“Never missed a day.”

“And his ancestors have been doing it since 1710?”

“Best I know.”

“This is all fascinating, but what can I help you with?”

“I need to know if that contract’s legal.”

“I’d have to think so.”

“But how could it be? The United States didn’t even exist back then!”

“US federal courts have in the past upheld land grants made by King George II which also predates the Declaration of Independence,” he mused. “As crazy as this contract is, I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be valid. Of course, there are clauses within it that violate both state law and the constitution and couldn’t be legally enforced, but yes, as long as the field is weeded according to the specifications laid out in the contract, your family should be able to continue to maintain the residence granted by it. I hope that puts your mind at ease.”

“No, it don’t. What I want to know is if there’s anything you can do to get that contract revoked.”

Minter pursed his lips while he studied Lydia Durkin. “Now why would you want me to do that?”

“Because as long as that contract exists, her husband’s going to keep weeding that field, leaving Lydia and her family living in poverty!” Helen Vernon volunteered.

Minter folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, the springs making a slight creaking noise. “There might be a better way to handle this,” he said. “It seems to me that both you and this town are sitting on a potential goldmine.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asked.

“It’s very simple. What we have here is a small, scenic New England town with a three-hundred-year-old legend of monsters growing out of the ground and a Caretaker who protects the townsfolk from them. People eat that kind of stuff up. Do you realize how much tourism Salem, Massachusetts, rakes in each year because of their history with witch trials which, by the way, didn’t even occur in Salem?”