He brought a number of short stories into my office one day and spent a great deal of time reading his part-time hobby, and I suggested that the readers of The Town Charter might enjoy reading his work.

Boyd’s stories are about real-life Indian adventures, mostly based on truth with some fiction to make them more interesting.

I told Boyd that I have a lot of old historical stories that I can document from old newspaper clippings that my great and grand parents have save saved throughout the years. Some of the newspapers date back to 1858. I have found that when my grandparents saved clippings and many times the complete newspaper, that there was something relating to local people or family in this newspaper. So I read the papers very closely to determine just what reason they had for saving the newspaper. I never fail to find something related to family or early day people of the Onega area that are of historical interest.

I commented to Boyd that these clippings provide us with much history, since many of these early day settlers have died, I find it important to share these stories. Boyd reminded me that historical events are of great interest and history does not change.

During our conversation, I told him about the old "Spit and Whittle Bench" which was in front of the grocery store just to the north of the hardware store. We have been enlightened and entertained my many stories from the people who frequently sat out and visited on this bench.

One such story follows: A local half-breed Cherokee had stolen horses a few counties south of Denton County.

The making of whiskey was an art that was acceptable to our local group, even though it was frowned upon in the event of excessive practice. One of our local prominent citizens was located in this area by the Sheriff in a county that is to the south of Denton County. The Sheriff came armed with one of his deputies. When they arrived in the downtown area and inquired as to the whereabouts of a certain so and so half-breed Cherokee, they were told that the old boy was fishing with his friend on the Elm Creek just to the west of Onega.

The Sheriff and his deputy traveled to the creek, tied up their horses to a tree and walked down to the fishing party which was made up of several Onega citizens. The fishing party had already been secretly informed that the Sheriff was in the area and was coming to visit them.

After the Sheriff successfully identified the thief and after a few casual conversations, the horse thief was tied up and the sheriff and the horse thief climbed up to the top of the bank of the Elm Creek. The Sheriff was taking the thief back to his county where he would be charged by the courts of that county.

Just as the arresting party reached the top of the bank, the members of the fishing party began talking about the local brew and was pulling a bottle of the special brew from his back pocket. The bottle was passed around and each party accepted a slight swig with a thank you from the bottle. In just a few minutes, a new bottle of the brew was found and the guests were offered a larger swig.

In just a short while, the happy and friendly Sheriff and deputy participated in the party which turned into a two-day party. The Sheriff and his deputy decided to come back in three weeks to visit with the happy party. They left joyously in a happy mood with empty hands.

After three weeks, the Sheriff and his deputy returned and the fishermen were happy to have another fishing party. We don’t know whether the horse thief was ever confronted again. We don’t know that the manufacturer of the bottled beverage was well established in a different region of the neighborhood and that when the visiting dignitaries approached the village, the well-trained scouts alerted everyone, and soon the entire tribe of peace-loving Indians found that no one was questioning their Native American background.

The photo this week shows local citizens, Fred Cummings and Jim Goin, loading up an essential product that was more scarcely found that the spring-fed concoction that was manufactured in every clump of trees. The ice house was located in the downtown area on the east side of Main Street.

We are fortunate these days that the town drunks and fighters are well controlled by the effective law enforcement officials that we proudly claim to be a part of our present daily living.