“You signed this in April of nineteen ninety-eight,” I said.

“Dad brought a clipboard out to the shop while I was working on the tractor,” Nate said slowly.

“He told me it was equipment insurance for the farm.”

“It was a quitclaim deed,” I said.

“Your grandfather put the creek forty in your name when you turned eighteen.”

Nate looked down at his own name written on the yellowed paper twenty-six months ago.

“Grandpa told me before he died that the creek ground was mine,” Nate said.