“Because I think the land is worth more as land.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
He softened.
“Your father was a good customer.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Everybody brought Daniel into conversations when they wanted her to make the safe choice.
She opened them.
“So am I.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.”
The banker paused.
“We can review again in thirty days.”
“Thank you.”
“But Clara?”
“Yes?”
“Thirty days is not a promise.”
“I know.”
She hung up.
Day thirty-five.
The first well south of town went low.
Day thirty-eight.
The weather service upgraded the region to severe drought.
Day forty.
Earl’s irrigation pump failed.
Clara saw his truck beside the well before sunrise.
Two men stood over the housing.
She kept driving.
At noon he appeared at her gate.
His shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Got a minute?”
She wiped her hands.
“What happened?”
“You know.”
“Pump?”
“Motor.”
“Can it be rebuilt?”
“Thursday.”
It was Monday.
Earl looked toward Clara’s eastern field.
His expression was different now.
No laughter.
“How deep is your moisture?”
Clara told him.
He shook his head.
“My top eight inches are dust.”
She said nothing.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“What exactly did you put down?”
Clara studied him.
“You want the answer or you want to tell me why it won’t work?”
He grimaced.
“I probably earned that.”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
She led him into the field.
For an hour, Clara explained everything.
Market waste.
Sorting contaminants.
Thin application.
Carbon balance.
Straw.
Control strips.
Infiltration tests.
Temperature.
Earl listened.
Actually listened.
At one point he knelt and pushed his hand under the mulch.
He left it there.
The soil beneath was cool.
He looked across the field.
“Daniel write any of this?”
“Part of the idea.”
“He was thinking about it?”
“About water retention.”
Earl nodded slowly.
“I didn’t know.”
“Neither did I until after he died.”
He stood.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Earl said, “I shouldn’t have said what I said about him.”
Clara looked at him.
“No.”
“I knew him thirty years.”
“I know.”
“He’d have told me to shut up.”
“Probably.”
Earl smiled.
“Probably worse.”
That was true.
He looked toward the road.
“You think I can do something like this now?”
“This season?”