“I’m not here to fight,” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“I brought something.” I held up the envelope. “Can I sit?”
He gestured to the couch. I sat, and set the envelope on the coffee table between us.
“The hay’s back,” I said. “You know that. Arlen and Gene returned it. They told me what you said. That I was selling out.”
“Karen ”
“I’d like to finish.” I kept my voice calm, the schoolteacher voice, the voice that had held thirty eight-year-olds for twenty years. “You told two good men a lie, and they believed it because they trusted you, and because it was easier to believe than not. You told them I wanted to sell. I didn’t. I never did. And you knew it.”
His eyes were fixed on his hands.
“I could have called the sheriff,” I said. “Ben wanted me to. I thought about it. You committed a crime, Dwayne. It’s called theft, and in Nebraska it’s a felony at that value.”
