Another recalled how he helped a young farmer understand irrigation scheduling.
A woman described the afternoon he brought groceries after her husband's surgery.
Dileia listened.
Then realized something important.
Her father's life had never been worthless.
Even if the roots had produced no commercial value, the years he'd spent working, helping people, and raising his daughter would still have mattered.
The scientific discovery didn't make him worthy of respect.
It revealed one more reason he had deserved it all along.
A year later, Dileia returned to the Nampa agricultural market.
She arrived before sunrise, just as she'd done on the morning Harlon humiliated her.
The same wooden stalls stood along the yard.
The same pickup trucks lined the dirt road.
And the foothills rose beyond the market beneath a pale-blue sky.
But this time, she wasn't hauling two tons of roots in a desperate attempt to find a buyer.
She had come to speak at a small agricultural innovation workshop.
The organizers wanted her to explain the practical lessons of developing an unusual crop.
She agreed only after making one thing clear.
She wasn't there to encourage farmers to abandon established crops and start growing unidentified roots.
She wanted to discuss recordkeeping.
Verification.
Research partnerships.
Financial planning.
And the importance of understanding commercial agreements before making major decisions.
Her presentation was straightforward.
She showed photographs of the original roots.
Discussed the early tests.
Explained the difficulties of developing a reliable supply chain.
And described the difference between a preliminary commercial valuation and actual revenue.
Several farmers asked questions.
Some were technical.
Others concerned financing.
One older man stood near the back.
Dileia recognized him immediately.
He had been among the people laughing at the first auction.
He raised his hand.
She nodded toward him.
“Yes?”
The man looked uncomfortable.
Then said, “I owe you an apology.”
The room became quiet.
Dileia stared.
He continued.
“I was there when you brought those roots to market.”
She nodded.
He looked down.
“I laughed.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he looked up.
“You were trying to explain something. And I didn't bother listening.”
Dileia felt her throat tighten.
The man continued.
“I've been farming for thirty-five years. I thought that meant I already knew what was worth growing.”
He shook his head.
“Turns out I didn't know nearly as much as I thought.”
Several people smiled.
Dileia looked toward him.
Then answered gently.
“Neither did I.”
He blinked.
She continued.
“That's why we test things.”
The room relaxed.
The man nodded.
Then smiled.
“Fair enough.”
After the presentation, several farmers approached her.
One wanted advice about preserving historical crop records.