Home Coming

My middle name is Carl. It came from an uncle, Captain Carl Todd, shown above. He was a salty guy who worked his way up to become a pilot on the Ohio River during the first half of the 1900s. As a pilot he was responsible for a taking large ships and barges up and down between Louisville and the Mississippi River. Carl made a fortune one way or another. Some in the family said he was a smuggler; others said he was just tight with his money and kept what he made; others thought he was just plain lucky. He was called “Lucky Carl” from time to time, but usually just “Captain,” or “Captain Carl.”

Some years before this story, Carl had purchased a large, bluegrass horse farm in Kentucky to be his home. Over the years he had assembled a collection of fine, premier racing horses. They were his pride and joy. One day late in December, after four weeks away on the river, he arrived back in Louisville. His ranch foreman, Henry, met him at the wharf.

“It’s a pleasure to see you Captain Carl,” said Henry, cap in hand.

“Always good to come home, Henry.” Captain Carl stretched and took a deep breath of Kentucky air as they walked to the car.

A few miles into the trip Carl asked from the back seat, “Any news, Henry?”

“No sir,” said Henry, “There ain’t no news at all. Been quiet.”

They drove on—it was a 15-mile trip on a winding, picturesque road. Midway Henry said, hesitantly: “Well-l-l, sir, there is one piece of news. And I’m afraid it’s sad.

“It’s about your dog, Blue...He died while you were gone.”

“Blue!” said Captain Carl, leaning forward. “Why when I left he was chasing rabbits and keeping the cat up in the apple tree!”

There was silence, except for the car. “How did he die?” asked the

Captain, at last.

“Well-l-l, sir, he died from eatin’ burnt horse flesh.”

“Horse flesh! How it the world did he get hold of that?”

 “Well-l-l, Captain, it was after the big barn burned down. You see, some of the horses were killed.”

“SOME of them?”

“Wel-l...most of them, sir… I’m afraid you lost all the Quarter Horses and all but two of the Thoroughbreds.”

Captain Carl was stunned. After a few moments, he said: “Tell me Henry, how did the fire start?”

“Well-l….it…was the sparks. Yes sir, the sparks. They they flew from the house.”

“THE HOUSE! What are you saying, Henry, the house burned?”

“Yes sir. That’s how it all began. Yes sir. The house caught fire, the sparks flew to the barn; the barn caught fire; and most of the horses were trapped. And Blue ate some of the burnt flesh.”

“But Henry, how did the damned house catch fire?” The Captain was now fully agitated.

“Well-l, Captain,” and he paused. “It was the candles. The flames catched onto the curtains in the living room.”

“CANDLES!? Henry, you know we’ve never allowed candles in the house. Why were they there…and lit?”

“Well-l-l, sir…they were ringed all around the coffin.”

“The coffin? My God, Henry, who died?”

“Well-l sir, it was your mother-in-law. It was a terrible thing.”

“But Henry, she had the constitution of a mule. What could have possibly killed her?”

“It was the shock, Captain, the shock.”

“The shock of what?”

“Wel-ll, sir—and he pasued for deep breath—it was the shock of your wife running away with the sheriff.”

Captain Carl sunk back into his seat, voiceless. The car rolled on.

“Outside that, Captain, and your dog Blue, there ain’t been no news.”