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"Hey there, mister. You lookin' to buy some wheat?"

The man turned around to see a young boy, no older than twelve, standing by the edge of the field. The sun was high in the sky and sweat was dripping down his face as he worked to load bales of hay onto a wagon.

"I reckon I am," said the man, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "You sellin' it?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yep! Pa says we got too much this year and we need to get rid of it before it goes bad."

The man looked out over the field at the golden stalks swaying gently in the breeze. He had been driving for hours and his stomach growled loudly. A piece of bread would be a welcome change from the jerky he had been munching on all day.

"How much you want for it?" he asked.

The boy thought for a moment before responding. "One silver piece per bushel sound fair?"

The man nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small leather pouch. He counted out five silver pieces and handed them to the boy.

"That should be enough for two bushels," he said.

The boy's eyes widened with surprise as he took the coins from the man's hand.

"Thank you, mister!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Pa will be real happy when I tell him how much I sold."

The man smiled at the boy's enthusiasm and picked up one of the empty sacks lying nearby. Together, they made their way into the field and began filling it with wheat.

As they worked, the man asked the boy about his life on the farm. He learned that his name was Caleb and that he had four brothers and three sisters. His pa was a hardworking farmer who grew corn, wheat, and barley to feed their family and sell at market.

Caleb spoke with pride about his family and their way of life. He told the man about the long days of planting and harvesting, the smell of freshly turned soil, and the satisfaction of seeing a field full of healthy crops.

The man listened intently to Caleb's stories, feeling a sense of longing deep inside him. He had spent most of his life on the road, never staying in one place for very long. He had no family to speak of and no land to call his own.

As they finished filling the sack with wheat, the man slung it over his shoulder and stood up, stretching his tired muscles.

"Well, Caleb," he said with a sigh. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you."

Caleb smiled up at him. "Likewise, mister."

The man turned to leave but then hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket once again.

"Here," he said, pulling out another silver piece. "Get yourself somethin' nice."

Caleb's eyes widened with surprise as he took the coin from the man's hand.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed gratefully.

The man nodded and tipped his hat before walking away. As he climbed into his wagon and continued on down the dusty road, he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for the young boy left behind in the field.

He realized that what he had been searching for all these years wasn't more money or possessions. It was a place to call home and people to share it with.

And maybe someday, if he was lucky, he would find it.