Calvin said sharply:
“This has gone far enough.”
He started walking again.
A farmer named Travis Cole stood and blocked the aisle unintentionally—or perhaps intentionally.
Calvin stopped.
Travis smiled.
“Door’s the other way too.”
The barn erupted in low conversation.
May heard fragments.
“Samuel Cutler…”
“Prototype…”
“Rusk…”
“Why scrap?”
“Could be worth…”
Worth.
May looked at the tractor.
Until then she had not let herself think about money beyond eighty-six dollars.
Samuel’s notes had suggested experimental value.
Henry’s reaction confirmed it.
But rare did not automatically mean valuable.
Some prototypes were important historically and worth less than restored common models.
Some were priceless to collectors.
Others were impossible to prove.
She looked toward Henry.
“How much?”
He understood.
“If authentic?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“That depends on factory records and provenance.”
“Roughly.”
Henry glanced toward Calvin.
Then back.
“Could be fifty thousand.”
Gasps.
He continued.
“Could be a hundred.”
More noise.
“Could be more if this was one of the documented pre-production field evaluation tractors everyone thinks disappeared.”
May felt dizzy.
Seventy-five dollars.
She looked at her cloth purse.
Then at Vernon.
His face had gone pale.
Calvin suddenly pushed past Travis.
Not violently.
Enough.
Travis turned.
“Hey.”
Calvin headed for the exit.
May shouted:
“Why did my father say not to let you buy it?”
Calvin stopped near the barn door.
He did not turn.
For several seconds, only dust moved through the sunlight.
Then Calvin said:
“Because your father blamed me for things that weren't my fault.”
May’s heartbeat changed.
“What things?”
He turned slowly.
The arrogance was gone.
Something heavier remained.
“Ask Vernon.”
Every head moved toward the podium.
Vernon’s mouth opened.
Calvin walked out.
No one stopped him.
May looked at Vernon.
“What did he mean?”
Vernon slammed the microphone onto the podium.
“This auction is suspended for fifteen minutes.”
The room exploded.
Farmers stood.
People moved toward the tractor.
Henry immediately raised both hands.
“Don't touch it.”
May stayed beside the serial plate.
Vernon disappeared through the office door behind the platform.
She started after him.
Henry caught her sleeve gently.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if something is wrong here, stop giving people chances to move paper around before somebody official sees it.”
May stared.
“What do I do?”
Henry pulled out his phone.