“A corporation from Texas outbid my uncle by fifty percent on a pasture near Elm Creek last month.”

“Walt would never sell to a corporation,” I said.

“He hates out-of-state buyers.”

I took my sterilized dental scaler out of its plastic sleeve and traced the sharp curved tip with my thumbnail while I typed the farm’s address into the search bar.

The screen loaded a list of parcel numbers.

I clicked on the eighty acres and scrolled down to the title history.

The property lines were drawn in bright red over a satellite photo of the fields.