Dale’s face tightened.
“I said people were sensationalizing.”
“Then why twenty-five?”
“I collect.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you dealt tractors.”
“Also tools.”
Ellen shook her head.
“No.”
Dale looked toward Noah.
“Forty.”
Noah's heart jumped despite himself.
Ellen did not.
“No.”
“Fifty.”
No response.
Dale stepped closer.
“Cashier’s check today.”
Ellen smiled faintly.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Museum appraiser said forty-five to seventy.”
“You came straight to fifty.”
“Means you believe her.”
Dale looked at Noah.
“Your mom always like this?”
Noah smiled.
“Usually worse.”
Dale glared.
“Sixty.”
Noah felt dizzy.
Sixty thousand.
Not theoretical appraisal.
Real offer.
Today.
Ellen asked:
“Why do you want it?”
“Because I do.”
“Not enough.”
“It’s rare.”
“What did you know before sale?”
Dale's expression hardened.
“Nothing.”
“You covered stamp.”
“That's accusation.”
“We have video.”
Dale stared.
Ellen continued:
“You rubbed grease directly over maker mark at 7:18.”
“I touched it.”
“With a dirty rag.”
“I was checking rust.”
“Then you told everyone it was scrap.”
“I thought it was.”
“And planned to buy unsold scrap lots.”
Dale looked toward Noah.
“You going to let her talk for you?”
Noah stepped forward.
“Yes.”
That made Silas laugh from inside shop.
Dale's face flushed.
“Seventy-five.”
Silence.
Ellen looked at Noah.
Now she did not answer.
Noah felt suddenly sick.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
More than appraisal midpoint.
He thought about farm.
Debt.
Heater.
Truck.
Roof.
College.
His own blacksmith shop.
He could buy every tool he wanted.
Dale saw hesitation.
“Today.”
Noah looked toward the anvil.
Then Dale.
“Why?”
“Investment.”
“You knew before.”
“No.”
Noah nodded toward road.
“Then invest somewhere else.”
Dale stared.
“You are turning down seventy-five thousand dollars?”
“Today.”
“You're a child.”
Ellen stepped forward.
“That conversation is over.”
Dale looked at her.
Then Noah.
“You’ll regret it.”
Noah’s fear turned to anger.
“Maybe.”
Dale left.
His truck sprayed gravel.
Silas came outside.
“Seventy-five.”
Noah nodded.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Noah looked at him.
“Why good?”
“Because only idiots feel calm turning down seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“What if he was right?”
“About regretting?”
“Yes.”
Silas looked toward anvil.