Mariabel walked away.
“You are not paying me in carrots!”
She raised one hand without turning around.
“Then don't help.”
He helped.
Family anger has limits.
Family obligation generally lasts longer.
By late afternoon they had located an old International tandem truck belonging to Harlon’s neighbor and loaded the first several tons.
The truck sagged visibly beneath the weight.
Mariabel sat behind the wheel.
Harlon leaned into the window.
“You really think the horses can eat all this?”
“No.”
“Then what happens to the rest?”
“I'll figure it out.”
“Before they rot?”
“That's the plan.”
Harlon looked at the piled carrots.
“Mariabel.”
“What?”
His voice softened.
“You don't have room for another bad idea.”
She looked ahead.
“I know.”
He stepped back.
She drove.
The Holdridge farm disappeared behind her.
Half a mile down County Road P, Mariabel pulled onto the shoulder.
She had not planned to stop.
Something bothered her.
Merl Blackwood.
The way he watched.
He had been present during the auction.
That made sense.
Cannery buyers attended farm sales.
But why stay for rejected carrots?
Why watch her bid?
Why not laugh?
Mariabel removed the green notebook.
She wrote:
Holdridge carrots.
$60.
Approx. 60 tons.
Cannery rejected.
Merl present.
She underlined the last two words.
Then an engine approached.
A green Buick Electra.
Merl’s.
The Buick passed.
Brake lights flashed.
Mariabel watched through the windshield.
The car slowed.
Stopped.
Then reversed partially onto the shoulder before turning around at a farm entrance.
Mariabel closed the notebook.
The Buick pulled beside the truck.
Merl lowered the passenger window.
“You bought the Holdridge carrots.”
Mariabel leaned toward her open window.
“I remember.”
Merl smiled.
He had a polished way of smiling that never reached his eyes.
“Thought I should tell you something.”
“All right.”
“We ran samples.”
“Of the carrots?”
“Of that field.”
“And?”
“Woody core.”
“How much?”
“Maybe fifteen percent.”
Mariabel waited.
Merl expected a reaction.
She gave him none.
He continued.
“Processing line can't use them.”
“That why you rejected sixty tons?”
“Partly.”
“What was the other part?”
Merl shifted.
“Shape.”
“I thought shape was the reason.”
“It was.”
“You said partly.”
Merl smiled again.
“You're splitting words.”
“Words are free. Might as well get value from them.”
His smile disappeared slightly.
“Point is, those carrots aren't worth anything.”
Mariabel looked at the truck bed behind her.
“You drove half a mile to tell me that?”
“I was heading this way.”
“You passed me.”
Merl said nothing.
Mariabel continued.
“Then turned around.”
“Just trying to save you trouble.”
“From vegetables I already bought?”
“You can still walk away.”
“From sixty dollars?”
“From hauling.”
“Why?”
“Because they aren't worth it.”
Mariabel studied him.
Then nodded.
“Thanks.”
Merl seemed surprised.
“That’s it?”
“What else?”
“I thought you might want advice.”