Then silence.
Marvin pointed.
“Thirty-two hundred here. Looking for thirty-five.”
The bidder who had been competing shook his head.
Marvin scanned the crowd.
“Thirty-two hundred once.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Samuel looked at her.
Three thousand two hundred dollars.
After commission and fees, less.
Enough to slow one problem.
Not solve it.
Marvin lifted his hand.
“Going twice.”
Samuel raised bidder number 219.
Marvin caught it immediately.
“Thirty-five hundred in the back.”
People turned.
Clara opened her eyes.
The previous bidder reconsidered.
“Thirty-seven.”
Samuel lifted his card.
“Four thousand.”
A murmur moved through the crowd.
Marvin smiled.
“Four thousand. Now we're awake.”
The other buyer looked over his shoulder at Samuel.
He was a machinery dealer named Randy Price.
Randy knew the tractor was approaching the upper end of what he could resell profitably.
Still, auction instinct pushed him one more time.
“Forty-two.”
Marvin pointed.
“Forty-two hundred.”
Samuel raised the card.
“Five thousand.”
That changed the room.
The dealer laughed and lowered his number.
Someone behind Samuel muttered:
“He must know something.”
Another voice:
“He knows how to lose money.”
Marvin looked around.
“Five thousand once.”
Clara stared directly at Samuel now.
“Five thousand twice.”
She suddenly stepped forward.
“Sir.”
Marvin paused instinctively.
Samuel looked at Clara.
She came closer.
“You don't need to pay that much.”
Several people smiled.
A seller talking down her own auction price was not common.
Samuel said:
“I know.”
Clara frowned.
“Then why are you?”
Samuel almost answered.
Marvin called:
“Sold! Five thousand dollars to bidder 219.”
The hammer struck the podium.
Applause came from a few people who simply enjoyed unusual bidding.
Clara looked confused.
Randy Price shook his head.
“Old man, you just paid five grand for a tractor worth maybe twenty-eight hundred on a generous day.”
Samuel ignored him.
He walked toward Clara.
The tractor idled beside them.
“Does it still work?”
Samuel asked.
Clara looked offended.
“Yes.”
“I mean really work.”
“Yes.”
“Starts in winter?”
“If the battery's good.”
“Three-point?”
“Good.”
“PTO?”
“Good.”
“Transmission?”
“Second gear complains if you're rough.”
Samuel smiled.
“So it still works.”
“Yes.”
“Then I bought a working tractor.”
“You bought an old tractor for too much money.”
“That happens.”
Clara looked at him suspiciously.
“You aren't a dealer.”
“No.”
“You need a tractor?”
“Not particularly.”
That confused her even more.
Samuel looked at the hood.
The small scratch was still there.
Exactly where he remembered it.
He reached toward it but stopped before touching.
Then asked:
“How much do you still owe the bank?”
Clara’s entire expression changed.
“Excuse me?”