“Same thing.”
“No.”
The nephew shifted.
“Okay.”
He opened the folder.
“This is exactly why I came.”
Developer paperwork.
The old farmer did not touch it.
The nephew continued:
“They increased again.”
“How kind.”
“Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Treating every option you don’t like as an insult.”
The old farmer remained quiet.
The nephew pointed toward the machine shed visible through the window.
“You can’t plant with a dead tractor.”
“I have neighbors.”
“They have their own crops.”
“I know.”
“Your new tractor is still waiting on parts.”
“I know.”
“The bank review is coming.”
“I know.”
The nephew leaned closer.
“Then what exactly are we arguing about?”
The old farmer looked at his brother’s son.
A boy he had taught to drive.
A teenager he had helped after his father died.
A man who had sat beside him through hospital waiting rooms when the farmer’s wife was sick.
He wanted desperately for his suspicion to be wrong.
“Did you move the red tractor Tuesday?”
The nephew blinked.
“What?”
“Tuesday.”
“You said it was blocking the sprayer.”
“Did you move it?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“From the east shed to the machine shed.”
“Anyone help?”
“No.”
“Any trouble?”
“No.”
The nephew frowned.
“What is this?”
“Question.”
“You think I broke it?”
“I asked if it gave trouble.”
“No.”
“Started normal?”
“Yes.”
“Stopped normal?”
“Yes.”
The old farmer nodded.
The nephew stared.
“You’re interrogating me over a seventy-year-old tractor?”
“No.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to understand when it stopped working.”
The nephew pushed his chair back.
“You know when.”
“The next morning.”
“Exactly.”
He stood.
“This is insane.”
The farmer looked toward the folder.
“Leave that.”
The nephew stopped.
“The offer?”
“Yes.”
Hope flashed across his face.
The farmer hated seeing it.
“I’ll read it.”
The nephew slowly sat the folder down.
“You’re finally considering it?”
“I said I’d read it.”
“That’s enough.”
The old farmer looked at him.
“For what?”
The nephew smiled faintly.
“To start.”
Then he left.
The daughter stepped into the kitchen after the truck disappeared.
“He’s lying.”
The farmer stared at the closed door.
“About what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we don’t know.”
She slammed one hand onto the table.
“How much do you need?”
“For what?”
“To believe what your gut already knows.”
He looked at her.
“Enough that I never have to wonder later whether I ruined your cousin’s life because I was angry.”
She sat.
That answer defeated her.
For now.
5
The young mechanic called the next morning.
The old farmer answered from the barn.
“You busy?”
“Yes.”
“Can I show you something?”
The farmer paused.
“About the tractor?”
“Yes.”
“Come here.”
“I’m at the shop.”
“Then send it.”
“I think you should see it.”
The farmer heard nervousness.
“Twenty minutes.”