After I Stopped Buying Their Corn, the Farmers Panicked Chapter 08

After I Stopped Buying Their Corn, the Farmers Panicked Chapter 08

“A group of people is blocking the gate of my ranch. My safety is being threatened. The scene is chaotic. Please send 

officers.” 

The dispatcher’s calm voice came through the speaker, and it landed on every one of them like a bucket of ice water. The anger on their faces froze, then twisted into panic. 

“You called the cops?” Hank’s voice was shaking. 

“What did you expect?” I hung up. “Should I wait around for you to come back and smash up the ranch? Or wait for Noah Reed to put out another video saying I drove you to the wall?” 

I pointed toward the road, where the flashing lights of a 

cruiser were already visible. 

“They’ll be here any minute. The rotten corn in your hands is the evidence. The defamation, the damage to my business reputation, the harassment, plus today’s blockade and threats –whether that’s enough for the police to act on, whether 

some of you walk out of here in cuffs–you can figure that out for yourselves.” 

Some of them started quietly backing up, dropping the moldy 

corn at their feet. 

“Go–go!” 

“She called the cops! Run!” 

The crowd that had been so loud a minute ago scattered in 

seconds. Noah Reed wanted to keep going, but Hank and a few of the farmers with any sense left grabbed him hard and 

dragged him off into the rain. 

The cruiser pulled up. I gave a brief statement and showed the evidence. The officers logged the scene, said they’d follow up, 

and told me to watch my back. 

For now, this was over. 

The rain started coming down again, washing the mud and 

rotten corn kernels off the ground. 

Martin Parker’s truck pulled in right behind it. He sighed, didn’t ask a single question, and just told his workers to start loading. 

“Ms. Blake, our co–op’s corn is ready. All hand–picked. No problems.” 

I nodded. “Thank you.” 

I climbed into the passenger seat, and the truck pulled out of 

the ranch. Outside the window, the direction of Reed Co–op 

was still under a gray sky. But up ahead, toward Parker Co–op, there was a thin band of light breaking through. 

You make a choice, you pay the price. 

I’d once given my kindness to the wrong people, and the only thing it bought me back was revenge. 

But now, working with steady, decent Parker Co–op, the road 

ahead was firmer. 

Some people aren’t worth helping. Some roads, you walk 

alone.