The Farmer's Son

Chapter 6 The Other Farm

Leaving the much-trafficked road behind, they entered a barely visible track of dirt through the fields, the big red truck kicking up clumps of earth and root and crushing vegetation to mulch under the tires. Tall orderly stalks abruptly gave way to overgrown fields of wild grass and creeping vines. Without months of use to smooth and even it out, the thin path was full of dips and rises, each of which Noah, behind the wheel, seemed to hit, jostling the three men and the dog inside. At one point, Ray, in the back seat, had to hold on to Bear to make sure he didn't fall out the window.

Soon, a dot appeared on the horizon, quickly resolving itself into a small two-story structure, nestled among the overgrown weeds like a forgotten house from a fairytale.

Noah pulled the truck into the small clearing in front of it. The house was, if possible, smaller up close, with a short front porch, and a dilapidated barn behind. Grey, weathered boards had been stripped by the sun, the middle of the porch dipped in the middle almost to the ground, and the roof was riddled with gaping, ragged black holes, through which flocks of crows flew in and out of freely. Looking up at the forlorn structure, Ray couldn't shake the impression of arriving on the scene of some great tragedy. In many ways, they were.

"I can't believe Mr. Dalton gave up the farm," Alan said, coming out from the passenger side.

"He had no choice," Noah said, pushing his baseball cap back and looking up at the house. "Just couldn't handle the expenses anymore. Last season, he had to borrow just to make ends meet."

"Where will they go?" Alan asked, circling the truck to stand with his father.

"Him and Laura are moving out west. They got family there."

Alan nodded. The somber mood had affected even Bear, who leaned against Ray's leg, whining softly. Reaching down, Ray scratched the head comfortingly.

"I'm going to take a look at the fields," Noah said.

Alan went inside and Ray followed, while Bear opted to stay outside and sniff around the foundation. His foot sank into the soft boards as if it were mud. Inside the gloomy exterior, sunlight slanted in through holes in every level, dust motes drifting lazily in their beams. The walls were parched, the supporting beams and rafters peeling and splintering. The living room had sagged like the porch, creating a dip in the center where debris gathered. Crows called loudly, upset at being disturbed, flapping from room to room in the sweet decay scented air.

Ray trailed his fingers over the windowsills, which had stood up pretty well, and would not even need replacing. He slid his hand over the peeling wallpaper, which one good yank would remove, revealing walls that could be repaired and painted. He pushed on the weight bearing pillars leading into the kitchen and felt no movement. Standing in a beam of sunlight and looking up, he could see all the way to the clear blue sky; the roof was probably the biggest job, but replacing it would not be a problem. Overall, the house had seen better days, but it had good bones.

Ray looked around at a sigh behind him and saw Alan standing with a hand on the archway of the living room.

"I really can't believe it," Alan said, his gaze roaming over the room. "I can still remember coming here when I was a kid, playing in this house with all their dogs. They always had so many dogs. I got Bear from them."

"They didn't have any kids?" Ray asked.

"They had three sons," Alan said. "But they moved away a long time ago."

"Does this happen a lot?" Ray asked. "Farms..."

"Going under?" Alan said, bitterness in his voice. "Yeah. More than people realize. The population is aging, and even those with children who take over can't keep it running for very long. Most of us are in debt." He paused, his gaze roaming around the room. "For most of us, it's only a matter of time before we have to let go and move on, too."