All the muscles in Ernst’s six-foot five-inch thirty year old body rippled as he socked the post hole digger in for the second time, trying to make head way in the cold, hard February ground. He was thankful it wasn’t snowing. He glanced up at Mr. Harrison, the owner of the two hundred acre farm spread out in the wide valley surrounded by the Allegheny Mountains in Pennsylvania. He was a portly, fifty-five years old with dark slicked back hair who sported a handle bar moustache. He’s been Ernst’s boss for twenty years, a tough old bird who worked as hard as he did.
By five o’clock they had thirty posts put in, then strung the chicken wire on each pole. At six o’clock; “Come on Ernst let’s call it a day.”
“Gladly, I’m hungry for a good supper.”
“Good the Mrs. is making meatloaf tonight.”
He washed up in the wash-house and had supper with the Harrisons. They treated him like family. As they ate the Harrisons talked about going to the neighbors after they finished eating. They would go there often and have Ernst set up with the children. Eight year old Ida, four-year old Emma and Robert (Robbie) Smith a twelve-year-old young man who the Harrisons adopted from the poor farm.
When they finished eating he stood, “thank you again for wonderful meal.” Mrs. Harrison a slim red-head with china doll skin, smiled, “you’re welcome Ernst, glad you liked it.”
“I’ll be going now, good night.”
Ernst walked toward his small house one hundred yards from the Harrison’s big mansion. It was just right for him, not too big too clean and not too small to be cramped.
As he walked he heard a voice; “You must have Harrison’s money. You know he has a good deal of it stashed in that big house. Get it, you deserve to have it.” Ernst Willy shook his head and looked up the road in front of him and behind. “Who’s talking to me? I don’t see anyone.”
Before he realized it, he was back at the home of his employer and friend. After getting into the house he found the Harrisons were not home.
To be continued. Thank you for Traveling With Me.