In this closely contested US election, vice presidential candidates JD Vance and Tim Walz were chosen to appeal to Midwestern and rural voters who may be hesitant about Donald Trump or Kamala Harris. In Nebraska, such voters could prove crucial due to an election conspiracy.

As an experienced breeder, Wade Bennett can tell you the exact pedigree of each of the 140 Charolais cattle he raises on a small farm on the edge of Nebraska's rolling Sandhills.

Although he is a staunch Republican, he is not so sure of the ancestry of the man once again fighting for his vote.

Donald Trump, he says, would likely be “kicked off” his ticket if other conservative options were available.

Nebraska is one of the least populated states and, like much of rural America, is not only deeply Republican but also deeply Christian. And some here, like Wade, are uncomfortable with what they see as Donald Trump's personal, moral failings.

But with Kamala Harris and a few minor party candidates the only other options this November, Wade is putting his scruples aside.

“Even as a Christian,” he tells me. “It is what it is.”

He's focused not on Trump's character but on his policies — and he likes the promises he hears about cracking down on illegal immigration, lowering the cost of living and imposing more tariffs on trade.

But even his slight hesitation is enough to give Democrats hope.

The rightward drift of rural America over the last 25 years has been remarkable.

According to the Pew Research Center, Republicans had a six-point lead over Democrats among registered rural voters in 2000.

But by 2024 they had built a gigantic 25-point lead.

Although only a fifth of Americans live outside major cities, the strength of their devotion to Donald Trump was key to his victory against Hillary Clinton in 2016.

But for Democrats, the rural vote is still worth fighting for, especially where even small gains in already tight states could make the difference.

So it's no coincidence that both Kamala Harris and Donald Trump now have running mate's whose white rural roots are used as an argument for who is best suited to speak on behalf of this country's great Midwest.

Vice presidential candidates don't typically have much influence on how people vote, but when Tim Walz and JD Vance face off in a prime-time television debate Tuesday night, they'll be hoping their different backstories and visions will resonate with voters still unsure of Harris . a California Democrat and Trump, a New York real estate developer.

Walz, the current governor of Minnesota, was born in small-town Nebraska and has credited much of his background to working as a rancher and building fences.

His time as a teacher and football coach before politics and his subsequent career in Minnesota, where he provided tax breaks for families and free school meals, are exactly the things Democrats hope will resonate with struggling rural voters.

Ohio Senator Vance, on the other hand, is a man who has also made much of his rural roots, although with a much less optimistic outlook.

Vance rose to national fame with his best-selling novel, “Hillbilly Elegy,” which tells the story of his family's origins in eastern Kentucky, their struggle with poverty, his mother's battle with addiction, and the unemployment and squalor of Middletown, Ohio, where he grew up, says.

While Tim Walz has emphasized individual freedom and what unites Americans, Vance focuses on a “ruling class” that he says has failed working families in small communities across the country.

In writings and interviews, he has emphasized the need for individual responsibility rather than care – although he does not support austerity programs such as Social Security. And he reiterates Trump's vision of protecting American jobs and workers through tariffs and border walls.

I meet 42-year-old Shana Callahan, catfishing under the setting sun at Two Rivers Recreation Area, just outside the city of Omaha. Here too, the cost of living does not play a role.

“Everything costs more, everything sucks,” she says.

“I drive an F-150 and when Trump was in office I paid about $55 for a tank of gas. Right now it’s somewhere between 85 and 109, and the cost of food and everything else has just gone through the roof.”

There were structural reasons for the weak oil market during some of Trump's term as president, not least the Covid crisis, and prices had already begun to rise sharply before he left office. Some economists also say President Joe Biden's stimulus spending contributed to broader inflation in 2021.

But economics in US elections is a feeling, not a graphic on a page, and Shana has made up her mind.

There is nothing, she tells me, that will convince her to vote for Kamala Harris, especially Tim Walz's local backstory and his claims to represent people like her.

“For one thing, the man is an idiot,” she says. “I can't respect him. He comes on the damn stage and says, 'Oh, come on, coach'.”

However, the story of JD Vance being raised by a grandmother – whom she knows from the film adaptation of his book – due to the opioid crisis resonates deeply.

“The beginning of the film is like your family always has your back. I mean, that’s what it’s like out here.”

“I’m only 42 and I’ve already seen three friends die from fentanyl.”

Shana lives in the only small part of this vast, rural state that could have a major impact on the outcome of the November election.

In the US system, each state is allocated a certain number of votes in the so-called electoral college. Presidential candidates must reach 270 votes to win the White House.

Unlike much of the rest of America, where all Electoral College votes in each state go to the popular vote winner, things are different in Nebraska.

Three of its five votes will be decided by whoever wins three individual districts.

Nebraska is a reliably Republican state, but its second district – which is worth one vote – went to Trump in 2016, to Biden in 2020, and this time there is a scenario in which whoever wins it could win the entire election.

If Harris wins the Rust Belt swing states Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin and Trump wins the Sun Belt states Georgia, North Carolina, Arizona and Nevada, then the Second District would provide the deciding vote.

District Two is a microcosm of America, with the heavily Democratic city of Omaha, the Republican-leaning outskirts and the countryside beyond.

In their backyard in downtown Omaha, Jason Brown and Ruth Huebner-Brown spray paint giant blue dots on plain white lawn signs.

“We’re like a little swing state within a state,” Jason tells me. “It could well be, one would say, a history-changing moment. This really could be the ultimate vote that matters.”

To keep the “blue dot” blue, the Harris-Walz campaign spent significantly more than Trump-Vance and poured millions into television advertising.

Ruth tells me she thinks it has an impact on the front door.

“When you talk about Walz, he is very likeable. He's, you know, one of us. And you know, they just trust him.”

“And I think a lot of people are very tired of the division and the bitterness, and he's anything but that.”

There are many divisions in Nebraska.

Even here, deep in rural America, one can hear the baseless claims that large numbers of immigrants are improperly claiming Social Security benefits or engaging in voter fraud.

A Republican voter admits his belief in such claims is based not on fact but on what he has heard, with echoes of JD Vance's similar justification for his promotion, without evidence to back it up the claim that Haitian migrants in Ohio are eating pets.

A soybean farmer tells me that Kamala Harris is a “DEI employee”; Another says it is white people who are discriminated against in today's America.

But there are signs of groupthink on the Democratic side, too — confusion about their opponents' decisions and a willingness to view all Republican voters as motivated by the narrow politics of prejudice.

But there's something else unique about Nebraska's election system. The state legislature is nonpartisan, meaning it does not recognize the party affiliation of its elected members or organize them into formal party voting blocs.

In the city of Hastings, Michelle Smith is out and about to run for a seat in the local parliament.

She's a Democrat fighting for votes in a very red district, but, she says, the system encourages compromise.

“My own father is one of those who will vote for Donald Trump, and I understand that,” she tells me.

“I am an entrepreneur. When Donald Trump was president, I paid less taxes. Our prices were lower at the supermarket.”

How does she campaign?

“I attribute it to the local problems. I am not a national candidate. I’m a local candidate and I’m running to make things better here in Nebraska.”

Currently, Nebraska is in the national spotlight.

At the last minute, the Republican Party tried not to leave anything to chance, with several lawmakers pushing to make the state a winner-take-all system.

Barring something completely unexpected, that would mean that all of the state's Electoral College votes would go to Donald Trump.

But it failed due to resistance from some local Republican senators who refused to bow to pressure so close to an election and put what they saw as the state's interests – given the rare political influence the system offers – over that of the national partisan politics.

Even Lindsey Graham, the powerful Republican senator, flew in to meet with the objectors, but to no avail.

“It was interesting,” he is said to have said at the time in Washington. “They have a different system. Everyone is like a mini-governor.”

Whether or not Nebraska plays an outsized role in November's deeply divided contest, it could provide some sort of alternative to it.