Chapter 17 (Part 2)

After a while, my Great Grandfather gave up hope to ever understanding what happened to him. Life moved on, as it often does. So almost two decades past before anything more strange and unusual happened.

It was in the 1950s during deer season that the next strange thing would happen. My Great Grandfather had now owned the farm for close to 20 years. During that time, he had heard or thought he had seen some strange things. One day, my Great Grandfather, my Grandpa, and all my great uncles were out hunting with a man they called, no joke, Indian Joe. This was a man that my Great Grandfather had somehow met over the years.

Joe was a full blooded Indian, although no one seemed to take the time to ask for any more specifics. He was one hell of a shot as well. He almost never missed, and if he did, he didn't miss the second time. So here they all are, out in the back pasture field, about half a mile away from the farm house. There are about 8 people back there, pushing the field and driving the deer. Sure enough, they jump a few deer, Joe shoots, wounds one, and has to track him. No big deal, plenty of snow. As he is tracking the wounded animal, he heads into the part of the farm that is largely unkempt. Even to this day, we don't do much with that area as it is very very dense underbrush, soggy, and just not worth much as land. He is pushing through, when he comes to what looks like a deer trail. My Grandfather is close behind, learning the ins and outs of tracking. He was about 11 or 12 at the time. They follow the trail, and it leads to an clearing in the brush. My Grandfather to this day still has a hard time explaining just what happened. He says they walked into the clearing, and that it was small. No more than probably six or seven feet across. Almost perfectly circular. In the center of the circle was what remained of a deer. The body was shredded, almost beyond recognition. Blood he says, was everywhere he looked, like something had violently tossed the deer around. At this point, Joe took my grandfather and placed him behind him, telling him to take the safety off his gun, and be ready for anything. Joe then proceeds to walk towards the animal, trying to look for any tracks or other evidence of what could do this. They found tracks, but they were unlike anything that my grandfather has ever seen, even if they were distorted by the snow. He said Joe took a look at these tracks, knelt down to get a closer look, and then stood abruptly, swearing as he did so. My grandfather remembers seeing a look of terror upon the man's face. Joe grabbed my Grandfather by the collar, practically dragging him back out of the brush. On the way out, he swears that he could hear something stalking along beside them, about ten feet off to his right. He never saw anything. Now, once they were clear of the brush, Joe told my Grandfather to run back to the house. The others were waiting for them, and asked what was wrong, the fear evident on both their faces. Joe told my Great Grandfather that the deer was torn to shreds. Then he proceeded to tell him that he should sell this land, and that he was sorry, but he would never set foot on the property again. He was asked time and time again to explain what was wrong, what he had seen, but he would never tell anyone. My Grandfather told me that in the weeks leading up to Joe's death, he had some form of cancer, he visited him to pay his respects and say goodbye. As he left, my Grandpa, one of the most brutally honest people I have ever met, tells me Joe's last words to him were: "We were lucky, you know, Gene. We were lucky to have made it back that day." My Grandpa to this day will not set foot back in that area of the farm. In relation to where my supposed cousin disappeared, it is on the opposite side of the farm, close to a full mile away.