Smallville Farmer Novels & Stories

"My darling girl!" The farmer's voice, filled with overwhelming joy, burst out suddenly. He gently tugged on his little girl's hand, ensuring that her body had indeed recovered. Once he was certain, the farmer turned toward Liam abruptly. "Thank you, kind sir! Thank you!" He faced Liam and knelt down again with a thud. Immediately, the sound of him bowing reverberated repeatedly. If the first time the farmer had knelt before Liam it was out of helpless necessity, his bow came from the depths of his heart, sincere and genuine, without a trace of falsehood.

“He won’t be any trouble.” Luca looked at Beecher and neither of them wanted to be the one to disappoint her. Something about Zinnia made everyone just want to say yes. As they debated what to do using only facial expressions, the farmer came alongside the car. With apologies muttered in his native tongue, he scooped the baby llama up under his arm and set off after the others.

— Who was shouting was the old farmer, a man so shrivelled he looked like a dry white leaf. —At your service, sir!— I answer, heading to where the arriving wagons parked. The old farmer is the only one left at the mill, so I have to help him all morning until the cooks call me in to help with lunch. The job is not as cool as the blacksmith. All I have to do is cut the wheat, plant, and water the seeds and then put them in the mill and remove the ready-made flour. Today, in particular, it will be another weightlifting workout, wheat is very heavy! I look at the cart, it was full of almost two meters of wheat. Four oxen grazed in front of the cart. So, I'm going to have to use the strength of

Soon the old ways would be gone, driven out by time or drowned out by city folk who wanted a slice of the mountain life. Cedric handed over a thermos of thick black “cowboy” coffee, and Johnny poured himself a cup. “Your job take you away again?” Cedric didn’t know what Johnny did; he liked to keep it that way. As far as the townsfolk knew, Johnny sold military equipment, a traveling salesman of sorts. “Sure thing. It was just a day trip.” Cedric nodded. “Congratulations.” “On what?” “On the pretty little thing staying on your farm.”

“What happened? You were fine when I saw you last week.” The farmer chuckled, although it turned into a cough. “Been better, I’ll give you that. Doctors say it’s my lungs. Started gettin’ sick about three days after I gave you that ride to Ashclaw.” Three days. Three fucking days since I told him my true identity. My throat bobbed. “I’m so sorry.” “What? Nothin’ for you to be sorry about,” the farmer said. “These things happen. I’m seventy-three years old—not exactly a spring chicken.”

Deep wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, proof of his age and years of hard work as a farmer. Mr. Max was one of the elderly farmers living in this part of the mountain. His small farmhouse stood not too far from mine, which was probably why he had become familiar with me over time. Even though I rarely talked to anyone and mostly kept to myself, he still made the effort to greet me whenever we happened to cross paths. Somehow, despite my silence and distant nature, he never treated me like a stranger. When he finally reached me, Mr. Max gently pulled on the reins, causing the stallion to come to a slow stop right in front of me.

This imposter was wearing exactly like they did–definitely couldn’t be noticed as long as they just focused on planting. “Hey, can you hand me some crops? I just finished mine.” A farmer past middle aged asked to another who was five meters away from him. He had already finished planting the first batch of crops, so he asked like the usual they do. However, this farmer just halted without saying anything. That was just a few seconds ago as the farmer who asked became the one who halted when he noticed something weird. It was this farmer’s body built…

he said before turning to me as I climbed out of the car. As soon as I stepped into view, he gestured between us. "Elizabeth, meet Mr. Harris. He’s the farmer responsible for this beautiful place." Mr. Harris blushed at the praise. "Ooh, Boss, you flatter me." Boss? I shot Richard a look, but he ignored it. "Welcome to L Farms," Mr. Harris said warmly, and I smiled. But before I could respond, Richard spoke. "Are they ready?" His tone had shifted, suddenly more businesslike.

He was nothing if not resourceful. “I actually know Johnny,” she said, standing up from her seat. “He's the old farmer who always has a piece of grass sticking out of his mouth, lodged between his front two teeth. I used to see him around town once in a while. He's a bit of a trickster.”

"Please Alpha, I had no idea they'd bring me so much trouble. I just thought I was trying to help them." "Helping people by covering them with hay? Didn't that send some sort of message to you that they were hiding from someone?" The farmer began blubbering. "I...I swear to you, I just thought they were foreigners in trouble. I'm so sorry Axton." Axton picked a log and hit the front glass of the farmer's van with a thudding force. The van cracked, the sound ringing through the air before it shattered into a million tiny pieces, raining down like a hail of bullets