Where the Music Grows (Echoes of a Southern Song #1)

Chapter One

Jack

I feel the calf nuzzle into my leg. He’s a little clumsy in his search for food. “Hey, buddy.”

I crouch beside it and run my fingers over the smooth spot between his eyes. In another life, I would have kept it, let it grow old and ordinary, even given it a name. Instead, it wobbles on shaky legs, unaware of what life has in store for him.

And it isn’t great. He isn’t going to grow up and be a strong bull. Only the male calves that have a pedigree from Dad’s prized bull get to stick around. Then they will be sold for thousands of dollars.

But this guy isn’t one of them.

Fifteen years ago, I would be out here crying like a baby. I’d be begging for his life while my older brothers laughed and teased me. My father would get pissed, like my sensitivity was a direct insult to him. Male calves didn’t have much use on a dairy farm. They were sold before they could become a financial burden. Their mamas were needed for their milk production. The babies weren’t needed once the cow was in milk. When I was little, it tore my heart out to watch the calves taken away.

Now, it’s just a fact of life. But I’m glad I’m not going to be here to witness the scene of the calves and old ladies that aren’t producing like they should get loaded up and hauled off. It’s the circle of life. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Take care of yourself, young man.”

I pat his head and get to my feet. I need to change and get ready for my other job. The one that is just barely better than working the farm. At least I don’t have to smell cow shit or listen to the bleating of the mamas looking for their babies.

In the main barn, my father and brothers are working and talking about some new equipment the farm needs. They are always in the main barn with the cows, doing vaccinations and making sure things are clean. I always prefer the calves.

I secretly wish the calves could vanish before they were hauled away. Where is a tornado or cattle thief when you need one? If the calves disappeared before the truck showed up, it would just be an oops. My dad wouldn’t get the chance to scold me for being soft-hearted, for caring about things that shouldn’t matter. I will never forget the time I did try and help the calves escape. I’d probably been nine or ten.

I tiptoe across the yard. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure someone will hear it, but the farmhouse is dark and silent. I’ve got a plan. A stupid, reckless plan, but it’s the only one I’ve got.

The latch on the calf barn creaks when I lift it. I freeze, holding my breath. Nothing moves. Inside, the calves stir, their soft moos echoing in the quiet. They’re so small, so innocent, their big eyes blinking at me in the dim light. “Shh,” I whisper, creeping closer. “I’m gonna help you.”

I fumble with the gate, my fingers trembling as I push it open wide. The calves just stand there, confused. “Go on,” I urge quietly, waving my arms. “Run!” One of them takes a tentative step forward, then another, and suddenly they’re spilling out into the yard, their hooves clattering against the ground.

My chest swells with something like triumph as I watch them scatter into the darkness. But then one of them starts bawling, loud and panicked, and my stomach drops. The lights in the farmhouse flick on.

“Oh no,” I mutter under my breath. I can already hear heavy footsteps stomping toward the barn. Dad’s voice booms across the yard. “What in the hell is goin’ on out here?”

I shake my head, snapping myself out of the memory. Things did not end well for me that night. Suffice it to say, after shoveling shit for two weeks, I learned my lesson. There would be no freedom operations.

I head back inside and grab an apple before heading upstairs to my room. Posters of half-forgotten bands are thumbtacked to the walls and an old acoustic guitar—my mother’s—leans in the corner. She was the one who taught me chords and once said that maybe this farm wasn’t big enough for me. If she was here, she would have pushed me out of the nest and encouraged me to chase my dreams.

I take a quick five-minute shower to wash away the sweat and smell of hay and cow. There is a smell to cows. I didn’t notice it much because I lived and breathed it my whole life. But other people noticed. I’ve heard just about every joke there was about how bad I stunk. It’s funny, because around here, we all live and work on farms and ranches. We all spend our weekends in hay fields, handling animals and cleaning barns.

We all stink.

I step in front of the mirror and run my hand over my jaw. Minor stubble. I’m not going to worry about it. I quickly comb my dark hair in the usual way. It’s not exactly a style. It’s just short. Typical. Boring. But functional. My blue eyes are the feature I get the most compliments on. I think they’re pretty average. My brothers have the same eyes. It’s the thing that everyone notices about us.

Dad walks in just as I enter the kitchen.

“You got work today?” my father asks, looked at my clean jeans and fresh T-shirt.

“Yeah, I’ll be back for supper.”

“Plenty of chores for you to do. Be easier if you just did them during the day like the rest of us.”

I ignore it. It’s the same complaint I always get. My dad wants me under his thumb shucking hay and handling the dairy operation.

I need more.

“I need the job,” I mutter. “I need to pay for college.”

He snorts again. “Working here is going to be all the education you need. Caleb and Michael are doing just fine. It’s not like some stupid piece of paper is going to change much.”

I bite back the retort that lingers on my tongue. He doesn’t understand, and he never will. To him, the farm is everything—a legacy, a purpose, something to be proud of. To me, it’s a life sentence. A cage.

“You said you’re fine with me taking a few classes,” I remind him.

My brothers are his little shadows and I’m this pain in his ass that won’t do what he demands. I know it’s normal for teenagers to butt heads with their parents, but this is different. I’m eighteen. I just graduated and I want to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to be a rancher. I don’t want to spend my life shoveling manure, milking cows at dawn, and watching calves get hauled off to auction. I don’t want to wake up every morning with the weight of this farm pressing down on me, suffocating me. I don’t want to live in this cycle where the seasons dictate my life. It’s not me. It never has been.

But Dad doesn’t see it that way. To him, this is the only life worth living. The only life that matters. And every time I try to explain that I want something else, he looks at me like I’ve just spit on everything he’s built. Like I’m betraying him by wanting more.

I love my dad, and I know he loves me, but we just seem to be a million miles apart.

I grab my keys off the hook by the door and head out to my beat-up truck. The engine sputters to life, and I back out of the driveway without looking back. The hardware store isn’t much—just a job to keep some cash in my pocket until I figure out my next move—but it’s mine. It’s not the farm. And it’s my chance to get some skills that go beyond raising cows.

When I walk into the hardware store, George the owner, looks up from a crate of light bulbs and offers me a nod and an understanding smile. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, George. Sorry, I’m late. Truck was coming today.”

He nods. I like that George knows me well enough not to waste his pity on empty words. He knows all about my distaste for the ranching business. Everyone knows where unwanted calves are sent. I know it’s just a part of life, but it always gets me. My dad tells anyone who will listen his youngest is a pansy and wants to save every cow. He calls me a vegetarian. I’m not, but it’s the big joke around town.

“I’ll do that,” I tell him.

I begin arranging the shelves, stocking light bulbs. It’s a boring job but better than the alternative. I hear the door open and glance over my shoulder.

Shit .

It’s Aiden, Brendon, and Trent. The biggest assholes in town. When they spot me, I know it’s on. They get off on fucking with me. Losers .

Aiden edges closer to me, Brendon and Trent not far behind. “Hey, Jack, is that a new cologne you’re wearing?” Aiden asks, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Can’t quite place it. What’s it called, boys?”

“Eau de loser,” Trent quips.

“Cow-shit,” Brendon adds.

“I think...” Aiden steps closer and sniffs. “No, I think that’s desperation.”

I can take it; I’m used to it. They’re jealous. At least that’s what I like to tell myself. Aiden’s arms look like spaghetti noodles. Brendon straight-up got beat down with the ugly stick. And Trent, he’s just an asshole.

I go back to stocking the shelves while they pretend to look at the spray paint. They’re talking shit about Aiden’s girlfriend. They’re always talking shit about people. I ignore them. I’m always ignoring them. I’ve always been the odd man out. I thought graduating high school would bring an end to the bullshit. But nope. These guys are never going to leave me alone. Not in this place. The only way that it ends is when I get the hell out of here.

“Boys causing trouble?” George asks, his eyes drifting to where they’re goofing off.

I shrug. “What’s new?”

They are pushing each other, making raunchy jokes and acting like the assholes they are when Aiden falls into a display.

“Dammit!” George’s frustration is evident. He’s a patient man, but even he has his limits. “Clean it up, then be on your way.”

They mutter and complain but get it done.

“Hard workers.” George chuckles.

“They wouldn’t last a day here,” I say with a shake of my head.

George brings up another case of supplies for me to open and stock. “Written any new songs lately?” he asks.

“Trying,” I reply. “Nothing much so far. Got one I’m working on.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“I’m just not feeling inspired lately.”

“Why not? You’re young. You’ve got the whole world in front of you.”

I scoff. “I’ve got a dairy farm in front of me. And a long dirt road.”

“You’re going to write a good one. Just you wait.”

I laugh. “Might be waiting a while. Feels like there’s not much time. You know how it is.”

“What about your college plans?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Trying to figure that out. I’m thinking about doing music, but I gotta nail down the basics first.”

George nods with understanding. “They won’t be too pleased about that back on the farm, I guess.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Not their decision, though,” George says gently. “Remember, it’s yours, not theirs.”

“For now, I’m not saying anything,” I tell him. “I’m going to do general ed stuff. I doubt I’ll get a degree anyway. My dad doesn’t want me going at all. Thinks it’s a waste of time and money.”

I shrug, picking up a box of nails and sliding it onto the shelf. This mundane work is not where I belong. I know it. I feel it. I’m not supposed to be here. And I won’t be forever. I’m going to make it. I’m going to get my ass out of this town. I’m never going to look back. Aiden, Brendon, and Trent will be here forever. They’ll all work at the plant until they retire.

Not me.

I can’t. It’ll kill me.

“You’ve got a gift, Jack,” he says. “Don’t let anyone talk you out of chasing it. Not your dad, not those idiots out there, nobody. You hear me?”

It’s easy for George to say—he’s not the one staring down the barrel of his father’s disappointment every damn day. Still, there’s something about the way he says it that makes me believe him, even if just for a second.