A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“That is your money, Henry,” I said, clipping the excess wire with the pliers. “It belongs back in your savings.”
“I did not think we would ever see a dime of it,” he said, looking out over the rolling pasture.
By eleven, the morning sun had burned away the pale prairie mist, leaving the sky a wide, scrubbed blue. I walked back toward the machine shed where the big red tractor had sat under its heavy canvas cover since the middle of winter.
The canvas was stiff with dried mud and dust from the rafters. I pulled it back in one slow motion, releasing the familiar smell of grease, diesel fuel, and cold iron.
The keys were still sitting in the ignition, their brass surface dull from the damp air of the shed.
I climbed the three steel steps to the operator’s platform and settled onto the worn black vinyl seat. I checked the fuel sediment bowl first, finding the glass clear and the diesel fuel amber and free of water.
I checked the oil dipstick, seeing the dark, clean level right at the full mark where I had changed it before the cold weather set in.
