“Don’t.” I said it once, quiet.

“Don’t do that with me.”

He raised both palms, the way a man does when he has decided to be reasonable in front of witnesses.

“I’ve got an attorney who can have all of this finished by January if you’ll let him.

The offer is still on the table.”

“You were right about the hay,” I said.

“I do cut it.

I’ve cut it on that ground since I was fourteen years old.”