Welcome to the Country
This Time, We're Actually Relaxing
The van rolled over the hill, and Brock Gold #46 immediately knew this trip was going to be different.
No towering mountains.
No washed-out bridge.
No mysterious footprints.
No strange noises coming from the forest.
Just countryside.
Green fields stretched toward the horizon beneath an enormous blue August sky. Golden wheat moved gently in the breeze. Old stone walls divided pastures filled with grazing animals, while narrow country lanes wound between hedgerows and scattered trees.
Then the farmhouse appeared.
White walls.
Weathered wooden barn.
A little stream running beside the property.
And absolutely no sign of anything remotely threatening.
One of the Golden Bros pressed his face against the van window.
"Is that a hammock?"
Everyone looked.
Two trees stood beside the farmhouse.
Between them hung the most beautiful hammock Brock had ever seen.
Another Bro pointed toward a nearby pond.
"Guys. There are chairs."
"Actual chairs?"
"Actual chairs."
Brock laughed.
After everything that had happened during their camping trip, the place looked like paradise.
The van stopped.
Doors opened.
Golden Bros poured out into the sunshine.
Brock stepped onto the gravel drive, stretched his arms above his head, and breathed deeply.
Warm air.
Fresh grass.
Wildflowers.
Somewhere nearby, birds were singing.
He smiled.
"This..."
He looked around at his brothers.
"...is going to be easy."
Someone immediately dropped his backpack.
"Calling the hammock."
"Absolutely not."
"I saw it first."
"You saw it through a window. Doesn't count."
"It absolutely counts."
Within minutes, the Golden Army's highly organized countryside expedition had deteriorated into six grown men arguing over a hammock.
Brock shook his head.
"We've been here thirty seconds."
"Thirty-five."
"Thank you."
Eventually they carried their bags toward the farmhouse.
Their host, an older farmer with sun-weathered skin and muddy boots, greeted them outside.
"Welcome, lads."
Brock shook his hand.
"Thanks for having us."
The farmer looked over the group.
Then he looked at their highly reflective gold soccer kits.
Then back at Brock.
"You're certainly... easy to spot."
Brock looked down at himself.
"That's kind of the idea."
The farmer chuckled.
He showed them around.
The property was bigger than it had looked from the road.
Behind the farmhouse stood a sprawling old barn filled with tools, feed, equipment, and enough mysterious farm machinery to make several Bros immediately start asking questions.
Beyond that were vegetable gardens.
An orchard.
Chicken coops.
Pastures.
A small herd of cattle grazed farther down the hill.
Sheep occupied another field.
And somewhere behind the barn—
Baaaaaa.
Everyone stopped.
A goat stared at them through a fence.
One Bro stared back.
The goat stared harder.
"Why's he looking at me like that?"
Brock shrugged.
"Maybe he likes your shirt."
The goat continued staring.
"I don't trust him."
"We are not starting another animal mystery."
The others laughed.
The tour continued.
By lunchtime, they'd completely fallen in love with the place.
They ate outside beneath an enormous tree.
Fresh bread.
Cheese.
Fruit.
Cold drinks.
Nobody was checking tracks.
Nobody was investigating noises.
Nobody was wondering whether the weather might destroy their only route home.
Brock leaned back against the tree.
"This is what the camping trip was supposed to be."
One Bro stretched out in the grass.
"No investigations."
Another closed his eyes.
"No survival situations."
"No mysterious creatures."
From somewhere near the barn—
Baaaaaa.
The suspicious Bro opened one eye.
"I'm watching you."
Brock threw a piece of grass at him.
"Leave the goat alone."
The afternoon was even better.
They explored the stream.
Walked through the orchard.
Kicked a football around an empty field.
One Bro finally captured the hammock and promptly fell asleep.
Another discovered that lying beneath a tree doing absolutely nothing was apparently his new favorite hobby.
Brock wandered toward the edge of a wheat field.
He stopped.
The countryside wasn't dramatic like the mountains.
It didn't demand attention.
That was what made it different.
You had to slow down enough to notice it.
The sound of wind moving through wheat.
Insects buzzing between wildflowers.
Cloud shadows slowly crossing distant hills.
The smell of earth warming beneath the afternoon sun.
Simple things.
Brock smiled.
Maybe that was exactly what they needed.
No mystery.
No challenge.
No lesson.
Just a week with his brothers somewhere peaceful.
That evening, they gathered outside the farmhouse.
The setting sun turned the fields amber.
Dinner was cooking.
Someone had found an old football.
Someone else was already talking about spending tomorrow beside the pond.
The hammock argument had somehow started again.
Brock leaned against the fence.
"Best trip we've planned."
One Bro raised his drink.
"To doing absolutely nothing."
Several drinks rose.
"Absolutely nothing!"
A voice came from behind them.
"Glad to hear you're enthusiastic."
Everyone turned.
The farmer stood there.
He was smiling.
That should have worried them.
It didn't.
Yet.
"Hope you lads enjoyed your relaxing day."
Brock grinned.
"Definitely."
"Good."
The farmer nodded toward the fields.
"Because tomorrow's rather busy."
Silence.
Brock's smile weakened.
"...Busy?"
"Oh, aye."
The farmer started counting on his fingers.
"Fence needs repairing. Hay needs moving. Animals need feeding. There's a gate hanging crooked, orchard needs attention, and I could certainly use some strong backs around here."
Every Golden Bro slowly looked at Brock.
Brock slowly looked at the farmer.
The farmer looked at their athletic builds.
Then at their gleaming gold uniforms.
"You lads know anything about farm work?"
Brock opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Looked at his brothers.
One Bro quietly whispered:
"Don't say yes."
Brock looked back at the farmer.
A grin slowly appeared.
"How difficult can it be?"
From behind the barn—
Baaaaaa.
The goat was still watching them.
The Bro beside Brock pointed accusingly.
"See? He knows."
Brock laughed.
Tomorrow, apparently, their relaxing countryside holiday would begin properly.
Just not in the way they'd expected.
To be continued...
Every new adventure starts with thinking you know what you're getting into. Sometimes you get the relaxing countryside escape you expected. Sometimes somebody hands you a shovel. Either way, the Golden Army faces it together. New experiences, new challenges, new memories—and Bros beside you through all of it.
Think you're ready to get your hands dirty? Join the Team and find out what your next adventure has waiting for you.
Contact our recruiters @alton-gold77 or @polo-drone-125 to get started.
