The boy followed the case closely for approximately three weeks.
Then he became bored.
That surprised adults.
They expected him to remain obsessed with the man who had tried to steal his father’s tractor.
Instead he had fencing to repair.
Calves to feed.
A tractor to restore.
And sixth-grade math to finish.
His mother refused to let a court case become his childhood.
“You’re still going to school.”
she told him.
“But the fuel pump—”
“School.”
“I can fix it Saturday.”
“Exactly.”
He glared.
She smiled.
“You thought buying a tractor made you forty?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I thought maybe thirteen.”
“Not until your birthday.”
The old mechanic began visiting their farm every Saturday.
At first he said he was only helping because the tractor needed attention.
Nobody believed him after the third month.
The boy called him Mr. Harris.
The mechanic eventually said:
“You can call me Frank.”
The boy refused.
His father had called him Mr. Harris.
So Mr. Harris he remained.
They replaced the ruined tire with a used one from a salvage yard.
Rebuilt the seat.
Flushed the cooling system.
Changed every filter.
Straightened the battery tray.
Repaired wiring.
The boy wanted to repaint the entire tractor.
Mr. Harris stopped him.
“Why?”
The boy asked.
“Paint doesn’t make it work.”
“I know.”
“Then use it first.”
“But it looks terrible.”
Mr. Harris pointed toward the scratches.
“Those yours?”
One on the fender.
The boy nodded.
“I ran Dad’s socket set into it.”
“That weld?”
“My dad.”
“And that dent?”
The boy smiled.
“Dad backed into the grain wagon.”
“Then why erase all of it?”
The boy looked at the tractor differently.
They repainted only the parts that needed rust protection.
The old scars stayed.
When spring planting came, the mother had assumed they would hire a neighbor.
They could not cover all eighty-three remaining acres alone.
Not with one aging tractor and a twelve-year-old.
Three days before planting, six trucks pulled into the driveway.
Neighbors.
Some had attended the auction.
One was the man who called the tractor a boat anchor.
He climbed down awkwardly.
The boy recognized him.
The man removed his cap.
“I laughed.”
The boy said nothing.
The farmer looked at the tractor.
“I shouldn’t have.”
The boy still said nothing.
The man nodded toward the field.
“I brought a drill.”