After lunch, he brought a folder to the kitchen table.
Inside were bank statements, repair estimates, livestock records, and several notices concerning overdue payments.
He spread the papers carefully.
"Marlene, we need to talk."
She sat opposite him.
"About what?"
"About selling."
She looked up.
"No."
Daryl closed his eyes.
"You haven't even heard me."
"I heard enough."
He leaned forward.
"The cattle are losing weight. The east well needs a new pump. The pickup barely starts. There's a note secured against the property, and the bank isn't going to give you forever."
Marlene looked toward the window.
Outside, the land stretched beneath a pale winter sky.
Thin grass grew in scattered patches between limestone rock and prickly pear.
The stock tank was nearly empty.
The old windmill turned slowly in the cold breeze, making a metallic clicking sound that could be heard from the house.
Daryl continued.
"This place hasn't turned a decent profit since Clinton was president."
She looked back at him.
"Dad knew that."
"Then why didn't he sell?"
Marlene was quiet.
Daryl sighed.
"Because he was stubborn."
She stared at him.
He continued.
"And because he believed every bad year would be followed by a good one."
Marlene shook her head.
"That's not why."
Daryl looked frustrated.
"Then tell me."
She hesitated.
For several seconds, she considered the green notebook resting inside the metal box beneath her father's old bed.
Then she looked toward the hills.
"Dad didn't fail because the land was bad."
Daryl frowned.
"What?"
She turned toward him.
"He failed because he kept trying to work it the way everyone said he should."
Her brother stared.
For a moment, he seemed unable to understand what she meant.
Then he laughed bitterly.
"You're telling me forty years of struggling to run cattle was the wrong idea?"
Marlene nodded.
"Maybe."
Daryl leaned back.
"Marlene, this isn't the time for experiments."
She looked toward him.
"Maybe it's exactly the time."
He shook his head.
"You're grieving."
"So are you."
"That's different."
She stared.
"How?"
Daryl looked uncomfortable.
Then he said, "Because I'm not pretending this place has some magical future."
Marlene's face tightened.
She stood.
"Dad didn't believe in magic."
Daryl sighed.
"Neither do I."
She looked toward the window again.
"Then stop talking like wanting to try something different makes me foolish."
For a moment, the kitchen was silent.
Then Daryl gathered the papers.
He looked tired.
"Marlene, the bank is owed eighty-four thousand three hundred dollars, counting the equipment note and the overdue charges. You can't simply wish that away."