to meet you.”

“Joe. Adams.” Noncommittal. Faded denim, weathered face, everything about him was worn and old.  

“So we wanted to try chickens and pigs for the season. We hoped they’d be ready for fall.” Keira had spent years in the city reading about livestock husbandry, following blogs and websites about the latest developments in organic farming. “I have some plans, you know, about –”

“Uh huh.” Completely indifferent to her, his gaze tracked along the barn ridgepole; Joe seemed to be remembering something. Blue eyes stared into the distance.

“Um, anyway, thank you for delivering them.” She tried again.

“Uh huh. Neighbourly thing to do. Lemme check your fences for you before I unload them. No poin...

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