A Mansion on a Hill and Other Stories

By Paul Krebill

Here is a collection of tales varying in length, and differing in other ways as well. And with no relation to each other. There is an element of historical truth in each, together with lots of imagination. A few are what I would call poetic-prose mini stories. So I invite you to enjoy reading all of these stories as I have enjoyed creating them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781984583765

Paul Krebill

Paul Krebill grew up on the west side of Chicago and in the adjoining suburb of Oak Park. He was educated in the Chicago area, obtaining degrees from Elmhurst College and McCormick Theological Seminary. He served as a pastor of churches in Wyoming, Montana, and New Zealand, as well as on the campus of Montana State University and in hospital chaplaincy in Billings, Montana. In retirement he has been writing for publication as well as designing and creating stained glass. He and his wife, Doris, live in Bozeman, Montana.

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Copyright © 2020 by Paul Krebill.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/11/2020

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CONTENTS

A Mansion on A Hill

The Arrival and A Departure

In The Arms Now and Then

Finding Reality in The Underbrush

All in A Night’s Sleep?: A Mini-Fantasy

Going Home

Looking Up Down Under

The Block

The Triangle

In The Warmth of His Waning Days

Beyond

In The Silence of An Afternoon

The Fire-Proof Box

Left in Stone

A Life Uncovered

The Song of The Meadowlark

Charlie

Still Amazing

Connie and Andy

The J. Family

A HINT OF WHAT’S TO COME

Here is a collection of tales varying in length, and differing in other ways as well. And with no relation to each other. There is an element of historical truth in each, together with lots of imagination. A few are what I would call poetic/prose mini stories. So I invite you to enjoy reading all of these stories as I have enjoyed creating them.

A MANSION ON A HILL

CHAPTER ONE

High in the mountains above town there is a large, ancient Victorian house which I spotted after struggling on an unused gravel road with many switchbacks on the west side of the Big Belt Mountains of Montana. After the crest I came to an impassible weed-covered lane leading up to the deserted dwelling that appeared to me to be fashioned like a two-storied antebellum mansion, with its pillars reaching from porch to roof. Totally out of character for this part of the world, I wondered who possibly could have had such a mansion built.

Not much further down the road, I passed a sign on my left pointing to Confederate Gulch. Then I was on the east side of the Big Belt Mountains headed down toward White Sulphur Springs.

When I got into town I found an old timer smoking his pipe, sitting on a bench outside the court house. I parked and sauntered over to him. Howdy. Can you tell me what Confederate Gulch is?

Why, certainly, he said, taking his pipe out of his mouth. That’s where ol’ Jack Thompson found the first gold strike around here, back in ‘64 when the war between the states was still a-goin’on, an’ he was a Confederate prisoner let go free in this country, and struck it rich, he did!

Is that why they named the gulch–Confederate?

Yep, ’cause he found a real good pocket of gold as he walked up the crevice, and purty soon the whole gulch was full of miners and the town of Diamond City grew up right thar to be the biggest town in the whole durn territory for a few years—until the color run out; and the way they’d been cuttin’ up the country, Diamond was a-covered an’ you couldn’t see it any more.

Is that so!

And everything moved over here to White Sulphur where the Springs is!

Thanks for telling me—and, by the way, do you know anything about that old mansion on the other side of the hill?

Ol’ Thompson built that to be just like the big house he’d come from in Mississippi before the war. ’Cepting he put up ‘Ol Glory’ on a pole on the roof.

The old timer stoked up his pipe, before continuing. Then after the war and they shot ol’ Abe, Jack went back to rescue his wife and young-uns from what was left of his ol’ place. Yes sir, an’ he brought ’em back for ’em all to live in that thar mansion, he did. He paused and then said. Then thar’s a story about that flag. One mornin’ ol’ Jack—he went out— looked up an’ol’ glory was gone an’the Confederate flag was a’wav’n. Well, he still had on his night-shirt but he grabbed a ladder – went up thar and before you know he had took her down and put our flag up, he did.

That’s very interesting.

He died and’s buried on the place–also his wife, Cora Jean; but his kids, they all moved away, leav’n the mansion locked up an’ empty t’this day.

I thanked my local informant and made my way back through Wilsall and across to the east side of the Bridgers and home to Bozeman by nightfall. With the stuff of dreams to fill my sleepy head!

CHAPTER TWO

After receiving tenure in the history department of Montana State University, I bought a small house on South Grand, in Bozeman. Now I’m spending lots of time working in my small yard and garden as time permits. However, today when I went into the house to fix myself a cup of coffee, my phone rang. Hello, Bruce Maxey, here. . . .

Bruce, this is Dr. Dunbar. I have gotten a letter from a Kelley Campbell in Mississippi saying that he has inherited a fifty-acre piece of land with a house on it in Meagher County. Bruce, would you have a look at this letter and see if you can do anything for him?

Sure, I’ll have a look at it and see what I may be able to do for this person.

Well, that was the end of my gardening for the day. I picked up the letter and, sure enough, it was up my alley! The significant portion of the letter was this. May I have someone from your department to accompany me, since I am totally unacquainted with your area.

I replied to Mr. Campbell by telegram, spelling out the travel arrangements he should make and that I would meet him at the Meagher County court house. In a few days a reply came indicating the date and time to meet.

The day came, and I drove over to White Sulphur Springs and went into the court house. I could not find him. Then, as I waited, I was flabbergasted when an attractive young woman came up to me and asked if I was Mr. Maxey. I said Yes.

Hello. I’m Kelley Campbell!

CHAPTER THREE

Yes, and I’m Bruce Maxey. I said, trying to hide my embarrassment, not very successfully.

I’m sorry, Sir, but that happens when I meet a Northerner.

Oh?

We often use surnames. Kelley was my mother’s maiden name.

Interesting. We then headed down the hall to the door to which she had been directed. After a mountain of paper-work, Kelley was given a county map with her 50 acre tract designated. On it, a vacant house was shown. Kelley was presented an ancient-looking key to the house as shown on the map. With that we were shown to the door.

We found a café for lunch, and for a chance make plans to visit Kelley’s property. How long can you stay in Montana, Kelley?

As long as I need to.

"I suggest that it makes more sense to locate a hotel in Bozeman after we have checked out