“I’m not.”
“You are.”
The farmer stood.
“I’m protecting us.”
“From what?”
“Becoming the kind of people who only need half a story once we dislike somebody.”
His daughter looked away.
The farmer softened.
“Your cousin may have done exactly what we think.”
“Then let evidence prove it.”
“That way, when this family breaks, we know who swung the hammer.”
She wiped her eyes angrily.
“I hate when you talk like Grandpa.”
“So did I.”
They sat again.
The daughter looked toward the wedge.
“What next?”
“Trap.”
She stared.
“What happened to evidence?”
“Evidence likes company.”
8
The old farmer called his nephew before supper.
“The tractor’s back.”
Pause.
“Back from shop?”
“Yes.”
“What’d they do?”
“Nothing.”
Another pause.
“So it’s still locked?”
“Worse.”
The farmer disliked lying.
He chose words carefully.
“They said it isn’t worth what repair costs.”
Technically the senior mechanic had said that.
The nephew exhaled.
“I’m sorry.”
The sympathy sounded real.
That hurt.
The farmer continued:
“I’m going to leave it in the machine shed.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll sign developer papers tomorrow.”
Silence.
Too much silence.
Then:
“You mean it?”
“I’m tired.”
The farmer closed his eyes as he said it.
That part was true.
The nephew’s voice softened.
“This is the right decision.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll call them.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I want to read everything first.”
“Of course.”
“Come tomorrow morning.”
“I will.”
The farmer ended the call.
His daughter stared.
“You sounded convincing.”
“I am tired.”
She looked away.
The farmer called the young mechanic.
“You still want to help?”
“Yes.”
“Bring two trail cameras.”
The mechanic arrived after dark.
They placed one inside the machine shed above a beam.
Another outside facing the side door.
The daughter added a third near the tool bench.
No cloud system.
No fancy installation.
Memory cards.
Motion activation.
Old-fashioned enough to be reliable.
The red tractor sat in the center of the shed.
The old farmer reinserted the damaged inspection plate loosely.
He did not put the steel wedge back.
Instead, he disconnected the battery and left the tractor appearing untouched.
The young mechanic looked toward him.
“What if nobody comes?”
“Then I wasted your evening.”
“What if somebody does?”
“Then we learn something.”
The daughter said:
“And if it’s my cousin?”
The farmer looked at her.
“We learn something harder.”
They left the shed.
From the farmhouse they could not see the side entrance.
That was intentional.
At 11:18 p.m., the first camera triggered.
Nobody knew until morning.
At 11:26, the second triggered.
At 11:31, the third.
The old farmer slept four hours.
At sunrise, he carried coffee to the kitchen.
His daughter was already there holding a memory card.
She looked sick.
“You watched?”
“Yes.”
He sat.
“Who?”
She did not answer.