"Alternator finally gave out," Arthur said conversationally, as if
they were old friends.
Jake stopped a respectful distance away. "Mr. Pendelton."
"Arthur is fine, son."
Jake took a deep breath. "I canceled my fights. I realized that
everything I knew about fighting was wrong. I was fighting out of
anger and ego. You fought with peace and discipline."
Arthur leaned against the massive tire of his tractor, listening
silently.
"I came back here to ask you... to beg you," Jake said, his voice
earnest. "Teach me. Teach me how to move like you do. Teach me
the discipline behind it."
Arthur studied the young man for a long time. The arrogance
that had clouded Jake's eyes months ago had burned away, replaced
by a raw, humbling hunger for genuine knowledge.
"I don't teach martial arts, Jake," Arthur said finally. "I don't
teach people how to hurt others."
Jake's shoulders slumped. "I understand."
"However," Arthur continued, tossing the greasy rag onto the
toolbox. "I am getting older, and this farm is getting harder to run by
myself. I could use a strong back to help with the harvest. It’s hard
work. Long hours. No pay, just room and board."
Jake looked up, confusion giving way to a sudden, profound
understanding. He wasn't being turned away; he was being offered a
different kind of training.
"I'd be honored to help you, Arthur," Jake said, standing a little