Roy kicked lightly at a damaged melon.
“You’re delaying the obvious.”
Clara looked at him.
“What’s obvious?”
“Sell.”
“No.”
“Everybody’s selling.”
“I’m not everybody.”
“Your pasture is dead.”
“Temporarily.”
“Your well is failing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Your hay shed is empty.”
Clara stopped unloading.
Roy immediately realized he had stepped too far.
His voice softened.
“I’m not trying to be mean.”
“You’re doing it accidentally?”
He sighed.
“Clara.”
She returned to the truck.
Roy watched her lift another melon.
“You can’t save a ranch because you’re stubborn.”
She placed the melon onto a sorting table.
“No.”
Then another.
“But stubborn buys time too.”
A black pickup appeared before Roy could answer.
Clara recognized it immediately.
Kesler Feed & Supply.
Her jaw tightened.
Dwight Kesler climbed out wearing polished brown boots that had never spent enough time in actual mud to deserve the price he paid for them.
He was fifty-two, handsome in a heavy, deliberate way, with silver beginning at his temples and a smile designed to feel reassuring until someone read the paperwork he carried.
Dwight supplied hay across three counties.
That summer had made him one of the most important people in western Nebraska.
And one of the richest.
He looked toward the watermelons.
Then at Clara.
“What have you done?”
Roy laughed again.
“Thank God. Somebody sensible.”
Dwight approached.
“Five hundred?”
Clara removed her gloves.
“Did you come to count fruit?”
“I came because you never returned my call.”
“I saw it.”
“You need hay.”
“Yes.”
“I found you some.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“You don’t need cash.”
There it was.
Clara knew before Dwight returned to his truck.
He opened the passenger door and removed a leather folder.
A contract.
Roy’s expression changed.
He suddenly became much quieter.
Dwight handed the document toward Clara.
“Forty tons mixed grass and alfalfa.”
Clara did not take it.
“How much?”
“Delivered value eighteen thousand.”
“Interest?”
“Flexible.”
“That’s not a number.”
“Twelve percent.”
Clara almost laughed.
“Twelve?”
“Market risk.”
“Collateral?”
Dwight’s smile remained.
“The ranch.”
Roy looked away.
Clara finally took the contract.
She read.
The first pages looked normal.
Feed quantity.
Delivery schedule.
Interest.
Default provisions.
Then she reached page seven.
Her eyes stopped.
Upon default, lender retained first option on real property.
Page eight.
Assignment of applicable agricultural easements.
Page nine.
Appurtenant access and water interests.
Clara looked up.
“You’re not financing hay.”
“I’m solving your problem.”