My dad joined the Sons of the Confederate Veterans During this time, and soon after became the president of the local chapter. His main thrust within the organization was to set as many tomb stones for the men who fought in the KY 13th as possible. Almost all of these men did not have proper tombstones, let alone military issued stones. Due to their poverty, many of them could not afford manufactured tombstones. They resorted to using large rocks to mark their graves. As one would imagine, this made the locating of these men extremely challenging.
My dad felt the responsibility to properly honor them for their service and sacrifice. Upon proper documentation, the US Government will provide a military tomb stone for any US soldier. This also includes Confederates. Over the last twenty five years, my dad and his colleagues have set over 1,300 tomb stones for the men of the KY 13th. Though his work has slowed down recently, it is ongoing. It's a rare week that dad is not in a cemetery, and its a rare month that he has not set at least one stone. Bellow is a photo of my dad dressed in full KY Confederate attire. He wears this suit for special occasions such as reenactments and dedications.
During my teens and early twenty's, I went with my dad on many of these stone setting adventures . My dad is not exactly an outdoors-man, so this gave me a unique opportunity to be with him in that environment. It also instilled within me a deep appreciation for my ancestry as well as connection to my home in the mountains. The cemeteries in South Eastern Kentucky are normally located on the highest mountain tops because of the local belief that those "asleep in Christ" would be the first to meet Him in the air upon His return. Below is a photo of me at age sixteen at a mountain cemetery.
The following entry was taken from my dads journal regarding a particularly interesting stone setting adventure in 2004. I was living in Fargo, ND at the time, so he sent me this detailed written account. Many of the events in this entry are typical of what you would find on such a mission. I will warn you the tale is long, but worth your time. Midway through some very interesting events unfold. I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading this snapshot of the world I grew up in.
THE COMPLETE JEREMIAH ROBERTS
ADVENTURE
by Faron Sparkman
Saturday - June 26, 2004
- Linda worked today at Silk Purse. Despite a forecast for a sunny
Saturday, I woke up to more rain today and the first thing I wondered was -
would Tim Harp and I be able to set stones as planned in Breathitt County and
Lee County? It was my wife's turn to work at her interior shop, so when
that happens (about once a month) I sometimes get a Saturday free for stone
setting. I was really looking forward to Saturday with the forecast of
sunny skies!
I stopped by the radio station at 9:00 and recorded three Pepsi commercials. Then I drove to Manufacturer's Supply and picked up a couple of bags of concrete mix. Next, I stopped and got Tim Harp at his house on Sam Campbell Branch and we pointed the truck towards Breathitt County in the rain. I decided to continue on to Wolfe County for two reasons. First, I wanted to get to the Wolfe County courthouse before noon and check out all the Ashley land deeds to see what light it may shed on our continued search for William Ashley's burial site. And two, I needed to visit Bill James and get a copy of his portrait of Captain Henry Swango for our 5th Kentucky Infantry sign. By the time we reached Campton the rain had stopped and the sun began to slowly creep out. We first stopped at the Dollar Store and bought a new level (Tim left the one I usually keep in the truck at his house) and batteries for our G.P.S. unit. I couldn't reach Bill by phone or at his new apartment near Evans Crossing in the Methodist Housing Complex, so we drove to the courthouse. I made my way quickly into the deed room at the County Court Clerk's office - asked for the index to the oldest deeds and soon was taking notes and pulling the books off the shelves.
We stopped at Wendy's restaurant in Jackson for a sandwich and then drove over to the Breathitt County Library where Tim Harp and I loaded the Jeremiah Roberts stone (5th KY. Infantry - Consolidated) into the back of my truck. We checked inside the library for Steve Bowling but he was at meeting at Natural Bridge State Park. We then continued on Rt. 52 from Breathitt County towards Lee County. At Talega, Kentucky on Rt. 52 we took Rt. 708 until we reached Mill Branch Road. We drove several miles up Mill Branch looking for the Ned Roberts Cemetery where we planned on setting a stone for Jeremiah Roberts of the 5th Kentucky Infantry. The road changed from blacktop to dirt and there were almost no houses for miles. We saw no cemeteries and the road continued to grow worse until we came to an unexpected fork in the road.
Steve Bowling had written basic directions of how to get to the Ned Roberts Cemetery up until this point, but he mentioned no fork in the road. He had told me that this too would be an easy stone setting and that we could follow his directions and drive right to the cemetery. With no one around for miles to ask, we decided to take the left fork. The road went straight up a mountain. The farther we drove the steeper and more narrow the dirt road became, but again no houses and no cemeteries. Nothing. It took us about a half hour of driving to cover a few miles and eventually as the road continued to show signs of rougher conditions we finally found a turning point and decided to return to the first fork in the road. All we knew was that we were somewhere on Mill Branch, basically without a clue.
While returning to the fork in the road we passed our first car. A young girl about 20 years-old was driving an older red Chevrolet compact and a young boy was her passenger. The road was only one lane so as we stopped to allow her to pass we rolled the window down and asked if she knew where the Ned Roberts Cemetery was located. We explained that we wanted to set a military tombstone for a Confederate soldier named Jeremiah Roberts if we could find the Ned Roberts Cemetery. She smiled and said Ned Roberts was her grandfather and she knew the cemetery very well. She began telling us how we would have to go to the right at the forks and continue past an abandoned camper, down into the creek, then back up high on the mountain on the other side. From there she said we would have to walk back down to the creek (there was no road for a vehicle, just a walk path). After that we would walk until we found an old log cabin in the woods that had been torn down. She paused and said, "Do you want me to go and show you?" She could see that I was concerned about being able to find it. I said, "If you've got the time, that would really help us."
We waited at the forks about five minutes for her to continue up the left fork and find a place wide enough to turn her little red car around. She then returned and got in front of our truck and as she passed us she said, "Now this road is pretty rough so I'll have drive real slow." I nodded, I've been driving real slow for 45 minutes. Just past the forks we passed a small farm but there was nobody in sight - just five big mules roaming around just inside a fence. Soon after passing the mules the sunlight was suddenly blocked out by a huge cluster of trees as we followed to the left of a rapidly moving creek and alongside huge rock cliffs and caves. It was really beautiful, like a scene from a place in another time. The cool darkness of the shade was a relief from the heat of the sun as we watched the water churning up forcefully over thousands of rocks.
But soon my thoughts changed from appreciating the awesome beauty of my surroundings to being concerned about what kind of road conditions we were about to face. The girl's little red Chevrolet car angled down a steep bank and into the creek itself which was filled with huge boulders and rushing white water. I couldn't believe this girl was taking a car into this place. I had my truck in 4-wheel drive of course the whole way but I knew she only had front-wheel drive and just as important was the fact that my truck was sitting up high and her little car was not.
She tried to negotiate the big rocks by transversing around at different angles. Sometimes she would run one wheel up on a large rock, slip off, and all but knock the bottom out of her car, but she kept slowly making progress. I in the meantime was having difficulty keeping my truck anywhere near the center of the narrow, muddy road. This was made worse by the fact there had been so much rain recently and the dirt road was not only extremely narrow but because of the water was breaking off on the sides to make it even more narrow. I told Tim this would be a good place for a 4-Wheeler but it was insane for a car - and not even a good place for a truck.
I stopped by the radio station at 9:00 and recorded three Pepsi commercials. Then I drove to Manufacturer's Supply and picked up a couple of bags of concrete mix. Next, I stopped and got Tim Harp at his house on Sam Campbell Branch and we pointed the truck towards Breathitt County in the rain. I decided to continue on to Wolfe County for two reasons. First, I wanted to get to the Wolfe County courthouse before noon and check out all the Ashley land deeds to see what light it may shed on our continued search for William Ashley's burial site. And two, I needed to visit Bill James and get a copy of his portrait of Captain Henry Swango for our 5th Kentucky Infantry sign. By the time we reached Campton the rain had stopped and the sun began to slowly creep out. We first stopped at the Dollar Store and bought a new level (Tim left the one I usually keep in the truck at his house) and batteries for our G.P.S. unit. I couldn't reach Bill by phone or at his new apartment near Evans Crossing in the Methodist Housing Complex, so we drove to the courthouse. I made my way quickly into the deed room at the County Court Clerk's office - asked for the index to the oldest deeds and soon was taking notes and pulling the books off the shelves.
We stopped at Wendy's restaurant in Jackson for a sandwich and then drove over to the Breathitt County Library where Tim Harp and I loaded the Jeremiah Roberts stone (5th KY. Infantry - Consolidated) into the back of my truck. We checked inside the library for Steve Bowling but he was at meeting at Natural Bridge State Park. We then continued on Rt. 52 from Breathitt County towards Lee County. At Talega, Kentucky on Rt. 52 we took Rt. 708 until we reached Mill Branch Road. We drove several miles up Mill Branch looking for the Ned Roberts Cemetery where we planned on setting a stone for Jeremiah Roberts of the 5th Kentucky Infantry. The road changed from blacktop to dirt and there were almost no houses for miles. We saw no cemeteries and the road continued to grow worse until we came to an unexpected fork in the road.
Steve Bowling had written basic directions of how to get to the Ned Roberts Cemetery up until this point, but he mentioned no fork in the road. He had told me that this too would be an easy stone setting and that we could follow his directions and drive right to the cemetery. With no one around for miles to ask, we decided to take the left fork. The road went straight up a mountain. The farther we drove the steeper and more narrow the dirt road became, but again no houses and no cemeteries. Nothing. It took us about a half hour of driving to cover a few miles and eventually as the road continued to show signs of rougher conditions we finally found a turning point and decided to return to the first fork in the road. All we knew was that we were somewhere on Mill Branch, basically without a clue.
While returning to the fork in the road we passed our first car. A young girl about 20 years-old was driving an older red Chevrolet compact and a young boy was her passenger. The road was only one lane so as we stopped to allow her to pass we rolled the window down and asked if she knew where the Ned Roberts Cemetery was located. We explained that we wanted to set a military tombstone for a Confederate soldier named Jeremiah Roberts if we could find the Ned Roberts Cemetery. She smiled and said Ned Roberts was her grandfather and she knew the cemetery very well. She began telling us how we would have to go to the right at the forks and continue past an abandoned camper, down into the creek, then back up high on the mountain on the other side. From there she said we would have to walk back down to the creek (there was no road for a vehicle, just a walk path). After that we would walk until we found an old log cabin in the woods that had been torn down. She paused and said, "Do you want me to go and show you?" She could see that I was concerned about being able to find it. I said, "If you've got the time, that would really help us."
We waited at the forks about five minutes for her to continue up the left fork and find a place wide enough to turn her little red car around. She then returned and got in front of our truck and as she passed us she said, "Now this road is pretty rough so I'll have drive real slow." I nodded, I've been driving real slow for 45 minutes. Just past the forks we passed a small farm but there was nobody in sight - just five big mules roaming around just inside a fence. Soon after passing the mules the sunlight was suddenly blocked out by a huge cluster of trees as we followed to the left of a rapidly moving creek and alongside huge rock cliffs and caves. It was really beautiful, like a scene from a place in another time. The cool darkness of the shade was a relief from the heat of the sun as we watched the water churning up forcefully over thousands of rocks.
But soon my thoughts changed from appreciating the awesome beauty of my surroundings to being concerned about what kind of road conditions we were about to face. The girl's little red Chevrolet car angled down a steep bank and into the creek itself which was filled with huge boulders and rushing white water. I couldn't believe this girl was taking a car into this place. I had my truck in 4-wheel drive of course the whole way but I knew she only had front-wheel drive and just as important was the fact that my truck was sitting up high and her little car was not.
She tried to negotiate the big rocks by transversing around at different angles. Sometimes she would run one wheel up on a large rock, slip off, and all but knock the bottom out of her car, but she kept slowly making progress. I in the meantime was having difficulty keeping my truck anywhere near the center of the narrow, muddy road. This was made worse by the fact there had been so much rain recently and the dirt road was not only extremely narrow but because of the water was breaking off on the sides to make it even more narrow. I told Tim this would be a good place for a 4-Wheeler but it was insane for a car - and not even a good place for a truck.
With each bend in the creek
the road grew worse and worse. At times we were sliding from side to side
across large pools of wet mud, slowing managing our way up and over huge rocks,
slamming hard into unexpected deep holes in the water of the creek and then
tackling another mountain with tiny narrow roads that were rutted out by deep
ruts. The girl in the car would have to stop and back up and then get the
car up to speed before she could make it up the hills with rocks and mud flying
into the air. Tim and the girl's boyfriend got out about ten times to
help push her car out of situations with ruts and rocks, as well as breaking
down numerous trees and limbs that were across our path. The narrow road
was often saturated on each side with thorns and close green vines and brush
that pulled at our vehicles as we made our way forward. There were
several moments when I was pretty tense about being able to negotiate the
rushing water of the creek and also I worried about dropping off the side of
parts of the road as we continued to the mountaintop. But almost from
beginning we were committed, there was no place at all to turn a vehicle
around. Once through another section of the creek, the young girl and boy
left their car just to the side of the creek and told us this was as far as
their car could make it and that they would ride in the bed of our truck to a
point high on the mountain.
Eventually, a half hour later, we arrived at that point on the mountain where they signaled we would have to stop. They jumped out of the truck bed and we learned for the first time their names were Tina Roberts and Ben Estes. I figured out that the soldier Jeremiah Roberts was Tina's great-great grandfather (the grandfather of Ned Roberts for whom the cemetery was named). We unloaded the post-hole diggers, bucket of concrete mix, camera, level, G.P.S. device and map of the cemetery. Next, we took the Jeremiah Roberts stone out of the back of the truck and strapped it to the dolly. The four of us carrying the equipment began descending a walk path just below where we parked the truck. This led quite a distance back down another mountain to the creek. It seemed to me as if we were losing ground instead of gaining, but Tina explained this was the one and only way to reach the cemetery.
About 15 minutes later we were all standing next to a narrow tributary of the creek. The water was one thing, but of more concern was the fact that on the other side of the creek were stacked a series of very large logs. There was no way around it, we would have to take the stone strapped to the dolly through the water and then somehow lift it up and over each and every log to get to the clearing on the other side. That's exactly what happened. With a few quick jerks we splashed through the cool water to the other side and fortunately Tina had led us to a shallow point to cross. But once to the other side it was slow-going as I got on the bottom side of the dolly and Tim on the top side to lift the 250-pound granite stone with the dolly straight up and over each individual log. That process was completed and we were once again all four on the ground and the other side of the latest obstacle.
On this side of the creek the land was a little more level, at least nearest the water. But one difference was the vegetation. There was no pathway whatsoever so we began briskly dragging the dolly right through the middle of weed stalks and vines that averaged about five feet in height. Tim quickly pointed out to me that some of these weeds carried large thorns, some thorns about three inches in length that could easily rip the skin off of you. So for the time being I forgot completely about snakes and poison ivy and just tried to keep our momentum going while dodging all the thorn bushes on each side of me. Green leaves of various weeds kept smacking me in the face as we made our way around the base of the mountain. Tina and Ben were now up ahead of us, removing fallen limbs in our path and serving as our guides. Once, while Tim and I stopped to rest and laid the stone down on the ground, I looked around behind us in the direction we had come. That's when I realized how much we were dependent upon our guides, because from that angle to the rear all I could see were the tall stalks of thick green vines and brush. We could no longer see the creek or even the trail we had descended to reach the creek. Tina at this point turned around to us and said, "This is probably the roughest stone you've ever set."
Tim and I both reacted with a "probably not" attitude. After all, I had been on each of the "roughest stones ever set by anybody missions" over the last ten years...Booker Short and Joseph Cobb in Menifee County, Charles Hicks in Knott County, William Arrowood in Johnson County, Riley Webb in Magoffin County, James Carver Allen and William Baker in Breathitt County...all killers that took a whole day each. So I responded to Tina with, "Can you walk all the way to the top of the mountain where the cemetery is?" Tina said, "It will seem like you're getting to the top several times, but you just keep going straight up. You can't walk at the steepest part, you'll have to crawl."
Not the answer I wanted to hear, but I knew exactly what she was talking about! We had to crawl on parts of everyone of those rough ones I had just thought about. So at this point in the mission, even though we had driven a long distance just to get to the head of Mill Branch in Lee County from Hazard, and we had taken several hours to find the right road, then slowly had driven up through the creekbed and over a bad 4-Wheeler trail for miles, then dragged the stone for a considerable distance through the creek and over lots of obstacles, I was painfully aware that the worst was yet to come! What had Steve Bowling gotten us into? Actually I knew at this point that Steve Bowling had never been to this one. He received information from a Roberts Family source that simply stated that Jeremiah Roberts was buried in the Ned Roberts Cemetery and he had made a copy of a map showing the arrangement of the various graves within the cemetery. But I knew Steve had no idea the nightmare we would be getting into!
We continued dragging the stone on the dolly until we finally reached the old abandoned log cabin that was once owned by the soldier's son, Henry Roberts and later grandson, Ned Roberts. That was the point where we said goodbye to all remotely level land for good and made a sharp turn to the left and the beginning of an extremely steep ascend up the side of the mountain - straight up. We were able to get the dolly up only a couple of yards at a time with just the two of us pulling. As soon as we stopped we were faced with the stone trying to race back down the mountain, and this time there was no third person nearby to "scotch" the dolly for us. Worse, there was not enough trees on this part of the mountain to grab for. After about three more serious attempts to strain and move the stone and dolly upwards with all the strength left in us, I knew it was useless. Useless for more reasons than one.
No one was more disappointed than me. I feel like such a failure in these situations when I've put so much time and effort into in, and yet can't see it through. Had I known what we were getting into, I would have never even considered this one for one second. Not without a crew and a whole day. We could have never even found the correct mountain in a million years, especially in the summer time, without running into Tina Roberts. I was disappointed and even though it was completely beyond my control and ability, I felt anger. Part of these feelings were because I not only had to face the fact we could not set this stone this day, but I knew how hard it would be to arrange and coordinate a crew to come back later and get it done. I also knew that we would not have time to set the Cornelius Moore stone we had planned on that day, and I would be getting back to Hazard much, much later than I had planned for.
First, we obviously did not have the manpower to get the stone up the side of a mountain that high and steep. Secondly, we still had no idea how far it was to the top, but Tina said it was going to be steep all the way. She said there were several "flats" that we would come to on our way up the mountain, but as steep as it was at this point, she said it was even steeper near the top. To make matters worse, if that's possible, it was now 5:30 pm. I've been on these missions enough to know pretty much what we can do and what we can't. We've taken hundreds of stones up the sides of steep mountains and at times done just about the impossible through sheer will power. But this late in the day, with just the two of us pulling, I knew we had to call the mission off for the time being. Tina Roberts was disappointed that I had to make that decision. For one thing she was concerned that something may happen to stone by just leaving it at this point in the woods. We were still near the ruins of the old log structure and she said some rough type people sometimes wandered through this area and camped near that site. They were the type that were known to steal and destroy things and she felt they may try to do something to the stone. I assured her we could conceal the stone with leaves and limbs and no one would ever know it was there. That's what we did. I also explained that I would get in touch with Steve Bowling and Mark Carroll - who possibly could provide us with some more manpower from his R.O.T.C. cadets and connections to other youth programs. To get this one done, we would need a minimum of four or five people with ropes, and a good early start in the day. But when I couldn't say.
We still had to get out of this isolated place in the land that time forgot! We reversed our steps back down one mountain to the creek and then back up another to where the truck was parked. Tina Roberts and Ben Estes climbed in the back after I got the truck turned and we took them back down the mountain to the car. It was a long time getting out of there again of course, with downed trees, boulders, deep mud holes and rushing water, and we had to allow more time for her to accomplish all of this with her little red car. But eventually we were out of Mill Branch, and back to three miles of gravel road, and then finally the paved road. We stopped for Gatorade at the first sign of civilization - a mini-mart on Rt. 52 - and then drove from Lee to Breathitt to Perry County. I dropped Tim Harp off at his house and drove home, arriving around 7:45.
July 6, 2004 - Tuesday - I finally worked out a date for Mark Carroll to bring his R.O.T.C. cadets back to the scene of the crime. The next problem was to get word to Tina Roberts and Ben Estes or we would probably be wasting our time plowing through the deep jungle in search of a hidden cemetery. The problem was Tina didn't have a phone and she had not checked back with me as to when we might return. I was left with no choice but to make a special trip to Lee County to hopefully catch Tina at home just to tell her. So this time, alone, I first drove to the courthouse in Irvine to do some research on Confederate soldier Martin Bailey, and then headed out for the garden spot of Mill Branch. I left the blacktop and returned to the now familiar fork in the dirt road. Taking the left fork up the hill I proceeded to try and find Tina's house as she had described earlier. My truck wound around all the narrow passes along the way, but it didn't wind around many houses so there was little chance of asking for directions. Eventually I came to an area where there was a couple of rough looking storage buildings, some junk cars and a little of everything piled along the creekbed and then I noticed two houses not too far apart. One seemed to fit Tina's blue color description. I parked in front, went up the steps and knocked on the door but no one was home. The little red car was absent too.
Soon after this I caught sight of something quite strange near the house next door. As best I could tell, a large middle-aged man, who seemed to not be wearing any clothes at all, quickly darted from the front yard into one of the old sheds! A split second later I saw a woman run back into the house. But by this time it was too late, the man had seen me approaching and I had seen him retreating. The yard was literally full of chickens and they sounded almost as distressed as I was. I was not exactly in my comfort zone as I called out something about looking for Tina Roberts. I wanted to make sure my seemingly legitimate reason for being there was heard over the loud cackling of the chickens. I also remember thinking it would be difficult to hear a gun being cocked unless the chickens stopped their racket. And believe me by the look of things that I was a sound I was listening for.
The man finally stuck only his head around the side of the shed, which pretty much confirmed to me he was naked. The chickens didn't stop but he finally heard that I was trying to find Tina Roberts. He said she had gone to town. I knew that meant she would be gone for the rest of the day, after all it was nearly a day's drive to any town from this place! It least it seemed that way to me. I told the naked man I was supposed to meet her to go to the old Roberts Cemetery and that I would leave a note pinned to her door explaining I would be back in the morning. I quickly left the note and was quite happy to leave that particular scene as peacefully and with as few questions as possible. I returned home a different way upon an earlier suggestion from Steve Bowling and drove in four-wheel drive straight down a creekbed for a number of miles until somewhere I eventually crossed from Lee County into Breathitt County.
July 7, 2004 - Wednesday - This morning Tim and I met Mark Carroll and his team of R.O.T.C. cadets, heading out for my third trip to Mill Branch in Lee County. As planned we drove to the forks and soon met Tina Roberts and Ben Estes waiting in their car. I explained that I had left the note for her the day before after her neighbor explained she had gone to town. Still not knowing who the neighbor was I chose not to mention his lack of proper attire.
But then Tina said, "You didn't tell him you were looking for me did you?" Of course I said I did. With a concerned sigh she said, "You shouldn't have talked to that man. He's a crazy man...He's crazy...he murdered his wife with a shotgun and he's growing marijuana all around his house. The law is afraid of him. They won't come up in here." I replied, "Well I didn't know. I just knew you weren't home and he was, so I thought I had better explain what I was doing. And Tina...uh...I don't think he had any clothes on." Tina responded, "He's crazy! He's not even supposed to be here. He's living on my family's land and we can't get the law to do anything about it. He killed his first wife and he's got some girl living with him, and I'm afraid he's going to kill her."
I apologized for mentioning her name to the naked man but it seemed at least at this point there was no real harm done, and I had been successful in getting my message to Tina. I just realized now for the first time that it may have been even more remarkable that I had left that scene yesterday with the naked man and the chickens without some serious trouble. Somehow I had to get my mind back on the stone setting mission at hand. I remember thinking but not saying, "Let's get the stone set and get out of here."
Tina and her boyfriend chose to ride in the back of my truck with the R.O.T.C. cadets. Although the road ahead remained ever challenging with it's deep holes and big rocks, it was not quite as risky without the little red car leading the way. We eventually arrived on the side of the mountain to park in the same spot as before. We removed our same equipment but this time with the addition of an abundance of strong rope and started our hike. Without the heavy stone in tow we made it much faster to the base of the mountain and soon discovered our stone waiting for us under a covering of leaves. Mark Carroll shouted out the military commands just as an Army Lieutenant Colonel should, the cadets grabbed the ropes, and with a lot of extra horsepower on tap this time, the stone was jerked with force up the side of the steep mountain quicker than I could imagine. Before anyone could even catch their breath, Mark would immediately start another "1-2-3" and the next thing you knew the dolly was going up and over the rock cliffs that were practically straight up and down at times. Tim and I had much different roles this time, he was wielding a machete to cut a path ahead of us and I was the photographer.
Eventually, a half hour later, we arrived at that point on the mountain where they signaled we would have to stop. They jumped out of the truck bed and we learned for the first time their names were Tina Roberts and Ben Estes. I figured out that the soldier Jeremiah Roberts was Tina's great-great grandfather (the grandfather of Ned Roberts for whom the cemetery was named). We unloaded the post-hole diggers, bucket of concrete mix, camera, level, G.P.S. device and map of the cemetery. Next, we took the Jeremiah Roberts stone out of the back of the truck and strapped it to the dolly. The four of us carrying the equipment began descending a walk path just below where we parked the truck. This led quite a distance back down another mountain to the creek. It seemed to me as if we were losing ground instead of gaining, but Tina explained this was the one and only way to reach the cemetery.
About 15 minutes later we were all standing next to a narrow tributary of the creek. The water was one thing, but of more concern was the fact that on the other side of the creek were stacked a series of very large logs. There was no way around it, we would have to take the stone strapped to the dolly through the water and then somehow lift it up and over each and every log to get to the clearing on the other side. That's exactly what happened. With a few quick jerks we splashed through the cool water to the other side and fortunately Tina had led us to a shallow point to cross. But once to the other side it was slow-going as I got on the bottom side of the dolly and Tim on the top side to lift the 250-pound granite stone with the dolly straight up and over each individual log. That process was completed and we were once again all four on the ground and the other side of the latest obstacle.
On this side of the creek the land was a little more level, at least nearest the water. But one difference was the vegetation. There was no pathway whatsoever so we began briskly dragging the dolly right through the middle of weed stalks and vines that averaged about five feet in height. Tim quickly pointed out to me that some of these weeds carried large thorns, some thorns about three inches in length that could easily rip the skin off of you. So for the time being I forgot completely about snakes and poison ivy and just tried to keep our momentum going while dodging all the thorn bushes on each side of me. Green leaves of various weeds kept smacking me in the face as we made our way around the base of the mountain. Tina and Ben were now up ahead of us, removing fallen limbs in our path and serving as our guides. Once, while Tim and I stopped to rest and laid the stone down on the ground, I looked around behind us in the direction we had come. That's when I realized how much we were dependent upon our guides, because from that angle to the rear all I could see were the tall stalks of thick green vines and brush. We could no longer see the creek or even the trail we had descended to reach the creek. Tina at this point turned around to us and said, "This is probably the roughest stone you've ever set."
Tim and I both reacted with a "probably not" attitude. After all, I had been on each of the "roughest stones ever set by anybody missions" over the last ten years...Booker Short and Joseph Cobb in Menifee County, Charles Hicks in Knott County, William Arrowood in Johnson County, Riley Webb in Magoffin County, James Carver Allen and William Baker in Breathitt County...all killers that took a whole day each. So I responded to Tina with, "Can you walk all the way to the top of the mountain where the cemetery is?" Tina said, "It will seem like you're getting to the top several times, but you just keep going straight up. You can't walk at the steepest part, you'll have to crawl."
Not the answer I wanted to hear, but I knew exactly what she was talking about! We had to crawl on parts of everyone of those rough ones I had just thought about. So at this point in the mission, even though we had driven a long distance just to get to the head of Mill Branch in Lee County from Hazard, and we had taken several hours to find the right road, then slowly had driven up through the creekbed and over a bad 4-Wheeler trail for miles, then dragged the stone for a considerable distance through the creek and over lots of obstacles, I was painfully aware that the worst was yet to come! What had Steve Bowling gotten us into? Actually I knew at this point that Steve Bowling had never been to this one. He received information from a Roberts Family source that simply stated that Jeremiah Roberts was buried in the Ned Roberts Cemetery and he had made a copy of a map showing the arrangement of the various graves within the cemetery. But I knew Steve had no idea the nightmare we would be getting into!
We continued dragging the stone on the dolly until we finally reached the old abandoned log cabin that was once owned by the soldier's son, Henry Roberts and later grandson, Ned Roberts. That was the point where we said goodbye to all remotely level land for good and made a sharp turn to the left and the beginning of an extremely steep ascend up the side of the mountain - straight up. We were able to get the dolly up only a couple of yards at a time with just the two of us pulling. As soon as we stopped we were faced with the stone trying to race back down the mountain, and this time there was no third person nearby to "scotch" the dolly for us. Worse, there was not enough trees on this part of the mountain to grab for. After about three more serious attempts to strain and move the stone and dolly upwards with all the strength left in us, I knew it was useless. Useless for more reasons than one.
No one was more disappointed than me. I feel like such a failure in these situations when I've put so much time and effort into in, and yet can't see it through. Had I known what we were getting into, I would have never even considered this one for one second. Not without a crew and a whole day. We could have never even found the correct mountain in a million years, especially in the summer time, without running into Tina Roberts. I was disappointed and even though it was completely beyond my control and ability, I felt anger. Part of these feelings were because I not only had to face the fact we could not set this stone this day, but I knew how hard it would be to arrange and coordinate a crew to come back later and get it done. I also knew that we would not have time to set the Cornelius Moore stone we had planned on that day, and I would be getting back to Hazard much, much later than I had planned for.
First, we obviously did not have the manpower to get the stone up the side of a mountain that high and steep. Secondly, we still had no idea how far it was to the top, but Tina said it was going to be steep all the way. She said there were several "flats" that we would come to on our way up the mountain, but as steep as it was at this point, she said it was even steeper near the top. To make matters worse, if that's possible, it was now 5:30 pm. I've been on these missions enough to know pretty much what we can do and what we can't. We've taken hundreds of stones up the sides of steep mountains and at times done just about the impossible through sheer will power. But this late in the day, with just the two of us pulling, I knew we had to call the mission off for the time being. Tina Roberts was disappointed that I had to make that decision. For one thing she was concerned that something may happen to stone by just leaving it at this point in the woods. We were still near the ruins of the old log structure and she said some rough type people sometimes wandered through this area and camped near that site. They were the type that were known to steal and destroy things and she felt they may try to do something to the stone. I assured her we could conceal the stone with leaves and limbs and no one would ever know it was there. That's what we did. I also explained that I would get in touch with Steve Bowling and Mark Carroll - who possibly could provide us with some more manpower from his R.O.T.C. cadets and connections to other youth programs. To get this one done, we would need a minimum of four or five people with ropes, and a good early start in the day. But when I couldn't say.
We still had to get out of this isolated place in the land that time forgot! We reversed our steps back down one mountain to the creek and then back up another to where the truck was parked. Tina Roberts and Ben Estes climbed in the back after I got the truck turned and we took them back down the mountain to the car. It was a long time getting out of there again of course, with downed trees, boulders, deep mud holes and rushing water, and we had to allow more time for her to accomplish all of this with her little red car. But eventually we were out of Mill Branch, and back to three miles of gravel road, and then finally the paved road. We stopped for Gatorade at the first sign of civilization - a mini-mart on Rt. 52 - and then drove from Lee to Breathitt to Perry County. I dropped Tim Harp off at his house and drove home, arriving around 7:45.
July 6, 2004 - Tuesday - I finally worked out a date for Mark Carroll to bring his R.O.T.C. cadets back to the scene of the crime. The next problem was to get word to Tina Roberts and Ben Estes or we would probably be wasting our time plowing through the deep jungle in search of a hidden cemetery. The problem was Tina didn't have a phone and she had not checked back with me as to when we might return. I was left with no choice but to make a special trip to Lee County to hopefully catch Tina at home just to tell her. So this time, alone, I first drove to the courthouse in Irvine to do some research on Confederate soldier Martin Bailey, and then headed out for the garden spot of Mill Branch. I left the blacktop and returned to the now familiar fork in the dirt road. Taking the left fork up the hill I proceeded to try and find Tina's house as she had described earlier. My truck wound around all the narrow passes along the way, but it didn't wind around many houses so there was little chance of asking for directions. Eventually I came to an area where there was a couple of rough looking storage buildings, some junk cars and a little of everything piled along the creekbed and then I noticed two houses not too far apart. One seemed to fit Tina's blue color description. I parked in front, went up the steps and knocked on the door but no one was home. The little red car was absent too.
Soon after this I caught sight of something quite strange near the house next door. As best I could tell, a large middle-aged man, who seemed to not be wearing any clothes at all, quickly darted from the front yard into one of the old sheds! A split second later I saw a woman run back into the house. But by this time it was too late, the man had seen me approaching and I had seen him retreating. The yard was literally full of chickens and they sounded almost as distressed as I was. I was not exactly in my comfort zone as I called out something about looking for Tina Roberts. I wanted to make sure my seemingly legitimate reason for being there was heard over the loud cackling of the chickens. I also remember thinking it would be difficult to hear a gun being cocked unless the chickens stopped their racket. And believe me by the look of things that I was a sound I was listening for.
The man finally stuck only his head around the side of the shed, which pretty much confirmed to me he was naked. The chickens didn't stop but he finally heard that I was trying to find Tina Roberts. He said she had gone to town. I knew that meant she would be gone for the rest of the day, after all it was nearly a day's drive to any town from this place! It least it seemed that way to me. I told the naked man I was supposed to meet her to go to the old Roberts Cemetery and that I would leave a note pinned to her door explaining I would be back in the morning. I quickly left the note and was quite happy to leave that particular scene as peacefully and with as few questions as possible. I returned home a different way upon an earlier suggestion from Steve Bowling and drove in four-wheel drive straight down a creekbed for a number of miles until somewhere I eventually crossed from Lee County into Breathitt County.
July 7, 2004 - Wednesday - This morning Tim and I met Mark Carroll and his team of R.O.T.C. cadets, heading out for my third trip to Mill Branch in Lee County. As planned we drove to the forks and soon met Tina Roberts and Ben Estes waiting in their car. I explained that I had left the note for her the day before after her neighbor explained she had gone to town. Still not knowing who the neighbor was I chose not to mention his lack of proper attire.
But then Tina said, "You didn't tell him you were looking for me did you?" Of course I said I did. With a concerned sigh she said, "You shouldn't have talked to that man. He's a crazy man...He's crazy...he murdered his wife with a shotgun and he's growing marijuana all around his house. The law is afraid of him. They won't come up in here." I replied, "Well I didn't know. I just knew you weren't home and he was, so I thought I had better explain what I was doing. And Tina...uh...I don't think he had any clothes on." Tina responded, "He's crazy! He's not even supposed to be here. He's living on my family's land and we can't get the law to do anything about it. He killed his first wife and he's got some girl living with him, and I'm afraid he's going to kill her."
I apologized for mentioning her name to the naked man but it seemed at least at this point there was no real harm done, and I had been successful in getting my message to Tina. I just realized now for the first time that it may have been even more remarkable that I had left that scene yesterday with the naked man and the chickens without some serious trouble. Somehow I had to get my mind back on the stone setting mission at hand. I remember thinking but not saying, "Let's get the stone set and get out of here."
Tina and her boyfriend chose to ride in the back of my truck with the R.O.T.C. cadets. Although the road ahead remained ever challenging with it's deep holes and big rocks, it was not quite as risky without the little red car leading the way. We eventually arrived on the side of the mountain to park in the same spot as before. We removed our same equipment but this time with the addition of an abundance of strong rope and started our hike. Without the heavy stone in tow we made it much faster to the base of the mountain and soon discovered our stone waiting for us under a covering of leaves. Mark Carroll shouted out the military commands just as an Army Lieutenant Colonel should, the cadets grabbed the ropes, and with a lot of extra horsepower on tap this time, the stone was jerked with force up the side of the steep mountain quicker than I could imagine. Before anyone could even catch their breath, Mark would immediately start another "1-2-3" and the next thing you knew the dolly was going up and over the rock cliffs that were practically straight up and down at times. Tim and I had much different roles this time, he was wielding a machete to cut a path ahead of us and I was the photographer.
Although I could not locate the actual photo that was shot at the close of this story, I found this one of my dad and crew taken on a similar adventure.
