After the call, Hollis walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and forced herself to drink it. She felt the urge to confront the dealership manager in person, perhaps with the printed invoices slapped against his desk. But the lawyer would need clean evidence, not a scene. She returned to the barn with a folder of documents under her arm and found Wes checking the tire pressure on the grain cart. She told him enough to explain why the dispute appeared more complicated than one old repair.
Wes listened, then asked a question she had not expected. "Who wanted the south eighty?"
"A development company called Prairie Meridian Holdings. They said they were interested in an equipment-storage and distribution site along the county road."
"Who spoke to you?"
"A man named Victor Kessler. He came to the farmhouse in June, then sent a realtor. I told him I wasn't selling."
Wes looked toward the southern field. "Kessler owns a truck plaza outside Cedar Rapids. Been trying to put together a bigger tract for a regional warehouse. Your land is in his way."
"Why would he care about my combine?"
"I didn't say he does. But he could make you an offer when you're short of cash. And he isn't a man who enjoys hearing no."
Hollis felt her stomach turn. The unknown message could have come from anyone who overheard a conversation about the proposed sale. It did not prove Kessler had anything to do with Schaefer Implement. Still, it gave her a reason to search carefully for connections instead of treating the timing as random. She asked Wes whether he knew Kessler personally. He shook his head. He had seen the man at an economic-development meeting and heard other farmers mention land offers, nothing more.
The crews returned to work after conditions improved. The soil remained damp, but the ridge fields drained quickly, and experienced operators determined that selected areas could be harvested without excessive rutting or equipment risk. Rain had interrupted them for