Madrid Iowa Orchard Owners Stand Against a Counterfeit Prophecy for Two Thousand Twenty Six

parked on the dry dirt path where the fishermen usually leave their trailers, sat Marcus’s silver sedan.

Arthur’s black sedan was parked bumper-to-bumper with it, the passenger side door of Marcus’s car standing wide open.

Through the windshield, I saw my nephew leaning across the center console, gesturing with a thick blue folder.

Arthur sat in the continue reading …