The weather had not been this nice all month. While not a repeat of the year before, it had been wetter than the summer. Without a grain drier, Ken had to wait for the corn to dry on the stalk before he could run the splotchy-colored combine through it. The only thing that had kept him from pulling his hair out was that this year, he didn’t have anything near the amount of corn to deal with that he’d had to face with the old Oliver 70 the year before.

He checked the grain bin in the mirror; it was getting on towards full. Judy ought to be along any time now, he thought. He looked up across the corn stubble, and saw the Farmall rolling toward him, pulling an orange grain box. The bin was full when he got to the end of the row, so he stopped to wait for the shuttle tractor to pull up.

As it pulled closer, Ken could see that Judy wasn’t the only one on the seat. She was sitting well back; in front of her, holding the steering wheel, was a little black girl who couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. Over the noise of the combine, Ken could see Judy mouth the words, "All right, now pull on the brake lever."

The gravity box came to a stop right under the auger, and Ken threw a lever, letting the shelled corn flow. Then, curious, he swung down out of the cab and walked over to the old H. "Who’s that driving for you?" he asked his wife.

"This is Charlotte," Judy said. "Beth Mohr brought her out for the day and thought she’d have some fun out here. She can’t use her legs, like me."

"I could till I got hurt," the little girl piped up.

"Do you like driving a tractor, Charlotte?" Ken asked.

"Oh, yes!" the little girl beamed.

"How would you like to ride a horse?"

"I don’t know that I can," Charlotte said quietly.

"You can do anything you want to," Ken told her. "The horse’s name is Candybar. Do you like that?"

The little girl smiled. "That’s a nice name."

Ken grinned. "Well, after a while, we’ll saddle Candybar up for you, and you can ride her."

"Oh, I’d like to."

Ken stepped up to check the grain bin; it was almost empty. "Oh, Ken," Judy called. "Dad called. He wants you to call him back while the office is still open."

Ken looked around the field. "One more box," he said, "And then I can bring up what’s left in the combine."

It was almost an hour later before Ken came up to the house. As he drove the combine into the barnyard, he saw Candybar walking around the yard at an easy pace, with Charlotte on her back. Judy leaned against the pickup watching them. Ken parked the combine by the elevator, got down, and walked over to his wife.

"I keep thinking about getting another horse," Judy said. "That way, we could both go riding."

"Well, maybe," Ken responded, nodding toward Charlotte. "What happened to her? Car accident?"

"Worse," Judy said. "Gunshot. She really is paralyzed below her waist, but she gets around pretty good. I did tie her to the saddle, though."

"Good," Ken nodded, watching Candybar’s gentle walk. "Beth’s idea?"

"Sort of," Judy said. "I told her that if she had kids who could benefit from following me around for a while, to bring them out."

Ken smiled. "It seems to me that it wasn’t so long ago that I stood out here and watched another girl ride Candybar for the first time."

"Worked out pretty good, didn’t it?" Judy smiled, stealing a quick kiss. "Better go see what Dad wants. Oh, and Mr. Needham called. We’ve got a court date the day after tomorrow, and this time, it probably won’t get continued."

Ken walked across the road to their house; if Norman wanted him to call during business hours, then he meant business, and the office was in Ken and Judy’s house, now. It took a minute for his father in law to come to the phone, but his first words were, "Hey, where’s that corn?"

"What corn?" Ken said. "Merle and his truck already brought you all I’ve got contracted for this month."

"Not quite," Norm replied. "I’ve got a contract here Tom signed better than two years ago."

Ken had never seen such a thing. "How much?" he asked.

"Forty thousand bushels."

The words hit Ken like a knife in the belly. He didn’t have that much corn; he hadn’t even grown that much this year. Might as well get all the bad news, he thought. "What’s the delivery price?"

Ken could almost hear his father-in-law smile through the phone. "I hate to say this, but $2.15 a bushel."

Ken let out a long whistle. That morning, current corn was going for $1.61. "Norm," he said finally, "You got any corn you’d like to sell?"

"I got a whole elevator full. You can have what you want. Say, at $1.85."

Ken snorted. "I could go down to the café and get all I want at $1.75."

"All right," his father-in-law said. "A dollar eighty, and you won’t have to haul it."

"You’ve got a deal," Ken told him. "I’ll come in after a little while and do the paperwork." They talked for a minute or two longer before Ken hung up the phone. He walked over to the desk and turned on the adding machine. It coughed out a figure in an instant, and Ken let fly with another long, low whistle.

Fourteen thousand dollars profit in one phone call!

He shook his head. At the beginning of the year, he would have thought that a nice profit for the whole year. The balance sheet was really going to look good this year. He knew that kind of speculation could have just as easily gone the other way, and maybe he was just as glad he hadn’t known about the huge contract. Still, as a last present from Tom, it was a pretty good one. He wasn’t sorry to take it.

He knew where it really came from. He bowed his head, saying, "Thank you, Jesus."

The gavel banged. "Case closed," the judge said. "Next case."

The Sorensens lagged behind a bit, to let Carolyn get out ahead of them. "Well, that’s that," Ken said to Lydia and Judy. They walked outside under a gray November sky.

"Judy," he said, as soon as they were outside, "You’ve got a while before you go see the doctor. Why don’t you drop by the license bureau and get the new plates for the Sunbird on your way? I’ll hike on over to the bank."

"Ken, I’ll go with you," Lydia said. "I’ve got some shopping to do. You and Judy can pick me up after you both get done."

As Ken watched the Sunbird pull away, he pulled his coat tight. He and his mother walked the couple of blocks downtown. He was happy he’d gotten done with the corn yesterday, while it was still nice. Today was dismal, and it looked like rain.

Judy waited her turn in line at the license bureau, then laid her paperwork on the counter. "Can I see your driver’s license, please?" the woman behind the counter said without looking up.

Judy fumbled in her purse, found her license, and laid it on the counter while the woman continued to fill out papers. Finally, the woman looked at Judy’s license. "Oh, it says ‘Hand Control Vehicles Only,’" the woman said. "Don’t you want handicapped plates?"

"Don’t bother," Judy said. "I’m not handicapped."

Henry Daly had a line of people waiting, so it took Ken a while to get in to see him. "Got a lot of money here for you," Ken said when he finally sat at Daly’s desk. "Here’s this year’s production loan and payments, and I’ll also turn the lease payment on the big combine over to you, since we still owe on it."

Daly’s eyes opened wide. "You did a lot better than I expected," he said. "I thought you had a good chance to break even."

"We got a little lucky," Ken told him. "And the Lord was good to us."

Daly shook his head. "I got a lot of static about your dad’s will being tied up," he said. "I’m not sure about next year."

Ken smiled. "It’s not tied up any longer," he said. "Just got out of court. Carolyn lost."

The banker stuck out his hand. "That is good news," he said.

Ken beamed. "Carolyn’s lawyer made too big a deal about my not being competent to run the farm," Ken said. "Those checks I just gave you kind of put an end to that argument."

"That does put a different light on things," Daly agreed. "How much do you think you’re going to need next year?"

"I don’t know yet," Ken said. "I’d like to say nothing, but we haven’t really worked out our plans yet. We’re still thinking about leasing out the farm so Judy and I can go back to school, but if we don’t, I wouldn’t be surprised if I asked you for ten or fifteen thousand."

"Fifteen thous . . . you mean fifty, don’t you?"

"Ten or fifteen," Ken reaffirmed. "Maybe a little more. I keep thinking about getting a newer car, or maybe a pickup with an automatic."

"Let me know when you need it, and there won’t be any problem," Daly agreed, then shook his head. "Fifteen thousand . . . you must really have had a good year."

"I’ll be honest," Ken said. "If you hadn’t pushed us into taking a hard look at the operation, we wouldn’t be in nearly as good a shape."

Judy was waiting at the curb as Ken walked out of the bank. He got in the right side, and Judy drove up the street to wait for Lydia. "Well, I’ve got good news," Ken said.

"I do, too. You first."

"Well, we did what we wanted to do, and a year quicker than we hoped, thanks to Tom. It’ll be tight, but I think we’re to the point now where we can lease out the farm and go back to school."

"Do you really want to?" Judy asked.

Ken shrugged. "It’s what we agreed on."

"Yes, but I don’t think that’s what you want," Judy said. "I know you too well."

"Why do you think so?"

"Ken, I’ve watched you too long. Back when we were living in Athens, the only part of the news that caught your attention was the farm prices and the weather. We agreed to come back down here for a year or two, and now you’re coming up with new ideas every day, like that planting clover in the corn . . . "

"That didn’t work out as well as I hoped it would."

"Let’s run a cost analysis on it before you say that," she countered, and continued. "You’re thinking about setting up a popcorn marketing operation, expanding the steer herd again, and making all sorts of long-term plans. You don’t even want to admit to yourself that you don’t want to leave."

"We made an agreement," Ken said. "I guess you’re right. It’s up to you, Crip."

"I’d kind of like to finish my degree someday," she said. "But I want what makes you happy. I don’t think you’d be happy, living in town, going to a regular job every day. What’s more, I don’t think I would, either. Let’s stay. I kind of like the jobs we have."

"Well, that’s it," Ken said. "I guess we did what Dad wanted."

"What’s that?"

"We’re not going to have a year this good every year, and it’ll be years before we’re totally out of debt, but unless we really mess up, we’ve saved the farm for the next generation."

A broad smile crossed her face. "That’s my news," she said. "There’s going to be a next generation to save it for."

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