"Mr. Barrett," the man greeted him, shaking easily.
"Just Luke. What do you need to see? I'm afraid I haven't done one of these inspections before. I used to work for Paul Simmons, and he usually just sent a check to someone."
The man looked up quickly. "Do you happen to know to whom?"
"No, sir. Just that he has a friend in the county office." He looked the man over. "I'm guessing you don't want to tour the entire property, though?"
Because Mr. Jones was wearing running shoes, not boots. His jeans were very clean, and his shirt was stiff enough to have been starched. This was the kind of man who worked behind a desk, not in the field.
"I just need proof of agricultural production or livestock," he explained.
"Well, they're both right out here," Luke said, heading to the pasture-side doors. "We currently have five horses."
He paused to slide open the door, then gestured for Mr. Jones to step out with him. Then he closed the panel gate instead of the wood. That meant I could still listen, because my flip flops were not appropriate attire for being around horses or the stickers I knew were by the hay barn.
"So, those are the horses. Two mares and three geldings, so we're not breeding. Instead, we're using them for therapy. And over here is where the first cut is stored. It should've been the second, but Violet only moved in back in June. The first cut was missed. Had this stuff tested, and it came back good." Luke paused. "I used to help out Vera, the previous owner. We fertilized it for the last two years, but she couldn't afford to cut it. Not with the medical bills."
"But it was fertilized?" Mr. Jones asked.
"Yes, sir. She said that way it would still be useful when she could cut it. Stuff's thick as can be now, too. I have twelve bales lined up here for the pasture. We've got another hundred down at the bottom of the hill. Violet wanted to keep it all, just to make sure she has enough this year. You know, since we started so late."
"For five horses?" he asked.
Luke chuckled. "Currentlywe have five horses. We're hoping to get ten more, but I need to clean up this barn, clear out that one, and move mechanics over there. Then we can put more stalls in and fill them. She's also renovating the cabins and student areas."
"So how much of the land is in ag?" Mr. Jones asked.
"Three are cut out for the house," Luke told him. "Have about fifteen down the hill that's for the students. There's an old survey in the barn, and I think it says seventeen total acres, but I could be misquoting that."
Their voices were getting louder, so I wasn't surprised at all when Luke pulled back the gate to let Mr. Jones through. Like before, he closed just that, then pointed toward his work bench. The pair of men headed that way.
"All right," Luke said, reaching between his workbench and the wall. "I'm not sure when this was taken, but it can't be far off." Then he unrolled a very large map of the property. "Seventeen point two is not ag. I'm guessing from this note in the margins that still meets the county limits?"
"It does," Mr. Jones assured him. "And are you planning to cut again?"
Luke just gestured to the tractor. "I'm doing a fluid change, and we have the mesh wrap now, which means it'll be easier to sell. The first cut was all string-wrapped. I'm currently pricing out a square baler as well, so we'll probably do half and half. Grass is almost knee-high, so should be a good crop."
Mr. Jones was just marking things off on his clipboard. "Well, looks like the complaint was completely unfounded. I'm sorry to have bothered you both. Thank you for making this easy."
"If you need anything else," I told him, "please feel free to come back or call."
"Can I get your number, ma'am?" he asked. "I'm afraid we don't have one listed."
"Sure." And I listed it off. "Or you can call Luke. He has complete authority around here." I gave Mr. Jones Luke's number as well.
The man wrote both on the top page, then tucked his clipboard under his arm and offered Luke his hand. "Let's hope I don't have to come out again." After shaking Luke's hand, he turned to me and did the same. "It's a nice piece of property you have. Looks like you're at the edge of the aquifer too, so you could probably run a well and irrigate. Land like this is hard to come by. Lots of people your age aren't interested in farming, so it's nice to see such a well-run place."
I almost let that go. Mr. Jones was headed for the door - but something wasn't sitting right, and I just had to know. "Sir?"
He paused, turning back with a smile. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Does that increase the land value or something? The aquifer?"
"Well, a lot of these small towns are water-locked. Reservoirs just aren't full enough to handle the demand, so municipalities are limited to how many houses they can provide service to. Out here, a lot of wells are just dry. There's not inherently water under everything, you see. So, between the rich soil and the ability to have unlimited access to water? Yeah, it does. Records say you have the mineral rights. You could actually sell water to the city council, which would let the town grow."
"Good to know," I said. "Thanks."
"Don't recommend it, though," he added. "Droughts are getting closer together, and some of these unending wells are going dry or turning salty." He huffed. "Fracking, you know."
