Treasure on the Bayou

Higgins Family History

"So, you might as well know about this place." Dad began. "In 1940 your Great Grandfather, Hannibal Higgins, I called him Grandpa H., his wife and two boys, Horacio, my dad, and Atticus—yes you were named after him Atticus—came to live in what Grandpa H., called the Bayou on Paradise. My dad didn't like to talk about it because he and Grandpa H. didn't get along very well after the accident. When we made the decision to come out here and claim this property, my dad finally opened up and told me what really happened.

He said, "Larry, you might as well know everything before you go out there. Everyone else there knows the story and they will expect you to also. You see, your Grandpa H. had this vision of paradise and he tried his best to help us see it too. Atticus, I think could see it, but I never could. I was always jealous of my brother Atticus for that and other things. We were opposites. Your uncle Atticus was the adventurer and always too curious. I was the cautious one, timid and painfully shy. I loved your Grandfather. He would tell Atticus and I bedtime stories called pig tales. We had fun working with him on the ranch raising grapes, peaches, pecans, and of course pigs. You have to know, I didn't want things to turn out the way they did."

Dad interjected, "I knew that my dad loved his dad by the tears that threatened to fall as he talked about him, but all my life growing up, though, I never knew much about my own grandfather. It was all because of the tragedy of Atticus." Dad paused thoughtfully and then continued.

Dad continued, "According to my dad, this is what happened.

"One day, when Atticus was about 13, he found that a prickly pear cactus had grown around an old electric switch box, and to make matters worse, the switch box had a beehive in it. Grandpa H. told him not to mess with it because he wanted to save the hive. He went back to planting trees in his pride and joy, the tree arbor that he was creating that he called 'The Hall of Justice.' An hour later there was a loud bang, all the power went out. I and grandpa found that Atticus had trimmed back the cactus and had tried to get the bees out, but in the process electrocuted himself. Grandpa H. was furious at me at first for not watching over my younger brother, and blamed me for not being more diligent. After the funeral, something snapped inside of Grandpa H. and he was never quite right after that. He stopped smiling, stopped telling stories, and he always walked around stoop-shouldered as if he was carrying a heavy burden. When your Grandma H. died, Grandpa H. got worse. He became so obsessed with the property that he spent all of his time outside pruning, and mowing around the switch box and the Hall of Justice, and little else. I tried to help him move on, but I felt that he he still blamed me for Atticus' death. I was a teenager and couldn't see that it was grief not anger that was eating him up. I became rebellious, adding more grief to my dad. Since he wasn't working the ranch so much anymore, the rest of the property just deteriorated. The property used to be bigger but Grandpa H. had to sell part of the property to a Baptist church to survive. He sold all of the pigs, and kept some money coming in by going to market with the peaches and pecans."

"My dad confided to me that when he turned 20 he decided he'd had enough of the grief and loneliness, so he left for California. By himself Grandpa H. became bitter and demented and he died in grief and heartbreak. When I was a baby my Dad came back for Grandpa H.'s funeral. Being the only heir, my dad held the deed to this property, but couldn't bring himself to sell it, and he never did anything with it. So that is the story."

"Wow, it's just like a movie." Atticus said as he finished off the lemonade. "I'm going to go explore before it gets dark. Want to come Patty?"

"Now you both be careful. This property has been vacant for a long time. There could be lots of dangerous creatures out there! Being teenagers doesn't mean you are invincible." Mrs. Higgins warned.

"Lions, and tigers, and bears, Oh My!" Atticus laughed.

"How about snakes, spiders, and scorpions to name just a few! Be sure you are back here before sundown. I said before...not after."

Atticus let the old screen door slam behind him as he and Patricia stepped into the muggy afternoon air. "I want to check out the Hall of Justice dad mentioned. I wonder why he called it that?"

"Dunno. Don't suppose he knew about super heroes then. Look there are some big trees over there." Patricia pointed to the right at a copse of trees much larger than the rest.

They found an old trail that headed in that direction and followed it. The first thing they saw as they entered the shade of the trees was an old shed on the left. They pried the door open with a loud "crack" and saw to their amazement all of the well-worn tools neatly hung on the wall above the table. "Will you take a look at these old tools! Look, they don't make garden shears like this anymore!" Atticus grabbed the shears and took them down. "They work great! They aren't even rusty." He laid them on the table.

"You know what else is strange? There are no cobwebs in here and no piles of dust like we found in the main house. Does someone live here?" Patricia wondered.

Atticus gestured with his hands like a wizard doing a spell. "Does sound strange. We should tell dad. Let's go look at the Hall of Justice."

Both left the shed and continued into the trees. As they approached, they could not help but notice that there was a pattern to the location of the trees. They walked past rows of tall pecan trees perfectly lined up and right in the center was a small clearing with a large and ornately decorated, cement bird bath with three tiers. The grass was neatly trimmed and the bird bath had clear water in it. "It is so beautiful and peaceful. Somebody definitely is taking care of this place." Patricia reached out to dip her fingers in the water, but hesitated.

"Yeah, too quiet. Do you hear or see any birds for that bird bath?" Atticus pointed around. "Not even the birds are allowed in here!" Atticus laughed at his own joke. "Come on. Let's go check out the pond."

"I know why Great Grandpa H. loved this place. It is so peaceful and pretty, in a spooky way." Patricia followed Atticus out of the Hall of Justice. As they passed the shed, they noticed the door was closed. "Didn't you leave the shears on the table? Look, they are on the wall again." Patricia and Atticus gazed through the dirty shed window.

"Don'tremember. Maybe I put them back."Atticus shrugged his shoulders.