shutting behind him and muffling the sudden
explosion of chatter that erupted from the crowd. The
night air felt cool against his sweating forehead.
He climbed into his rusted Ford, the engine coughing to life
before settling into a familiar, uneven rumble. He didn't go
home right away. He drove straight to the 24-hour auto
parts depot on the highway.
He slapped the $500 on the counter, grabbed the heavy box
containing the new alternator, and drove back out to his
farm. The house was quiet. His grandson was fast asleep in
his room. Eli went straight to the barn, the harsh yellow
light welcoming him back.
t took him two hours to install the new alternator. His
back screamed in protest, and his head still throbbed
fiercely from the punch he'd taken, but his hands moved
with practiced efficiency.
When he finally turned the key in the ignition, the massive
combine roared to life, coughing a puff of black smoke
before settling into a steady, powerful hum. He wiped his
hands on a greasy rag, a rare, genuine smile touching his