Free The Seventh Mountain by Gene Curtis

took about a half hour to get there. It was way out in
the boonies. Nothing but farms everywhere. Even the last little
town that they passed through was nothing more than a stop sign and
a few buildings. When they got to the spot that had been circled on
the map, they saw that the property was thick with trees and
underbrush. It would be tough going if they wanted to explore it
now.
    Mark looked for markers or anything to
indicate where the property was, but he didn’t see any. He wasn’t
sure that they were at the right place. “Dad, how much is six
hundred and sixty acres?”
    “If I remember right, it’s about one square
mile.”
    Mark looked up and down the
road. Wow!
    Steve examined the plat diagram showing all
of the surrounding farms. “Newsom is the family name that holds the
lease to the property. The plat map shows that they are the next
farm over. Let’s go and see what we can find out.”
    They drove to the next farm. It looked like
it had a lot of pastureland. It was surrounded by a white wooden
rail fence. Mark couldn’t see any horses or cattle or anything like
you might expect on a farm of this kind. The farmhouse sat back
about a quarter of a mile off the road on the top of a hill. There
was a gravel driveway leading up to the house. Mark’s dad eased the
car up the driveway to the house and stopped.
    “Mark, grab that staff and let’s go knock on
the door.” Steve hit the button to open the trunk.
    The family walked up to the door with Mark
carrying the staff. The old two-story farmhouse had been resided
with white vinyl. It retained the charming, old look of classic
wooden shotgun houses with an addition on the back. All of the old
southern houses were built the same way. They got their name
because, according to the old timers, you could stand at the front
door and fire a shot gun clean through the open back door and hit
nothing but air.
    There was no doorbell, so Steve knocked on
the door. After a short wait, the door opened.
    The lady was wiping her hands on a
dishtowel. “Hello, can I help you?” Her eyes were obviously looking
at the staff that Mark was carrying.
    “Mrs. Newsom I presume. My name is Steve
Young. This is my wife Shirley and our two boys, Mark and James.
Can we speak with you or your husband?”
    “Yes, I know why you’re here.” The lady
turned and called back into the house. “Curtis, they’re here.”
    Shirley leaned into Steve and whispered,
“That’s the lady that I talked to at the courthouse.”
    The lady had evidently heard Shirley. “Did
you find a hotel all right?”
    Shirley smiled and blushed slightly. “Yes
ma’am, we did. Thank you, again.”
    The man came to the door. Steve recognized
him immediately. It was the man who had been tossing the game
tokens into the pool in Albuquerque.
    Mr. Newsom’s eyes fixed on the staff. He
paused for a moment before saying, “So you’re the one. I thought
there was something special about you when I saw you in the pool.
After the dream I had, I was sure.” He smiled at Mark. “Did you get
a chance to use any of those game tokens?”
    “Yes sir. Some. We had to leave early the
next morning.” Mark bowed his head after he spoke.
    “We did too. Only we flew.” Mr. Newsom
shifted his attention to Steve. “You folks come on in. No use
standing around on the porch like a stray dog.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Newsom backed away from the
door and allowed the Young family to enter. Mark started to lean
the staff up against the house. Mr. Newsom said, “Bring that stick
on in. From what I hear tell, it’s kind of important. Come on in
and pick a spot to sit.”
    Once everyone was seated, Mr. Newsom said,
looking at Mark “I know why you’re here. Only I didn’t expect it to
happen in my lifetime, well, not until I started having those
dreams. That property next door has been good to us over the years.
If it hadn’t been for the timber on that property, well, we would
have lost everything. Not me of course, but my great