Daniel stared.
“Why?”
The man stepped closer.
“Who sold it?”
“It’s a bankruptcy auction.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“Who listed that unit?”
Daniel felt irritation replacing curiosity.
“I don’t know.”
The old man looked back toward the crowd.
Then lowered his voice.
“That machine was never supposed to leave this property intact.”
Daniel felt cold despite the heat.
“What does that mean?”
The old man immediately seemed to regret saying it.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
He walked away.
Daniel followed two steps.
“Hey.”
The man did not stop.
Daniel watched him disappear among tractors and bidders.
For the first time that morning, the word SCRAP painted across the machine looked less like a description.
It looked like an instruction.
Getting the machine home cost almost as much emotionally as buying it.
Daniel did not own a trailer large enough.
A local hauler quoted six hundred dollars.
Impossible.
Eventually he found a farmer named Wes who lived fifteen miles from the Carter shop and had purchased a grain cart at the auction.
Wes agreed to haul Daniel’s machine for two hundred and fuel if Daniel helped chain down both loads.
Daniel accepted.
At four-thirty that afternoon, the flatbed rolled into Carter Repair & Fabrication.
Michael stepped out of the office wiping his hands.
He stared.
Then stared longer.
“What is that?”
Daniel jumped from the truck.
“Lot forty-seven.”
“That did not answer my question.”
“I’m not completely sure.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“How much?”
Daniel hesitated.
His father opened them again.
“Daniel.”
“One thousand.”
Michael stared as if his son had confessed to setting fire to the building.
“You had eight hundred.”
“I found two hundred more.”
“Where?”
“My bank account.”
Michael removed his cap.
Ran one hand over his hair.
“You bought an unidentified non-running machine with almost all your money.”
“Technically I identified the manufacturer.”
Michael looked toward the machine.
“Who?”
“Prairie Dynamics Engineering.”
His father froze.
Daniel saw it immediately.
Same reaction as the old man.
“Dad?”
Michael walked toward the flatbed.
Slowly.
He ignored the rust.
Ignored the missing panel.
Went directly to the identification plate.
He wiped it.
Read.
XP-2.
PDE-X2-0001.
Michael stepped backward.
“Where did you find this?”
“I told you.”
“Harlan auction.”
“No.”
Michael pointed at the machine.
“I mean where on the property?”
“Back field.”
“Near the tree line.”
“Why?”
His father looked almost frightened.
“Who else was there?”
“Hundreds of people.”
“Did anybody talk to you?”
Daniel thought of the old man.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Older.”
“Gray mustache.”
Michael’s expression tightened.
“What did he say?”
“That this machine was never supposed to leave the auction.”
Michael looked away.
Daniel’s curiosity turned into anger.
“You know what this is.”
His father said nothing.
“Dad.”
“Unload it.”
“That’s all?”
“We get it inside first.”
Together, they guided the machine off the trailer using the hauler’s winch.