zone he later implied that roberto had messed with the drug cartel. but maybe the truth lay with the farms owners. a wealthy clan known for harvesting rice and resentment. i wish that there weren t so much hate and anger in our family. one family seemingly held a grudge against the victim. he always had something mean to say, he hated him. another whodunnit for investigators. who chases the police? but who is hiding the darkest of secrets? i got chills going through the back of my neck, this is not happening right. now a blank sheet of paper hiding a diabolical clue. i felt monies and started screaming. screaming. an eden in the american west. a wide, flat, earthen cornucopia whose bounty there is a need in the american
there was an eden in the american west, a wide, flat, earthen cornucopia whose bounty daily fills the bellies of millions, whose great farms employed allegens legions of wo passed the land down, father to son, generation after generation. they lived modestly here in california s central valley. multi-millionaires in crop dusters and battered pickup trucks, deeply conservative, self-reliant, tough enough to thrive in a dangerous business that takes guts and brains and too often lives. here among the churning, thrashing machinery the power that helps grow the food of life, death can take a man unawares, even on a sleepy summer day. we just looked up, and there he was. like a day a little boy burst