“Then why have you been acting like I’m insane?”
His expression hardened.
“Because forty acres isn’t a test strip.”
“So?”
“So your father tested before risking.”
The words struck.
The Farm Girl looked away.
He continued.
“You think I’m mocking you because you’re young.”
“Sometimes.”
“Maybe.”
“You think I’m mocking you because you’re a woman.”
She looked back.
“Sometimes.”
He did not deny it immediately.
That mattered.
“Maybe that too.”
The Farm Girl’s anger rose.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m old enough to know when lying makes me look stupider.”
She folded her arms.
“Then tell me the rest.”
The Old Farmer looked toward the storm-damaged rows.
“Your father nearly lost this place once.”
She knew.
The bank trouble from her childhood.
Not details.
“What happened?”
“Sunflowers.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“Not the crop.”
He exhaled.
“He got excited.”
The Old Farmer looked embarrassed remembering.
“Bought equipment. Tried contracting acreage. Market dropped before harvest.”
The Farm Girl stared.
“Dad never wrote that.”
“He didn’t like writing about money mistakes.”
That sounded true.
“He nearly defaulted?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“I lent him money.”
The Farm Girl went still.
The Old Farmer continued.
“Not much.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Did Mom know?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t your business then.”
“It is now.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward her.
“And that is why I laughed when you said all forty acres.”
Not because sunflowers were stupid.
Because he remembered what happened when her father bet too much.
The Farm Girl’s anger became something more complicated.
“You could’ve told me.”
“You would’ve listened?”
She opened her mouth.
Stopped.
Probably not.
The Old Farmer almost smiled.
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t excuse being cruel.”
“No.”
“You used Dad against me.”
“Yes.”
“You kicked my fence post last week.”
He frowned.
“That fence is mine on the line.”
“Half.”
“Fine.”
She looked toward the damaged sunflowers.
“Do you want me to fail?”
The question surprised him.
“No.”
“Then why do you always look disappointed when something works?”
The Old Farmer was silent for a long time.
Then said something she did not expect.
“Because if you succeed, I have to admit your father was right about a thing I spent thirty years pretending didn’t matter.”
The Farm Girl stared.
“What thing?”
He looked toward the soil.
“Rotation.”
“That’s it?”
“Not only.”
The Old Farmer sighed.
“The year before my county record, your father told me to plant sunflowers on my worst ground.”
Her pulse quickened.
“I did.”
“Then?”
“Deep ripped after.”
“And soybeans?”