Eli didn’t say anything. He bent over and dropped another handful of seed into the fresh soil. “Excuse me!” the woman shouted. “You’ve trapped my car!” Eli straightened, dusted off his hands, and looked at her. “No, ma’am. I’ve planted my crop.”
“Don’t get smart with me. This is illegal!” “This is my land,” he said evenly. “And it’s planting season.” She pointed wildly. “You’ve built a moat around my car!” “No, ma’am,” he said again. “That’s called a furrow. And in about a week, it’ll be corn.”