2. Jared

2

JARED

J ared Webb wandered into the feed shop as the setting sun painted the sky a deep pink overhead.

He didn't really need anything. But this time of year, when the wheat fields didn't require his labor, he often found himself restless and reaching for errands.

"Well, they've moved in now," Joe Cassidy was saying as Jared headed over to the counter where the old-timers drank the free coffee and chewed the fat while they waited for their orders.

"Who's moving in?" Jared asked, leaning up against the counter. He'd never been much of a coffee drinker. He already had too much excess energy as it was.

"I don't know their names," Joe said, shrugging. "But the people who bought the place by the fishing hole just moved in. The truck was there all morning."

Anger sizzled down Jared's spine.

He'd had his eye on that property for a while, and was set on buying it for himself. But it had taken him some time to work out the money part, and by the time he did, Baz Radcliffe had already signed a contract with some buyer from out of town.

Ansel Williams was shaking his head subtly at Joe Cassidy, like he knew this topic would set Jared off, but Joe didn't seem to notice.

"Can't believe they put up a fence," Joe continued, clucking disapprovingly. "People have been using that fishing hole since back before my day."

"Are you talking about the new people?" Emma Williams asked as she headed over to join the conversation.

Emma was young, even compared with Jared, but she was known for being a knowledgeable farmer and a great horsewoman. She had earned her spot by the coffeemaker. She was actually marrying Baz Radcliffe this winter, and even Jared couldn't find it in himself to hold it against her.

"Yep," Joe said.

"I heard she's a schoolteacher," Emma said. "She's going to teach English up at the high school."

Well, it figured. It was just like a teacher to fence people in or out. Even though his own mother had been a teacher before he was born, Jared held a general mistrust of the whole profession.

Most of his teachers hadn't cared for him much back in school, and the feeling had wound up being mutual. He had always been the kind of kid that belonged outside on the farm, or down by the creek, not in a tiny little desk studying things that happened hundreds of years ago—especially when plenty of interesting stuff was happening all around while they were just sitting in school, letting it pass them by.

He had known that if he didn't finish high school it would break his mother's heart. But college had always been out of the question for him. All he'd ever wanted to do was work the land. And he felt lucky every day to be doing just that.

"So, we can finally get our hands on decent fencing materials around here again," Ansel said suddenly, "and that's what they're being used for?"

Everyone turned to him, shocked. Ansel was normally the most soft-spoken and gentle person. But even he felt that there was something inherently wrong in fencing off the old fishing hole.

For Jared, it was more than not being able to fish in a favorite spot. For him, that little part of the woods and creek was where he went to remember his grandfather.

The Webbs were a big family, but Grandpa Henry and Jared always had a special bond. They used to go fishing in that very spot, just the two of them, and talk about all kinds of things as they sat on the huge slab of rock that jutted out over the best part of the creek.

Grandpa Henry never made Jared feel bad for being an outdoorsy type of kid who didn't particularly like school. He talked to him about the farm and the family and anything in the world that Jared brought up.

Jared had always had the idea he might be taking his own kids there one day. And when it became clear that Radcliffe was selling off all of his properties, Jared had been happy to think that if he bought the house with the copper roof, there could be campouts and cookouts and all kinds of other fun things happening there.

"Things change, I guess," Joe said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jared took that as his cue to leave before he said something he couldn't take back. It was one thing to have been a bit of a rebel back in school, and another thing to raise his voice in anger about a neighbor in a sacred space like the feed shop. The guys might get up to their share of gossip, but it never got heated.

"See you all later," he said, heading back out into the cold, crisp air. The taste of snow teased his senses, but he was pretty sure nothing would come of it this early in the season.

He got in his truck and felt better at the rumble of the engine and the sound of Elvis singing a Christmas tune. The local station played all holiday music, all the time, from Thanksgiving until New Year's, and the familiar tunes always lifted his spirits.

But when it came time to turn toward home, he found himself staying straight instead and heading up the hillside toward the fishing hole.

I'm not knocking on the door tonight, he told himself. It's past dark. But tomorrow, I'll stop by and give this new guy a piece of my mind.

He followed the winding road all the way to where the hillside and woods sheltered the shape of the funny little Victorian cottage.

Lights warmed the windows for the first time in years, and the house looked so cozy and welcoming—almost like an image on one of the Christmas cards his mom hung on the refrigerator every year.

Jared felt an odd little tug, like the house itself was calling to him.

He shook it off and drove on. He was just wishing he could have bought the place, that was all.

There was nothing else there for him.