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When the idea for THE BRENTRIDGE GOLD "suddenly took hold", it was one of those things I simply had to follow through on and get down on paper. The words of the book just flowing on out, as if -- dare I say -- I was inspired by something "other" than my own consciousness?
If the book is layered, a seemingly innocent western novel on its face, something more "alien" only visible for those willing to probe between the lines, that's because visitors from other worlds, if they do exist out there, have never made it easy to provide proof-positiveness of their existence.
Once he had expected the Brentridge gold to be panned from some river lost to anyone but Indians and Brentridges, within Deadmen Hills. Maybe even a river, hidden underground, like the water of the rumored Payne Reservoir. By the first time he'd reached this exact location, he'd changed his opinion to imagine a large vein of gold. But Brentride gold didn't start out as nuggets, or as shimmering glitter implanted amid black lava stone, the latter bound to have confused and amazed geologists who'd always predicted against it.
Brentridge gold was something far more eye popping. Something that drooped mouths in awe, even as David's mouth had dropped, that first time, and every time since. Just as David's jaw went slack this time as he turned the mist enshrouded corner...
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