Bury the Evidence By John Joseph Sweere Dad always loved horses, so we always had them when we lived on the Stock farm in Butler. One afternoon, all of us boys were getting underfoot, so Mum chased us outside to play with orders that we were supposed to keep an eye on Bob, who was the youngest of us boys at the time, being only about 3 or four years old. We also had strict orders not to go near the stable because at the time we had a wild, unbroken colt that Mum didn't want us playing around. But boys being boys, Clarence, Jim, Duane and I went in the stable anyway, to check out that wild colt, with little Bob tagging along behind us. Well, the colt got spooked by us boys making all that racket, and kicked out hitting Bob right square in the chest. Bob fell dead to the ground right there on the dirt floor of the stable, and we stood there in shock at first, not knowing what to do. We knew we were in big trouble now, since Mum had told us we were supposed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't get hurt. We picked Bob up and laid him out on a wooden bench in the stable, while we stood around him for awhile discussing what we should do. We finally decided there was only one thing we could do. We had to bury him. That way, Mum wouldn't find out we were in the stable after she told us not to go in there, and we wouldn't get in trouble letting harm come to little Bob. Just as we decided to go get the shovel and a few of us began to pick Bob up, he came to. Turns out he just had the wind knocked out of him! Source: Oral history as told to Jodi A. Sweere (ID# I0002 ) by her father, John Joseph Sweere (ID# I0236), 03 July 2004.