corn inventory for the north forty, nothing to worry about,” he said.
“Fourteen thousand dollars?” I asked. “We do not spend fourteen thousand dollars on seed corn for forty acres, Travis. We buy seed through the coop on a thirty-day trade account every December.”
“Prices went up,” he said. He picked up his boot and thrust his foot into the leather, yanking the laces tight with one hard pull. “I locked in a bulk order before the fall discount closed out.”
“Show me the delivery slip,” I said.
“It is in the truck,” he said. He stood up, his boots leaving wet, dark prints on the pine porch floorboards. “I have to haul three loads of dry gravel down to the creek bottom before the rain starts.”
“Kaylee asked about senior night,” I said to his back.
He did not turn around. He walked down the three steps into the
