Later that afternoon, I sat in the front yard still mulling over the article I had read and trying to somehow connect it to the chickens in the yard.  But it didn’t make sense. First of all, chickens had nothing to do with the accident. Even my imagination couldn’t think of a correlation between the wrecked career and the sacrificed poultry. No one here knew the Wilson family, at least as far as I knew. If they were somehow connected to a local family, there would have been talk long before the Wilsons arrived. We would have thrown a huge welcome party they day they arrived and instant relationships would have been formed between the townspeople and the outsiders. But the Wilsons threatened to continue to be known as outsiders. The town w...

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