My Children Are More Precious Than Gold by Fay Risner

to light his corn cob
pipe. “Now that the weather is warm, we'll feel more like visiten
some, I expect.”
    “ Right glad to hear that.”
Jacob's face turned serious. “Doak, yer family has lived on this
ridge a right long spell, ain't they?”
    “ Longer than I know about,
but so has yers.” Doak puffed on his pipe as he slapped at a fly,
trying to light on his bald head.
    Jacob nodded in agreement as he gazed
passed the family cemetery on up the hill to where his cattle
grazed. The herd sauntered across the pasture, their heads down
nipping grass and white clover blossoms that from the porch looked
like popcorn strewn about in the grass.
    Suddenly a fluffy cloud covered the
sun, sending an extensive shadow creeping up the hill and over the
cattle. The dark shadow slipped through the grass, scaring the
cows. They scattered, twisting their backends high in the air and
waving their tails like flags. Jacob wondered if other Bishops
before him had been lucky enough to take the time to sit in that
spot on Sunday afternoons and enjoyed the same peaceful
scene.
    Bang! Bang! Bang!
    “ What ya got goen on out
in the barn, Jake?”
    “ Nothen, that I know of.
We've gave up looken fer the cause of that hammeren noise. It
happens mighty often lately, but we cain't figure out what's doen
it.”
    “ Sounds like hammeren all
right, don't it? Are ya sure one of yer boys ain't up to somethen
in there?” Doak suggested.
    Sid spoke up from among the boys
sitting on the other end of the porch. “Doak, we're all right here
with ya.”
    “ Sure enough. Looks like
all of ya are here. Sometimes I kinda of loose count of how many
Bishop younguns there is,” said Doak, chuckling. “When did this
hammeren noise start, Jake?”
    “ A couple weeks
ago.”
    “ I see,” Doak said
thoughtfully. He removed his pipe as if to say more, paused and
placed the pipe back between his taunt lips. The old man puffed in
quick successions while the others watched the small smoke clouds
float away from him.
    “ What's on yer mind, Doak?
Yer thinken somethin,” Jacob surmised.
    “ Oh, nothen
much.”
    “ Now, Doak, ya got an idea
so let me know what it is.” Jacob demanded.
    “ Well -- well, maybe it's
jest ya cain't see whose doen the hammeren. That's all.”
    Jacob looked at Doak sideways. “And
why not?”
    “ Ever hear tell of Haunt
Dawson?” Doak asked reluctantly.
    “ Nope, cain't say I have.
Who's he?”
    “ Brother Dawson fell offen
a barn he was hepen build. He died. That was years and years back
so I forget when exactly,” Doak said.
    Though he was curious to know more of
the story, Jacob had an uneasy feeling about what Doak's answer
would be. He turned to peer intently at the older man. “Whose barn
did he fall off of, Doak?”
    “ Yer's, Jake,” said Doak
softly. He puffed on his pipe and studied the barn, thinking of the
tale from the past.
    “ I was afeared that's what
ya was goen to say. Yer pullen my leg,” scoffed Jacob.
    “ Nope, Jake. Afeared not.
Yer pappy used to hear hammeren in that barn quite regular after
Haunt Dawson died. Seems it always stopped after a
while.”
    “ Funny that my Pap didn't
tell me about that. I am glad to know the hammeren will stop
sometime no matter whatever or whoever it is,” Jacob answered
dryly.
    “ What did this Haunt
Dawson look like, Doak?” Asked Lue.
    The boys listened intently from their
end of the porch. They had leaned forward, straining to hear what
sounded like an interesting conversation.
    “ Don't know fer sure. It
was afore my time that this all happened. I did hear tell he died a
slow, painful death. Those who seen him afterwards when his spirit
came back to the barn said that first they seed a small glow, then
the light got bigger. Then there was a shadow of a man holdin' a
hammer appeared in the glow. He dragged one leg when he walked like
it got broke in the fall.” Doak squinted his twinkling eyes as if
to keep the pipe smoke from getting in them.
    “