Duxford Airfield (the band) Pt. 10

"I guess that answers the question of who flew the Jenny. David was one of the original barnstormers" I said quietly.

...Somehow, the Jenny airplane seemed to connect me to the Countess and her sons on a very personal level now. The Jenny made me realize that her boys had been actual living, breathing, human beings once. I probably would have liked them, I probably would have helped them work on the Jenny. Undoubtedly I would have wanted to have a Jenny too, and that fact seemed to connect me to the boys.

Looking at David's headstone, I was suddenly beset with over powering emotion and an abrupt mental vision of the Countess standing on this very spot and weeping uncontrollably at her son's loss.

...I closed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair as I took a deep breath.

On the opposite side of the Countess stood the marker for Philip which read "Philip David Epps, September 29th 1917 - April 19th 1964, A mother's delight and a joy to the world." There was a likeness of Philip etched into the stone and a Teddy Bear opposite him.

"...Why would David and Philip have different sur names, I wonder?" Helen now asked.

"I don't know, baby" Andrea whispered, as she stared at the headstone.

Another marker, which stood on David's right, read "Genevieve Hope Wickersham, May 17th 1919 - March 27th 1945, Beloved wife and mother." The stone was etched with the likeness of a beautiful smiling girl and adorned with flowers.

"...Well ladies, there she is. The girl's photo that we found was in fact, Danny's mom. We were right" I said.

No one spoke for several seconds. I silently pulled Andrea and Helen close to me. This was an emotional moment for them, and it was showing on each of their faces.

"You OK, baby?" Andrea asked, looking over at Helen, now.

"I'm OK, Andrea, its just a lot of emotion to process all at once. I'll be OK in a minute" Helen replied, closing her eyes.

...It was obvious that Helen and Andrea now needed a few minutes of quiet time for their inner thoughts and emotions.

The surrounding area was beautiful, desert mountains could be seen in the far distance and there were a few scattered trees that were undoubtedly many hundreds of years old. It was a peaceful spot which seemed to bring a sense of solitude.

Helen released me and then stood staring at the headstone before us.

"Look at this, Genevieve and the Countess were born on the same day, May 17th!" Helen suddenly exclaimed, as she quickly began taking several more photos of the headstones.

Oh my God, they were born on the same day, Helen!" Andrea said, holding her hand to her mouth in astonishment.

Looking over at Kendall, I saw that the girl was now covering her eyes with her left hand as a few tears streamed down her face. The Countess and her sons had finally become real for Kendall too...

I reached over and put my arm around her, pulling the girl close to me without speaking.

Kendall now spoke through her tears "...Growing up in this town I've always known of her, my entire life now, but she always seemed like some spooky legend that had once lived in a haunted mansion. She never seemed like a real person with a loving family, until now" Kendall said quietly, wiping her eyes and regaining some of her composure with a gallant effort.

"I think that sums up how all of us feel, Kendall" I said, releasing her with one final squeeze of her shoulder.

Andrea now took several photos of Helen beside each of the large headstones. - Helen and Kendall could determine later, which photos would be included in the actual half dozen exterior photographs that Helen would be allowed to keep for her new book.

Without speaking any further, the four of us slowly began walking out of the gated plot when I suddenly noticed one other headstone which stood alone and was on an adjacent rise, a hundred feet away from us.

I walked in the direction of the lone headstone, with the ladies following close behind me.

This headstone simply read "Colonel Douglas Mortimer, 1859 - September 15th 1942"

During our last visit inside Prominent House, the ladies and I had come to the conclusion that Colonel Douglas Mortimer had been the head man servant and body guard for the Countess. He had most likely worked for her over many years and been loyal to the very end.

"...You know, Tim, it's almost like he was placed here intentionally, so he could continue standing guard over the Countess, throughout eternity" Andrea said quietly.

"I was just thinking the same thing" I answered softly.

"...I wonder if they were ever lovers?" Helen asked, staring at the headstone.

None of us answered Helen's question.

Looking to my right, I now noticed a large open garage door within the side of Prominent House. Three more closed garage doors stood beside the one open overhead door.

"I'm going to take a quick look inside there, ladies" I said nodding my head, as I began walking.

Andrea quickly took my arm and fell into step beside me.

"You doing OK, babe?" she asked with a sigh.

"Andrea, in a day and a half, we'll be getting on the plane and this will all be an interesting memory" I replied with little emotion.

Walking up to the side of the house I now noticed another Hercules JXD engine, this one was coupled to a generator and permanently mounted upon a crude cement foundation, three feet tall. A makeshift power cable was suspended haphazardly upon tall posts which were all leaning in several directions. The power cable led into the exterior wall of the open garage.

Andrea and I stopped and briefly looked at the Hercules engine. Unlike the other Hercules engines which had powered the pump jacks, grey paint was still quite visible on this engine, indicating that it had been in use much more recently than the others. This one had most likely been purchased, still within its wooden crate, as WWII Army surplus.

Releasing Andrea's hand, I tried to turn the engine's crankshaft via the fan blades, but the engine was rusted stuck and wouldn't turn.

Kendall and Helen were now standing beside us, peering down at the engine and generator.

Without speaking, the four of us then walked into the open garage bay, turning on our flashlights.

The four bays were adjoining and a nineteen-thirty-two Model-A Ford flatbed farm truck sat in the farthest bay. Walking over to the dust covered truck, I noticed that the vehicle was completely intact and appeared to have been in running condition when last parked in this very spot, decades before.

"This was obviously the location of her motor pool, I wonder how many rigs the Countess may have had at one time?" I asked aloud.

I now noticed that Helen was silently rubbing some of the dust off the right front fender of the truck, reveling a dull baby blue paint.

"Model-A Ford, ladies. These were good old rigs, very reliable. Wish we had this back at the Lazy-G" I said whimsically.

"What's the Lazy-G?" Kendall asked.

"That's the name of our ranch, Kendall, where you and a guest are invited to come and visit" I replied, taking Andrea's hand again.

"Oh, that's right, Andrea told me that already. Yes, I plan on a visit, I want to meet Pippi and Wolfie!" Kendall said, smiling brightly.

I returned the girl's smile.

"I wonder if the Countess ever drove this truck? Seems like kind of a sissy color for cowboys" Helen suddenly speculated aloud, inspecting at the color.

"Anything is possible" Kendall answered, nodding her head.

"It was originally black, someone painted this truck with a bucket and brush. You can bet your boots, that she purchased this truck, brand new, off the showroom floor. Either her, or one of her cowboys did, that is" I said, rubbing the fender and peering at the blue paint.

"I wonder why there's no license plate on it?" Helen asked.

"Someone probably took it off to hang on their man cave wall, it was probably from the thirties or forties" I replied.

Andrea took several photos of Helen and Kendall standing by the flat bed truck, Andrea's flashbulb making day out of the dark interior of the garage.

...The ladies and I milled about the garage for several minutes, noting a few automotive spare parts here and there.

"Well, that answers one question anyway" I said reaching onto a shelf and taking down a box containing a used distributor cap and rotor.

"She owned a Duesenberg?" Andrea asked, looking at the insignia printed on the box's front.

"Apparently she owned a Duesey, Andrea. I wonder where it went to, after she passed?" I asked.

"THATS where that expression came from, a Duesenberg car!? - As a writer, I've wondered HOW in the world do you spell 'Duesey' correctly. I've wondered that for YEARS!!!" Helen said very intrigued.

"D-u-e-s-e-n-b-e-r-g, the nick name was spelled D-u-e-s-e-y" I replied, holding up the box for Helen.

"Helen was now busily writing herself a text message. She then took a careful photo of the box itself.

"Duesenbergs' were referred to as - a symphony of steel." I added.

"No wonder the Countess owned one, then" Andrea commented.

I shined my flashlight at the far wall and noticed a man door adorned with a window and curtains. The door appeared to lead into some type of residence from the garage area. I also noticed a horseshoe, turned with the open side up, above the door frame.

Slowly following my light beam, I walked to the door and turned the knob, the door swung open.

Inside was a small kitchenette complete with breakfast table and old cushioned chairs from the nineteen-sixties era. There was also a small refrigerator within the room and a peculator style coffee pot sat on the table along with a single porcelain cup, filled with decades of dust and also ringed with a coffee stain.

From the looks of the place, the room appeared to have been occupied by an elderly bachelor yet everything was orderly and there was no mess anywhere, including the sink.

Looking further into the room from where I stood, I could see an old sofa within what looked like a modest sitting room, complete with black and white T.V. and a standing card table. The small living space was adorned with cowboy memorabilia with many dusty and faded photographs of rodeos and other horse related events hanging on the walls.

There was a sad and lonely silence to the room, somehow.

...The ladies presently began going through every drawer and cabinet within the kitchen and commenting on each item they found, like a bunch of gossips living in a small town.

I silently rolled my eyes and shook my head at their sudden girlish behavior...

Glancing down at the kitchen table again, I now noticed two sealed white envelopes leaning against the salt and pepper shakers on the table. I slowly picked up the two dusty envelopes to discover that they were unmailed letters addressed to a James E. Epps of Odessa Texas. The return P.O. Box indicated that the two letters had originated from someone named Friday Epps, also residing in Odessa Texas. Long since antiquated stamps had been placed at the upper right hand corner of each envelope.

The two letters had never been mailed...

The ladies were all talking at once now as they clattered dishes and silverware all about on the kitchen counter while laughing periodically at various other things they discovered.

Ignoring them, I glanced down again at the letters that I was holding.

"...Here's another Epps, ladies, he wrote these two letters to Jimmy. I wonder if this guy was the one married to the Countess? Maybe 'Friday' was Franklin's nick name. I wonder if this guy could possibly have been related to Danny, or maybe even been his dad?" I asked out loud, more or less to myself.

The racket of dishes and silverware abruptly stopped as all three ladies turned and stared at me intently.

"...What!? What did you say, Tim?" Helen suddenly yelped, as she stood frozen where she was presently standing, with her hand still inside an overhead cupboard.

I silently held up the letters and wagged them back and forth a few times.

I made no reply as I began trying to think critically, like a police detective now. For the moment, I was going to assume that some form of tragedy had befallen this man and that he had died one morning.

The single coffee cup and unmailed letters strongly suggested that...

...An elderly man had once lived here, or at least I assumed he'd been elderly. I now stood staring all around the small dwelling, trying to piece together the last perceived day of his life.

The sensation now presenting itself within the small apartment gave indication that the gentleman had probably gotten out of bed early one morning, started the generator with its Hercules engine and then built himself a pot of coffee. He had drank coffee and then gone out to do his morning chores with plans to return later. He'd probably planned on coming back and drinking another cup of coffee or two, before heading into town so he could mail the two letters and maybe pick up a few supplies. Maybe he'd been some type of caretaker or night watchman for the Countess, I speculated.

I stared down at the empty coffee cup again...

Maybe this man's job was to climb into a Jeep and inspect all the oil wells every morning. He'd probably worked for the Countess for decades. He'd probably inspected the oil wells hundreds, if not thousands of times. However, on this particular morning he'd never come back to have another cup of coffee. He'd never come back to mail the two letters. The Hercules engine, powering the generator, had churned faithfully until running out of fuel...

"...What was it, you said a moment ago, Tim?" Helen asked intently, the ladies were all standing next to me now, I noticed.

I silently held up the two unmailed letters, for everyone to see.

The ladies stood silently peering at the two letters like nosey little school girls.

" - THAT'S HIM! THAT'S THE GUY THAT I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT, LAST WEEK! THAT'S THE GUY THAT EVERYONE USED TO SAY LIVED HERE ALONE IN THE NINETEEN-EIGHTIES - FRIDAY EPPS!!! Now I remember! He was the old cowboy that took care of all the horses after the Countess, and everyone else, had died. NOW I REMEMBER!!!" Kendall exclaimed excitedly and pointing at the two letters in my hand.

Kendall was so excited now that she was jumping up and down slightly.

"...Friday Epps, I'm going to assume that this was Jimmy's dad, or maybe even Danny's, maybe they were brothers. Put these in your purse, Andrea. Since we're going to return the bicycle to the Epps, either today or tomorrow, we may as well deliver these two letters to them. Maybe they'd even be willing to tell us the actual family relation to this guy" I said quietly, as I began handing the letters to my wife.

"Let me see those!" Helen said, snatching the letters from me rudely.

"...Maybe he was Franklin Epps, and married to the Countess. 'Friday' may have been a nick name" I suggested.

Helen was now staring at the two letters.

"...Oh, fuck, I didn't need any more confusion added to all of this saga. Until twenty minutes ago, I'd never even heard the name of Epps, and now we've got three of them on our hands, Franklin, Friday and James. Prominent House has more twists, turns, and strange secrets than a fucking carnival funhouse. Who the hell was this guy, Friday, and how does he fit into this whole mess?" Helen sighed, handing Andrea the envelopes.

My wife silently shook her head and tucked the two letters inside her purse.

Maybe he was Danny's dad. Maybe Danny was an Epps, also" I suggested again.

"David King, later to become David Wickersham, was Danny's dad, Mary Wickersham's memoirs say so, Tim. If Friday Epps was actually Franklin Epps, and he was married to the Countess, then why isn't he laying next to her in the family plot? - No, I don't think Friday Epps was Franklin Epps, I think they were two seperate people" Helen said, holding her forehead, with eyes closed and nodding slowly at her own logic.

"Kendall, how old was this alleged cowboy, that took care of the horses, after everyone else had died?" I asked.

"Old, he lived into his early nineties, so the stories say" Kendall shrugged.

"Ladies, I think this place, that we're standing in, must have belonged to this mysterious old cowboy. -The caretaker of the horses must have been this guy, Friday Epps, as Kendall has stated. The horse corral is right outside his door, and the guy that did live here had obviously been a cowboy his whole life, by the looks of all the memorabilia. I'll bet he was Jimmy's dad, at least" I reasoned.

"Jimmy Epps is the guy that sold you the bicycle, right?" Helen asked.

"Yes" I nodded.

"The two letters are addressed to a James E. Epps, so Friday probably was Jimmy's dad" Helen reasoned.

"I think Helen's right, concerning the number of individuals that we're talking about, Tim. We're talking about two separate individuals here, Franklin Epps was one person and Friday Epps was another. Undoubtedly, with a rare name like Epps, they must have been related, somehow" Andrea now reasoned.

"You don't think that 'Friday' was a nick name?" Kendall asked my wife.

"I rather doubt that it was. 'Friday' was never a common name but I have heard of it before. It was an actual proper name used around the turn of the century" Andrea said in reply.

...We gave up trying to sort out the mystery of Friday Epps for the time being, and began rummaging around the small dwelling again. We found long outdated canned food and coffee in the kitchen cupboards, two cases of beer in the refrigerator and several additions of Penthouse magazine, the most recent of these being nineteen-eighty-one.

Walking into the small sitting room, we found a T.V. Guide with a correlating date to that of the Penthouse magazine, nineteen-eighty-one.

"...You were right, all along, Kendall. The old gentleman must have passed, right around the year nineteen-eighty-one" I said, handing her the T.V. Guide.

"OH MY GOD! Helen suddenly exclaimed before Kendall could reply to me.

All of us now turned our attention to Helen.

"The Countess, my God, just look at her!" Helen said excitedly and pointing at a large color portrait of the Countess, which was hanging at a crooked angle on the wall.

The facial photograph depicted a young and exceptionally beautiful woman that was obviously standing next to a horse. The girl within the photograph was dressed in rugged clothes and beaming widely with a heart felt pride and joy. The young girl was holding up a blue ribbon adorned with "1st. Place Winner."

"...She really could smile, after all. My God, she was breathtaking" Andrea said quietly.

"Yes, but not like you, my love" I said as I pulled Andrea close to me and kissed her.

Helen's flashbulb popped in our faces again.

"...Helen, I'm going to take that damn camera away from you" I sighed with my eyes closed and jaw firmly set.

"Just try it, Tim. I was a journalist for ten years and no one ever did take my camera away from me, although a few did try." Helen growled, as she intently studied the photo that she'd just taken of Andrea and me.

Andrea rolled her eyes at Helen and me.

"You're going to take her with us, aren't you?" Andrea asked, nodding her head at the portrait of the Countess.

"Damn right I am" Helen said as she reached up and took down the large framed portrait of the young Countess.

"...1927 Texas State Fair, 1st. Place Winner Women's Barrel Racing" Helen now read from the back of the portrait.

"She must have been extremely proud during that moment" Kendall quietly said.

"She was thirty-seven when that photograph was taken. Nineteen-twenty-seven is the year that my mother was born" I replied quietly.

Helen now carried the large photo to the open doorway and gently set down the framed portrait of the Countess by the open door. Helen then took several careful photographs of the portrait, with her camera and phone.