Marcus noticed.
"Doing homework?"
"Something like that."
"What're you figuring?"
"Where the logs came from."
His smile did not disappear, but it became more careful. "River."
"Which part?"
"Water moves things, kid. Doesn't leave shipping labels."
Norah glanced at the mark. "Sometimes people do."
Marcus followed her eyes.
For the first time, he did not look amused.
"Those old scars don't mean much," he said. "Could be anything."
"Then why do you keep looking at them?"
Eli cleared his throat. "Norah."
Marcus laughed once. "She's got your manners."
"No," Eli said. "Mine are worse."
Marcus shifted the subject. "Tell you what. I was thinking yesterday. It isn't fair to ask you to pay to get rid of this. I might be able to salvage some rough stock. I'll take the whole pile and give you five hundred dollars."
Eli looked at him.
Norah felt something tighten in her chest.
Yesterday the logs were a liability.
Today they were worth five hundred dollars.
"That's generous," Eli said.
Marcus spread his hands. "We're neighbors."
"We're twelve miles apart."
"That still counts out here."
Eli smiled. "We'll think about it."
Marcus's face stayed pleasant, but disappointment passed through it quickly.
"Don't think too long. Once wood starts drying uneven after being waterlogged, checking can ruin it."
"Thought it was rotten."
Marcus looked at Norah.
She had not intended to say it aloud.
"Some might be," he replied. "Some might not. That's the risk."
"Your risk?"
"If I buy it."
Norah nodded slowly.
Marcus left less cheerful than he arrived.
After lunch Eli leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
"Five hundred would buy a lot of fence wire."
Norah knew what he was really saying.
The farm was not rich before the flood.
Eli's sixty acres supported cattle, a little hay, and enough seasonal work to keep him independent if nothing serious broke. The flood had made several serious things break at once. A quarter mile of fence needed repair. The tractor transmission had begun slipping during cleanup. One section of the access lane had washed out so badly that the feed truck could not use it until they rebuilt the base.
Five hundred dollars mattered.
"If we sell and they're worth nothing, we're smart," Norah said.
"Yep."
"If we sell and they're worth a lot, we won't get them back."
"Nope."
"Can we wait until after the library?"
Eli stared out the window toward the pasture.