Mrs. Diane Nesbeth.

1st of June, 17XX

The Nesbeth Farm was a fair ways on the outskirts of the commune, and it had taken me most of the afternoon to make the trek over. I had been advised to take a carriage or horse there, but I had preferred to travel on foot, for the silence and capacity for thought.

The farm was owned by Mrs. Diane Nesbeth and she was a striking woman, with golden hair, darkened skin from years of labor in the sun and perhaps just a year or two shy of her middling years, but that could be from the nature of her profession. She ran the farm with three men, Anthony, Ian and Roland. I had managed to convince her to leave her current duties for the span of an hour for us to converse and for me to conduct my interview. "And what is it that you grow here, Mrs. Nesbeth?"

"Wheat and Corn primarily," she replied, taking a big noisy gulp of her water. "A few other crops as are needed, but I do my fair share of gardening as well. The Begonias have come in quite nicely this year."

"I had noticed that garden. It is very nice," I said, picking up the nerve to say my true intentions. "And the men you work with, how long have you known them for?"

Her eyebrow raised at me. "Well, I've known Anthony about six years now. Ian, about four and Roland, since last Spring."

"And they're all... adequate in their duties?"

"And which duties do you mean, Mr. Mckay? Do you mean their duties on the farm, or their duties as my Husband?"

I cleared my throat loudly. "Yes, about that. Could you please clarify, which of them is your Husband exactly?"

Her smirk was akin to that of a cat playing with it's prey. "Why Mr. McKay, they all are."