"The Wisdom of Ages" by Maryann Miller

Three stories; four men whose lives take unexpected turns.

Samson sat in the meager shade of the small Mimosa tree that graced his front yard, watching the traffic on old highway 79.  Granted, there wasn't much, but every now and then a shiny new car passed, heading toward the resort Samson knew was somewhere down the road. Or a car full of teenagers would zoom by, the boys laughing and tossing their empties out the window. And as many afternoons as he'd spent out here, it never failed to surprise Samson how much things had changed. On a good day he could count up to a hundred cars going by. Times used to be when one donkey cart coming down the road was cause for celebration.

Those had been the good years. The years Samson had worked for Mr. Watson until he'd given Samson this little piece of land for his own. Some folks thought Watson had lost his mind, giving away his land like that, especially to a black man. But Watson had never treated Samson like most white folks did, the “good ol’ boy” routine that never quite covered the slight hesitation as white flesh met black in a handshake.