I do notice several dozens of media articles all referring to Yarrabee Farms as a “dairy farm”. To me that suggests their primary focus is the production of milk, as opposed to what’s often referred to as a livestock breeder.
Someone who “tends dairy cows” is a dairy hand who assists in the production of that milk is how I’d interpret it.
Yup. If you have herds of milk producers you’re considered Dairy. But let me explain. Farmers often insulate themselves from disaster. Crop failure, milk borne infections drought, etc. there are a thousand things a farmer knows to well that can go wrong. Many diversify and if they have accumulated land every acre possible is planted. Many utilize government programs to help pay either to grow or not grow certain crops.
Farming is and over decades has become a complicated business for the educated. Not only formal education but historic education which is handed down generation to generation.
At age 10 I drive my ailing grandfather around vast farmland in Michigan to observe fields of crops. If we saw another farmer out working we often stopped to talk even more crops.
I remember some stories and I learned to appreciate them as lessons. Some days some visits became an invitation for lunch and stories morphed into humor. I learned pretty fast I was a young sister in a historical brotherhood of people who learned by doing. And everyone had their stories of mistakes. While I never broke anything that we couldn’t fix, many did worse flipping tractors and even cracking connections between the head and the power train on a harvester ( I know it to be a Combine). My mistakes, while time consuming were in the realm of normal. However I certainly observed some of the worst when farmers died with their beloved equipment.
My guess is CR, after a year with Yarrabee was entrusted to tending crops as well. If I remember correctly he stated he was familiar with the land he placed Mollies remains. He very well could have worked the ground he placed her on and knew full well her body would be difficult to find. He might have know what rain would do to and evidence of the car or the dragmarks left as evidence getting her into and under the protective canopy of mid July growth. There would be nothing to detect after the hard rain the night he hid her body.
The odor would not begin for days, and little probability of a visit by anyone. After the old addage of “thigh high by the 4th of July”, corn. Fields are left alone. Tenders stay close to home, a welcome break and catch up on things that have to be fixed and maintained. It’s a time when plants grow, the dirt giving its most precious nutrients to produce the grain or feed needed to feed our nation or parts of our world.
And CR knew the corn hides secrets. Shoes, shirts and even condoms from parties past were in the fields. And he chose the perfect place to hide her. Covered by thick corn reaching for the bright Iowa sun. And there her physical remains would stay until harvest. It was part of his plan. Well thought out he didn’t consider being caught, or questioned by anyone.
Hiding in plain sight he had played dumb and well. In August 18, driving into Brooklyn to buy pizza, CR felt a high like never before.
After living in the USA for 7 years, foiling everyone, especially his employer, CR had fooled local cops, the bigger FBI and the other Federalies. Hiding in plain site for more than a month, he had committed the perfect crime.
He had driven past his hiding spot more times than he could remember to see if it had been disturbed. And thought it curious then funny the pig farmer had almost been arrested. CR hadn’t planned on him. But it was a good distraction. The red shirt tossed out a riders side window was his last minute afterthought to mislead searchers. He found it in the laundry at the ramshackle house Yarabee “gave” the poorly paid worker a place to sleep. Investigators didn’t react as he’d hoped. Instead of confusing the search and incriminating Mr. pig farmer, they had quickly dismissed it as having been exactly what it was, planted.
As he neared the store, he was feeling pretty smug. CBR had fooled them all, and felt darn smart. Until the car passed and stopped directly in front of him. As he looked in his rear view mirror lights flashed and in one last moment his freedom was gone as he heard the unbelievable “ Stop the vehicle and place both hands out the window where they can be seen.”.
