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Taking a deep breath, Jackson rose, brushing the wet dirt from his knees. Hannah, his loyal Border Collie, sidled up beside him, nuzzling his hand with a whimper. It was as if even the dog sensed the gravity of their situation.
Jackson managed a smile for his four-legged companion as if it would make a difference, and scratched her behind her ears. Her quiet pants were comforting and grounding. "We'll figure this out, girl."
Somehow.
He had tried everything he could think of to save his crops.
Newly dug irrigation ditches.
Fancy fertilizer.
Even fancier feed, even though crops didn't actually need it.
But nothing seemed to help. The once lush fields now resembled a wasteland; cracked earth and dry stalks swaying in the wind like ghosts of the bounty they once were.
He stood up with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he trudged towards the next marker, the last in the north field.
The potato crop wasn't faring any better. Twisted vines snaked through the dirt with barely any spuds left to harvest. He kicked a rock on his way, wishing he could release some of the frustration that threatened to boil over. He tried not to dwell on how empty their pantry would be after this season ended or how much debt they'd accumulated trying to stay afloat during these recent hard winters and dry springs, but it was hard when there was were failing crops as far as the eye could see.
Ambling back towards the farmhouse, the colors of sunset seemed to paint a new promise on the canvas of the sky. Jackson's heart clung to one thing, his determination not to let those who came before him down. He would find a solution. He would save his farm.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the red flag up on the tiny mailbox at the end of the walk to the main house. The mailman had come and gone within just the last hour, which meant Dan snuck bad news into the mailbox because he was a chatterbox.
It opened and spilled out more mail than he ever wanted to deal with. Reaching in, he grabbed the stack, his eyes going to the piece of mail on top.
He recognized the crisp embossed text on the envelope: it was a bill from the bank. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he pulled out the envelope, his hands shaking as he opened it up. It took only a glance to know that this was not good news; there were numbers here, many of them, and none of them were kind. His farm was sinking deeper into debt with each passing day, and it seemed like there was no end in sight. But he wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up.
Now his slow amble was more a pathetic trudge back to the house with the weight of the world on his shoulders once again, he couldn't help but taste the bitterness of failure in his mouth. Everything around him seemed to mirror that bitter taste - the parched earth beneath his boots, the dying crops that wilted under his gaze, even the cool breeze that blew against his sweaty skin had an edge to it now. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the fields, painting them with hues of red and orange and purple that served as a stark contrast to Jackson's mood.
The door opened without a creak. Nothing was dying inside just because the farm failed to thrive. Without looking outside, one could almost believe the Walker Farm held strong in the harsh, fucked up climate humans seemed to create with their pollution.
"You can't keep stayin' out there," his aunt tsked, her blue eyes soft with concern.
"What good am I doing in here?"
She scoffed and set her hands on her hips. "The same good you're doing out there."
There was no fighting with his aunt, not because she was right but because, like any good Midwesterner, she could argue until she was blue in the face while knowing she was wrong.
"Yes, Ma'am."
She smiled, obviously happy with her victory. "Come on then, it's time for supper. Tomorrow is a new day and those clouds look right as rain. Besides, maybe then you can look at taking care of yourself and not just this land."
Jackson dropped down in the wooden chairs that had been the kitchen table in this house since before he was born.
"Do you miss them?" The question came out of the blue as he thought about taking care of himself.
His aunt nodded, knowing he referred to her husband and his parents. All three had been killed over a decade ago in the fire that scorched the land and started the beginning of his problems.
Problems that left him with no time to do fill the halls of this house with life.
The quiet didn't bother him, he enjoyed it after the beating sun all day, but he knew his aunt wanted these halls filled with family.
And while Jackson couldn't give her a family without some help, he'd always imagined adopting a kid or two with his husband and living on the land just as his family had always done.
Something that will never happen if you don't fix the fucking land.
Supper was a quiet affair. Marie's home-cooked meals were usually a time for laughter and recounting the day's labor, but tonight, forks scraped against plates, and glances were traded over the dwindling steam of mashed potatoes and roast chicken. The tension could be cut with a knife, but no one dared address it.
