Carol held out the ledger with both hands and said she had found it that morning in Walt’s desk, where he had kept a record of every wedding payment. She had read the whole thing at the kitchen table and cried. She told us she had never known how little we earned, because Walt had always handled the money talk. The ledger showed that the farm had made a profit of two hundred sixty thousand dollars over the past three years, and none of it had reached us.

Walt admitted it. He said he had been afraid of the farm’s future, and he had held on to every dollar like a drowning man. He had never intended to cheat anyone. But he had let pride and habit cloud his judgment, and a wedding had finally shown him how far things had slipped. He offered to double our wages, give us a share of the profits, and put it all in writing. Ben listened, then looked at me and said the choice was mine.

I told Walt I forgave him, and I meant it, but we had made a commitment to Dale, and we would keep it. Walt nodded. Then I made a proposal. We would work for Dale, and in return, Walt would hire us as consultants for one weekend each month to guide his farm’s accounts, paid at a fair hourly rate. He agreed at once, and Dale laughed and said the two farms had needed a bridge for years.

That winter, Walt and Carol visited our new house on Dale’s land for Sunday dinner, and Walt brought a check for ten thousand dollars as back pay. We refused half, and he insisted on the other half. Madison and her husband came too, and apologized for not asking questions. Now the three farms share a combine every harvest, and I drive the grain cart beside Ben, and the furnace in our new home has never once broken down.