Fickle Kansas was at her bright-green best. From boundary to boundary winter wheat stretched like an unending bluegrass lawn. In the fields fat cattle grazed, their square beefsteak buttocks glistening in the sun. Farmers had almost forgotten the days when prosperity meant breaking even. Now they drove recent automobiles through land that was moist three feet down.
The western Kansas farmer could remember when dust blew in the front keyhole faster than his wife could sweep it out the back door, when he was down to his last milk cow, and there were no crops in the fields. Now Kansas...
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