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

morning, the high arched windows of the county courthouse extension let in a flat gray light that smelled of wet wool and floor wax.

Evelyn sat beside me on the yellow oak bench, her fingers tracing the edge of her canvas tote bag.

She had her notebook open on her lap, the pages filled with columns of dates and figures she had compiled from the archive continue reading …