“My dad sold forty acres of creek bottom that my granddad spent thirty years paying off,” Nate said.

“He gave twenty thousand to Kim, twenty thousand to Jeff, and twenty thousand to Stacy.”

He paused, shifting the truck into overdrive as we hit the open stretch past the grain elevator.

“That’s sixty thousand dollars,” I said.

“Sixty thousand,” Nate agreed.

“And we got a note saying we never give them one day of worry.”

“Are you mad at your sister?” I asked.

“Kim owes four months on her propane bill,” Nate said.