some of them. SIMMONS MILL, PRESCOTT MILL, TURNER MILL.
Turk put one of her long nails on the Simmons Mill.
“That’s the one we want,” she said.
I made a note of the plat references and found the volume that matched up with it.
The deeds for that piece of land started in the 1650s. They ran through the seventeenth, eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, up till when the Simmons Mill had closed in the 1930s. Then they stopped.
The last owner listed was Grover Simmons.
“Eighty years nobody’s paid any attention to that place,” Turk said. “Grover Simmons has got to be long gone.”
“Unless he’s a jenti,” I said. “Then he could show up tomorrow.”
“No contact information, is there?” Turk said. “Running down ol’ Grove ain’t gonna be easy.”
The office door rattled.
“Hey, let me in to my place,” an old voice squeaked.
“See if you can find anything with old telephone numbers or addresses,” Turk said. “I’ll handle this.”
I went searching through the shelves of books. Turk went over and leaned against the door.
“It’s locked,” Turk said.
“I know it’s locked. Unlock it and let me in,” the voice said.
“How do I know you’re supposed to be in here?” Turk said.
“It’s my office. You saw me in it. Let me in, you brats,” the voice said.
“I can’t see you now,” Turk said. “How do I know you’re the same guy?”
“Unlock the damn door and you’ll see I’m the same guy,” the voice said.
“Okay, I’ll try,” Turk said.
She rattled the lock for a long time.
“It’s not working,” she said.
“Turn the key!” the voice said.
“There’s nothing here,” I said.
Turk nodded.
“Oh, wait,” she said. “I see a key. Hold on.”
And she opened the door.
The little man pushed into the room. His eyes were glaring.
“You lied to me,” he said. “You said there was a fire.”
“No, I didn’t,” Turk said.
“Yes, you damn well did,” the little man said.
“No. I said the word fire completely without context,” Turk said. “You drew your own conclusions. It’s part of a living art project I’m working on, throwing out a word and seeing how people react. You’re the best one so far, by the way. Thanks for your help.”
“Get out of my office and don’t come back,” the little man snarled.
“But wait,” I said. “You’ve helped her with her homework. Now you have to help me with mine. My local history project. That’s why I came here. Everybody says you know more about Crossfield than anybody else.”
“Who said so?” the little man said. He sounded curious now.
“Well, everybody I asked about it,” I said.
The little man crossed his arms.
“Well, maybe I do know more about Crossfield than anybody else,” he said. “But that don’t mean I have to tell what I know. Just because these are public records don’t mean I have to shoot my mouth off. But anyway, what’d you wanna know?”
“I’m doing research on the Simmons Mill,” I said. “And I don’t find any records for the—the chain of title—after 1932. Why is that?”
“Chain of title? You’re not here about the other thing?” the little man asked.
“What other thing?” Turk said.
“Nothin’. Forget about it,” the little man said. “Anyway. The Simmons Mill. Maybe I can help you.”
He pulled out the same volume that Turk and I had looked at and went slowly through the Simmons documents page by page.
Finally, he said, “It ain’t here.”
“So I was right,” I said.
“Looks like it,” the little man said.
“But somebody’s got to own it, right?” I said.
The little man shrugged.
“Look, just end your research thing where the paper trail ends,” he said. “1932. You lucked out, kid. Almost a hundred years you don’t have to write about.”
“Hey,” I said. “I go to Vlad Dracul. If I turn in a paper that stops in 1932, I’ll be lucky to get a C. Isn’t there anything to update this with?”
“No, there ain’t,” he said. “That place could be in Frontierland by now. Probly is.”
“What’s Frontierland?” I said.
“Aw, it’s this old thing,” the little man said. “See, Crossfield ain’t really a part of New Sodom. I mean, it is, but it ain’t. So there’s this old law. Goes back to 1676 or something. When a piece of land in Crossfield stands empty too long, and nobody knows who owns it, anybody who wants it can homestead it. There’s certain things you got to do to claim it, and you got to stay there a certain time, but then it’s yours.”
“Wow, that would make a great footnote,” I said. “Can I see the document?”
The little man sighed, went to the bookshelves,