“Yes.”
“Where are you getting raw material?”
Clara looked at him.
Earl slowly lowered the paper.
“Me.”
“Partly.”
His mouth opened.
No words.
Then:
“Wait.”
Clara took the paper back.
Earl grabbed one finished bale.
He pressed it.
Turned it.
Read the label.
“You did this?”
“Yes.”
“With our husks.”
“Yes.”
“Free.”
Clara smiled slightly.
“Yes.”
His expression became something complicated.
Anger.
Embarrassment.
Calculation.
Mostly calculation.
He looked toward the huge husk pile behind the mill.
Then toward the commercial truck.
Then at Clara.
“Before another load leaves, we need a supply contract.”
Ray’s eyebrows rose.
Clara did not answer immediately.
Earl continued.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“This isn't a pickup arrangement anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because you're operating a business.”
“So are you.”
“That material has value.”
Clara reached into her jacket pocket.
She carried the receipt constantly now.
Not because sentimental.
Because she suspected this conversation would come.
She unfolded it.
Placed it on the bale.
Earl looked down.
His handwriting.
CORN HUSKS — FREE, UNLIMITED PICKUP.
His signature.
Clara tapped it.
“We already have one.”
Ray turned away so Earl would not see him smile.
Tom covered his mouth.
Paul suddenly became extremely interested in the truck tires.
Earl stared at the paper.
Then at Clara.
“You planned this.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I planned to use husks.”
“You knew they'd be valuable.”
“I hoped.”
“You made me sign.”
“I asked.”
“You tricked me.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“You laughed.”
Earl stopped.
Clara continued.
“You called it junk.”
“I didn't know.”
“Neither did I.”
“You clearly knew something.”
“I knew free material gave me room to experiment.”
Earl looked toward the mill.
“What are you making on this?”
“That's my business.”
“Using my material.”
“Material you paid to dispose of.”
Silence.
Earl crossed his arms.
“This receipt doesn't last forever.”
“Probably not.”
That answer surprised him.
“What?”
Clara folded the paper.
“It doesn't say forever.”
“Then we're renegotiating.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She stepped closer.
“I need consistent supply.”
Earl waited.
“You need cleaner separation.”
“What?”
“Your husk pile is mixed.”
“With normal processing waste.”
“Exactly.”
“I can't have stones.”
“Then screen it.”
“No.”
“Plastic.”
“Then teach your people.”
“Cob pieces too large.”
“That’s corn.”
“I know.”
Earl stared.
Clara continued.