Moving the safe into the barn took the rest of the afternoon.
The farm had no forklift.
Their overhead chain hoist was designed for tractor engines, not industrial safes.
Ellis refused to take chances.
They built a path using short steel rollers and heavy wooden blocks.
The safe moved inches at a time.
Raise.
Roll.
Lower.
Reset.
Repeat.
By evening, Eli's shoulders burned.
His palms were red.
Sweat soaked his shirt.
But the safe finally sat on the concrete floor near the workbench.
Ellis stood beside it.
“Still worth forty?”
Eli leaned against the wall.
“Ask me after we open it.”
They ate supper.
Eli's grandmother, Mae, looked at the rust covering both their clothes.
“What did you buy?”
Ellis answered, “Trouble.”
Eli said, “A safe.”
Mae stared.
“With what money?”
“Mine.”
“How much?”
“Forty.”
She looked at Ellis.
“You let him?”
“It was educational.”
“What has he learned?”
Ellis took a bite of potatoes.