“Do ordinary tractors have one there?”
“Some did. Others were added later.”
May opened her grandfather's notebook.
She found a sketch of the tractor's rear platform.
The compartment appeared in the drawing.
Beside it were two handwritten words.
Trial records.
Her heart began pounding.
She looked toward her father.
He read the note.
Then he studied the box.
“We should photograph it before opening it.”
May nodded immediately.
Her father documented the latch and surrounding metal.
Then, after checking that the compartment could be opened without damaging important parts, he carefully released the corroded latch using appropriate tools.
The lid moved with a dry metallic scrape.
Inside was a small rectangular tin wrapped in oilcloth.
May stared.
Her father did not touch it immediately.
He took another photograph.
Then he carefully lifted the tin onto a clean workbench.
Its exterior was stained but largely intact.
A narrow strip of faded cloth had been tied around it.
May leaned closer.
“Can we open it?”
Her father examined the condition of the container.
“We should ask the collector first.”
May looked disappointed.
He smiled.
“I know. But if those are original records, we don't want to damage them.”
She nodded.
He called the elderly collector.
The old man answered immediately.
When May's father described the tin, the collector became excited.
“Don't force anything. Keep it dry and stable. I'll come tomorrow with someone who knows how to handle old documents.”
May stared at her father.
Tomorrow felt impossibly far away.
That evening, she ate dinner faster than usual.
She barely listened when her mother asked about school.
Her thoughts remained fixed on the tin.
After dinner, she returned to the workshop and sat beside it.
She did not open it.
She simply looked at the faded cloth and wondered what her grandfather might have placed inside.
Her father found her there.
He sat beside her.
“Can't stop thinking about it?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
He smiled.
“Neither can I.”
They sat quietly.
Then May asked something that had been troubling her since the auction.
“Dad, what if Grandpa knew where the tractor was all along?”
Her father considered the question.
“He might have.”