Chapter 19 - Peace on the South Road
Autumn returned to Hartwell County with a blaze of gold and crimson across the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The abandoned mansion on Voss Hill was officially zoned as part of the new cooperative watershed reserve. The local high school biology classes used the lower acreage for field studies, testing soil health and water purity in the pristine creeks flowing down from the peaks. Nature was reclaiming the stone and glass, wrapping ivy around the imported pillars and filling the manicured gardens with wildflowers.
Down on the south road, our farmhouse stood bathed in the warm, golden light of late afternoon.
The fences were mended, the hay barns were full to bursting before the first frost, and the barking of our old dog no longer carried the frantic edge of midnight terror. It was just a regular farm dog greeting the evening breeze.
I sat on the wooden porch rocking chair, my old aluminum bat leaning quietly against the interior wall of the coat closet—right where it belonged, out of sight, out of mind, but ready if the world ever forgot what quiet men are capable of when pushed too far.
Claire walked out onto the porch carrying two mugs of hot tea, handing one to me before sitting down in the rocking chair beside mine.
May you like
“Quiet evening, Daddy,” she murmured, looking out over the rolling green pastures stretching toward the horizon.
“The best kind,” I said.
