The company had entered preliminary discussions concerning the sale and development of a large tract connected to the historic North Quarry property.
The proposal involved warehouses, freight transfer facilities, aggregate operations, and related infrastructure.
The announced potential transaction value was approximately $64 million, including land acquisition, development commitments, and future project expenditures.
Leah cautioned that the headline figure wasn't the same as the present cash value of the land.
Still, the property was clearly important.
And the historic cooperative records might affect how much of it Vale Holdings could lawfully sell without resolving disputed interests.
Earl stared at the announcement.
Then whispered, “Sixty-four million dollars.”
Morris looked toward Sam.
The old farmer shook his head.
“Don't start counting money.”
Earl frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because we haven't proved what belongs to whom.”
For a moment, the room was quiet.
Then Sam looked toward the list of nineteen families.
“And because if there is money owed, it doesn't belong to me alone.”
Wesley nodded slowly.
“That sounds like Peter Walker.”
Sam smiled faintly.
“I'd like to think so.”
Grant learned about the archive discovery before noon.
His father called him.
Richard Vale was seventy-three, with white hair, a narrow face, and the cold patience of a man who had spent decades managing wealthy people's mistakes without admitting how many were his own.
He lived in a large house outside Wichita.
Although Grant handled much of the family's public business, Richard still controlled the holding company's voting interests and several private entities associated with its land portfolio.
When Grant answered, his father's voice was already angry.
“What have you done?”
Grant closed his office door.
“Good afternoon to you too.”
“Don't be clever.”
Grant sighed.
“What happened?”
“Samuel Walker has attorneys examining the North Quarry records.”
Grant stopped.
For a moment, he stared toward the wall.
Then answered quietly.
“I know.”
Richard's voice sharpened.
“Why didn't you destroy that tractor?”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Because it was on the equipment inventory.”
“You should have removed it.”
“I didn't know he'd find the compartment.”
The line went silent.
Then Richard asked, “Has he opened the box?”
Grant hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Certificates. A ledger. A deed. An old letter.”
Richard took a sharp breath.
“Whose letter?”
Grant swallowed.
“Grandfather's.”
For several seconds, there was no sound.
Then Richard whispered, “Edwin.”
Grant nodded, although his father couldn't see.
“Yes.”