Grant took it between two fingers.
Then held it up for everyone to see.
“Ladies and gentlemen, behold the financial genius of Samuel Walker!”
The four farmers laughed.
Sam didn't.
He walked toward the tractor and placed one hand against its rusted hood.
For several seconds, he simply stood there.
Then he whispered something Grant couldn't hear.
“I'm here, Dad.”
A breeze moved through the dry grass.
Sam reached toward a narrow section of metal beneath the engine's left side.
He brushed away the dirt.
There, almost hidden by corrosion, was a small brass plate held in place by four old fasteners.
The plate carried three letters.
E. V. S.
Sam stared.
His father had mentioned those letters.
He remembered them because he'd never understood why they mattered.
Behind him, Grant was still laughing.
“Hey, Sam! You planning to repair that thing with your bare hands?”
The old farmer didn't answer.
Instead, he reached into the pocket of his overalls and removed a small wrench.
Grant leaned forward.
“What are you doing?”
Sam carefully tested the first fastener.
It turned.
Then the second.
By the time he loosened the fourth, the laughter had begun fading.
Grant stepped down from the platform.
“Leave that alone.”
Sam looked up.
The auctioneer's expression had changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Sam removed the brass plate.
Behind it was a narrow compartment separated from the engine's mechanical components.
Inside lay a dark steel box wrapped in deteriorated oilcloth.
The box was small enough to fit beneath the tractor's side cover, but heavy enough that Sam had to use both hands to lift it.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Earl Benton laughed nervously.
“Well, I'll be damned. He found a toolbox.”
Sam placed it on the tractor's old running board.
A faint engraving crossed the lid.
E. V. — 1924.
Grant stopped walking.
His face went pale.
Sam looked toward him.
“You know what this is?”
The auctioneer didn't answer.
His eyes remained fixed on the engraving.
Then he whispered, “Where did you get that?”
Sam frowned.
“Inside the tractor I just bought.”
Grant took another step forward.
“You need to give that to me.”
The old farmer straightened.
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to my family.”
Sam looked toward the auction receipt in his pocket.
“You just sold me the tractor.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“I sold you the machine. Not anything concealed inside it.”