an ordinary auction sale, and asked each to confirm the terms. The engine had to start under its own power and hold a stable idle for thirty continuous seconds before noon. No bypassing safety systems, no outside power unit driving the machine, no dangerous shortcuts. The combine would transfer as-is, subject to verified clear title, while the header remained separate. Martha would be responsible for authorized parts she chose to install and all later repairs and transport.
Walter wrote the conditions beside the machine's full serial number and had Calvin and Martha initial every correction. Calvin signed with a flourish. Martha read the page, checked the deadline, and signed beneath him. Walter kept the original in his document case and gave each party a copy. June looked at the clock over the auction office: eight forty-seven. Martha had three hours and thirteen minutes. Calvin put his copy in his vest and grinned again.
"Plenty of time to embarrass yourself," he said.
Martha climbed the steel ladder without answering. From the cab she could see the audience growing along the gravel lane. Through the windshield the cornfields beyond the lot looked pale with heat. She turned the key to the instrument position and watched the lights weaken. Then she made one brief start attempt. A dry metallic click came from beneath the cab, and the engine did not move. Calvin laughed. Martha released the key and listened to the dying electrical sound.
A bad engine was one possibility. A broken path between the battery and the starter was another. The difference was everything. She opened the window, found June waiting below, and gave her the instruction that would begin their morning. "Bring the meter," she said. "We're going to find out what actually failed."
June did not run to the truck, though she wanted to. Martha had taught her that people made errors when they confused urgency with haste. She opened the service compartment, found the meter in its padded case, and returned with a flashlight, clean rags, and the notebook. The crowd had begun to settle around them, some expecting a quick defeat, others quietly interested in the novelty of a woman taking the challenge seriously. An auction employee placed a temporary barrier along the lane so nobody stepped into the work area without noticing. Martha thanked him. Calvin called the precaution unnecessary, and Walter reminded him that safety was one of the written conditions.
Martha shut the ignition down completely and examined the accessible battery cables. The terminals were dull with age, but neither told the whole story. She had June record a battery reading before and during a brief controlled test. The numbers were respectable in one place and troubling in another. When she checked the voltage drop across the return path, the discrepancy sharpened. A battery can hold a charge while a corroded connection refuses to carry enough current to a loaded starter. Machines do not distinguish between a neglected cable and an expensive engine failure when they decide not to turn.
"What are we testing?" June asked quietly.
"Whether the electricity can make the whole trip and get home again," Martha answered. "The starter needs a complete circuit. A meter reading at the battery doesn't prove it has one."