Mason sighed.
“Kid.”
Luke hated that word when spoken like punctuation.
“I’m asking because it’s on our property.”
Mason’s voice changed.
Slightly.
“Your grandfather has accepted this material for twelve years.”
“So?”
“So it’s certified nonhazardous.”
“Certified by who?”
“Ashford.”
Luke almost laughed.
“That’s convenient.”
Earl said sharply:
“Luke.”
But Mason’s expression had already hardened.
He folded his arms.
“Listen.”
“The arrangement has been good to this farm.”
“Very.”
“Your grandfather understands that.”
“I understand we got paid.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Mason stared.
Luke continued:
“Getting paid doesn't tell me what’s in it.”
Mason smiled again.
Not friendly.
“Your daddy took our money.”
Luke’s entire body tightened.
Mason noticed too late.
Earl stepped forward.
“My son has nothing to do with this.”
Mason lifted both hands.
“I’m saying the family knew the arrangement.”
Luke’s voice was cold.
“My father died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then don't use him to shut me up.”
Mason’s expression shifted.
“Fine.”
Luke looked toward the pile.
“I want the latest lab sheet.”
“You don't need it.”
“That means there is one.”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“Company documents are internal.”
“Then how do you certify the material?”
“Through our environmental program.”
Luke took a small sample jar from his coat pocket.
He had grabbed it before leaving the house.
A clean glass jar from the soil-testing kit his professor required for class.
Mason saw it.
“What is that?”
“A jar.”
“I can see that.”
Luke walked toward the fresh pile.
Mason stepped in front of him.
“Don't.”
Luke stopped.
Earl stared.
Mason realized how that looked.
He lowered his voice.
“The material is hot.”
“I’ll take from the cooled edge.”
“Luke.”
“What?”
“You start scooping industrial material into random containers, you can contaminate yourself.”
“That sounds like a reason to know what’s in it.”
Mason’s face reddened.
“Put the jar away.”
Luke’s heart began pounding.
That sentence decided more than Mason understood.
Until then, Luke had merely been suspicious.
Now he became curious.
And curiosity in farm boys was dangerous because they had access to shovels, trucks, time, and people who knew laboratories.
Luke held Mason’s gaze.
“No.”
Earl said:
“Luke.”
But softer.
Luke looked toward his grandfather.
“Do you want to know?”
Earl’s face changed.
A long pause.
Then:
“Yes.”
Mason stared at him.
“Earl.”
The old farmer looked back.
“My ground.”
“My grandson.”
“My jar.”
Luke almost smiled.
Mason did not.
The final truck arrived behind them.
Air brakes hissed.
Luke walked around Mason.
He knelt near a cooled section left from the previous week.
Black fragments.
Fine powder.
He used a stainless sampling scoop from his school kit.
Filled the jar halfway.
Then another.
One for screening.
One untouched for outside testing.
Mason stood behind him.
“Anything you do with that is on you.”
Luke tightened the lid.
“Good.”
Mason pointed toward Earl.
“Your agreement contains access and liability terms.”