For a moment, they sat together while the first light appeared beyond the kitchen window.
The girl looked toward the machine shed.
The old John Deere stood inside.
She could see part of its faded hood through the open doorway.
"Grandpa always said the land would tell us what it needed."
Her mother smiled sadly.
"He did."
The girl continued.
"Maybe we should look at the south field again."
Her mother's expression changed.
"We've had agronomists and drainage people look at it before."
"I know."
"And right now, we need to get the corn harvested."
The girl nodded.
She didn't argue.
But she remembered the old water map.
And something about the southern field had been bothering her.
After each heavy rain, the puddles lingered longer than they used to.
The ground near the access road became shiny and slick.
And the grass beyond the boundary seemed strangely dry compared with the field beside it.
She had noticed the difference while riding along the field edge with her mother.
She mentioned it once.
Her mother assumed the drainage tile needed maintenance.
That seemed reasonable.
Old systems often developed problems.
But the girl remembered her grandfather's instructions.
When water behaved differently than it used to, he always wanted to know what had changed.
The field hadn't moved.
The slope hadn't reversed.
And the creek was still where it had always been.
Something else had changed.
She simply didn't know what.
Two days later, a representative from the grain handling company visited the farm.
He drove a polished pickup truck.
His boots looked almost new.
And he carried a leather folder containing financial estimates and a proposed land purchase agreement.
The company had been acquiring agricultural property near its facility.
Its long-term plan included expanding storage capacity, adding truck access, and developing a larger distribution operation.
The representative claimed Hollow Creek Farm would be a valuable addition.
The mother invited him into the kitchen.
She didn't want to sell.
But she believed listening to an offer was reasonable.
The man sat across from her.
He complimented the farmhouse.
Praised the family's agricultural history.
And described how the company could make the transition financially comfortable.
The offer was substantial at first glance.
Enough to pay much of the farm's debt.
Enough to provide the mother and daughter with financial security for a time.
But it was below what the mother believed the land and operating assets could be worth under ordinary market conditions.
The representative emphasized the difficulties facing agricultural businesses.
Rising machinery costs.
Uncertain weather.
Higher financing expenses.
And the pressure of operating a large farm without an extensive family workforce.
He spoke gently.