Epilogue

Somewhere Out West…

A small farmhouse stood in fields of corn and tomato plants. It had been standing for generations and would still stand even in the midst of America’s worst economic crisis yet. It would persevere, though too many would not.

Off in the distance, about half a mile down the lone dirt road that led to and from the farmhouse, there was a cloud of dust, kicked up by the wheels of a jalopy, heading west.

The farmer of the residence stood on the porch, hands on his hips, watching the jalopy drive away.

“Jack?”

He turned at the sound of his wife calling him. She stepped out from behind the screen door and let it swing shut.

“Who was that?” she asked, lifting a hand to shield her gaze as she watched the cloud of dust get smaller and smaller.

“A couple. Newlyweds, I think. Wanted to ask about the property some fifty acres away.”

“So they want to be our neighbors?”

Farmer Jack shrugged. “Maybe. The girl had the sweetest voice I’d ever heard. She’d do well in our church choir.”

“Well, are they coming back?” the farmer’s wife asked.

“Said they might. But first they wanted to see the Redwoods out in California.”

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