Chad Jones's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

DeShawn didn't show up for dinner. Chad had grabbed burgers from town and brought them back to the property, expecting to find him at the tent or maybe near the barn. Instead, he found DeShawn sitting on the tailgate of his truck, staring at nothing. The bag of food hung heavy in Chad's hand. The truck bed was packed solid. Not camping gear — everything. Clothes stuffed in garbage bags, a microwave wedged between boxes, framed photos wrapped in towels. DeShawn had built a setup near the old shed, some kind of workspace with clear walls and electronics running off a generator. Chad had seen it yesterday and assumed it was a hobby. Now he understood it was a résumé. DeShawn was trying to prove he could earn his place. "Two weeks is up tomorrow," DeShawn said without looking at him. "I got nowhere else lined up." Chad wanted to say something about boundaries, about how this was supposed to be temporary. The words felt borrowed from someone else's mouth. He'd bought this land to build something different, told himself he was done performing. But the easiest performance was still saying no. He set the food down on the tailgate and sat next to DeShawn. The silence stretched. Finally Chad spoke. "You know anything about farming?" DeShawn turned, confused. "Not really." Chad looked at the workspace, the packed truck, the desperation disguised as effort. He thought about the empty shed they'd cleared, the statue they'd turned face-down, the script he'd walked away from. Running a farm meant running it with people, not alone. "Then we'll figure it out together," Chad said. "But you're helping with the barn. And if anyone else shows up needing a place, we talk about it first." DeShawn nodded slowly, something like relief crossing his face. Chad grabbed a burger and handed him the other. The truck could stay packed another day. They'd unload it when DeShawn was ready to believe this was real.