The Seventh Mountain

by Gene Curtis

  Chapter 4

   

  Four Greats

   

  The past is the seed of fate.

   

   

  Mark examined the staff in the late afternoon light that filtered through the hotel window. The blue decorations seemed to be some sort of writing. They spiraled around the staff like a thin blue ribbon. He had the feeling that the writing was very old. There were gold colored decorations of thin bands and small circles. The gold bands were about eight inches apart. They divided the blue decorations and the staff into sections. The small gold circles were on opposite sides of each other as if a pin might cross through the wood, one each above and below every band. They formed a straight line on either side of the staff. The wood of the staff was light, yellowish colored, and shiny like it had been polished with something. Mark couldn’t detect any wax or lacquer or anything like that. It looked like the wood itself had been polished to a high sheen.

  Mark was lying on the bed, examining the staff, when the bathing trunks that James threw hit him in the head. James said, “Suit up! Let’s go to the pool.”

  Startled, Mark jumped. He looked at James and grinned. He laid the staff on the bed and went to the bathroom to change.

  Steve and Shirley had been planning the trip to Virginia. They set the maps aside and walked to the pool with the boys. The pool, surrounded by a high chain link fence with privacy slats inserted in the links, was bustling with activity. They found one unoccupied table near the shallow end of the pool. Mark and James went straight to the diving board.

  Mr. and Mrs. Young sat at the cheap, glass-topped table, in plastic patio chairs, relaxing in the late afternoon sun while the boys played in the pool. Steve nudged Shirley and pointed toward the deep end of the pool.

  “See that man sitting down there. Every now and then he will toss a coin in the deep end when he thinks no one is looking. He smiles when a kid finds the treasure.”

  Shirley looked at the man. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties. His hair was dark and full, streaked with silver. His pot-belly partially obscured his bright red bathing suit. Even at twenty yards away, his eyes looked bright and inviting.

  “Why do you think he’s doing it?”

  “I don’t know. He can’t mean any harm. I think that must be his wife sitting with him.”

  The lady with him was slender and her dark blond hair showed no signs of gray. She watched casually as the kids went diving for the treasure.

  “Just the same, I’m keeping an eye on him. You never know these days.”

  About an hour later the sun was beginning to set. A young girl, of about fifteen or so, got out of the pool. Her hip-length black hair clung to her back like a bit of wet rope. She walked over to the table where the man was, (who had been tossing the coins), picked up a towel and dried her face. The couple got up and followed her. They passed the table where Steve and Shirley were.

  The man paused. “They were game tokens. Your boys can use them in the arcade. I’m leaving tomorrow and can’t use them. I figured I might as well give them to someone who can.” Steve nodded his understanding and the man resumed his pace, following his wife.

  Steve thought to himself, That man has a good heart. I wish there were more people in the world like him.

  His thoughts turned to Virginia. Virginia promised the answers to the mystery that had been dropped into their laps. Why had his great, great, great grandfather left land that could be worth well over a million dollars? Why had he done it in such a mysterious and unconventional way? Was the deed even valid? Could Mark even legally take possession of it? He’s only twelve years old.

  James and Mark collected a small fortune in game tokens, so many bulging in their pockets that it was hard to swim. After drying off, they went straight to the arcade, anticipating an evening full of competition. Billiards, air hockey, foosball and video games banished any thoughts of hunger.

  James won most of the games, which was okay with Mark. Mark’s mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of what it all meant, which way his life was going and what was coming next. The altar stone sliding open and closed, revealing a hidden treasure was like something right out of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, Open sesame. He still didn’t understand why he could read the note in the Bible and no one else could. How does it all fit together? What is this school that I’m supposed to go to? I don’t even know where it is. Maybe Virginia will hold some more clues.

   * * * 

  It took two days to get to Virginia. The drive had been an exercise in mind numbing tedium. Playing games with James got old quick. The periodic pit stops weren’t much help either. The only thing that made the trip bearable was the expected promise of answers.

  It didn’t make sense to Mark that there was any possibility that the deed was valid. It has been more than a hundred years since the deed was drawn up. Surely it has to be like my dad said; the government wouldn’t let it go that long without the property taxes being paid.

  He knew that his dad had to take the old deed to the county court house and inquire about it. His dad would have to do it because a little kid was just that, a little kid and wouldn’t be taken seriously in a decidedly grownup’s only courthouse. That would have to wait until tomorrow. It was too late for the courthouse to be open now, but his dad wanted to find out where the courthouse was and to get a room at a hotel that was nearby. That would make things easier.

  The deed said that the property was located in Halifax County. The county courthouse was located in the tiny town of Halifax. The town had two traffic lights and two gas stations on its single street. The courthouse was at the intersection where the second traffic light was. There were people working in the flowerbeds around the courthouse building.

  Steve parked the car in the small parking lot next to the court building. He turned to Shirley and said, “I didn’t see a hotel near here. Would you mind asking one of those ladies over there, where one is?” Steve pointed to the ladies working in the flowerbeds.

  Shirley got out of the car and walked toward the nearest lady.

  “Hi there.”

  The lady in the flowerbed stood up and turned to face Shirley. “Hello… can I help you?”

  “Do you work here?”

  “Goodness no.” She gestured with her hand indicating the other people. “We’re Master Gardeners. We’re doing some volunteer work. My name is Donna.”

  Shirley smiled and extended her hand. “My name is Shirley.” She felt like she had seen this lady before, but just couldn’t place her. The straw hat that she was wearing didn’t help.

  Mark was looking out of the car window. He recognized her, he thought, but he didn’t want to say anything, because it seemed like too much of a coincidence. Mark’s inner voice told him that this was the right place to be.

  Donna extended her hand a little and looked at it. It was covered with dirt.

  Shirley smiled and withdrew her hand. “I was wondering if you could tell me if there is a hotel nearby?”

  Donna pointed back the way that they had come. “I don’t think that there are any in Halifax. The closest one, I believe, is in South Boston, down that way.”

  Shirley knew where South Boston was. They had just driven through it. She said, “Thank you,” and smiled again.

  Donna smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

  Shirley returned to the car. “That was Donna. She says that the nearest hotel is back in South Boston.” She pointed back the way that they had just come.

  Mark’s dad drove back to South Boston. He found a hotel and made arrangements for a room. Once settled in, Mark could only wonder what tomorrow would hold.

  The next morning, Steve went to the courthouse and returned carrying the maps and information that he obtained.

  “The deed is good. It looks like you’re a millionaire, almost two million, that is. The taxes are all paid up, too.”

  “Two million? The taxes are paid? Who paid the taxes?”


  Steve held out a copy of the assessment information for Mark to see. “The card that I got from the assessor’s office says that the property is worth one point nine eight million and the taxes have been paid from an account at Chase Manhattan Bank.”

  Mark took the paper and examined it.

  James bounced on his toes. “Wow! That means we’re millionaires.”

  Shirley looked at James and then at Steve. “That sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

  “No catch that I’ve found so far. The clerk at the court says that note passes as a will; the deed is valid. All we need to do is have them recorded in Mark’s name. Any lawyer can handle that.”

  It still hadn’t settled into Mark that he was a millionaire, at least on paper anyway. He didn’t feel any different. There hadn’t been any parade or news blurb or anything like that. His dad had just come back to the hotel room and said, “You’re a millionaire.” It felt pretend, almost. It can’t be real, can it? If it is real, why me?

  “The information only lists an account number. It doesn’t give any other information about the account. I’ll call and ask about it later. In the meantime, let’s go look at the property.”

  Shirley navigated from the county map that he had gotten from the courthouse and the family drove out to the property. It 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 grandfather. It sure came in handy during the depression. What do you reckon you’re going to do with that property?”

  Steve started, “I don’t know yet. We just found the deed a few days ago. That’s why we were in Albuquerque. We’re still checking things out. We don’t know much about it. That’s why we came here. The papers that we found said that your family was supposed to have been taking care of it for more than a hundred years now.”

  Mr. Newsom looked at Steve quizzically and paused. “Well, I don’t know about taking care of it. Your granddaddy back before the turn of the century made a deal with my granddaddy. As I understand it, the deal was that he and his descendants were to keep squatters from claiming it until a young man with his staff came to claim it. Well, like you said, it’s been more than a hundred years now. I used to think that it would never happen.”

  Mr. Newsom stood up and went over to a picture frame hanging on the wall. He took it down and walked over to Mark. “Sure looks like the same staff to me. That’s your granddaddy there.” He handed the picture to Mark.

  Mark took the picture and examined it. The rest of the family leaned over to look, too. Mark handed the picture to his mother. After looking a little longer at it, she handed it back to Mr. Newsom.

  Mr. Newsom took the picture and opened up the back of the frame. “Strange thing about us being in Albuquerque, too. I haven’t been on any other vacation in my life. I have always wanted to go to Florida though, but I never did. Couple of months ago, I started having this dream. It was so real. I was in Albuquerque watching the balloons. I kept having the dream. I figured that I was meant to go. So I did.” He removed the paper in the back of the frame and handed it to Mark.

  Mark saw that it was a copy of the lease. “We have a copy of this, too. It was with the deed.” Mark handed the copy of the lease to his father.

  Mr. Newsom said, “Hold on a minute, son. That’s yours, not your dad’s or anybody else’s.”

  Mark was taken aback a little bit by Mr. Newsome’s abruptness. “I know. It just doesn’t seem real.”

  “You’re the one with the staff. It was part of your destiny to find that. In Albuquerque I had a dream about you. You’re the one, not your dad, not your mom, not your brother. You.” Mr. Newsom squatted to come eye to eye with Mark.

  “That was some storm. That horse was trying to kill you by killing your mother. And, I have it on good authority that the best people are born in stables.”

  Shirley gasped. “How could you know that?”

  Mark knew that Mr. Newsom was right.

  Mr. Newsome stood and faced Shirley. “You might think that all of this is a load of hooey. Coincidence piled high, like hay. But, I’m going to tell you what’s the truth. What you might call supernatural is very real. Powerful, dark forces are a
t work. They don’t want him to have that staff. They can’t take it directly, but they’ll try anything and everything to get him to give it up. Best keep your guard up.”

  Mr. Newsome turned back to Mark. “I have to ask you something about the property. I already have a letter of intent signed to have the timber harvested this fall. Do you want me to cancel the deal or is it okay for me to harvest the timber?”

  Mark turned to his dad and asked, “What do you think?”

  Steve thought for a moment and said, “You have to make that decision, son.”

  “I know, Dad. I just want to know what you think.”

  “Well, Mr. Newsom has kept his end of the deal.”

  “You can harvest the timber, Mr. Newsom. Out of curiosity, how much to you think that you’ll make?”

  Steve said, “That’s not a proper thing to ask, son.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Young. There is some pretty timber in there. A lot of clear oak, really big pine and not much trash wood. I would guess upwards of six hundred and fifty thousand. Maybe more, maybe less.”

  Mark’s mouth dropped open in amazement. He thought for a moment before asking, “Would it be too much to ask you to have a spot cleared for a house?”

  “Not at all. I’ll just put that in the finalized contract with the timber company. They will already have the machines here that can do that.” Mr. Newsom was smiling. “I’ll pick out a nice spot.”

  Steve interrupted, “Mark, don’t you think that is a bit much to ask?”

  Mr. Newsom responded, “Not at all. It’s basically free work. The timber company really wants this timber. They’ll make a pretty penny on that oak. It’s the kind that they export to Japan. They will agree to just about anything within reason to get it. Clearing an acre or so of stumps is nothing to them. It won’t take them more than an hour or two to do it with all the machines that they have.”

  Steve looked at Mr. Newsom. “It sounds like you have had experience at this.”

  “Not me personally. I hired a professional forester to cruise the timber and give me a report. That’s what he says. He should know; that’s what he does for a living. He even told me about the different timber companies that are working in this area now. I’m going with the one that chips up all of the debris. That means that I get a few more dollars and there is not much, if any, trash to get rid of.” Mr. Newsom grinned.

  “Another benefit you get is that the timber company surveys the property. They have to. It’s a really big fine if they cut even one tree on an adjacent piece of property. They go to great pains to make sure that they don’t do that while being able to harvest as much timber as they can.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been planning this for some time.” Steve noticed that Mark was listening intently.

  “Not really. It’s just that beef prices are down right now. Frankly, we need the money. Just wish that there was some way for me to keep Uncle Sam out of my pockets.” That was the first time that Steve had seen Mr. Newsom frown.

  “You’ve been a big help, Mr. Newsom. I think that we have intruded on your hospitality long enough now.”

  Steve shouldn’t have been surprised by the Newsom’s hospitality, but he was. Living in the city and on base all of his life had tainted his opinion of how people acted toward one another. He was still feeling awkward at being in a complete stranger’s home.

  “Not at all. You folks are welcome to stay the night. We have two guest rooms.” Steve stood up and Mr. Newsom smiled.

  Shirley and the boys stood up with Steve. Steve explained, “We still have a lot of stuff back at the hotel. We also have some more loose ends to tie up.” Steve was thinking about that account that had kept the property taxes paid up for the last century. That was a very unusual thing. He wanted to check into it.

  The family left and drove back to the hotel. It was too late to call the bank. That would have to wait until morning.

   * * * 

  The next morning came. Steve made the call after he obtained a toll free number from the operator. After a long wait and a series of transfers, he was able to talk to someone, a Mrs. Jenkins, who had access to the information about the account.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t discuss the account over the phone. You need to appear in person. The note in the file says that you need to bring your staff. How large of a conference room will you need?”

  “A small room will do. I can’t make it today. I’m in Virginia right now.”

  “Please call me back at least a day in advance to schedule an appointment. You’ll need to talk with me, personally, to do that.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  Steve didn’t have enough time left on his approved leave to make it to New York and back. He was due back on base in two days. He decided to call his commanding officer and get an extension on his leave. Then he called and booked a hotel room on the outskirts of New York City. He called Mrs. Jenkins back at the bank and made an appointment for 2 p.m. on Monday. That would give them some time to see some of the sights over the weekend.

  Mark stopped trying to figure things out. Now, he was just going with the flow and watching as things happened. So far, every clue had led to a prize and another clue. I wonder if we’ll find another clue at the bank.

   * * * 

  That Monday, shortly before 2 p.m., Steve and his family walked into Mrs. Jenkins’ office.

  “Hello, I’m Steve Young. I talked with you on Friday, about an unusual account.”

  The middle-aged lady looked at him over the top of her half moon glasses. She was every bit of what you would expect an executive at a big bank to be. After a moment’s pause she said, “Have a seat in the outer office, Mr. Young. I need to make a couple of calls. I’ll be right with you.”

  Mark and his family had barely sat down when Mrs. Jenkins emerged from her office. “Come with me, please.”

  She led the way down the hall and they followed. She opened one of the very large, ornate, mahogany, double doors at the end of the hall and waited for Steve and his family to enter.

  They entered a very large conference room and were overwhelmed by the splendor of it. A large mahogany table spanned the length of the room. There were chairs along the walls as well as at every spot around the table. The ceiling had to be twenty feet high. The room was decorated in old Victorian style.

  Steve heard a voice from the far end of the table. “Mr. Young, you and your staff can have a seat down here.” The voice had evidently come from one of the three men in dark suits at the end of the table.

  The Young family walked to the end of the table and sat down. The three men each extended their hands toward Steve. Steve shook their hands with a puzzled look on his face.

  One of the men said, “By your expression, I can see that you are as curious about this account as we are.”

  Steve nodded. “Yes, I thought it unusual that an account would be set up to pay the property taxes on a piece of property for more than a hundred years.”

  The man in the middle of the three men spoke. “That’s not all it did. The account was set up to pay the taxes on six pieces of property. That was until the rightful heirs came forward to claim them. This is the sixth and last. It seems that your great, great, great, great, that’s four greats isn’t it, grandfather was quite a far-sighted man.”

  Steve broke in. “He was my great, great, great grandfather. Three greats. I think you want my son, Mark.” He pointed at Mark.

  The men looked surprised. They whispered to each other. The man in the middle asked, “Is Mark your firstborn?”

  Steve nodded. “James is my oldest but he’s adopted. Mark is my firstborn.” Steve pointed to each of the boys in turn.

  The man in the middle leaned toward Mark. “Mark, you come and have a seat up here.”

  Mark stood up and leaned the staff against the wall before sitting next to the three men.

  The three men conferred again. The middle man said, “I think that we should see some
identification.”

  Steve stood up and removed his driver’s license and military identification from his wallet. He laid them on the table in front of the three men. The one in the middle looked at them. “Was Mark born in North Carolina?”

  Steve nodded again. “Yes.”

  The man in the middle picked up the handset to a telephone that was hidden from view. “Mrs. Jenkins, would you call The North Carolina Bureau of Vital Statistics and verify that Mark Young is the first born of Mr. and Mrs. Young?” He turned to Steve and said, “We just have to be sure.”

  Mrs. Jenkins came into the conference room. She jotted down the answers to a few questions she asked about Mark’s birth and left the room.

  “We can continue with the preliminaries while we wait for her to check on that.” The man in the middle opened a file and laid it on the table. “It’s interesting how we came by this account. As you may or may not know, Chase Manhattan Bank bought out a lot of small banks back in the early part of the nineteen hundreds. One of the banks that we acquired had this unusual account. As we are bound by contract and by law to honor all of the accounts that we acquired, we had to honor this one. It was set up to pay the property taxes on six parcels of land in various places in this country, the United States. Once a piece of property was claimed by its assigned heir, according to birth order, that piece was to be removed from the list. The rightful heir was to be identified by authenticating a certain set of artifacts obtained by that heir. The sixth and final heir will receive custody of the account. The last heir is the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of the first born of Joseph the Younger, formally the youngest son of Joseph Von Schnill and later known as Joseph Young. And that would be you, Mark Young.”

  Mark nodded that he understood.

  The man in the middle picked up an envelope that was old looking and yellowed. “We will start by verifying your artifact.” He opened the sealed envelope and removed two pieces of paper. One was a photograph and the other was a hand written note. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. They realized that the information about bringing the staff had not referred to employees, as he had originally thought. It had referred to the staff that now stood against the wall. “I believe that staff is the artifact that we need to examine. May we examine it?”

  Mark retrieved the staff and handed it toward the three men. He kept his hand on it. The man in the middle smiled at Mark.

  “Son, I have to examine this staff.”

  “Yes sir. Can you do it while I hold it?”

  “I don’t know. Let me see.”

  The man read the note that had come from the envelope. He pressed the top most small golden circle, then turned the crook on the top of the staff about a quarter of a turn and it slid off into his hand. This revealed a wooden finger that the crook had been seated on. He examined the protruding piece of wood, which had writing on it. He looked at the note and said that the visual inspection looked good.

  He read the note again and said, “Can you describe the place where you found this?”

  Mark said, “It was inside of the top of a mountain, Mystery Mountain. It was like a big cave that you could only get to from under a big rock on top of the mountain.”

  “Was anything with it?” The middle man was still looking at the note.

  “Yes sir. There was a pocket book kind of like…” Mark paused to think. “Like the kind they used to use in the Pony Express. It had a deed, a lease and a note in it.”

  The phone buzzed. The middle man answered it. After listening to the phone he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins.”

  The middle man stood up. “Mark, it looks like you are the one, the rightful heir. This account is now yours.”

  Mark grinned. “How much is it?”

  The middle man answered, “Well, your four greats grandfather bought some shares of some new companies back in the mid and late eighteen hundreds. Let’s see here, Eastman Kodak, Edison General Electric, now General Electric, Westinghouse, Rochester Bank which we bought, and many more. Some of the other companies went under, bankrupt. At the beginning of this month the account was worth, let’s see here… five hundred ninety-six-million, six hundred fifty-eight thousand, four hundred twenty-seven dollars and seventeen cents.”