“You don’t have to leave.”

He kept his hands buried deep in his good church coat.

The bitter March wind kicked up dust across the gravel yard.

The auction crowd was already gone, leaving only the three of us standing near the porch.

“The auction’s over,” Walt said.

“The land company man went back to his truck.”

“I meant you can come visit,” I told him.

“Whenever you want to walk the fields.”