Free Mama Stalks the Past by Nora Deloach Page A

the window with its view of Miss Hannah’s shabby little house. “Have you wondered how Miss Hannah got to own two hundred and fifty acres of prime land?” I asked Mama. “The way she and Nat lived, you’d never thought she had anything valuable.”
    Mama began cutting slices from a fresh loaf of wheat bread. “I don’t reckon nobody knew Hannah owned that land. Except maybe the tax collector.”
    “I was thinking the same thing. I plan to check the county tax records tomorrow, see when she got the land.”
    “That’s a good idea, Simone,” Mama said.
    Daddy sneezed loudly, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped his nose. “Around here, land is more valuable than gold.”
    “It’s so valuable,” I said, “that your UncleChester refuses to die so that he can continue to control the acres of land owned by your family.”
    Mama started to say something, but Daddy broke in. “Uncle Chester can’t live too much longer—nobody lives forever. I’ve told Agatha to wait a few more months, a year at the most, and then she can do whatever she needs to do with that land.”
    Mama shook her head. “James, you don’t understand. It’s prudent to take care of the land
before
Uncle Chester dies. That way, there won’t be a nasty fight among the cousins, the heirs. If Uncle Chester would only give Agatha the power of attorney, she can go ahead and set up the Covington Land Company and incorporate it. Agatha has already started the process; Calvin Stokes has drawn up the papers. The corporation would be set up for one hundred years. That way the land will stay in the family.”
    Daddy sneezed again. But he didn’t say a word.
    “Agatha has been satisfied with getting the timber cut and paying the taxes,” Mama continued, “but she knows that she ain’t going to be able to take care of the land forever.”
    “I never thought of that,” I said.
    “James, you and your cousins are the second generation. Agatha knows that none of the Covington children of the third generation is goingto take responsibility for that land. Agatha is afraid that when she dies, the Covington property will get sold, or worse, lost for taxes.”
    “I wouldn’t want the responsibility of handling the Covington property, of seeing that it stays in the family,” I said.
    Daddy scowled. “I agree with Agatha that our parents worked hard for that land. They did without a lot of things to buy it and to keep it. It’ll be a shame to lose it from neglect.”
    Mama nodded. “Agatha is doing the right thing,” she said firmly. “And somehow we’ve got to make Uncle Chester understand that!”

CHAPTER
SEVEN
    C liff and I talked around ten-thirty that night. He was still tied up in New York. The Zwigs were going at it tooth and nail. Needless to say, I was depressed. The thought of going back to work again in Atlanta without so much as looking into his face was sickening. And the next morning the black cloud still seemed to hang over my head. I called Sidney and begged for the balance of the week off. He quickly agreed.
    Mama seemed a little preoccupied. She hadn’t gotten any closer to finding either Miss Hannah’s Bible or the mysterious envelope.
    Around ten A.M ., I set off to find the source of Miss Hannah’s large property holding. I headedfor the Otis County Courthouse, a large, very ugly brick building built in 1878 that sits at the head of Main Street.
    It took me an hour to find the source of Hannah Mixon’s large property holdings. That’s because when I couldn’t find a record of Miss Hannah’s purchase in the Clerk of Court Deed Books, I went to Probate Court on the assumption that Miss Hannah could have inherited the land from one of her husbands. Sure enough, I found Leroy Mixon’s will stating that the property would belong to Hannah Mixon and, upon her death, it would pass on to her son, Nat.
    “Not anymore,” I murmured, reading the fine print in the will. “Upon her death, it passed on to my Mama, Candi