stared at me.
“You spent twenty-two years working that land.”
“I know how long I was there.”
“Then how can you just accept this?”
I looked toward the gray Nebraska sky.
“Because that’s Dad’s signature.”
“So?”
“He’s been dead three weeks. He can’t sit across a table and tell me what he meant. I’m not going to spend the next few years fighting a man who can’t answer me.”
Theresa looked at me for a long time.
Then she silently pulled my coat collar higher against the wind.
That was
