Eli laughed softly.
"Probably."
Norah looked at him. "Really?"
"Farm was under water, fence was down, tractor was dying, and twelve thousand was real money. Yes. Probably."
"Would that have been a mistake?"
"Financially? Maybe. Historically? We would've lost information. Practically? Might've kept the farm safe sooner."
Norah frowned.
"That's an annoying answer."
"Most honest answers are."
"I wanted you to say yes, it would've been a terrible mistake."
"Because then the story gets neat."
"Exactly."
Eli rested both hands on the top of his cane.
"Life doesn't owe you a neat story."
Norah looked across the pasture.
"We were lucky."
"Yes."
"And careful."
"Eventually."
"And I was right."
Eli smiled. "There she is."
Norah laughed.
Then he rested one hand on her shoulder, the same way he had on the first late-summer evening after the repairs were finished.
"You were right to look again," he said. "That's different from being right about the answer."
Norah nodded.
She finally understood why he insisted on the distinction.
If she believed the lesson was that her instincts were always correct, one day certainty would make her careless.
If she understood that instinct could simply tell her when something deserved investigation, curiosity could remain useful without becoming arrogance.
The pasture stretched before them under warm evening light.
Somewhere beneath it lay the old west chute, filled now with layers of silt and history.
Somewhere within that buried curve, perhaps, rested more timber.
Maybe Bellamy & Cross.
Maybe another company.
Maybe worthless wood.
Maybe nothing.
Norah felt no need to dig simply because answers might exist.
The land could keep some of them.
As they turned toward the house, Eli stopped once and looked back.
"Funny thing."
"What?"
"First morning after the flood, I thought that pasture had lost value."
"It had lost fence."
"And hay."
"And half the road."
"Exactly. Looked ruined."
Norah waited.
"But the water didn't change what was under it."