They wanted to conduct an official test strip before full harvest.
The Farm Girl frowned.
“Why?”
“Your preliminary head counts are unusual.”
“Good unusual?”
“Potentially.”
She did not tell anyone.
Someone else did.
By the morning of the test, half the farming community knew.
The Old Farmer arrived carrying coffee.
“You look sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
The Farm Girl took the coffee.
“Thanks.”
County inspectors marked the test area.
Measured acreage precisely.
Checked scale certification.
Moisture would be adjusted.
The process felt absurdly formal.
The Farm Girl wanted everyone to leave so she could simply harvest.
The Old Farmer stood beside the fence.
“Breathe.”
She looked at him.
“Is that advice from experience?”
“Yes.”
“You nervous during your record?”
“Terrified.”
“You looked confident in the photograph.”
“Photographs are liars.”
She smiled.
The combine entered the test strip.
The first sunflower heads disappeared beneath the header.
Seeds moved through.
The Farm Girl rode in the cab.
Her hands were cold despite heat.
At the end of the strip, the grain cart moved to the certified scale.
Everyone waited.
Weight.
Moisture.
Calculation.
One inspector checked twice.
Then again.
The Farm Girl climbed down.
“What?”
The inspector looked toward her.
“Nothing.”
“That’s never nothing.”
He smiled.
“We need verification.”
The Old Farmer came closer.
“Why?”
The inspector did not answer.
Another sample.
Another calculation.
Finally he printed the preliminary sheet.
The Farm Girl took it.
Read.
Stopped.
The Old Farmer watched her.
“What?”
She handed him the paper.
He put on reading glasses.
His face changed.
The Farm Girl could almost see seventeen years of pride rearranging itself behind his eyes.
The preliminary yield was not merely strong.
It was extraordinary.
High enough that if replicated across the field, it would break the county’s sunflower yield record by a wide margin.
Not his soybean record.
Different category.
But the county newspaper had already begun comparing the numbers.
The Old Farmer lowered the sheet.
“How?”
The Farm Girl laughed nervously.
“I was hoping you knew.”
He looked toward the field.
“Test strip could be best ground.”
“Yes.”
“Moisture adjustment could change.”
“Yes.”
“Full-field average will be lower.”
“Probably.”
He looked at her.
She smiled.
“Maybe.”
The Old Farmer began laughing.
The photographer captured that moment.
Unfortunately, he also captured the Farm Girl looking terrified.
The county paper ran it the next morning.
SUNFLOWER TEST PUTS WHITFIELD FARM ON RECORD PACE.
The Farm Girl hated the headline.
“Record pace means nothing.”
Her mother folded the newspaper.
“It means people buy papers.”
“What if the rest yields badly?”
“Then the next headline changes.”
“That doesn’t help.”