Chapter 181

SIX-THIRTY SATURDAY MORNING – THE RETREAT

The early breakfast was over. The Alphas agreed to meet back in the small dining room just before eight to await Jeremy and his women as they came to eat. The Alphas weren't going to cut him any slack just because he was young.

With time to kill before the newlyweds were due to eat, Jeff showed Van around the retreat, winding up in Jeff's lab office in the basement. As the Prime put on a pot of coffee, he motioned Van to a seat. Instead of sitting behind his desk, Jeff grabbed a seat across from Van. As the men waited for the coffee to brew, Jeff told Van about selling his idea and working prototype to Wainwright, Inc.

"You're talking about Frank, right?"

"Yeah, he owns Wainwright, Inc. and a host of other businesses," Jeff continued. "I had almost bankrupted our personal finances buying materials and renting labs. Diana and I would have been in deep financial trouble if the invention hadn't sold when it did." He went on to outline in general terms some of the things that had happened to them since coming to the Retreat.

When the coffee finished making, Jeff poured two mugs, offered Van cream and sugar, which he declined, then sat again. "So, I've given you the gist of our recent lives; now I'm curious about yours. If you're willing to share, of course," he quickly added.

Van took a careful sip of the hot coffee as he thought, Well, they've already figured out our secret, and we really don't have anything else to hide. Besides, I'm beginning to believe this thing about Alphas – strange as it sounds. Adriana has always said I was different. She makes a big deal about my "feelings." But doesn't everyone have a feeling about something from time to time? What I have isn't even consistent. I don't know what keys them, and there are times I don't have a feeling about something when it surely would come in handy if I did, but... Making up his mind, "What would you like to know?"

Jeff leaned back and crossed his legs. "Oh, I don't know. Just background, I guess. How did you and Adriana wind up where you live, and how did you two manage to get married even though you're brother and sister?"

Van spent the next quarter hour telling Jeff about the couple's early life and their purchase of the farm, also relating that they had each managed to obtain a two-year degree in agriculture. Van continued with, "A little more than ten years ago, Adriana and I had a discussion about the direction we wanted our farm to take. We were having major problems. A very large part of our farm expenditures, other than fertilizer and fuel, were going toward antibiotics for the cattle and swine. Our animals were far from being as healthy as the animals Mom and Dad used to have on their farm, and things seemed to be getting worse for us every year. The ever-spiraling upward price of vaccinations and antibiotic injections were eating up what little profit we were making. Oh, we had plenty of food, but very little cash to buy the other things we needed.

"I might still be fighting that fight if that old boar hadn't caught me with his hoof when I was giving him an injection. He wasn't trying to hurt me, but was just trying to get away. Regardless of the intention though, his hoof caught me just below my left knee as he tried to lunge away. The hoof slid down the front of my left leg, tearing my pants like they were made of tissue paper, and ... leaving a fairly superficial gash about six inches long in my leg. The cut wasn't deep enough for stitches. Regardless, I knew to quickly take care of an open wound in order to keep down infection, so I rinsed my leg with the hose to get the worst of the crud off, then went to the house.

"Farm wives tend to have to patch up their men from time to time. It's easy to get hurt on a farm and we don't run to the emergency room every time we get a boo-boo," he said, chuckling. "Anyway, Adriana scrubbed the wound with soap and water, then put on an over-the-counter antibiotic, wrapped the injury in gauze and taped it down. It was no big deal. I've certainly been hurt far worse. I put on another pair of pants and went back to work. The next morning, she cleaned the wound again, treated it with hydrogen peroxide and put on more antibiotic, covering the area with a new bandage. We both thought everything was fine. By late afternoon when I came in for supper, the leg was beginning to swell and I was limping on it. Adriana took the bandage off and had a fit. There were red streaks above my knee and the injury itself was swollen and drooling pus.

"She did let me take a quick shower and put on clean clothes before she herded me into the truck and we headed for the hospital. I thought for sure we were going to get a ticket, but we didn't see a cop the whole way. She for darn sure blew the cobwebs out of that motor. I was more scared of the ride than what was happening to my leg.

"I thought the emergency room doctor would give me a shot, have a nurse rebandage the wound, and send me home – wrong. To make a long story short, I spent ten days in the hospital, and for a time, I thought I was going to lose my leg. That was a wake up call for me – well, both of us, I guess. Not only were our animals disease ridden, but some of those diseases apparently could cross over to me from the filth of a hog pen. This wasn't something I hadn't heard of; I just never really focused on it, I guess.

"When my wound was finally healed, Adriana and I began to talk to various farmers in the area, and it turned out that most of them were locked into the same vicious cycle of antibiotics, vaccinations and steroids that we were. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see we were all going under if we didn't come up with something. Adriana and I studied everything we could get our hands on from the county agricultural agent's office, plus reading every article we could find on the net about better ways to farm.

"We sat down one night, prayed about it, and decided to start over again. We sold every animal on the farm, except our two hounds," he chuckled. "My barns were built on concrete slabs. I cleaned out everything but the basic structures, burning the lot, then sprayed everything left with a chemical the agriculture agent recommended. Adriana got a job in town so we would have some type of income while I began the change to organic farming.

"We had some money that we had invested over the years. We sold off the investments and stuck our necks out to invest in a co-op with a group of other like-minded farmers and a few businessmen. During the changeover, we came close to going under – really, really close. And there were times that I seriously thought we had made the wrong decision."

"But..." Jeff prompted.

"I had borrowed money – the first time we had ever had to do it – to buy calves, pigs and baby chicks for our new start. Everything came from organic farms. Heck, we also bought baby ducks, turkeys and even guineas. By then, our pastures were ready for the animals."

"For the cattle and pigs, you mean?" Jeff said.

"No, for all of them. The fowl, too."

"You graze chickens?" Jeff wondered aloud, a half grin of incredulity on his face.

"Yep," Van said. "And I do more than that. I bought this plastic fence. It's lightweight and made to be easily moved, and specialized to do just what I'm doing with it. It's only five feet tall, and made of a one inch plastic mesh. I keep the chicken's wings clipped back a bit so the more adventurous ones can't fly over the fence. I have five chicken houses that I move, chickens, ducks, turkeys, guineas and all. Each house is thirty feet long and ten feet wide. They're not unlike big farm trailers, each connected to the one in front of it with a wagon tongue. Every three days, I back the tractor up, lock onto the front chicken house and pull all five to a new location a short distance down the pasture.

"All the fowl go into the houses to roost at night. If I'm going to move the houses the next day, I go out after dark and close the doors. Early the next morning, I move the chicken houses with the tractor, then Adriana and I set up the portable fence and let all the chickens and their buddies out to a new area. Occasionally, one of the guineas will fly over the fence, but come late afternoon, it will generally fly back to roost with the rest of the fowl. I just clip the flight feathers on one wing to solve its roaming problem.

"Natural farming doesn't produce the yield that normal farming does, but it's easy on the environment, and profitable. And ... I haven't spent one single dime on antibiotics in the last ten years. I don't have sick animals anymore – none. I had to hold back on my row crops for the first couple of years, since I didn't have enough manure stocked up, but eventually I managed to balance everything. I can't just decide to put in another forty acres of row crop, though. I have to gear everything up to accommodate the new acreage. Everything I grow is part of the cycle.

"But the beauty of this is that I have something to sell almost twelve months out of the year. And ... since I'm part owner of the co-op, they have contracted with me to buy everything I raise on the farm. If the co-op doesn't need my products just then, they buy them anyway and sell them to other stores. Also, organic foods sell for a higher price in the stores, and with my sales going to the co-op, I get a much higher price than I would anywhere else."

Van couldn't imagine a wealthy man being interested in his farm, organic or not, but Jeff obviously was, because he seemed to be hanging on every word. "The co-op owns four stores and a slaughter house in the Denver area, and our CEO is thinking about expanding further this coming year. To be part of the co-op, the farmer has to have his farm certified by the co-op. If you're ever caught selling something to the co-op that isn't organically raised, you permanently lose your membership."

"Diana buys organic if she possibly can," Jeff offered, but it was obvious he was deep in thought while he made the response.

"Organic food is the going thing now," Van offered. "There was a video clip on the news the other day. The reporter commented that food businesses were not just moving to organic, but were 'running' toward it in droves. Don't misunderstand," Van went on, "I don't think the world is ready for every farmer to move to natural farming. At this point in time, organic farming just can't produce that volume of food, but we're headed that way. Organic is taking a bigger bite of the pie every year. Now, many of the larger fast food chains are offering organic foods.

"In the beginning, our organic farming was extremely labor intensive, but I've learned over the years. What used to feel odd is natural to me now. I wouldn't change back for anything, but I just wish I had more land. I've expanded just about all I can with our present acreage."

Van leaned back, crossed his legs and grinned at Jeff. "You and your women will have to visit some time, and I'll show you my grazing chickens," he laughed.

"You don't feed them anything?"

"No, not during the growing season. They get plenty of food from the grass mixture and the insects that thrive there. We're talking about a mixture of grasses that's knee-deep, not just something like a lawn or what you see in most pastures, but a vibrant tangle of mixed forage. Once cold weather sets in, I have to feed the fowl as well as all the animals, of course, but even then, it's with natural grains that I raise organically for them. The fryers don't grow off nearly as fast, nor do they get as large as chickens raised on bought feed laced with steroids and antibiotics. But mine don't have diseases, or tumors growing on them like chickens raised by the big outfits, and the consumer doesn't risk those same steroids and antibiotics entering into his or her bloodstream. My laying hens produce a small but steady income for us, as do the fryers. I've even started raising quail. The co-op buys them from me, of course, but they resell most of them to high-end restaurants all over the US. Again, advertised as organically raised – which, indeed, they are."

Jeff asked several questions about the farm before they sat quietly savoring their coffee and appreciating the early morning. "Uh, Jeff, this thing about the finder's fee. Jeremy tells me you said it would be enough to put all three of them through college. He's concerned. He and his women don't want charity..."

Jeff's gaze snapped to Van's face. "It isn't charity. As far as that is concerned, I know of at least one foundation that would probably sponsor all three of them for college if they should want to go that route. But look up some finder's fee rates on the net. What we're paying Jeremy falls well within the norm.

"I'm always looking for good investments. Mr. Jackson wasn't selling his business because it was failing, for it certainly wasn't. He was faced with a heart condition that forced an early retirement – well, until Little One spent some time with him. I kept him on as an on-call adviser, and he still retains ten percent ownership in the company. He'll have an office there, and Lee intends to use him when needed, especially during the transition. My accountant – a person I trust implicitly – has assured me I've bought a profitable business. Jeremy and his women have provided a service for me that I would have had to pay for elsewhere. Why should I cheat them out of the fee I would have had to pay to someone else?

"I've told them I wouldn't discuss the amount of the finder's fee until after the wedding. Fact is, our accountant has already transferred the money into Jeremy's account, and there is enough extra to pay the taxes on the original money. The discussion will be simply telling him the money is there. Remember, he's an Alpha, too. My family does not cheat anyone, particularly an Alpha. Just as you appear to go out of your way to be honest, so do we.

"If Jeremy and his wives want to continue to work and go to school nights or on the weekends, or take courses online, well, that's up to them. The finder's fee is a done deal. They provided me with a service that will eventually make me money. You would have done the same thing in my shoes."

As the men continued to talk, Van wondered, I've never felt this way about another man in my life. He had to chuckle at himself, for he was glad he hadn't voiced the thought aloud. There certainly isn't a gay bone in my body, but this bond he talks about isn't just between us and our mates, for I feel something – some type of bond – between the two of us. I wonder if the other men he calls Alphas feel it too. From the way they act, I think they do. Maybe it's respect, or respect with something else added. It's as though I've known him all my life. It's like ... he's my brother or something. No wonder Jeremy, Connie and Denise talked about Jeff and Diana so much.

Jeff glanced at his watch. "Let's shelve this conversation until a little later. It's almost time for your son and his wives to eat breakfast, and we certainly don't want to miss that. But I have several things I need to ask your advice on before you leave."