Dalton ignored them.
He turned to Daniel.
“You knew she was running a control block?”
“Yes.”
“And you let her give up six full rows to trap cropping?”
Daniel nodded.
“Those rows still produce some beans.”
“Not much with this damage.”
“No.”
Dalton shook his head.
“That would drive me crazy.”
Daniel smiled.
“It drove me crazy.”
Emma looked at him.
“You said you trusted the plan.”
“I said I'd let you test the plan.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Daniel looked toward the damaged rows.
“The first week those beetles showed up, I almost sprayed the whole acre while she was sleeping.”
Emma's head snapped toward him.
“You what?”
Daniel grinned.
“Almost.”
“You never told me.”
“Because I didn't do it.”
Earl laughed.
Emma folded her arms.
Daniel continued.
“You think you're the only one nervous?”
That changed something.
Emma had spent weeks believing her father was perfectly calm.
Now she saw the truth.
He had been gambling too.
Not just with an acre of beans.
With trust.
Giving a thirteen-year-old responsibility sounded admirable until the crop started showing damage.
Then it became difficult.
Dalton looked at Daniel.
“What stopped you?”
Daniel pointed toward Emma's notebook.
“She did.”
Emma frowned.
Daniel looked at her.
“The numbers hadn't crossed your threshold.”
She understood.
He had actually read her plan.
Every page.
Daniel set down the crates.
“I figured if I overrode her the first time I got uncomfortable, then it wasn't really her field.”
Emma looked away quickly.
She didn't want the men to see how much that sentence affected her.
Dalton did anyway.
He looked back toward the trap rows.
Then he walked alone to the outer edge.
For several minutes, nobody followed him.
He bent over plants.
Checked leaves.
Looked at the boundary between the damaged section and the production block.
Then he turned.
“Emma.”
She walked over.
He pointed at one plant.
“Why is this row worse than the one beside it?”
Emma looked.
“Wind.”
“What?”
“The prevailing wind came from that direction during the first beetle wave.”
She pointed toward the southern hedgerow.
“They entered heavier on this edge.”
Dalton stared.
“You sure?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I think.”
“Based on?”
“Sticky cards.”
She showed him two card positions.
“The southern cards caught more during the first four days.”
Dalton looked toward the hedgerow.
“What was planted there last year?”
“Squash.”
He nodded slowly.
Now he was thinking.
Not judging.
Thinking.
That was different.
Earl came over carrying a chewed leaf.
“I found another one of those caterpillars.”
Emma inspected it.
“No cocoons.”
“So bad?”
“Not necessarily.”
She turned over the leaf.
A tiny wasp moved away.
Earl smiled.
“You really like those things.”
“I like what they do.”
Dalton looked at the field again.
Then asked:
“What happens if pest counts jump tomorrow?”
Emma answered immediately.
“If the production block crosses my threshold, I treat.”
“With conventional insecticide?”
“If I need to.”
He seemed surprised again.
“I thought you were against it.”
Emma shook her head.
“I'm against using more than I need.”
That answer quieted him.
Daniel smiled faintly.
Emma continued.
“If the trap rows stop holding pressure, or I start losing too much pod set, I'm not going to watch the crop die just to prove a point.”
Dalton nodded once.
“That’s farming.”
Emma looked at him.