A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
I stood up, the wind catching my jacket and pulling it tight against my chest.
“I need to get back to the west pasture before the sun goes down,” I said.
“Do not let him talk you into anything, Arthur,” Henry said. “Rural people are patient, we watch, and we take care of each other.”
I nodded to him and walked down the steps, the dry grass brushing against my work boots as I went back to the truck.
The sun was sitting low over the sandhills at five in the afternoon, casting a long, pale yellow light across my western fence line. The wind had dropped, leaving the air cold and still, the smell of damp prairie earth rising from the ditches.
A grey sedan was parked on the shoulder of the county road, its engine idling with a quiet, steady purr. Robert, the defense attorney, was standing by my western corner post, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark wool overcoat.
I pulled my truck up to the gate and got out, leaving the door open.
“Mr. Graham,” Robert said as I walked up the grassy slope.
