SCA - Class 11

SCA - Class 11

    Welcome back! I’m glad you could join me once again for class 11 of the Sheriff’s Citizens’ Academy.

    Arriving a little early, we joined the few who were already there and waited for the rest of the class to show up. Our instructor was Detective Ed Bailey who also taught the Cyber Crimes class, so we needed no introduction.
    The first part of the class was a quick review about arriving at a crime scene and the first thing you do: Take a picture. If you are taking a picture of footprints or tire tracks, you may get a better picture with different lighting than just your regular flash. You could place a flashlight on the ground and get a side lighting with it. That would make the shadows of the print much clearer. You could also set a five gallon bucket with a small hole in the top for your lens over the track, shine a bright light on the bucket and it will light up the whole thing.
    “Once you have taken pictures of the tracks,” Det. Bailey told us, “you make a plaster cast of it. Usually when we go into a crime scene, after we take pictures, we will make any casts of prints before we move on to other things because the plaster has to dry. So, if we do the tracks first we can just pick them up at the end before we leave and they should be dry enough to lift.”
    He showed us a few casts that had been made from a shoe print and from a tire track. He had two “sandboxes” in the front of the room filled with damp sand. “All right, everyone come up here,” he told us. Most of us had remembered to wear shoes with interesting traction, but some didn’t. First off he made a hand print in the sand. “Because I already have three casts of my shoe,” he laughed, “I guess I should have a hand print. Now, everyone make a print in one of the boxes. It’s easiest to make it along the sides. If you don’t have interesting traction, you can make a hand print.”
    Soon the boxes had footprints and hand prints all along the edges of them. Next Det. Bailey mixed up a bag of plaster. (I can’t remember what the kind was.) “You are going to think this is way too watery when you mix yours up,” he informed us. He had us all feel his bag when he had mixed it up and it sure did feel watery. We watched as he carefully filled his handprint. Then it was our turn.
    We each were given a bag of mix and a regular bottle of water. I thought it was quite fun to squish the bag and mix the plaster up. After I thought it was done, Det. Bailey said I needed a little more water. The next time he checked it he said was perfect. Pouring the mixture into the print was interesting. You don’t just dump it in the middle or you might mess up the track. Instead you should start to pour from the corner and let it fill up the print. You want the cast to be fairly thick so that it won’t break as easily when you remove it.

Dad making his cast

Filling in my print

    Before long the boxes were filled with light colored splotches and we all returned to our seats.
    “Does anyone have any questions?”
    I did. “Do you take prints the same way in the snow?”
    “Almost,” Det. Bailey replied. “If we poured the plaster directly into the snow, it would melt it.” So they first take a can of some aerosol and spray it into the air above the print, letting it fall down gently into the print. That hardens the snow all around it and then they pour in the plaster.
    He told us of another time when he had to get really creative to take a cast of a shoe print. “Some guys broke into this unused building, went up to the second floor, climbed out a window onto the roof of the gun shop next door. Broke in and stole some guns. Well, the old building hadn’t had anyone in it for months, and the dust on the stairs was about an inch thick. Those guys left the most pristine set of footprints I’ve ever seen! The problem was, how do I lift them? We have an electrical device that lifts the dust and sometimes works to lift prints. I tried it, but all it did was lift all the dust and leave a large grey smudge. There had to be another way. So I went out and bought a can of hairspray. Holding the can above the print, I emptied the entire can into the air and let it fall down on to the print. It completely hardened the dust. Then I took a piece of card stock and slid it under the dust and lifted the most perfect footprint.” (I guess hairspray has other uses than making your hair feel like plastic.)
    Det. Bailey finished his short power point. The rest of it was about fingerprints and lifting prints. The first place he will look for fingerprints in a stolen vehicle is the rearview mirror because that’s the first thing everyone does when driving a different car: they adjust the mirror. And, if someone breaks open a door, the first place he’ll check for prints is on the back side of the door because after someone breaks open a door, they’ll reach up and grab it, leaving a nice set of prints.
    Having done a little of that when I attended the Citizen’s Police Academy several years back, I was already familiar with the process. But it was still interesting. Do you know what makes a fingerprint? If you look at your fingers, you’ll notice little ridges. In the valleys between each ridge, fatty acids and particles of dead skin cells gather. When you press your fingers onto a surface such as a window, door, table or even a golf ball, the acids and things in the valleys of your fingers remain on what you touched. So, you actually leave a “negative” of your print. To lift a print, they can use several things but Det. Bailey had us use either the volcanic powder (which is really volcanic ash pulverized into the finest particles you can imagine) or magnetic powder. First you take a picture of the print. “Sometimes we get a better image of the print from the picture than we do when we lift it.” Then you very lightly dust the print with powder. “Sometimes we use neon powder on a dark surface,” Det. Bailey told us, “but the fingerprint guys hate it!” Next, take a piece of clear tape, like packing tape, and put it on top of the print, gently smoothing it with a cork to get any air bubbles out. (If you use your fingers, you’ll leave your prints on it too.) Then carefully lift the tape, place it on a white card and write the case number, date, name of who lifted it, and where it was lifted on the back.
    Did you know that though they have computers to search and match fingerprints, each match has to be checked by a real person? How would you like to spend ten hours a day staring at black and white lines to see if they match? No thanks!
    Det. Bailey can lift fingerprints from all kinds of things. He even lifted one from a small feather once!
    He showed us one other thing that can be used to lift fingerprints or any small impression. It’s pretty much a silicone substance that you mix together and then spread on a dusted fingerprint. That’s how he lifts prints from golf balls. “One time this stuff came in really handy,” he told us. “We were making surprise raids on junk yards looking for stolen cars. At one place we found a bobcat. We couldn’t find the serial number on that thing anywhere! So we had to call up a distributer to find out where in the world those things were. He told us they were under the front, up there, behind that, up this other place and then it would be there. We tried putting a camera up there, but it wouldn’t fit, the mirror didn’t work either and it would take about a week to get all the parts off enough to actually see the thing. That’s when I decided to try this stuff. I mixed it up, reached up there and spread it all over. After it dried, I peeled it off, put some ink on it and pressed it on a paper. We had the numbers. It was perfect. And yes, it had been stolen.”

Two other class members and I fingerprinting

Dusting fingerprints and mixing silicone stuff

    Then it was hands on! We placed our fingerprints on things and then lifted them. Some of us even fingerprinted ourselves and checked them with the different kinds of fingerprints to see what they were: loops, arches, swirls, etc. We mixed the silicone substance and made prints of anything we could think of, including old credit cards, water bottle lids, knife handles and, of course, the golf ball. We tried the volcanic powder and the magnetic powder. It was about 8:30 when we decided we’d played enough and all found our seats again.
    Detective Bailey told us that he really liked interrogating people. “I just like getting people to tell me their deepest darkest secrets,” he admitted with a smile. “I’ve been doing this so long that I can tell when someone is lying. No, I don’t go by all those things that they tell you are signs, like looking in a certain direction or folding their arms, because people are different. My kids all knew I could tell if they were lying and decided it was useless to try and tell me everything was fine in school if it wasn’t. One time I was working a case and had to interrogate this man. I figured it would take a while, so I called my wife to tell her I’d be working late. Well, all the interviews are videoed and played on a screen in another room. And, my wife and son, who was about 6, came in to bring me some supper. They walked into the room and the video was on of the interrogation. My son looks at the screen for a few minutes and then says, ‘That guy doesn’t have a chance.’ And sure enough, a few minutes later I had that guy bawling and confessing everything.”

It was a hand print!

Can you tell what brand of shoe that is?

What about this one?

    He told a few other things and then had us dig out footprints or handprints. We just popped them out of the sand, brushed them off and slipped them into a paper bag. “Now, let them dry for another 48 hours,” he told us. “Then take them out and hose them off. After that you can put them up on your mantle.” (What if we don’t have a mantle? Or what if we aren’t interested in displaying the print of our shoes? :) )
    We were dismissed and headed for home.



    I hope you enjoyed this class and will be back again for our last class next week, as we take on the roll of a detective and work a crime scene! Until then, this is Rebekah.

Graham Quartet - Part 14

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans,
It's a rainy morning here, chilly and looking like later fall. Earlier this week most of the leaves were still on the trees in the area, but Monday night the temperatures dropped into the teens and a northern wind blew. The next day most of the leaves had fallen. Now the trees are bare and the ground has a lovely carpet of leaves. Since we have so many trees, my writing students (when they weren't in class) and younger siblings raked a huge pile of leaves in our yard in front of the huge swing and took turns jumping off the swing into the pile. That is always a highlight of fall at our house. And let me tell you, it's a whole lot of fun! :)

There hasn't been much of interest going on this week. I've been working pretty steadily on planning the next few states for Travels of Priscilla, so hopefully there will be new posts up in the next week or so. You've probably already noticed that you get another part of the Graham Quartet story. I've been working on that when I have time to write and am trying to get it finished. You won't be able to read the end until next year though, because there are more parts than just three. And in the month of December you'll get "Christmas Eve at the Back Door." :) Since I've been working hard on the one story, I haven't written any more of Dr. Morgan or of TCR-3.

Speaking of Triple Creek Ranch . . . The proof copy arrived Monday evening and it looks really neat! I can't wait to finish the last few things after it is proof read, and make it available to all you anxious readers who are longing to know what happens! :) If you want a book that is signed, let me know so that I make sure I order enough for each of you. Book 2 is also making good progress. The illustrations have been decided on and I can't wait to see them!

Last night Dad and I had fun at the Sheriff's Citizens' Academy, but I'll wait until Wednesday to tell you about it. :)
(I'm trying to get you in the habit of coming to my blog frequently because in December, I may be posting nearly every day. :) )

And now, without any more distracting information or needless tidbits, here is the next part that you have been waiting for!

Graham Quartet - Part 14

    The following day Matt was the only one who heard anything to report and that was in social studies where Hong Kong was again mentioned, this time by one of the students when Mr. Tompkins asked someone to name some free trade harbors.
    After talking it over, the Quartet decided to get up earlier the next morning and make their report to Guy before leaving for school.
    The trip to the cabin took longer than the time they actually spent there, for Guy only asked a few brief questions and then sent them on their way.
    “Do you think what you heard means anything, Matt?” Tim asked, as the siblings were plodding steadily towards home.
    Matt shrugged. He had no more idea than his younger brother if the talk of Hong Kong in school was important or just school.
    It wasn’t until they were driving to school, Elsa going along to spend the day shopping, that Selena spoke. “If we are wanting to hear about the furniture factory, why don’t we visit the places where those who work there might go.”
    “Where would they go?” Tim asked.
    “Wouldn’t they ship things out?” Matt asked.
    “How about the post office,” offered Elsa.
    “Perhaps they have to pick up supplies at the hardware or the lumber yard,” Selena put in.
    “I know where they hang out,” Tim put in.
    Matt and Selena turned to look at him and even Elsa glanced at him through the mirror. “Where?”
    “At the furniture factory.”
    Rolling his eyes, Matt sighed.
    “But why not, Matt?” Selena urged. “Couldn’t we see if we could take a tour? You remember what that man told Elsa.”
    “But he also said he never got an answer,” Elsa replied.
    The occupants of the car fell silent as Elsa drove into town. “Let’s all think about it and I’ll see if I find out anything when I’m shopping,” Elsa suggested. “Then after school we can check out a few places and figure out what we should do next.”
    To this they all agreed and, grabbing their books, Matt, Tim and Selena climbed out of the car as it stopped before the school.
    Not one of them was particularly interested in attending that day and even Matt found it difficult to keep his mind on his work. There was no more mention of Hong Kong in social studies and Tim wasn’t the only one to give a sigh of relief when the last bell rang and they were dismissed.
    Elsa was waiting for them and soon the Graham Quartet were holding a meeting in the car.
    “I think we’ll have to split up,” Elsa remarked. “That way we can cover two separate places at once.”
    Matt nodded. “I agree. But where should we go?”
    “Look!” Tim pointed. “A truck from the furniture factory. It’s heading towards the depot. I think we should follow it and find out where it’s being shipped.”
    “Maybe not exactly follow it,” Matt put in, “but it might not be a bad idea to see if you and Elsa can discover anything. Selena and I can stop at the hardware store since I remembered Dad needed something. We might also check the post office.”
    “Then let’s get going.”
    Quickly the Quartet scrambled from the car and hurried their separate ways. It wasn’t far to the train depot if you took the shortcut through the alley, and Elsa and Tim were soon there. No sooner had Tim caught sight of the truck pulling up to the dock than he dashed away from his sister and raced up to the men unfastening the back of the truck.
    “Tim!” Elsa called after him. “Don’t get in the way!”
    “Good afternoon, Miss Elsa,” a voice said. “What’s Tim up to now?”
    Elsa turned to see the station master standing beside her. She shrugged. “You know Tim, Mr. Decktrah, he’s always looking for something interesting to watch.”
    The station master laughed. “And no doubt he’ll pepper those poor guys with questions.” Mr. Decktrah shook his head. “By the way, where are Matt and Selena?” He glanced around. “Not sick or kept in at school, I hope.”
    Elsa smiled. “No, Matt had to pick up a few things and Selena went with him. By the way, Mr. Decktrah,” she added, suddenly inspired. “Perhaps you can tell me something that Tim won’t find out talking with those men.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Elsa tried hard to think of something that wouldn’t sound too suspicious. “Where do crates from the furniture factory get shipped? Are they to a store or to people who order them?”
    “Both”
    “Do shipments leave from here regularly like the mail or is it just now and then?”
    “Well,” the older man scratched his head. “It’s funny you should ask that. I’ve been sort of wondering what was going on. I reckon it isn’t anything, but for the past week or so there’s been a regular flurry of shipments every other day or so and before that it was twice a month, except maybe one or two other times.”
    “When were those times?” Elsa asked casually, watching her brother assist in carrying a crate to the waiting boxcar.
    “Oh, I think the last time it was like this was in the summer and then it only lasted for about a week. The first time I noticed so much shipping was last January. I remember because they told me some man named Martin Vanderbilt had just ordered furniture for his new house and wanted it shipped out as soon as the furniture for one room was finished. I wondered at the time if he was related to the Vanderbilts who had all that money some years back.”
    “Martin Vanderbilt,” Elsa murmured thoughtfully. “I’ve heard about the family before, but I don’t know if anyone was named Martin. Where are these crates going?”
    The station master shook his head. “Same man. Don’t know why he didn’t order everything at once. Well, I’d best be getting back to my work.”

What do you think is going on?

Is there something suspicious going on

or is this just a regular shipment?

What would you do if you heard this news?

SCA - Class 10

SCA - Class 10

    Welcome back to the tenth class of Sheriff’s Citizens’ Academy. I’m glad you didn’t forget since last week we didn’t have class.

    Dad and I arrived about 6:15 and several of the others were already there. We found our seats. (Why is it that everyone usually sits in the same seats?) The last few people arrived and Sgt. Davis handed out papers with information about where and when our graduation was going to be. They decided to have it during the Sheriff’s Office Christmas Party. That should be interesting. He also told us that usually each “graduate” received a certificate and a coin, but this time we are each getting a plaque with the coin imbedded. He also finalized a date for those who want to tour the new Sheriff’s offices.
    Then the class was turned over to Detective Tim Williams. Since he had taught the first half of our last class, he didn’t have to introduce himself to us.
    Our first topic for class was photography. I know, you all thought we were attending a Sheriff’s Academy and learning about what the Sheriff’s department does. Well, one thing they do is take pictures. Of crime scenes. “When you enter a crime scene,” Det. Williams told us, “you are going to change the scene. I don’t care if you don’t pick anything up or touch anything, you are still going to change it. You might track something in on your shoes, or you might track something out. You may accidentally knock something over. So, the very first thing to do is take a picture. Pictures freeze everything in time. You take pictures when you first arrive, before removing any evidence . . . when in doubt, take a picture. They don’t cost anything now that we have digital cameras.”
    Here’s a check list for taking pictures at a crime scene:
Make sure your battery is charged.
Make sure the date and time on the camera are correct.
Clean the lenses.
Make sure the picture is in focus.

    If you should ever happen to be at a crime scene to take pictures, always take an overall picture of what the room or place looks like. Then take pictures of any evidence you find before you touch it! Make sure this picture shows where in the room the item is and how it relates to the other items. Next take a close up picture with a ABFO scale at a 90º angle. An ABFO scale is a small L shaped ruler that has three circles, colors and measuring marks. The purpose of this scale is to show the size of the item and to give you a reference for a 90º angle picture. That’s pretty easy; if the circles look like ovals, it’s not 90º. And if the picture is at a strange angle, the defense attorney is going to try to make an issue of it.
    Also, if any pictures you take are fuzzy, don’t delete them or the defense attorney is going to say that that picture was the one which would prove his client innocent. (It sounds like those defense attorneys will pick on anything!) And if you take a picture of any firearm, make sure you get  both sides and the serial number. Try taking pictures with and without the flash because sometimes tire tracks and other things show up better without the flash.
    When taking pictures of a vehicle, make sure you get all four corners, the license plate, the interior and the VIN plate or tag. (I’m still not quite sure what this is, but I think it stands for Vehicle Identification Number.) A reason for the four corners pictures is so that if you have the vehicle towed away, and the person tries to sue you because you “damaged” the vehicle, you have proof of what it was like before you moved it. Of course the license plate will tell if it was stolen or not.
    And one last thing. Always “bookmark” your pictures after each crime scene. They call it a “case plate.” All it has to be is a picture of a piece of paper with the case number on it. That way if you have to go directly from one scene to another, you won’t later be wondering where the first scene ends and the next begins.
    We moved right along in this class and jumped right into DNA. Deoxyribonucleic acid is the building block for each person. Did you know that identical twins, because they came from the same egg, will have the same DNA? But they will each have their own unique set of fingerprints. If you were to take DNA from different cells, such as your blood, your skin, hair etc., it would all be the same. There is also a thing called Mitochondrial DNA which is the same as your mother’s mitochondrial DNA.
    “The purpose of getting DNA is not only to find the right suspect, but also to eliminate others,” Det. Williams told us. “If we had these two,” he points to two front row members of the class, “as suspects and have their DNA, but all the DNA we’ve collected from the crime scene doesn’t match their DNA, we can pretty much eliminate them from the crime.” If you ever go to collect DNA, make sure you are wearing gloves, so that your DNA doesn’t get mixed up with the DNA you are trying to collect. Then you have to change your gloves before you collect more DNA because the first DNA might have gotten on the gloves and you don’t want to contaminate the next sample.
    DNA can also tell you if it was from an animal or a human. “We got a call once,” Det. Williams told us, “saying that there had been a murder on a certain road right by a bridge. Well, we drove out there and found blood all over the street. Immediately we got to work and started searching everywhere for the body. We searched the woods, got the boat out and were even searching the river. Couldn’t find a body anywhere. We had a sample of the blood sent to the lab and when it came back we discovered it was turtle blood. So much for the big crime scene.”
    Did you know that each swabbed sample of DNA is stored in a small box which is then stored in a paper bag which is clearly labeled? “Unlike the CSI shows, we never store evidence in a plastic bag,” Det. Williams told us. “DNA has to be able to breathe or it will end up like a hamburger you put in the fridge that you left too long. It starts to grow mold and eats itself up.”
    I didn’t realize how long it takes DNA samples to be returned from the FBI lab. (Yes, all DNA goes to CODIS-Combined DNA Index System which is run by the FBI.) It usually takes 8-9 months to get the results back. First they have to be sent to the highway patrol collection place, and then, once they feel that they have enough things, one of the officers will transfer everything to Jefferson City and they will send it to the FBI. But fingerprints only take about 3-4 months and can be done here in the county. “That’s why we really like to do fingerprints,” Det. Williams told us. “Not only is it faster, but fingerprinting has been going on a lot longer than DNA collecting and there is a much larger database.
    “But, the Jasper County Sheriff’s Office was the first in the state to get a ‘cold hit’ with DNA. Someone had been picked up for something and his DNA was taken. It matched another crime that had happened a year or so before had never been solved. It was a big deal when it happened.”
    There wasn’t much else and only a few minutes after 8:00, Det. Williams told us we were finished unless we had questions or wanted to stick around and talk. No one really did.

    Thank you for joining me again, and I hope you’ll be back next week as we learn about fingerprinting, evidence collection and get some hands on experience in the art of collecting and packaging evidence. Join me then! Until next week, this is Rebekah.

A Day in the Life of an Election Judge

Good Morning Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!
(Though I'm not sure how many of you actually read this post on Friday. :) )

How has your week been? It's been busy here with this, that and the other.
 Saturday wasn't too busy.
Sunday we had nearly everyone there! It was so delightful to see people. The twins and I talked over Christmas music and picked out three songs to try and I got to play with BabyDoll. :)
On Monday I went to my best friend's house and we created the back cover of TCR-1. I then was able to upload both the cover and the interior. I also heard back from my illustrator about TCR-2. She's hoping to get all the illustrations done by mid-December!
On Tuesday I was gone all day. But you can read all about it in today's story. And after I got home I ordered my proof copy of TCR-1!
Wednesday came and I had to get ready for Writing Classes. (Usually I try to get ready on Monday or Tuesday.) And then I had to teach the classes.
Yesterday I graded papers, worked on a baby quilt for someone, corrected my story to post today and had an SCA class.
Today we clean house and tonight we babysit.

Those of you who enjoy reading Dr. Morgan will be pleased to know that I've written 2 more parts of it. I also wrote the first 1,000 words of Triple Creek Ranch - 3! I'm trying to finish some stories that are already on NEO so that I have room for others. And for those of you who know about Travels of Priscilla and Friends, I've been trying to get that worked on too. If you don't know about it, stop by Travels of Priscilla and look around. There are still openings for several states, so if you'd like to "visit" a state with "Priscilla" just let me know. :) (It's all virtual and all you have to do is visit the web site of where we go and then write a letter to "Miss Smith" about your "visit." :)

A Day in the Life of an Election Judge

(Names have been changed to protect the bored.)

4:05 AM- Beep, beep, beep. The persistent noise slowly penetrated Tillie’s sleep-fogged brain. “Why doesn’t Sue just turn that thing off?” she wondered groggily. Suddenly something inside her seemed to snap to full alert. “Oh! That alarm’s for me!” Tillie quickly sat up and pushed off the covers. It was election morning and in less than an hour she had to be ready to leave for her polling place.
5:15 AM - Arriving at the school where she would be working as a supervisory judge for the day, Tillie sat in her friend’s car until someone let her in the building. Her friend was also working as an election judge in a nearby precinct and had kindly given Tillie a ride. Before long the door was opened by the custodian and Tillie, taking her bag inside, began the process of setting up.
    The other workers arrived, Irene, Park, the newest member of this election team, and then Irish. With all pitching in to help, it didn’t take long to tape signs to the doors and walls, get the iPad turned on and ready, the opti-scan ready and get sworn in.
5:55 AM- Everything was set up and they waited until the polls opened at 6:00.
6:00 AM- The polls are open but no one was waiting. It may be a long day.
6:05 AM- The very first voter of the day arrived! It took only a moment to scan the barcode on the voter card and another for the ballot to be marked and slipped into the machine. Then the voter walked out wearing an “I voted” sticker.
6:15 AM- The cell phone which had been sent with the polling items, so Tillie and the rest of the judges could call the county office if needed, rang. Tillie picked it up. “Hello, this is such-and-such 4.”
    “Oh, I wasn’t trying to call another precinct,” a man’s voice came over the phone. “I thought I was calling the county office. Something must have been programmed wrong.”
    “I guess so. I don’t know if I can help you any, but what did you need?” Tillie asked, trying to be helpful.
    “We were just wondering . . . Did you guys get a ‘Vote Here’ sign or a flag?”
    “No. I just figured that they didn’t think we needed them this time,” Tillie replied.
    “Okay. We just couldn’t find any.”
6:33 AM- The conversation going on mostly between Park and Irish had Tillie feeling amused. She agreed in a way with both sides of the issue, but didn’t want to get caught up in it, so she refrained from saying anything about “animals vs. people.”
6:48 AM- The topic of conversation switched to World War II and Irish did most of the talking. Having been in the military and served overseas at the end of the war, he could tell some interesting stories. Park read. Irene crocheted and Tillie knitted while they listened to Irish talk.
6:53 AM- Voter two arrived! Everyone was delighted.
7:11 AM- The first of the school children arrived. The draft from the opening door was chilly, but Tillie enjoyed greeting the younger ones with a smile.
7:21 AM- Voter three and more children arrived. Brr, that air was cold!
7:23 AM- When the 4th voter arrived, he was rather astonished that there hadn’t been more. All the judges agree that it would have been nice to have had more.
7:43 AM- The 5th voter! Yippee! Still more children came and every time the door opened the poll workers got the really cold air gusting in though it wasn’t that cold outside.
7:52 AM- Two voters came in a row!
8:03 AM- All the children had arrived at school now. There had been seven voters.
8:09 AM- Boy, was it quiet. All the children were in class and Tillie decided to eat her breakfast of . . .
8:13 AM- Wow! There was a sudden rush for the polls. Five people in a row came in.
8:33 AM- Three more voters.
9:29 AM- There were a few lines of very well behaved children waiting in the hall.
9:32 AM- 20th voter.
9:50 AM- The four election judges tried to recall what interesting conversations they have had that morning: Elephants (Did you know that elephants have amazing memories? Or that Irish’s granddaughter now works with elephants?) and the small world we live in. (Irene might have seen Park when she was a baby because Irene went to high school with Park’s aunt.)
10:00 AM- It was time for a special assembly! Even the news made it for the assembly this morning.
10:13 AM- Assembly was over and the children headed back to their classrooms in well behaved lines.
10:30 AM- Park passed out some dark chocolate. A delightful mid-morning snack. “Will it wake me up?” Tillie asked with a yawn.
11:21 AM- It had been quiet and dull. No one had even really been talking. Then #29 came in and voted.
11:27 AM- For the first time since the polls opened, Tillie decided to stand up! It sure feelt good to stand up and stretch.
11:35 AM- Tillie resumed her chair and waited for more voters. Will they have 30 votes before noon? Earlier, before the polls were opened, each of the workers took a guess on how many votes would be cast at their polling place. Irish had guessed 30.
11:53 AM- Voters 30 and 31 came in. Shortly before that, one of the bi-partisan teams had come by for a few minutes.
12:17 PM- Well, it was slow. Lunch was over, the children were back in classrooms and all the election judges wished they could take a nap. “You know,” Tillie laughed, “the one thing they didn’t tell us to bring was pillows.” “That’s right,” Irene agreed. “Perhaps we should just close up for a few hours,” Park joked. “Or we could put a ‘Gone Out. Be back at 4.’ sign on the door,” Tillie suggested.
12:26 PM- Had it only been ten minutes?
1:02 PM- Then the numbers went up to 37 voters. The judges talked about other countries that they had been to and things related to them. Park entertained the others with stories about her trip to Australia and New Zealand. Tillie told a little about her recent trip to Canada, and Irish mentioned Tahiti.
1:18 PM- Talk changed to the Joplin Tornado.
1:44 PM- There had been 40 votes now!
2:15 PM- 42 votes.
2:31 PM- “Can’t I sleep?” Tillie wondered to herself, wishing she could just stretch out and take a nap.
2:42 PM- The children all got a group picture with their new sweatshirts. The election judges couldn’t see the stage in the assembly room, but they watched them going in and coming out.
2:51 PM- The first batch of kids leave for home.
3:14 PM- Most of the children were gone. It was pretty quiet, gloomy and rainy.
3:34 PM- Voter 51 came in. One more vote and Park’s guess would be reached. Only 3 1/2 more hours.
4:15 PM- Voter number 57 had just come and gone.
4:18 PM- Park and Irene played word puzzles on their phones. Boy, was it quiet since all the children had gone! 2 hours 40 minutes left.
4:25 PM- Why won’t the minutes go faster? Irish was talking.
4:49 PM- Wow, seven people arrived. Nice. That’s the most they’ve had at once all day.
4:56 PM- The vote count was now up to 70 votes cast! Irene’s number was passed by ten.
5:16 PM- What to do now? Hurry up time. 73 votes. “You know, Tillie remarked, “if the seconds would go faster, then the minutes would too.” Park wished they could go by the old time. “We could just say they hadn’t changed their clocks yet,” she joked. “Or perhaps we could just put a “Gone Fishing” sign on the door,” Tillie offered.
5:23 PM- One hour and 35 minutes left.
5:33 PM- 77th voter.
5:43 PM- They’ve just had a rush! Now they are up to 83 votes. Tillie’s guess was only two away. “If you guess the number exact, I’ll take you to Vegas,” Irish told Tillie.
5:47 PM- 87 now. Two votes past Tillie’s guess, so no trip to Vegas. She didn’t want to go anyway.
5:55 PM- Only 65 more minutes - tick-tick-tick . . . The four election workers had quite a discussion about working as an election worker, what other polling places they’ve worked at had been like and several things that could be done to improve a day at the polls or the training to be an election worker.
6:33 PM- 100th voter! No one was sure they’d have that many. The voter was pretty pleased to be the 100th one.
6:36 PM- Two more voters.
6:41 PM- Made sure the “book” was filled out. Everyone wanted to be sure to get paid for sitting around counting down the hours until time to leave.
6:48 PM- 12 minutes left! Was anyone else coming? Plans of action for packing up were discussed.
6:51 PM- One more person came in with his two boys. “They told me there was voting at their school,” Dad told the workers. Tillie made sure each of the boys got an “I voted” sticker since they made sure Dad came to vote.
6:58 PM- Two more minutes.
7:00 PM- The polls were closed! Quickly the signs were taken down, pens were collected, ballots removed and the iPad shut down. With everyone working together it only took fifteen minutes to pack up. Another election was over. Irish and Tillie loaded things up to drive to the courthouse. The long day of boredom was nearly done.

What do you think?

Do you want to be an Election Judge?

(Busier elections are a lot more fun and crazy.)

A Horse Called Danger - Part 3

Good Morning FFFs!
Just in case we don't get internet tomorrow morning, I'm getting this post scheduled to post on Thursday morning. A large storm came through Monday night knocking out our phone line and taking our internet away from us. So, we've been without internet since Tuesday morning. It's been strange not being able to do the usual things, but when I'm waiting for an e-mail with something I need for my book, it was hard to wait. :)

But here is the next and final part of

A Horse Called Danger

Part 3

    Nearly falling off Sea Hawk, I exclaimed, “He’s shot! Uncle was shot by Dandy Boy!”
    The two hired men, hearing the commotion, had raced over from the barn. It was quite a story, I know, and almost impossible to believe unless you had been there. At last I gave up trying to convince anyone of what had taken place. Uncle could tell them. If he was all right.
    It was a long wait there at the ranch, not knowing what was happening. At last Mr. Gardner came by in his truck and took us with Aunt Julia to the hospital. He said Uncle George had lost a lot of blood, but he thought he’d be all right.
    Thankfully, he was all right and we brought him home the next day. It wasn’t until Uncle George insisted that it was indeed Dandy Boy who had shot him, that people began to accept the fact that he had been shot by his own horse. After that no one who was wearing a gun went near the horse. It wasn’t that he was mean, just dangerous.

    The days passed by and Dad and Mom were expected in a few days. I could hardly wait. It wasn’t that I was wanting to leave the ranch and go back to the city, but I wanted Dad to see me ride. We had gotten quite a bit of rain and things were muddy. I hoped the sun would have a chance to dry the ground up somewhat before Dad and I were ready to ride. As things turned out, it didn’t matter anyway.
    Since Uncle George wasn’t doing much riding, with him being older and having a wounded leg and all, I was promoted to a real working hand on the ranch. This was greatly to my liking and how proud I felt doing a man’s job. Every day I spent hours in the saddle on either Sea Hawk or Dandy Boy. Yes, I still rode Dandy Boy since Uncle wouldn’t let me pack a gun.
    One sunny day, one I never forgot, I headed off on Dandy Boy to deliver a message to the hands in a back pasture. I was riding at a good, steady pace when we came to a long stretch of muddy ground. In the middle of the mud was a gate I had to go through. Urging Dandy Boy on through the thick mud, I turned him to open the gate. I’m not quite sure what happened then. Maybe I turned him too fast, maybe he stumbled and then slipped. Either way, he slipped and fell. It was so sudden and I was so completely unprepared for it, that I wasn’t able to get my leg out of the way. All I remember is the sense of falling and a sudden, terrible pain in my leg and then blackness.
    When I came to some time later, I couldn’t figure out what had happened or where I was. Until I tried to move. Then the sharp, agonizing pain brought everything back. After several minutes I was able to turn my head slightly, and I could see Dandy Boy calmly grazing nearby still saddled and bridled. I’m not sure how he got there while I remained in the mud, but so it was. I knew my leg must be broken because the pain in it was deep and intense, but I wasn’t sure about anything else. Right then I wished Dad were there. He would know what to do. Then I thought of that ride Dad and I were going to take together. I wondered if we’d be able to. True, I didn’t remember hearing anyone with a broken leg riding a horse, but perhaps, just perhaps I could manage it if someone helped me on the horse. Now just remember, folks, sometimes thirteen-year-old boys can be pretty optimistic.
    I must have lost conciseness again shortly after that because the next thing I remember is hearing voices and feeling the touch of a hand on my face. Opening my eyes I saw one of the hands beside me. He was talking to someone I couldn’t see, probably the other cowhand. “. . . And ride fast! He needs help!” I heard him say.
    Things were rather a blur after that. The cowboy stayed with me, and we talked a little, but I don’t remember much about it. Then the medics came. I thought the pain was bad before, but when they had to move me onto the stretcher, well, I gave a gasp and blacked out again.
    When I next woke up I discovered I was in the hospital and Mom and Dad were beside me. “Dad,” I whispered, “can we go riding tomorrow?”
    Mom gave a gasp, but Dad smiled. “Not tomorrow, Son,” he told me. “You’ve got a leg that was busted in three places. You won’t be riding for a while.”
    When I was at last released from the hospital, Dad drove me to Uncle George and Aunt Julia’s for a few days of rest before we flew home. We were sitting around the living room that first evening and Uncle George turned to Dad. “You still want to ride Danger?”
    Dad shook his head. “Nope, I think I can do without any accidents right now.”
    “Who’s Danger?” I asked. I didn’t think Uncle had gotten any new horses.
    It was Ivy who answered. “That’s what everyone has started calling Dandy Boy.”
    “But he’s not dangerous,” I protested.
    Aunt Julia snorted. “And just what would you call a horse that shoots one rider and breaks another rider’s leg?”
    Though I tried, I couldn’t think of any other name. Well, I never did ride Dandy Boy or Danger again. Two weeks later Uncle sold him. I’m not sure what became of him after that, but I’ve kept my ears open and any time I hear of someone getting hurt by a horse in a strange accident, I figure it’s a good guess that they just might have been riding Danger.

So, what did you think of the story?

You want to ride that horse?

Have you heard any strange stories about horses?

SCA - Class 9

Sorry this is late. Our phone line got knocked out in a storm Monday night and it's still not back up. We had to go some where else to use the internet this morning.

SCA - Class 9

    Thank you for joining me for yet another class of the Sheriff’s Citizens Academy as we learn about Child Abuse and Cyber Crimes.

    Arriving at class about 6:20, we took our usual seats in the middle row and were soon handed our printout for the first half of class. Two other members joined the eight of us already there, but we were missing several of the usual members. Sgt. Davis said that since we had a lot to cover, we’d go ahead and get started. “Before, we’ve done this evening in two classes, but we decided to combine it this time and see how it goes.”
    Detective Tim Williams introduced himself and mentioned that he had been working in Child Investigations for quite a long time but had just traded places with Detective Ed Bailey who was working Cyber Crimes. So, both the instructors for the evening were teaching what they had done for years and not what they were doing currently.
    “Child abuse has been going on for most of recorded history. It’s in the Bible when the firstborns were burned to a god and when Pharaoh ordered the firstborns killed, and it has continued,” Det. Williams began. “One reason child abuse has been around for so long is that for centuries people viewed wives and children as not much more than property.”
    In the state of Missouri, do you know who has the authority to remove a child from a home? No, it’s not Child Division. (I think that is a branch or form of Family Services.) It is only law enforcement, a judge or medical person (such as in the case of an ambulance finding an injured child in a ditch and not knowing where they came from or who they are). Most people don’t know that. Not even those working in Child Division. “Every officer in this sheriff’s department knows now,” Det. Williams said, “because I’ve hammered it into them.”
    The removal of a child from a home is only the last resort and if the child’s safety is unsure. And, as a rule, if one child is removed, all the children are removed, unless they are 17. “Legally we can’t remove a child if he or she is 17. So, as much as we may hate to leave that one child in a home, we can’t remove them.”
    Some things Det. Williams talked about for why they might remove a child were if the infant was born testing positive for meth. “In my opinion all positive drug tests of an infant should be cause for instant removal,” he told us, “because the mother was already under the influence of drugs before the child was born, so what makes anyone think that she’ll give it up when she takes her child home?” Another reason is “failure to thrive.”
    A lot of people get scared when a child has a large bruise, but in Jasper County, Det. Williams told us, “I keep an open mind when it comes to bruises because, let’s face it, all kids get bruises or break their bones. It just happens. Especially if a child is learning to walk and is still young, they are going to get more bruises than an older child who is more coordinated. Sometimes bruises are caused by the medication the child is on. If the parents can’t tell me where a bruise or injury came from, or change their story about how it happened, say that a sibling must have done it or the babysitter, those things raise red flags.” They will also look for signs or marks of abuse. (One guy who had actually broken his baby’s ribs by shaking the child and squeezing too tight told one story of what happened, but Det. Williams told him the facts didn’t fit. So, what does the guy do? He says, “Well, let me try this one.” And proceeds to tell a new story which also didn’t fit the facts. Finally, after about six different stories, he finally told the truth.)
    When an officer or detective is interviewing a child for abuse, whether physical or sexual, he has to be very careful not to ask leading questions, but to let the child tell what happened, if anything. “We have many cases where one parent is trying to get custody of a child, so they pretend that the other parent is abusing the child. “Usually when we’re talking to the child,” Det. Williams said, “we’ll ask him some questions and he’ll say, ‘I don’t know.’ Then after a little longer we’ll find that someone told the child to say that he’d been abused. ‘Who told you to say that?’ ‘I’m not supposed to tell.’ Then we ask, ‘What aren’t you supposed to tell?’ and the child tells us everything.” (And the parent gets in trouble.)
    We had a little more about child abuse and a little about the Children’s Center that we have in the county. “They are so great,” we were told. “They’ll let us in any time day or night. In other counties it may take a few days before they can get a child there and by then any evidence on the child would be mostly gone.”

    As soon as Det. Williams finished (He really had to rush through the last part.), Detective Ed Bailey came up. He introduced himself and told us that he’d been working in Cyber Crimes and Internet Safety for many years. “In fact, I worked for 6 years and posed as a 13-year-old girl online and put 87 men behind bars during that time.”
    He asked the class if anyone wasn’t on facebook. Dad and I raised our hands. (He told us later that we were the only smart ones in class.) He also asked if anyone didn’t have an iPhone or a smartphone. Again, Dad and I raised our hands. “You guys are behind the times,” Det. Bailey laughed. His next question was who had wireless Internet at home. Everyone did. “Does anyone not have it password protected?” One guy raised his hand. There was a little debate between the the detective and our classmate about whether or not Det. Bailey could get into his server. (I’m sure he could.)
    You know, back “a long time ago” people had to have face to face conversations with someone or talk on the phone where there wasn’t much privacy and a limited amount of time. (What if someone else needed to make a phone call?) Now, however, everyone has a phone (even young children) and you can talk as long as you’d like wherever you like. And texting? Well, back then it was done by typing a letter out on a typewriter, putting the paper in an envelope, sticking a stamp on and dropping it in the mail. Three days later your friend receives it, reads it, types a reply and mails it back to you. Now? Well, you certainly don’t have to take the time to mail something and usually the answer comes in a few seconds. And nowadays there are even “Text & Learn” toys for 4+! (Thanks, but I’d rather children learned how to communicate with real words to real people and learn to spell real words! I mean, does it not bug you when you are trying to have a real conversation with someone and they keep pulling out their phone and sending off text messages and reading the ones that just came in?) And now they have “smart phones” for 6-36 month olds!
    I could give you a bunch of statistics about what percentage of children and teens give what information on the internet and what percentage of parents don’t supervise their children's’ internet activities at all and those who don’t do much after they are 14, but I think you’d all skip it. So, I’ll just tell you things. (If you want to know those things, just ask.)
    If you have any kind of profile online, set it to private or be very careful what information you put on it. Your first name is fine and even a last name isn’t bad, but where you live, the school you attend, how old you are and what your personal e-mail address is are not wise. Also, NEVER include your cell phone number! (If you have one.) And don’t tell others what your password is! (You’d probably be amazed at how many young people do that.)
    Do you have your picture up on your profile? What is in the background? What is in the background of other pictures you may have posted? You may not think there is anything, but go look again. If whatever is behind you has any calendar of where you might be, any colors of what restaurant you were in or a sports game where you were at (if you were in your home town), someone could find you that you don’t want to find you. (Believe me, there are bad guys out there who are really smart and willing to make an effort to find just the victim they want.) Det. Bailey showed us how much information he discovered on several facebook pages where the person thought they weren’t sharing much. It doesn’t have to be much and it can be so spread out that you may not notice it, but predators will. And remember, once you put something on the internet, it’s there forever.
    And a few more words of advice, never accept “friends” on facebook or other social media sites that you do not know personally. They may not be who they say they are.
    “I was going to go do a presentation at a high school,” Det. Bailey told us, “and a few days before I went, I created a facebook account for a fictional person. I made him a high school student who had just moved into the area and was attending the high school I would be visiting. (He showed us the page.) The guy wasn’t sure if he liked it there or not and asked for some friends. Within five minutes of putting this profile up, I had three people accept his friend request. By the time I went to the school, I had over 400 ‘friends’. (And remember, not one of those kids had ever met the guy they “friended.” (Is that what you call it?)) Two minutes before I went into the classroom, I had the profile picture of the “kid” changed to a sheriff’s badge. When I got up to talk, I told all the kids in the room to pull this kid’s profile up.
    “See, not everyone is who they say they are even when they have pictures up. Remember, I was a ‘13-year-old girl’ for six years.”
    If your parents are supervising your internet access, be thankful and never think that you are safe because it’s never happened to you before. If anyone on the internet starts to talk to you about things you know aren’t appropriate, even as a joke, tell your parents or an adult you trust at once!
    Det. Bailey told us that X-Boxes were also dangerous and those using them make easier targets for the predators since you play games with strangers all around the world and listen to them through headphones and no one else can hear. “There are many cases where a child was playing an X-Box and suddenly they just got up, walked outside and disappeared,” he told us, “because the person they were playing with told the child to meet him down the street and they’d go have fun.”
    Another word of advice, stay away from social networking sites such as chat rooms because you do not know who the real person is you are chatting with. They may be who they say they are, but many times they are not.
    There was so much more that was covered in class, but it would take much too long to tell you everything. Did you know that one picture of child pornography is worth 5 years in prison and one video is worth 77 pictures? (You can do the math.) Did you know that one picture on facebook of you and your dad with just a little bit of a car showing, can give a predator enough information to find your dad and follow him home from work? Did you realize that in today’s world, a guy doesn’t have to work up enough courage to walk up to a girl and ask her out? All he has to do is send a text. Did you know that seven-year-olds are now going around with a personal cell phone, taking pictures, videos and sending text messages? I could go on, but I won’t.
    If you are interested in learning more about internet safety, visit www.netsmartz.org or www.wiredsafety.org And remember, once you put something online, it’s there forever!

    Thanks for coming with me to class; stay safe online. Join me again, not next week, but the week following as we have our first class about Criminal Investigations. It should be fun! Until then, this is Rebekah.

A Horse Called Danger - Part 2

Good Morning FFFs!
Boy, oh boy, could I get on a soapbox after class last night! But I think I'd better wait and get my report written and then let you all read it. I will say this though, remember that once you put something on the internet, it's there forever! You may delete it, but you don't know who else had done something with it and spread it around. And, everything you delete can be recovered. So be careful.

This week wasn't quite as busy and crazy as last week, but I still had plenty to do. The kiddos came over Friday morning and we had them until around 2:30 on Sunday. It was fun and Doodle Bug gave us a few good laughs. One night he and his brothers were sitting on Grammy's bed waiting for Pickle Puss to finish getting a bath. Doodle Bug was playing with a stuffed dog and he turned to S and asked, "Dis his nose?"
S replied, "Yes, that's his nose. You have a nose too."
He thinks a minute and then says, "Dis his tail?"
S: "Yes, that's his tail."
A moment later, Doodle Bug reaches behind him and feels. Then he says thoughtfully, "Unt (I don't) have a tail." :D

I tutored a new student on Thursday, taught writing classes on Wednesday, attended the SCA last night and tonight we're going over to celebrate Funny Boy's 4th birthday! (How can he be four all ready?) I also worked with my best friend to get the cover for TCR-1 done. :) Now I'm working on the inside! It's very exciting.

Thank you so much for voting on what story I should write. I would like to start TCR-3, but I have to have an empty file on NEO first. :) So, I'm trying to finish up a Christmas story which I started last year but never finished. I also have about 300 words of a Dr. Morgan written that I need to make into 1,000 words. There are so many stories that I'd love to write, but I either can't think of what comes next, or I don't have the time to really get back into the story (such is the case with the Graham Quartet), or I don't have room or something!

Now I'll let you read the next part of this story. And remember, this really happened. The names and places have been changed, but it's based on a true story. Enjoy!

A Horse Called Danger - Part 2

    Since I was older, Uncle George treated me almost like one of his few hired hands. I rode out to check some fence line at least three times a week, went along in the pickup to feed the cattle, helped train some of the horses, and ate more of Aunt Julia’s good cooking then any other person on the ranch. Grandma said I was growing. I suppose I was but I never stopped long enough to really think about it much. Every night I tumbled into bed and never knew what happened after my head hit the pillow until I was awakened in the morning.
    During that summer I rode several horses, but there were two that were my favorites and I rode them every chance I got. One was a nut brown gelding named Sea Hawk and the other was Dandy Boy.
    It wasn’t until the latter part of summer that things happened. Mom and Dad were expected back in a few weeks, and I was looking forward to riding with Dad. I knew he’d be on Dandy Boy and figured I’d ride Sea Hawk. In my mind there wasn’t much difference between them except that Dandy Boy was a little faster and acted, well, like a dandy. I told Uncle once that the horse should have a mirror hung up in his stall so he could admire himself each day.
    One afternoon Uncle George and I had ridden out to check on a smaller group of cattle not far from the neighboring ranch line. This time Uncle George was riding Dandy Boy and I was on Sea Hawk. We stopped for lunch by an old blackened stump and gave the horses a breather since it was a warm day. Uncle was standing near that old tree stump looking across the vast grazing land. “Yep,” he said in answer to a question as Dandy came up. “I always carry my pistol when I’m out on the range. Never know when it might be needed.”
    Dandy Boy began rubbing his head against Uncle as though telling him it was time to move on. Suddenly the sound of a gun shot startled me and I turned in time to see Uncle gasp, take a staggering step and then fall. Dandy Boy and Sea Hawk pranced and whinnied nervously, especially Dandy Boy who kept near Uncle George.
    Rushing to the side of my uncle I saw blood staining his right pant leg! What had happened? Quickly I tried to push Dandy’s head away and it was then that I realized what had happened. In rubbing against him, Dandy had managed to catch part of his bridle on the trigger of Uncle’s gun. Quickly, but with shaking hands, I managed to free the bridle and the horse instantly backed away. I did the best I could to stop the flow of blood, but it was soon evident that Uncle needed more help than I could give.
    “Art,” Uncle whispered from a pain filled face, “take your belt off and fasten it around my leg above the wound.”
    I did as I was told, and leaving Uncle George holding on to one end of the belt to keep it tight, I mounted Sea Hawk and tore off for the neighboring ranch. Although I had to ride around their fence, it was still closer than going home. Besides, the phone line at the ranch hadn’t been working all day and I wasn’t sure if the repair man had come out and fixed it yet. I was praying the whole time I rode, let me assure you, because I’d never seen anyone shot before and that had me scared.
    Reining up before the barn where I could see some of the men, I sprang off Sea Hawk as they gathered about me, and gasped, “The horse shot him! He’s got to get help!”
    They must have thought I was crazy and I’ll admit it does sound crazy.
    “Hey, what’s this?” Mr. Gardner asked, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Take a deep breath, Son, and calm down. Now try again. Who’s shot and who did it?”
    I was shaking from shock, but I tried again. “Uncle George,” I gasped out. “He’s in the pasture near your fence line by the old, black tree stump.”
    “I know where that is,” one of the men said quickly, and Mr. Gardner nodded.
    “But who shot him?”
    “His horse!”
    At that Mr. Gardner put a hand on my forehead. I knew he thought I must be sick.
    “I’m telling the truth,” I insisted, breathing hard. “Please, you’ve just got to help him! He’s bleeding a lot.” I was nearly in tears and, though I doubted they believed that bit about a horse shooting anyone, they saddled up quickly, for they knew something had happened. Mr. Gardner hurried to call for an ambulance.
    Before they rode off, they assured me they would find my uncle, and I clambered up on Sea Hawk again to ride for home and tell Aunt Julia about the accident since the phone line was still down.
    As I neared the the ranch, I urged my horse faster and faster. The shock of everything had made me lose my usual confidence. All I wanted right then was for someone to tell me Uncle would be all right and to forget the sight of all that blood. Flying up the lane, I galloped straight across the nicely kept lawn to the kitchen door screaming, “Aunt Julia!”
    Ivy and Aunt Julia hurried out onto the porch. When they saw Sea Hawk on the grass, Aunt Julia exclaimed, “MacArthur Lee Washington Stuart! What are you doing riding a horse onto my lawn?” She had told me several years before that if she ever saw me riding a horse onto her nicely kept lawn, she’d take a switch to me, but at that point I didn’t care or even remember that threat.