Fuel cost money they barely had.
Several machines were one serious repair away from becoming yard ornaments.
Howard looked toward Ethan.
“How many acres are you planning?”
Ruth answered.
“One hundred twenty-eight corn. Sixty beans.”
Ethan said:
“No.”
Both adults turned.
Ruth frowned.
“What?”
“Not all sixty.”
Howard studied him.
Ethan continued.
“Thirty-six should be sunflowers.”
His mother closed her eyes.
Not because this was new.
Because Ethan had been repeating it for three weeks.
Howard looked from Ruth to Ethan.
“Sunflowers?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-six acres.”
Howard leaned back.
“Why?”
Ethan stood.
He walked into the living room.
Returned carrying a notebook.
Not one of his father’s.
His.
Graph paper.
Pages filled with calculations.
He opened it.
“Seed costs less than corn.”
Howard waited.
“Lower nitrogen requirement.”
“I know what sunflowers are, Ethan.”
“I know.”
Howard smiled faintly.
“Keep going.”
Ethan did.
He had calculated planting costs.
Fuel.
Herbicide.
Cultivation.
Harvest modification.
Estimated yield.
Transportation.
Contract price.
Ruth stared at him.
“You showed me some of this.”
“Not all.”
“Where did you get the price?”
Ethan pulled out a folded sheet.
An advertisement cut from an agricultural newspaper.
MIDWEST SPECIALTY OILS.
CONTRACT ACRES WANTED.
HIGH-OIL SUNFLOWER SEED.
DELIVERY: FALL 1982.
Price schedule.
Quality adjustments.
Oil premium.
Moisture deduction.
Cleanliness requirements.
Howard took the page.
He read silently.
Then again.
“Where did you find this?”
“Dad’s papers.”
Ruth looked sharply at him.
“Your father was considering this?”
“I don’t know.”
The advertisement had been tucked into a 1980 extension bulletin.
No notes.
No circles.
Nothing indicating whether Daniel had seriously considered sunflowers or simply saved the page.
Ethan had found it while searching for planter settings.
Howard tapped the contract price.
“This is not guaranteed income.”
“I know.”
“Sunflower yields vary.”
“I know.”
“You ever grown them?”
“No.”
“Your father?”
“No.”
“Anybody within twenty miles?”
Ethan hesitated.
“No.”
Howard handed back the page.
“Then you have no local yield history.”
“I have state trial numbers.”
“Trial plots aren’t your field.”
“I know.”
“Bird pressure?”
“I researched it.”
“Disease?”
“Yes.”
“Harvest loss?”
“Yes.”
“Drying?”
“Yes.”
“How are you harvesting?”