A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
Dolores looked at me over the top of her reading glasses, her slow drawl demanding my full attention. “Section twelve has been quiet since nineteen sixty-seven, Mr. Graham. Most people do not ask for those records unless they are looking for a lost well.”
“I need to see the zoning,” I said. “And the original deed.”
She did not move quickly. She stood up, her joints popping like cold diesel injectors, and disappeared into the back room where the heavy iron shelving held the old county history. I could hear the metal drawers sliding open, a heavy rustling of paper, and the dull thud of a ledger being lifted.
When she came back, she laid a thick, canvas-bound book on the counter. The cover was stained with grease from fifty years of farmers’ thumbs.
“This is the original tract book,” Dolores said, turning the yellowed pages with a delicate touch that did not match her heavy frame. “Your two hundred acres are right here, marked in black ink.”
I leaned over the counter, my eyes tracing the clean border lines. The page was dated September fourth, nineteen sixty-seven.
