The House by the Spring

By J. Flint

The House family lived on a small patch of land in Missouri. On that land was a spring, which gave life to them for some time. Then one day, everything changed. After a bloody massacre, the family was shattered. As a result, through the battered trials and tribulations of a broken young boy, the surviving son, Johnathon, would eventually carry on their legacy.

The boy, who has since taken a new surname and grown into a prominent man of the town, struggles playing caretaker to a new, "wilder" world. In this trial-by-fire adventure, he is tested by new threats every day. When locals begin to fall victim to an all-too-familiar enemy, John must do what he can to find and annihilate this new threat before there isn't a town left to save.

With a small posse made up of mostly friends and neighbors, John ventures out into the unknown, in search of those responsible for terrorizing those he's come to love and is sworn to protect. Along the way he makes new acquaintances, some more thrilling and impactful than he'd had ever expected.

As he grows closer to discovering the whereabouts of the aggressors, having followed the trail of carnage in their wake, John makes a striking discovery. But is it too late? Whether this cowboy can surmount this last challenge could very well determine whether the town will survive to see the light of day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Flint
• Release date: Nov 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201495138

J. Flint

            J. Flint is a unique example of country-boy-gone-rogue. Having grown up on a small ranch in the Midwest, he always longed for a life beyond the county line. As a youth he found a deep love of the arts and decided to eventually pursue a career in that world. Using his expertise in horsemanship and having joined his father in civil war reenacting at an early age, he managed to transition his talents over to an early career in stunt work. While in his teens, Flint had already doubled on several high budget productions for major network television.             After being offered travel and boarding in Los Angeles, Flint knew he was on the right track. However, not ready to give up on his education just yet, he chose instead to attend school at a private university close to home. Here he joined the journalism team and worked at the school’s TV station. While also running several philanthropies on campus and in the community, he embraced the Greek institution and soon was elected the Greek Council President and was bestowed the responsibility of running campus events and recruitment.             While in college, Flint became a part of nearly 20 organizations, headed and participated in dozens of charity and community events, and graduated with two majors and a minor in television. After obtaining his degrees he wasted no time in making the move to sunny LA, where he quickly found success in the stunt, acting, and modeling community. From feature films to national commercials, Flint has spent a decade staying busy working in front of the camera. Behind the scenes he’s also developed quit the library of literary work. Having started writing as a hobby in college, he’s since expanded his interest in the craft to several works of fiction and poetry. This work is the first of many to come. See more of Flint at: IMDb https://imdb.me/jimmyflint-smith or Instagram   https://www.instagram.com/jimmyflintsmith

Book preview

Chapter 1

Once, I knew what it was to be a man – to be responsible, to be relevant. I remember like yesterday, my father and I walked to the spring at the nearby river, our fishing lines on the freshly made poles. Mother awaited our arrival at home, ready to cook whatever we had the fortune of bringing to the supper table.

I was anxious. Fishing was one of my favorite activities. Anything with Dad was. Sometimes, he would take me to town and gather things for the house, which was no small endeavor. The nearest town was St. Louis, an over forty-mile trek. I’d often wondered what life would be like if there were something nearby. Though I didn’t mind the occasional trip. It was nice to be active.

Whenever we did venture out, Pa always had Mother in mind and was frequently buying her things. One day, it might be a new dress. Another, it might be a vase, and we’d go to a field nearby to fill it with wildflowers. You’ll do this someday with your wife son, he’d tell me. Being just a youngster, I never gave it much thought.

As of late, the thought of getting a woman of my own has crossed my mind. Time has not been generous in that regard, but maybe I can make some now. For the first time, I’ve decided to pay proper attention to that time. In the wake of my memories, I realize that time does pass, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. In this time that I recall, I could not have ever wandered past the fall of my own footsteps. I know I was anxious though.

We’d called this plot home for as long as I could remember. Whatever we didn’t get from St. Louis, we manufactured at home. We had grown a few small crops and owned chickens and goats so we never had to worry about going hungry. The land was and remains excellent hunting ground. Everything else took care of itself. We never had to worry about being without supplies in the event of any trouble. My folks seemed to have it all figured out. Though, fate can be a shock at times.

We set up at our usual spot. Father began to untangle the string on our rods while I went down to the riverbed to search for worms. Then, we set the bait and dropped our lines. No time had passed before he got his first bite. Catfish, and from the looks of it a good-sized one. Ah! Good one Pa! I cheered. Betcha I can match it!

He smiled and nodded. We continued to fish. The sun shone bright on us. I shed my shoes and dipped my feet into the water to cool my tiny toes. Much better, I thought. About 30 minutes passed before I felt another tug on the line. I tugged back to set the hook. Success! I’d gotten my first catch of the day, and I was satisfied. It didn’t turn out to be a catfish as I had promised, but a good-sized bluegill still put a smile on my face. As I drew it from the water, Dad’s hand ruffled my hair. ’Atta boy, he said.

I started to remove my catch from the hook to re-bait when I noticed barking coming from the distance. It was Shep, an old English Sheepdog, my best friend and family pet. That’s odd, I thought. Shep almost never barks. Father raised his head and we both diverted our attention to the upset hound. Neither of us knew what to make of it, but he seemed concerned. He left me at the riverbank for a moment to see what was causing the commotion. Suddenly, another sound became audible over the barking dog. Hoof beats. Not so peculiar, though we certainly weren’t expecting company. Over the hill, a solo steed appeared. I strained my eyes in search of a rider but saw none.

Father cautiously approached it to investigate while I tossed my pole next to a nearby tree and ran to catch up. As I approached, Shep continued to bark and Father steadied the lone horse. I drew closer and noticed the creature was hobbling a little bit on its left front hoof. In addition, it was dripping with sweat and looked near ready to drop. Father had grabbed the reins and finally achieved control, though the beast continued a heavy repetitive huffing and puffing. I helped to make it comfortable and pet it down. I then placed my hands onto its long neck, following the mane down to the shoulders.

Shhhh. Easy fella.

As I shhh’d and pet, I felt the wetness near where the limp was prominent. At first, I thought it was sweat, but I noticed the fur was courser and the muscles were twitching particularly in this area. Something isn’t right. I stopped and looked down at my hand to discover it was covered in blood. I froze. Father, taking notice of my discovery, grabbed me by the shirt and pushed me aside. He gave me the reins and knelt down to examine the small wound on the horse’s leg. It was difficult to make out at first as the steed was black and the color of blood didn’t show up so well against it, especially with all the sweat pouring down and washing it away.

Shep continued to bark, and I now noticed the fur and blood had made its way onto my shirt. For some reason, I can recall fearing for what Mother might say, getting my clothes filthy like that. Pa I started. Do you think...

I stopped and watched as he placed his fingers into the open wound and began to dig at something. I wrinkled my nose and watched with great curiosity. What is it, Pa?

Slowly he rose to his feet, eyes fixed on what he had found. Get to the house! He commanded. I didn’t move. Pa?

Go, NOW!!! He repeated. I felt my feet leave the ground as he lifted me onto the horse and into the vacant saddle. He grabbed my hand and placed his discovery into my outstretched palm. Show this to your mother. Tell her to get the gun. Make sure it’s loaded. I’ll be right behind you. Then he slapped the steed on the rear and off we went. I was so shocked at what had happened I barely recall the actual time spent galloping back to the house. Next thing I knew, I was running up to the front porch and slamming the door open. My sister and mother spun around from the table where they both sat.

Good lord, look at you! What’s happened?! Mother insisted.

Panting and gasping for air, I blurted out father’s message and smashed my hand down on the table in front of them.

My hand fell away to reveal a small pointed rock. I was puzzled to see it had a funny shape. It looked man-made. Mother gasped. Indians!

Indians? I repeated. Being of only five, I knew not of such things. Mother sure seemed to, though. She swiftly rose from her seat and told me to grab the weapon from under the bed. She then rushed to the cupboard near the door and removed some ammunition. The sound of Shep’s barking returned and as father had said, he wasn’t far behind. They both rushed inside, and Mother closed the door behind him. Over the sound of barking, I began to make out the sound of hoofs stomping once again.

Father, what is it? my sister asked.

Here! Come here! Mother motioned for us to a small door that led to a crawlspace beneath the house. In you go, she ordered. I went first, barely able to squeeze my tiny hips through the opening. My sister followed, though she was the older of us two and had grown too big to fit. Mother began to panic and started yelling at my sister insisting that she could indeed make it through the hole. This continued for some time, all the while the sound of horses grew nearer. There was more this time, not to be mistaken for another riderless stray.

Mother was now in tears as she finally abandoned the idea that there was room for my sister in the crawlspace. She pulled her out and I was embraced by my mother’s smiling face once again, though now laden with tears. She blew me a kiss and the small door was closed on me. I was left in the dark now with only my ears to comfort me.

The next few minutes moved so quickly, yet I can recall every detail. From beneath I listened as Mother kissed my sister before telling her to get under the bed and not to come out until she said so. The horses were now audibly close. They couldn’t be further than 50 or 60 feet away. I didn’t know what to think. I just knew that I was scared.

In the dark, I maneuvered my way around to where I could maybe get a glimpse through a crack in the floor, but it was no use. Click Click, Father had successfully loaded his gun. The horses had arrived and with them they brought a new sound, one I had never heard before in my life. Some sort of hooting and cawing, as that of an animal. Yip Yip, Caw Caw. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. And then everything grew silent for just a short moment. I starred at the floor above me and listened.

The quiet was broken by the sound of the door swinging open. BOOM! The gun went off. Then a THUNK followed by a large thud. Footsteps flooded into the room and Mother screamed. A strange chopping sound came from where father had been, followed by a gruff sigh of agony. Mother screamed again but was cut off by another THUNK and the sound turned into a muffled moan.

I opened my mouth to call out but was cut short by the sound of my sister’s shrieking. Ma! Leave her alone! She was sobbing from under the bed. I could tell she was directly above me though she grew faint as her tears were replaced by the sound of her boots being dragged across the floor and out onto the porch. As Mother before, she too eventually was drowned out by the sound of the intruders. The only familiar sound now was that of Shep who continued to bark and growl. His paws pitter-pattered above me in the corner of the room until he was silenced by a loud thump as his weight crashed to the floor overhead.

The whooping and cawing continued outside, and I heard what I thought was Mother calling out once more. More muffling followed and then nothing. The creatures’ sounds stopped, and I heard the horses trot off into the distance. Silence ensued.

I dared not move. The shock of what had happened was too much, and I didn’t want to face the surface. Eventually I did work up the courage to arise from my hole. I pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Something was blocking it.

Levering myself onto my back, I used my legs to kick and kick until I managed to remove whatever was blocking the door. My heart sank. It was Shep. He laid lifeless in front of me. I didn’t want to look up. Instead, I laid my head onto his body and took a big fistful of his shaggy brown fur. Climbing out of the hole and rolling onto my stomach I held him tight and buried my face into him.

I closed my eyes and retreated to earlier that day. All I wanted was to be back at the river with Pa. I smiled at the thought but knew those days were over.

Chapter 2

Aposse arrived later that day, but it was far too late. They had been warned about the attack by my older brother Beau who was riding in a nearby field on our property. He was to return with a new horse and supplies he’d just bought with the money from his first paycheck. I later discovered it was this horse that came to Father and me at the stream. By some miracle, Beau had managed to get away and seek shelter at a neighbor’s before heading to town and gathering enough men to act.

Beau was 15 then and had been working as an apprentice for the blacksmith, Mr. Durbin, who lived down the way. This was to be his future and he had loved learning the trade that was to take him away and one day give him a life all his own. Sadly, that day came a lot sooner than expected.

When the men arrived, I was still lying with my best friend. Shep’s lifeless body was the closest thing there was to comfort in this dark hour. I had cried myself into a deep sleep and when they woke me, I didn’t know where I was. As I came to, I barely remembered the events that had taken place just a few hours before. I told myself that it was just a dream, a bad nightmare. I had fallen asleep and imagined the whole thing. That had to be it... but it wasn’t.

As I soaked in my surroundings, I deducted the obvious, that I was at my home, and it was late in the day. A man was staring down at me sympathetically. He wore a long face under his bushy beard and slouch hat. Are you alright son? He asks, gesturing his hand out to help me to my feet. I nodded, as I looked around the room inquisitively. Where is everyone? I wondered. Ma and Pa were nowhere to be found, nor my sister. At this point I’d come to terms with the reality that my dream had happened and that I was now to be an orphan. Though even children know the value of closure. I continued to survey the scene for their bodies but saw nothing. We had lived in a one room log cabin that Pa built with his own two hands before I was born. There was a bed on one side and a series of sheets and blankets on the floor on the other side where my siblings and I slept. Other than that, there was the gun and spice cabinet next to the entry, the cast iron stove in the corner, and the table where we ate. Not a lot to see really. Just a simple house for simple farm folk.

The man took my hand and led me to the door. As I followed, I looked back just one last time. What I saw I’ll never forget.

Previously, from my vantage point as that of a three-foot something ankle biter who could barely see what’s for supper, I had remained unaware of what actually was posing as our centerpiece. From the doorway I gained a different perspective, and my curiosities came to an abrupt close. Atop the dining table sat the severed heads of my Ma and Pa. They sat lifeless, eyes open, staring off into nothing. I had no words. My mouth opened to scream but couldn’t muster it. Instead, I halted in my tracks. Somehow, my meek self was able to stop the man, easily five times my size, as well. He tugged, noticing that I had spotted my parents.

Come on little one. This isn’t something for you to see, he stated, with another leading pull. I didn’t budge. I just stared at them, not quite knowing what to make of it. I looked at them and they at me, or through me rather. Truthfully, I cannot recall Mother’s eyes ever being that empty. And Pa, his eyes were barely open at all. They drooped as if he were coming home from a long trip, weary from the journey, ready to pass out at any moment. These were undoubtedly my parents, but I did not know of what I saw. They were strange and distant, therefore, alien. I could never relate the loved ones I knew to the abominations that lay before me.

As I stayed there frozen, perplexed, terrified, I felt arms wrap around me and lift me up. The man had decided if he couldn’t peacefully drag me through the doorway, he would take away my footing, my foundation, and simply carry me instead. He threw me over his shoulder, and I continued staring, fixed on what had become of my parents, my life. I watched intently as I was carried away until I could no longer see them there. The man mounted his horse, still holding me over his shoulder and we rode. As we drew further and further away the house, my home, faded into the distance. I took one last glance over the hill and watched it completely vanish from sight. It was with this last sorrowful glance that I knew that life, my childhood, was over.

Chapter 3

20 years later

A loud mumble rises all around. I turn my head in every which way to see the crowd growing larger by the minute. It’s a beautiful and stressful thing, to be in this position.

Hello, I’d like to take the opportunity to thank you all for coming out today. It means a great deal to me.

I’d been working on this speech in my head for months. It finally happening seems to fall short somewhat. Though not in my performance, but rather in the lack of enthusiasm shown by the crowd. By building this bank, we have assured ourselves a place in the ever-expanding modern society of America.

By lack of enthusiasm, I don’t mean that it’s a bad crowd. That’s not the case. Here, people passing through can rest their weary backs and satisfy the wants and needs demanded by civilization. Truthfully, the people showed up here on their own accord. This being the case, I have no reason to complain. As civilized folk we now share these benefits and finally have the opportunity to reap its rewards.

No one need fear the threat of hunger... Really, they aren’t so bad. It’s just...

No longer will we worry about being left out in the bitter cold... They have no idea what went into the making of this town.

And yes, we’ve seen our share of Indian attacks on our families and friends. Well, those days are over... They have no idea what I’ve sacrificed.

Great show today John, says a friendly voice. Ben Whitefield stands at the end of the bar, accompanied by his son Jacob. Both men wear a gold star on their shirts, just over the heart. ‘Fits em’ I think. And I ought to know, I’m the one who put it there.

I see you found a deputy. I reply. Ben looks at Jacob and smiles. Well, you said I should choose someone I trust. Couldn’t think of anybody better than my own blood. Seeing as the apple doesn’t fall far from tree, I figured you’d trust in my parenting. In fact, it’s almost like I’ve been bringing him up for this all along. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and I believe this job will give him a chance to use it. It’ll do good around these parts.

I look at Jacob and nod. I trust you brought him up right. You made the right decision then.

It’s not typical that father and son occupy both sheriff and deputy positions in a single term. Jacob is indeed a bit young. He only just turned eighteen a few months ago. Not to mention he’s still growing into his skin a bit. Ben isn’t a small man, in any sense of the word. He’s not someone with whom I’d pick a fight. With luck, Jacob will be the same someday.

Alright yes, the boy might be considered a bit premature for a position in law enforcement. However, he is legally an adult and seeing as I’ve known him since he was born, and his father beyond that, I know that he’s a good kid with good morals. Also, he’s got plenty of time to learn the ropes.

We all have a new opportunity here in Morse Mill. There’s the fact that this town is just now recognized by the government. It’s brand spankin’ new, and there ain’t a lot of say anybody can give but me, until we start getting more political types traveling out this way. With St. Louis being a few days’ ride, I really don’t anticipate that being any