The Final Hearing Left My Breeder Rights In My Own Name

Sabine's offer assigned a price of $75,000 to my entire breeder interest.

She described it as generous because the project still needed business skill.

Mara set that page beside the royalty report for 2025.

That year's payments alone had been $228,000.

"We can get a valuation if you want a sale," she said.

"I don't want a sale. I want separate payments and no more borrowed signatures."

"Then that's our position. The court will still need to approve a fair overall division."

There was no hidden deed making Prairie Lantern mine alone. My protection was the agreement I had helped write. It gave me a share, a voice, and a door to the records that Sabine could not lock.

Those were enough if I used them.

Before the hearing, the civil settlement took shape. The disputed assignment would be set aside by consent. Leon and Sandglass would acknowledge that it lacked my approval. The agreement included the repayment terms and consequences for failing them.

Leon deposited his $86,000 into the agreed trust account. His lawyer provided the security papers for the last $40,000. Mara checked them before she let me sign.

North Coulee paid for the audit separately and accepted the $18,000 legal reimbursement. New reports would go straight to each breeder. Each would receive half the royalties in an account held in that person's own name.

Payment instructions affecting one person's interest would require that person's verified approval. Any assignment would still require both breeders' written consent under the original agreement.

Anika would manage the records. A second staff member would check changes.

"Memory is useful," she told me. "A control should work even when I am on vacation."

At the April hearing, the courthouse steps were clear. Dirty snow rested in the shaded corners of the parking lot.

Sabine wore navy. I wore the suit I had bought for our daughter's graduation years before. Our daughter lived in Oregon now. I had told her we were separating and that she did not have to take a side.

She had called every Sunday since then.

That was all I had asked of her.

Most of the property terms had been worked out. We would sell the house and divide the net proceeds equally. Our retirement accounts and ordinary debts were listed on schedules both lawyers had reviewed.

The remaining fight concerned Sabine's request to take control of Prairie Lantern.

"We cannot keep working together," she told the judge.

"We don't need to," I said when it was my turn. "The licensee grows and sells the seed. We need reports and separate payments."

Her lawyer asked whether I had handled sales.

"No. North Coulee handled sales."

"Would you know how to replace that company?"

"I would hire advice and read the agreement before I signed it."

Someone behind me shifted in a seat. I kept my eyes on the judge.

Mara presented the agreed reporting terms and the records of my work. She did not argue that Sabine's work had no value. She argued that her work did not give her the right to force mine out at a price she had chosen.

The judge approved leaving our breeder interests in our separate names under the revised payment terms. Neither could direct the other's money. The division of the rest of the property, including the traced royalty funds, was approved as set out in the schedules.

There were still signatures to finish and a final decree to enter. But nobody had given my name away.

In the hall, Sabine stopped near a window.

"You let me do everything," she said.

"I let you handle the bills. I kept the seed records. I helped pay for this house. I stayed when you said the variety failed."

"You should have known I was unhappy."

"I knew you were unhappy. I didn't know you were charging me for it."

Her mouth opened, then closed.

I had carried that answer for months. Saying it did not make me taller. It made the folder in my hand feel like paper again.

Mara and I checked the last payment date before I left. Leon's remaining $40,000 was due in three weeks. No final release would take effect until the trust account held the full amount.

I went back to work the next day.

In the warm room, a fresh tray had reached its final count. I marked the normal seedlings, the weak ones, and the seeds that had never opened.

At noon, my phone rang.

It was Leon's lawyer. The property closing had finished, and the last wire had been sent.