"Fate" Remembers

"Fate" Remembers by Mabel Young Moser "Fate" (David Lafayette) Moser, 1869-1957, was gifted with a masterful memory for details and the ability to translate his rich harvest of experiences into fascinating narratives. For half a century he had lived in the forests of Western North Carohna: cutting timber, learning forestry on the Biltmore Estate under the tutelage of Dr. Carl Schenck, workingon Mt. Mitchell as the firststateforester, andthenholdingtheranger's job on the Beacon Watershed in the Swannanoa Valley. 22 In the summer of 1932 his artist-son, Artus (my husband), asked him to pose for an oil portrait. He agreed readily and chose his favorite spot as background-the icy-cold spring to which he went each morning for his fresh bucket ofwater. Framed by masses of rhododendron, laurel, and wavy ferns, he sat perched on a moss-covered log, an impressivefigure cladin his ranger s outfit-khaki shirt, brown cotton trousers supported by galluses, heavy shoes with leather leggins, brown felt hat, and pistol holster on his right hip. About sixty-five years ofage, he looked younger, with a deeply tanned ruddy complexion, keen blue eyes, heavy mop of graying hair, and bristly mustache curled at the sides Kaiser fashion. I had listened to his reminiscing many times, so I tagged along that day, armed with notebook and pencils (no tape recorders then). I tried to record his stories the way I heardthem, stories about someofthepeopleheknewincoves such asBuckeye, Lytle's, Chunn's, Porter's, Campbell, Patton, and communities such as Bee Tree, Azalea, and Christian Creek. This day he talked about a man called Chicken John. There was this man known as Chicken John Pruett. He was a tallow-facedfellow, slim-built, gangle-legged, with a guilty expression. The first fever heard of him was these Redmon boys. He used to own atrackofland nearthem, up wherethe Bee Tree Watershed is. The Asheville people later condemned his land and paidhim a good price for it. The Redmon boys told it about that sometimes he would have four or five hundred chickens running round his house, and the next week nary a one. Where he got the chickens the neighbors didn't know, but folks considered he'd "hooked" em. Along at this time I would hear that a lot of folks missed chickens. But they never could ketch up with who it was or anything about it. I've always said John isjist like a sheep-killing dog. He's a pretty good fellow in his own neighborhood , but he'll go away off yonder to do his meanness. A sheep-killing dog will go right through the home pasture where there's sheep and never touch nary one, and go ten miles away to kill one. Well, John had probably been stealing these chickensoverinMcDowellCounty. Folks there was suspicioning their own neighbors , but couldn't find no proof. Well, theRedmon boys and otherneighbors got to calling him "Chicken John." Walt Redmon used to tell on him that one night he got hold of an old rooster. The old rooster commenced "Wak! Wak! Wak!" John said, "No, damn you, you ain't going to walk! I'm going to carry you!" One night down at Old Joe Spivey's they heard a noise in the chicken roost. Tom, son of Old Joe, got his shotgun and went out to see what it was. Across from the house on the brow of the hill he seen somebody silhouetted between the sky andthetrees,traipsingalongwithabag on his back. Tom took steady aim and fired. The man give two war whoops and left. Twelve chickens were found in the bag, four of them dead of gunshot. When the Spiveys questioned around some, they heard that John had been to the doctor to have fourteen number-four bird shots Eicked out of his back. Of course, they nowed he was guilty, but no one undertook to put him in jail because they felt he'd learned his lesson. However, he was put in jail once that I knowed of. There was a still up in Campbell Cove, around Azalea. Sheriff Jessie James Green had been watching, along with his local deputies. I've heard it...