They wore pressed shirts, dark trousers, and carried clipboards. One of them pointed toward the ridge while another took notes. The third just stood still, talking into a phone. Walter watched for a while, his mug warming his palms.
That field used to belong to the Crawfords before they moved out west. He hadn’t met whoever bought it after. For all he knew, the men were insurance people or buyers checking the soil. Still, suits didn’t belong out here.