My Husband Sold My Two Million Dollar Land For Five Dollars To His Girlfriend
In the distance, the new colt trotted along the creek bank, his chestnut coat catching the pale autumn light as he stayed close to Midnight Star. He was small, but his legs were straight and his stride was clean, without any of the hesitation that had marked his first weeks.
I reached the old corner post, where my father had carved his initials into the cedar wood forty years ago. The grain was weathered and grey, but the deep lines of the letters J.B. were still visible under the dry lichen.
A small piece of silver glinted in the dry grass near the base of the post, half-buried under the fallen cedar needles. I knelt down, my hand brushing through the cold dirt until my fingers closed around a heavy, round object.
It was my father’s old silver pocket watch, the casing scratched and tarnished to a dull grey. He had lost it the winter before he passed away, and we had searched the entire house and barn twice without ever finding a trace of it.
