Gerald corrected himself.
“A season.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
“I’d like to hear what you mean.”
Gerald exhaled.
“Warren, we both know this farm is under pressure.”
“Lower ground has always been marginal.”
“Not like this.”
“No.”
“But this kind of event proves the risk.”
Warren’s face hardened.
“What kind of event?”
“Flooding.”
“It didn’t flood.”
Gerald looked toward the water.
Warren pointed north.
“It was flooded.”
Casey watched both men.
Gerald kept his tone calm.
“If there's an engineering problem upstream, somebody will address it.”
“But that doesn't change your numbers.”
“I can help you.”
“How?”
“Sell the lowest acreage.”
Warren laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Gerald continued.
“We could restructure the remaining balance.”
“Reduce your exposure.”
“Give you enough liquidity to get through another season.”
“You came here while my beans are underwater to offer to buy the ground.”
“I came because I knew you’d need options.”
“Who called you?”
“Warren.”
“Who?”
Gerald looked toward the truck.
“That isn't relevant.”
“It is to me.”
Gerald’s expression changed slightly.
“You don't have to keep fighting water forever.”
Warren said nothing.
Gerald walked toward the pickup.
At the door, he turned.
“Water has a way of making decisions for people who won't make them themselves.”
Then he drove away.
Casey waited until the truck disappeared.
“Did he really just say that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he knows something?”
“I think he knows I owe his bank money.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Warren looked at the field.
“I know.”
Casey took out her phone.
She began photographing.
Not Gerald.
The water.
“Why?”
Warren asked.
“Because we might need to remember what this looked like today.”
Over the next forty-eight hours, the water did not leave.
That was worse than the initial flooding.
Soybeans can sometimes survive brief submersion depending on temperature, growth stage, sediment, and duration.
But Warren knew by the third day that most of the lower planting was finished.
The plants yellowed.
Residue collected.
Mud settled over leaves.
The higher margins might recover.
The heart of the field would not.
He called his crop insurance agent.
Documented everything.
Then called the county drainage office.
A technician came out.
He took photographs.
Confirmed the creek was not the source.
Would not speculate about liability.
The development outlet had permits, he said, but he would need to check whether the installation matched approved plans.
Warren hated that answer.
Not because it was wrong.
Because it meant waiting.
Three days after Gerald’s visit, another Cornerstone representative arrived.
This time Gerald brought a credit officer.
They sat at Warren’s kitchen table.
Casey listened from the counter.
Gerald opened a folder.
“Warren, I need to be direct.”
“That would be new.”
Casey glanced at her grandfather.
Gerald ignored the remark.
“Your debt-service position was already tight.”
“If this lower acreage is out for the season, your projected cash flow falls below covenant requirements.”
“It got flooded four days ago.”
“I understand.”
“By water from the development.”
“That has not been established.”