Chapter 3

THREE

Jackson"s worn out boots clicked against the cobblestone of the market square as he navigated his way through the bustling crowd of one of the Midwest"s many farmer"s markets. Each step was heavy, the weight of his burden apparent with every movement as he looked to do the unthinkable - sell a farm pet in hopes the buyer treated it well.

Every step could have brought him one step closer to relief. Instead, only dread filled his heart as he stared off at the market"s already bustling commerce center.

The sweet scent of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of livestock and the salty tang of something he didn"t want to identify in the distance. A few more steps, and he would be in the thick of it with no turning back.

A cacophony of voices filled Jackson"s ears, a mix of vendors calling out their wares and people haggling over prices. The gentle jingling of coins exchanged hands, mingled with the rustling of fabric and paper as people browsed through stalls laden with colorful fruits and vegetables, freshly baked breads and pastries, handcrafted trinkets, and livestock on display.

The smell of different spices assaulted his nose at every turn—garlic from the produce stand down the lane, fish from the nearby dock where boats unloaded their catches for sale. Despite the chaos around him, there was an underlying rhythm to it all–a beat that pulsed in time with the town"s heartbeat.

The sun peeked from behind dark storm clouds, casting long shadows as if daring them to play hide and seek with its warmth. Winter was still holding on, keeping each day as cold as the last. He"d already felt a few snowflakes kiss his cheeks earlier in the week and knew winter would not soon relinquish her icy grip.

Every year, it seemed like another struggle for survival—for both him and his crops. But this year would be different, he thought, stuffing down any fears or doubts about their future.

He spotted a woman with dark brown hair and clothes more mud-covered than not, haggling with a fruit vendor over what looked to be a very mealy apple. He couldn"t blame her for wanting to take the price down.

The market was a hive of activity the further into it he went, with people haggling over produce, animals lowing and mooing, children laughing, and vendors calling out their wares.

With his weathered boots digging into the ground, Jackson led his plump pig, Mavis, along the path that wound towards the stalls.

The animal huffed apprehensively, sensing a change coming.

"Easy, girl," Jackson coaxed. "It"s for the best."

He pushed through the crowd toward an old farmer he recognized from one of his regular visits to this market. The man had seemed trustworthy enough before when they"d talked about mutual interests in crops and farming techniques. It stood to reason he'd take Mavis and just let her be used for breeding and not meat.

As Jackson approached him now, he saw that familiar face light up in recognition before turning serious once he realized what Jackson sought–a deal for more than just conversation this time around.

The farmer held a middle-aged woman"s hand, who appeared afraid of the bustling market. She clung onto her husband"s arm as if afraid to let go during all the noise and commotion around them. Her eyes darted between her spouse and Jackson, wondering what business could bring these two men together on such a busy day at the market.

Jackson tethered Mavis to a post outside a stall and approached a neighboring farmer. "Tom, how goes it?" he greeted.

"Better than you, I would imagine. Can"t imagine why you haven"t converted that old land of yours to meat livestock—or at least, dairy."

"That is a bit of why I"m here." He cast a glance back at the hefty pink sow he"d known since she was born.

A pang in his chest nearly stopped him, but Mavis was the best shot they had at getting some funds for the week.

"I"d like to sell you Mavis - providing you don"t use her as anything other than a breeding sow."

Tom scratched at his graying beard, his eyes moving from Jackson to where Mavis was tied up outside the stall.

"Can"t do it, son. While I know you wouldn"t do me wrong, it"s hard to swallow buying something from a failing farm."

His heart sank. "Yeah, that's what I expect to hear a lot of, worry that the crops feeding my livestock are tainted."

"I"m really sorry, Jackson. There"s lots of newcomers here today. They won"t have my worries."

Nodding, Jackson walked away without another word. His farm was spoiled goods even when he was trying to sell something other than crops.

"Looks like you are stuck with dried and dying grass a little longer." He pat Mavis on the head as he untied her. "I was trying to help us both out."

Mavis gave a little snort, as if letting him know she wasn"t angry with him.

A murmuring from the stall over drew Jackson"s attention. Five men stood damn near huddled inside the stall's entrance, blocking Jackson"s view from whatever the product was.

"Magical beans, huh?" one of the men snorted, disbelief etched into his weathered face. "What do they grow—gold nuggets?"

A thin, wiry man at the stall, with a cloak that seemed too grand for the dusty marketplace, grinned. "Not gold, good sir. They grow opportunities, marvels beyond your wildest dreams."

The group erupted into chuckles with damn near all of them shaking their head.

"Keep your laughter!" The man spoke again. "Haven"t you ever heard the story about the farmer who grew a beanstalk that led to a world where all their troubles were solved?"

Everyone erupted into louder laughter; some doubled over with amusement.

"No way! Who would fall for such nonsense?" Barked Tony Dee.

Jackson couldn"t help but overhear, his ears perking up at the mention of a beanstalk.

"Well, I know a fool who did," the man added with a wink towards Jackson when their eyes met.

The crowd erupted again into laughter, but Jackson couldn"t help but smile at their camaraderie. This was something he hadn"t experienced much lately. People were too worried about their own struggles to take time out for others. It wasn"t money, but it did pay him in another way.

"So, there was this old farmer who found this magical bean plant that grew overnight and promised riches beyond belief," continued the seller before pausing dramatically, "But you"ll have to buy these magic beans if you want to find out for yourself."

Jackson edged nearer, the words tantalizing him despite his doubts.

"Excuse me," he called out to the cloaked man, who turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "These magical beans, what do they actually do?"

The cloaked man"s eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge—or was it mischief? "Ah, another skeptic? These are not your ordinary beans, farmer. Plant them, and your needs shall be met. Your sorrows are forgotten. But I must warn you, the realm they take you to is as perilous as it is prosperous."

The murmurs from the crowd softened to whispers. The laughter had died down now, as if the seriousness of the tone reached them through their amusement.

Jackson"s heart raced as he listened intently to the old man"s words. He could almost taste the hope on his tongue, a sweet and bitter flavor that filled his senses like honey.

He was used to taking risks, after all. It was part of being a farmer in this harsh land—but this felt different somehow. This felt like destiny pushing him forward.

He took a deep breath, feeling the chill in the air fill his lungs before escaping in a soft sigh. The scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street mingled with the earthy smell of damp soil from his farm. It was an intoxicating mix that reminded him of home.

Home…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned back to the cloaked man.

"And what"s the price for risking these so-called perils?" Jackson asked, torn between his disbelief and the weight of his current plight.

"For you, a price of one honest smile and a promise," the cloaked man proposed with a theatrical flair, holding out a singular, tiny bean between his thumb and forefinger. "Promise to pursue what you find with heart and valor, and I will give you three."

Jackson"s eyes narrowed, but the promise of respite for his farm lured him in. With a conflicted grin that bordered on a grimace, Jackson reached out and took the seeds. "Alright, I"ll bite. . . or plant, as it were."

The man"s lips curled into a satisfied smile. "An excellent choice. Remember, plant it under the crescent moon and prepare for a journey that will change your course forever."

"Jackson," Tom called out with a wary look. "You don"t believe in that hogwash, do ya?"

They small leather satchel was cool and heavy in his hand as if they held more weight than just their monetary value.

"After sunset, dig a hole deep enough for a seedling, drop one in, cover it up with dirt, and water it with your tears," the enigmatic man replied cryptically before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Jackson standing there alone with his heart racing and head spinning.