“I do.”
“Then why notebook?”
Nora smiled.
“Batteries die.”
Sophie nodded as if that were ancient wisdom.
Then asked:
“What was the biggest surprise?”
Nora looked across the farm.
There were many.
Feed savings.
Weight gain.
Buyer demand.
Contracts.
Attention.
None felt right.
“The biggest surprise?”
“Yes.”
Nora thought.
“That the people laughing weren't enemies.”
Sophie frowned.
“What?”
“Some were.”
“Most weren't.”
“They were afraid of looking foolish too.”
“So they laughed first.”
“That’s human.”
“Then they copied you?”
“Some.”
“Did that make you mad?”
“At first.”
“Now?”
Nora watched Ed Walker’s truck approaching down the road.
He still visited every Thursday.
“Now I charge them for advice.”
Sophie laughed.
Nora did too.
Ed parked beside the shed.
He climbed out slower now.
Seventy.
Knees bad.
Voice unchanged.
He looked at Sophie.
“New victim?”
“Employee.”
“Same thing.”
Nora handed him coffee.
He smelled it.
“Still terrible.”
“Still free.”
They leaned against the fence.
The tanker finished.
Ed watched the cattle.
“Remember the first one?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were nuts.”
“You mentioned it.”
“Often.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“You ever think about what would've happened if it failed?”
Nora looked at him.
“Every time somebody tells the story like success was inevitable.”
Ed nodded.
“You could've lost the farm.”
“Yes.”
The admission felt easier now.
“You were close?”
“Closer than people know.”
Ed looked toward the farmhouse.
“Matthew would've been proud.”
Nora’s throat tightened.
Even after all those years.
“Maybe.”
“He would.”
“You don't know.”
“I knew him.”
“So did I.”
Ed nodded.
“Fair.”
They stood quietly.
Then he pointed toward the cattle.
“What are they bringing now?”
Nora told him.
Ed whistled.
“Should've copied you sooner.”
“You would've ruined it.”
“Probably.”
He smiled.
“Still might.”
The phrase “most wanted beef in Kansas” came from a magazine headline years later.
Nora despised it.
“Most wanted?”
The editor shrugged.
“People click.”
“This is print.”
“People still click emotionally.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
The article told the familiar version.
Widow.
Feed crisis.
Distillery waste.
Mocking neighbors.
Unexpected gains.
Restaurant demand.
Success.
Nora made them add one paragraph.
The paragraph said:
The byproduct itself was not a guarantee of improved performance, and Tillman’s system relied on careful ration balancing, animal monitoring, storage management, and detailed economic tracking.
The editor called it boring.
Nora called it necessary.
Because stories had consequences.
A farmer three states away could read a dramatic article, dump unfamiliar feed into a trough, ignore variability, and create a problem.
Nora refused to let her story become permission for stupidity.