The other labeled Wade.
I stared at him.
“You were planning to split the inheritance?”
He nodded.
“From the beginning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Phil looked down.
“I thought you knew about the debt.”
I shook my head.
“I never saw Dad’s financial books.”
“I know that now.”
He hesitated.
“I wanted to finish one crop before selling anything. I wanted to hand you a check from a harvest I’d managed myself.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He took a shaky breath.
“Because Dad told me when I was nineteen that I’d never make a farmer.”
His voice broke.
“I’ve spent thirty-seven years trying to prove him wrong.”
I looked toward the letter.
Phil continued.
“I hired those men from Kansas because I was ashamed to ask you for help. Then they ruined the planting. And I thought I’d proven Dad right.”
I shook my head.
