A Story Untold

Billy Boy would stand by the door for hour upon hour, that was his sentinel place, chosen by him.

 

His gaze across the sill fell on green scrub grass to where it met the woods, just across the fill and over the rickety logs that now served as crossing over the OLDER stream, flowing some­times placid, some­times not.

 

Billy Boy never let his guard wan­der, at times from dawn until dusk his eyes never fal­tered.  He was only 9 and measured to the line scratch on the wall, left there by someone older but not much taller.  Slight of build, quiet of speech, quick with a gentle smile, and a glancing look that often sent a sadden tale.

 

He had seen it all for such a young lad. The time up on the hill, where cousin Roland of Longer Road was sawed in two as the big old buzz saw bro­ke apart, him dy­ing in his Gra­nny Mae's arms.  Billy Boy looked away, the sight filling him with sick­ening horror. He shed quiet tears for his cousin, that day, now gone to the old family yard up side the hill, just beyond the yon­der Millrun.

 

That happened going on three chitam bark gather­ing seasons passed, but seemed like only yes­teryear. Then there was the time the blizzard came, the homestead cabin of rough hewn planks bled white with snow sifting through the cracks to fall frozen on the barren sod floor. They all might have died that season, but the neighbors kindly took 'em in.

 

As the evening sounds from the forest of Star Mt. began their ire calls, the cry of the coyote, the howl of the wolf, and the signal of the lone grey doe mule deer calling the spot­ted fawn from hiding, a chill began to appear. Billy Boy pulled his thread worn sweater closer to his shivering shoulders, sigh­ing a soft and silent sound,  know­ing this was not to be the time.

 

They all told him so, told him not to go. Not to re­turn to that place, where some­time ago his life was thrown down upon the ground. But he waited. He just knew the time would come, surely God would not let him down.

 

Billy Boy's anguish was so pro­found, his sadness deeply dwell­ing. He longed for the days when sun­shine filled this place, where the flowers of na­ture's paths bloomed their brilliant colors, song birds sang their lulla­bies rock­ing him to sleep at twi­light's fall, when laugh­ter filled the space, and the smell of fresh baked bread, its aroma spinning through the air calling all to table where supper was to be taken.

 

All now gone, the terrible deed spilled o'er the valley and across the ravines, hills and gul­lies, passed the Lewis flow­ing so swiftly, to the tip of Adams and across to St. Helens, down the jit­ney trail, from choker setter to powder monkey...the story had been told.  In Amboy, Battle­ground and Yacolt...his plight not left untold.

 

His ma now gone, buried where cousin lay.  She died they said of a broken heart.  But he knew, she would come back, her spirit was all he need­ed she would tell him what to do.  Billy Boy would not forgive his pa's despi­ca­ble deed, his sis­ter, now pro­tected from the villain­ous fiend. The rest, his sisters and brothers, scat­tered cross, the county land.

 

With Shep at his side, he looked to the skies, with arms out stretched, his plaintive cry made, he willed her to appear, to guide him, give him cour­age to see his way clear.  No answer was heard that day, nor was one to ever be found.

 

Billy Boy now lived in town, many showed they cared, giving him bed, food, and a home, these friendships destined to last a life time through.

 

Billy Boy traveled on from that faithful day, walking the paths given, not look­ing back, he picked up, he met life's strug­gles, never to com­plain, he al­ways said the good, leaving the bad for others to utter. "Things happen for the best", was his saying, and he believed it so.

 

Years later he would go in death not long after with one who walked with him then, so long ago....so much time passed by....their friend­ship sealed on many a day years ago, back in the nooks and crannies of their Clark County home where once in childhood play.... they freely roamed.

 

Oh, Billy Boy is gone now.... has been for some time, and I miss him ....for you see...he, is my pa.

 

T. Condon April 9, 1998