One thing I noticed about the Barnes’ arena, was the deep sand. The deep sand was well cared for and dragged down to a level terrain. My first thought at the time was that this sandy arena was made up of natural deep sand that is soft for the horses to run in.

This beautiful deep and soft sandy land with Bermuda grass is well managed in all areas. Our thanks to Randy and Sherri for keeping the large oak trees and Bermuda grass which are native to this area.

Sherri told me that despite her many efforts to water the trees from a shallow well that was hand dug some hundred years earlier, she has experienced the loss of fifty oak trees.

The hand dug well has a windmill installed on it now which adds to its charm, but upon close looking, I saw a pump that now provides water instead of waiting for the wind to come up and turn the windmill wheel.

This well provides water that we referred to as youngsters as hard water, but my grandmother would tell me that it was iron ore and mineral water that was a good source for good healthy drinking water. She also had one of these shallow water wells on her back porch.

The well on the Barnes’ ranch was a source of water for the early pioneer family named Rhea and Sanders that lived in this area. The amount of moonshine whiskey that was produced by the water from this well cannot be estimated. When digging down, after about six feet, there is sandstone, which is set in its way somewhat, but it can be dug into and provides good water which is in most of these sand pits in the area. The so-called sandstone, is really nothing more than sand itself after it is dug into and ground out.

The whiskey was produced in mass quantities in this area. It generally got a wink and a nod from the officials, since there was a demand for the good quality whiskey. The production of this product was very carefully manufactured. Everybody knew who and who not to trust, I like to refer to the settlement as a loveable and clannish tribe of Cherokees who produced this product not only for themselves but for many others.

I have a good friend and native of Aubrey, Leon Melton, who is now a retired preacher has excellent knowledge and recollection of historical facts from the "Old Onega" area. Just talking with him is an adventure as he recalls from his Cherokee Indian ancestry. Leon and my oldest brother, James, are near the same age.

I recall when my brother told me that he would help the depot agent for the railroad company when the engineers stopped in Aubrey. It was my brother’s only job to make sure that the 5 gallon wooden kegs of famous liquid were placed in the old steam engine on each side of the engine room for the long trip to Fort Worth. The engineers sat on the barrels to ensure they were referred to as stools when they arrived in Fort Worth.

Part of my fourteen-year-old brother’s job was to cover the kegs of whiskey with burlap sacks, so that the kegs would not be discarded as trash at their destination.

When the train came coasting in from Pilot Point, it would be ringing its bells and blowing smoke, and belching steam from the sides. There would be several passengers waiting for the ride, while others – normally teenagers were loading the train with eggs, cream, chickens and other small items being shipped out on the train. I remember they came through fairly often.

The group of young workers did everything with clockwork precision and within a few minutes the train engine would be slowly chugging out for its next stop in Denton.

I have wondered and imagined that the old bootlegging pioneers were somewhere hidden out along the side lines making sure that the valuable cargo made its successful departure. With all of the work and planning that went into the production of this highly demanded product, you can rest assured that someone was watching to make certain the train got started on its way, and then made themselves quiet until the next steam engine arrived.

The whiskey was making its journey onto a Fort Worth distributor who at one time made an unofficial complaint to my grandad, who was the public weigher. To my knowledge my grandad never weighed the wooden kegs on the public scales. The unofficial complaint was in a letter written to my grandad asking him to make a secret investigation. He says that he was purchasing 5 gallons of whiskey and was only receiving 4 ½ gallons. He asked my grandad not to mention this letter, but asked him to have the shortage corrected without mentioning it to anyone.

I don’t know what my grandad did about this request. I only have the old letter, but have never heard anyone mention the incident. In fact, I didn’t know about the letter until just a few years ago, when I found it in some old records.