“I made good money doing it.”
“And now most of them are gone.”
“They lost their farms.”
“They lost their equipment.”
“They lost everything.”
Margaret leaned against the truck.
“That’s not all your fault, Roy.”
“Nobody forced them to sign.”
Roy nodded.
“No.”
“But I made it easy.”
“I made it sound smart.”
“I made borrowing money feel like the only way to succeed.”
He looked toward Margaret.
“And I laughed at the one person in this county who was actually doing it right.”
A long silence followed.
“You.”
Roy swallowed.
“You were right about everything.”
“And I was wrong about everything.”
Margaret looked toward the fields.
“I wasn’t right about everything.”
Roy looked at her.
“I was just careful.”
“My father taught me something.”
“He said the land will take care of you if you take care of it.”
“And he taught me something else.”
“Never give someone else control over whether you keep your farm.”
Roy lowered his eyes.
“Frank was the smartest farmer I ever knew.”
“I just didn’t realize it until now.”
Margaret smiled softly.
“He would appreciate hearing that.”
Roy started the truck.
Before leaving, he stopped.
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“I owe you an apology.”
“A real one.”
“Not just for the dealership.”
“Not just for what I said.”
“For every time I came out here and tried to convince you that you were doing it wrong.”
He looked at the fields.
“You were doing it right.”
“You were the only one doing it right.”
Margaret nodded.
“Thank you, Roy.”
He looked toward the barn.
“And those Farmalls?”
“Are they still running?”
Margaret smiled.
“Every single day.”
Roy shook his head.
“A thousand dollars for two tractors.”
“Best investment anyone in this county ever made.”
Then he drove away.
Margaret stood in the yard and watched his taillights disappear down the county road.
She didn’t feel victory.
She felt sadness.
Because Roy Dennison wasn’t a bad man.
He was a man who believed what the industry told him.
And the industry was wrong.
Margaret Holcomb continued farming for decades.
She farmed until 2008.
Forty-five years.
During that time, she expanded from 600 acres to 840 acres.
She always bought land with cash.
She always paid in full.
She never carried a mortgage.
She never bought a brand-new tractor.
Every piece of equipment she owned came from auctions.
Every machine was rebuilt in her father’s workshop using her father’s tools.
The 1949 Farmall M continued working until 1991.
Forty-two years of service.
When Margaret finally retired it, she cleaned it carefully and placed it inside her barn.
It became a reminder.
Not of old equipment.
Of determination.
The 1953 Farmall Super M lasted even longer.