more of a dilapidated shack, nothing anyone in their right mind would move a growing family directly into. Outdated and run-down, it needed to be completely torn down, to make way for the couple's new home.

That was Jeff's plan, to take it apart and, hopefully, find many hand-cut logs in good condition that he planned to use later on. Until he is able to tear into the structure, he won't know their condition for sure. At least the original builder had not set it directly onto the ground but used flat stones to raise it high enough off" the ground to prevent moisture and insect damage. At least that was his hope.

Building and remodeling was Jeff's occupation as a licensed carpenter. His uncle, for whom he was named after, was also a licensed carpenter; and Jeff spent many a summer's day on his uncle's job sites learning the trade. He also works off season as a sub-contractor for the local Lowes Home Improvement Center. If you buy a new kitchen countertop or need bathroom fixtures installed, Jeff is your local go-to guy for quality work.

Owning their own properly has been the family's dream since their marriage two years ago. His in-laws were kind enough to offer them the use of a property rent house, free of charge, while he and Stephanie saved all they could. She now works as an assistant manager at their CVS drugstore. Secretly, Jeff could hardly wait to move out of his in-laws home and start standing on his own two feet. Her parents were very nice people, and he was thrilled at their generosity but it was time. Today was the start of that plan. The start of their dream.

He had known his wife slightly in high school, as she graduated a year behind him. When Jeff enlisted in the army, Stephanie had attended a local beauty school but dropped out, finding that the smells of the different chemicals used in beauty treatments made her sick. After a few weeks, she learned of an opening at the CVS, as a sales-clerk, and applied. She enjoyed her work with the clientele, many of whom she has known all her life. While home on military leave, Jeff happened to bump into her in the Save-A-Lot foodstore and, taking a chance, asked her out. As the statement goes, the rest is history.

It seemed only natural that the young couple would remain in Corbin. The city still has that small-town feel to it, as its population remains about 8,000. It's a safe and friendly small town, if that can be said of any small towns these days. Originally known to the early nineteenth-century Kentucky settlers as Lynn Camp, the small community's first postmaster tried to change its name to Cummings, but soon discovered that name was already in use, decided instead upon Corbin, after his friend, the Reverend James Corbin Floyd. By then, the town had become an important railroad, coal, and timber community after the war—the Civil War, that is, or as some of the older locals liked to refer to it, the War of Northern Aggression.

By 1906, there were 102 coal mines within a close proximity of Corbin; but by the later part of the twentieth century, its supply of coal reserves was pretty much exhausted. Also, the government's Environmental Protection Agency conducted a perceived war on all uses of coal. Since then, Corbin, like many other small communities in the United States struggled to maintain business interests and higher paying jobs for its citizens. Too many people were forced to work two part-time jobs to make up for the loss of a full time position. Many young people simply left town to pursue a better life in a larger city. The same scenario was being played out all over the country. Such was life in modern day America.

Corbin is also known nationally for another thing—it is the home of Colonel Sanders and Kentucky Fried Chicken. During Jeff's days serving in the U.S. Army in Iraq, his fellow soldiers like to tease him by making chicken clucking noises and calling him the Kentucky Fried Colonel. Anyone living within Corbin has long ago become accustomed to being teased by the association. Let's face it, the town could be associated with a far worse character then the friendly old Kentucky Colonel.

I'm thrilled we were able to get the properly! Jeff told his wife as he pumped his fist up and down in victory. Several people at the auction who knew the young couple came up and offered them their own congratulations.

What happened to Jackson Silas? I thought you said he would be bidding against us today? asked Stephanie.

I asked around, and nobody's seen him. The hateful old man owns about everything else around here, and I was sure he would buy it out from under us. Well, I guess it doesn't matter now, we got it, and I feel great! What do you say we call up the guys and mosey over to the American Legion post and do a little celebrating, huh? he said. Stephanie thought that sounded like a great idea, and soon they loaded into Jeff's 1992 red Chevy S-10 and drove the short distance into town. This was truly a day to remember.

The guys were Jeff's longtime friends and fellow American Legion members. Walter the Worm Thompson was a loan officer at Cumberland Valley National Bank. He had earned the nickname in high school as he was perceived, by many of his fellow classmates, as a bookworm. Ted Richardson, on the other hand, was a happy-go-lucky assistant parts manager at the local Ford Dealership. Somehow, the three of them had clicked in school and resolved to keep their friendship going, each returning to Corbin after viewing the world during their military service. One cannot have too many good friends these days, and these two characters certainly fit the bill, as far as Jeff was concerned. Stephanie was determined to play matchmaker and get Walt, as she called him, married off to any one of her girlfriends. Ted, on the other hand, was simply a hopeless case, a man determined to do it all—as fast as he can, for as long as possible. Most women could see this bachelor trait in him and quickly gave him a wide berth. Ted had few second dates, which seemed just fine to him anyway.

The Fonzie Wilder American Legion Post #88 is an active part of the Corbin community, sponsoring a local little league team and participating in the Red Cross Blood Drive. Probably half of its members were made up of Gulf War—era veterans while the older ones being of Vietnam and a few remaining from the Korean War. It was a friendly Legion Post that Jeff always felt he could bring his wife into comfortably. He currently held the post position of sergeant-at-arms while the Worm served as its finance officer. Ted simply stacked empty beer cans during his visits.

As they entered the Legion, they could see the Worm and Ted had already started their early celebrations, and motioned for the young couple to sit down at their table.

It's about time you two got here, joked Ted, We figured you were out associating with your new neighbors, the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers sitting out on a veranda drinking mint juleps and watching the little people work.

Paperwork, my friend. Lots of paperwork to sign and then hand over my hard-earned down payment check. You'll find out one day when you buy your own place, Jeff replied.

That won't happen, the Worm laughed. No banker in his right mind would ever loan this fool any money!

Yeah, the same darned fool that loaned money to this turkey, he said, pointing at Jeff. Of course, I'm not referring to you, Stephanie—just that broken-down no-good carpenter you hang around with.

Stephanie just laughed along. I don't know about that, Walt (she could never bring herself to call him Worm), but I think I'll keep him around anyway just for laughs. Maybe I can change him for the better?

That's the trouble with women these days, Ted said. They always want to change a man. Take me, for instance. Why try to change perfection? With that, everyone just laughed as a round of drinks arrived, courtesy of the Worm.

Hey, Jeff, what's this I hear about you being a new property owner? The question came from Steve Bailey, the American Legion post commander, as he walked up to their table and offered his congratulations. I would be a little careful associating with those two if I were you, he joked. Trouble always seems to travel in pairs.

Remind me not to vote for that guy next time, the Worm laughed. A toast, to two of the nicest people I know. Congratulations on your new property, and don't forget to invite us to supper when the new house gets built! That was an easy promise to pledge. Did anyone catch the Wild Cats game on TV last night?

After a few days of waiting, the sun came out and brought a welcome relief from the cold. Before supper, Jeff and Stephanie drove out to the new home site, no longer strangers looking around but property owners. Jeff had told her that he wanted to pull some of the dilapidated siding off in places to examine the condition of the logs within the structure. As he had hoped, the main house and old kitchen were made of twelve-to-fourteen-inch hand-hewn red oak logs, with nicely dovetailed notches. As to their condition, well he will just have to wait until he and the guys start tearing it down. The chinking clay was brittle and missing in many places, which allowed moisture to penetrate into the walls. He hoped he would find limited damage as he planned to use them in constructing the front face of his new workshop after the main house and garage were finished. In his line of business, a fully operational large workshop was a must.

Jeff stood back in order to eyeball the structure from all angles. The old asphalt shingle roof was sagging and had exposed holes and water damage. He still hoped that some parts could be salvaged from this area. Known as a typical dogtrot house, the home consisted of two log cabins connected by a breezeway or dogtrot, all under one common roof. Early settlers normally used one cabin for cooking and dining, while the other was used as a living and sleeping space. The center breezeway provided a cooler area for sitting away from the active fireplaces, which were located on each end of the house. This home's center breezeway had long ago been enclosed to make a larger living space. The front and rear porches had pretty much rotted away, and river rock steps had been placed there for the entry. The two large stone fireplaces had been blocked off, and an old fuel oil heater installed for the only source of heat.

Let's go inside before it gets dark, Stephanie said. I want to see that antique cooking stove and refrigerator you mentioned and maybe find some antique furniture. Who knows what's inside just waiting to be found!

With flashlight in hand, Jeff helped Stephanie up into the structure. Watch your step, he said. These floors may not be all that solid. The interior had a stagnant moisture odor from a combination of being closed off and the leaky kitchen roof. Some sunlight still radiated through a broken windowpane to expose enough cobwebs to give her the creeps. Jeff, being the gentleman he was, tried to brush away the webs so his wife wouldn't make contact with any spiders.

It's nasty in here, she replied. I wonder how old man Fletcher stood it? People just get used to it, I guess, he told her. Are you sure you want to save this place? It's like something out of a horror movie, she replied in jest. Trust me, this will all work out just fine. Here are the appliances I wanted you to see, replied Jeff.

The 1930s/1940s appliances seemed right at home in this run-down tiny kitchen, but Jeff knew that collectors often sought out these types of old appliances as they were in demand by younger homeowners searching for that special look in vintage homes.

The cooking stove was an old Magic Chef enamel unit while the refrigerator was an antique Kelvinator appliance. Since the utilities were disconnected, with good reason as the place was a firetrap, there was no way of knowing if either unit was operational. That's the chance any buyer would have to take for themselves.

I hope we can get a hundred for them, Jeff said. People go crazy over old appliances. Think of all the TV home remodeling shows we have watched that featured old stoves and refrigerators in vintage kitchen settings.

I cannot imagine using these, Stephanie laughed, let alone buying them. I would be afraid to plug them in and probably would have taken them straight to the recycling facility. But any money we get will sure come in handy.

Anything else you want to look at?

Stephanie replied, No, take me home. I feel I need a bath. This old place gives me the creeps.

With that the couple headed for home. Within a few weeks of time, spring will arrive, and the ground will be dry enough to start. Jeff had already gotten the guys to agree to help him take it down so now the next step was to come to