CHAPTER 28: IT’S ONLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE

Sarah Sessom lived on a little dirt road set away from the heart of Stockard Creek and back in the mini-mountains, as the hills that surrounded the town were called. Her cabin was at the end of an old mining trail and, along the way to her place, there were little reminders of the silver mines that had existed there for so long.

Tall weeds mostly concealed some of the equipment and detritus left behind, but it was there if you looked.

There were rusted buckets and tired rims clustered within a cluster of poplar trees here; a busted-up old steel pulley system with dangling cables and chains surrounded and blended in with some pine trees over there. Within the tall brush and sandy earth were a few old picnic tables stacked up against each other, a pile of old rotten truck tires and, backed up near a hollowed-out fuel take still standing up on steel legs, an old rusted out 1940’s era Ford crate truck.