"Our state's agricultural taxes are dropping big time! We've scrapped the target price and deficiency payments from the '30s, switching to direct payments. Plus, we're letting farmers adjust crops based on market demand. I checked out your fields earlier—about two hundred acres, right? How many hands you got working here?"
"We don't hire help," Locke cut in calmly. "Because…"
Hired hands mean more taxes!
"No worries, you can start hiring now!"
"Because, as of today, wages for farmhands are tax-exempt!"
"And we're raising the equipment tax deduction cap!"
"Oh, and estate valuations? You can get up to a 50% break on inheritance taxes!"
Kristen was on a roll.
He was in full pitch mode.
Completely oblivious to the way Locke's mouth twitched.
He was laughing—out of sheer frustration.
"Mr. Kristen, if that's all you've got, you didn't need to come out here."
"We'll file our taxes in town like we always do."
This kind of reform might fool some young farmers!
This guy was all about the perks, conveniently ignoring the skyrocketing costs of pesticides, fertilizers, and seeds.
And that so-called "market freedom"?
Ha.
When everyone rushes to plant high-profit crops like corn, you get a surplus—and prices crash.
What else did this guy have to say?
Was he really hyping up inheritance tax breaks?
Agricultural inheritance tax…
Locke didn't need to think twice. The second this policy dropped, big money would swarm the subsidies.
Land speculation would spike, widening the gap between rich and poor.
Farmland would become a tax shelter for corrupt officials and wealthy elites.
If Locke's memory served, in the future, massive farms would control 89% of America's crop production!
Small family farms like theirs would get squeezed out, scrapped like old tractors.
"Hahaha!"
Seeing Locke laugh, Kristen joined in.
To him, Locke's cold smirk was a sign of delighted realization, and Jonathan's head-shaking was just good ol' farmer agreement.
Thank God! Kristen thought, practically cheering inside.
Finally, someone who gets it!
"Thank you both for understanding!"
Kristen was so excited he could barely hold his briefcase steady, his trembling fingers pulling out a form. "This is our IRS 'Tax Reform Support Confirmation.' Just sign here!"
The words barely left his mouth when—
"Pfft!"
Locke burst out laughing.
"Hahaha!"
Jonathan slapped his thigh, joining in.
Martha covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with giggles.
Clark glanced left and right, totally clueless but grinning anyway. "Heh heh!"
Can't go wrong joining the fun!
"Hahaha!"
Kristen, caught up in the moment, laughed so hard dust shook from the windowsill.
The room filled with laughter.
The cheerful vibe lasted a solid three minutes until Jonathan, wiping tears from his eyes, looked at Dio and Clark. "Kids, head outside for a bit."
"Huh?"
"Go play," Locke said, ruffling Dio and Clark's hair. "Isn't today the last day of your school break?"
"Get some fresh air. Don't just hang around here."
"Oh."
Dio nodded, tugging a confused Clark toward the door.
Kristen was puzzled but pulled out a pen to hand to Jonathan and Locke.
But…
"Sorry, Mr. Kristen," Jonathan said, his face turning serious once the kids were gone. "We're not on board."
"Exactly. We'll pay our taxes as always," Locke added, his smile fading to a cold stare. "But that doesn't mean we support this reform."
"You two…"
Kristen's grin froze, his pen dangling awkwardly in the air.
He felt like a clown.
Damn hicks!
His face twitched, settling into a twisted smirk.
Slamming the gilded form onto the coffee table, he hissed, "Fine, I won't overstay my welcome."
"You two better pay on time and in full—"
His words were cut off.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound of polished dress shoes echoed from the porch, followed by a voice. "You're…"
"Kristen?"
Who's calling me?
"Whoever you are," Kristen snapped, turning irritably, "call me Mr. For—"
His voice choked off, like someone had grabbed his throat.
The man at the door wore a tailored suit, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting with a curious look.
"Y-You're…"
Kristen's knees wobbled. "Mr. Luthor?"
No mistake!
Last month, when he'd tagged along with the bureau chief to meet this man, the chief had personally locked away one of Luthor's used pens in his home safe.
How did he know?
The chief's wife told him, duh.
Glancing at the faces in the room, Lionel seemed to catch on. He gave Locke a slight nod and said, "Mr. Ford, what's this about?"
F-Ford?
Kristen's back was drenched in cold sweat. He scrambled to grab his papers.
"Of c-course, Mr. Luthor! I'll just—I'll just—"
He bolted out the door like his brain was short-circuiting.
Why didn't you say you knew him?!
Are all you rich folks nuts?!
The screech of tires on gravel faded as Jonathan finally let out a belly laugh. "Hahaha! Martha, did you see his face? Like a pumpkin run over by a tractor!"
Ignoring Jonathan's cackling, Locke stepped forward to shake Lionel's hand. "Thanks, man."
Truth be told…
He'd been ready to teach that guy a lesson himself.
Because nobody threatens his family—
That's what Locke, evolving into a family-man hero, was thinking.
"No need to thank me. I was just stopping by to check on you," Lionel said with a warm smile, glancing at Jonathan and Martha. "These must be…?"
"You're Lionel Luthor, right? Just saw you on TV!" Jonathan said, stepping up to shake his hand. "I'm Jonathan Kent, Locke's brother."
"And this is my wife, Martha Kent."
"Pleasure to meet you both. I'm Lionel Luthor," he replied.
"Oh, no, the pleasure's ours, Mr. Luthor," Jonathan said.
"Nonsense, the pleasure's mine, Mr. Kent."
"Well, I—"
The three fell into a loop of polite pleasantries until someone finally stopped.
Silence settled over the room.
They exchanged awkward glances.
"Hiss!"
Jonathan sucked in a breath as Martha pinched him from behind, whispering, "Don't just stand there—get the man some coffee!"
"Haha, my bad!" Jonathan chuckled sheepishly, heading to the kitchen.
"I'll grab you a blueberry pie, Mr. Luthor," Martha said kindly. "You and Locke catch up."
The living room was left to the two men.
Lionel let out a soft laugh. "Your family…"
"They're something else."
"They're great," Locke agreed, nodding, then asked curiously, "So, how'd you—"
"I ran into Dio at the crossroads," Lionel said, adjusting his glasses and gesturing to the empty space beside him. "Where do you think my son went?"
Locke realized he hadn't seen the little bald kid.
"Dio and Clark? I didn't want to bother the kids on their break," Lionel sighed. "But when Lex heard about Dio's school bus incident, he insisted on coming to check on him…"
"You know how Lex has a hard time getting out since that last incident. When he shows interest in something, I can't say no."
"No need to explain, Lionel," Locke said with a grin. "You're welcome here anytime."
Who'd have thought Dio and Luthor's friendship ran so deep?
Locke thought proudly: That's my boy, Dio—
But his pride lasted about two seconds before his expression turned weird.
Wait a minute.
Is this Clark and Lex's historic first meeting happening outside right now?
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Will they start throwing punches?
Can the little bald kid handle a couple of hits?
Oblivious to Locke's odd look, Lionel gazed out at the golden wheat fields.
"Mr. Locke," he said suddenly, "I noticed you don't seem too thrilled about this tax reform."