1869

Charles Hightower died in the fall of 1869, eighty-years old, leaving Joshua Jefferson $3000-dollars, and four acres of land, starting from where his shanty was; Dylan Hightower, his son now 24-years old, the same age Charles was when he met Joshua, was in charge, his daughter Emma 19-years old, his wife, Aurea, being forty-eight years old, they would continue to live in the Plantation House, but the days of heavy planting, and big crops were over.

Emily Hightower, Charles' mother, born 1755, died 1790, died young, at the age of 35-years old, it was her dream to see the plantation strong and in its glory, Charles brought it to that stage, and he always felt proud, for his mother's sake to have done it. His wife Aurea, was different, her pride was in her children more so than her husband and plantation, like Emily's was; priorities for each person are often times different. Emily always said, God was first, then her and her husband, and then the kids, and then the plantation; she had it down to a system, Aurea, although a good wife, and excellent mother, never really had a system.

Emily died one night in bed, no one around to watch her, the doctor was downstairs having coffee with a few shots of moonshine them, and not really paying that much attention to his patients symptoms, evidently Emily couldn't breath for ten to fifteen minutes, because that was the time period the doctor had life his patient alone, who was in a crises mood. When she died, died because of the doctors, carelessness, her Husband, Charles Jason Hightower, shot him I cold blood, shot him dead right at the table where he sat and drank his coffee mixed with whisky, shot him three times in a wild stupor.

The judge said, "We would have hung him anyways, for incompetence, you saved the court time and money Charles, go and have a good day, case dismissed, under the old law of, your weapon misfired, while in a fit of anger, fired accidentally, cuz I'm sure that your intentions were not to kill him, even though he deserved hilling."

And the judge after Hightower left the court room, told the scribe not to write down the first part of the minutes of what he said, and to let him read it afterwards, in case he needed to fix a few sentences.

Josh still helped around the place, he had come to the conclusion he was going to die there, right on that plantation, it would have been too much a strain for him to have to try and start over in life. He was familiar with everybody and everything in that area, it was his home, and no longer angry at the ship that brought him to America, Mr. Hightower had made-up for that, I guess. He had a new light on the matter in 1869. Silas would remain on the plantation, and do most of the work, and watch over his father, while Jordon spent most of his time at the Grocery Story in Ozark, as a clerk, sleeping on a cot in the back of the room, and flirting with the negress' as they came by to say their hellos.

Asked Aurea, "Josh, do you want to attend the funeral?"

"It wont be necessary," he said sadly, and walked away, not to be impolite, but he was starting his grieving process I believe, Aurea heard him mumble as he walked away, "I can sees it from my shanty."

The old Hightower cemetery was on a slope in the fields, with a fence around it. Someday, whoever bought the plantation would perhaps have to move it back farther, unless they wanted to leave that little patch of land, with several trees around it where it lay, and it was like an oasis, in the middle of the field, and nobody wanted to cut all those tall trees down, and try to even out the mound.

Joshua and Charles saw each other almost everyday for 56-years, more than his wife, children, and business partners, more than anyone alive; it would be hard on Joshua, but once buried, once Charles was six feet under, he, Joshua would do what Charles told him to do: not look back.

"Flowers, I'll pick some flowers," said Josh to himself, out loud, he now was 66-years old; still spry and youthful, his bones strong, his face showed time had passed, but not bad.

That night after supper, he walked into the fields, up that mound, and looked at the gravesite, the hole had already been dug he noticed, folks were coming from town all day to say their goodbyes at the house, where his coffin lay in an upstairs guest bedroom. He took in a deep breath, almost breathless before, stood in front of the hole, its edge, dropped his flowers into it, geraniums, blurry eyed, he said, "He be a coming Lord," his reed-stemmed pipe in one hand, a bible in the other, looking down into the hole, "Yessum, he be a coming soon, tomorrow I expect Lord, his wife Aurea, she say so (Aurea was behind a tree crying, silently, she noticed Josh there, but did not say a word, and perhaps Josh knew she was there, but he did not say a word) but he dead, and we all some day goin' be dead, so I be seein' him soon I expect; he done took me out of hell in New Orleans Lord, and he tell me one day, 'Josh, don't you look back, its all up front now, nothin' back there son,' Yessum, he say son, and I try not to look back, but sometimes I cant help it, but he right Lord, aint nothin' back there worth looking for or at."

And Old Josh looked up, and sure enough, He saw Mr. Charles Hightower, or at least he'd swear to it, "There he is, he a riding his horse across the moon," and he said it in a tinge louder than a whisper, and his wife, hiding behind a tree, watching everything, looked up, and she also would have sworn, at that very moment, her husband was on an old spotted horse one they had in the barn that died a few weeks before Charles had, there, crossing the moon Charles and the horse rode. Perhaps just as figment of their imaginations, but for that one moment in time, it was real, a real greeting, perhaps from beyond the living.