Eli returned to the tractor he was repairing.
Two minutes later Mark asked:
"So whenever something doesn't fit, you investigate?"
Eli laughed.
"No."
"You'd never get anything done."
"Then how do you know when?"
Eli considered.
"You don't."
"That's the difficult part."
Years passed.
The Harland Feed property changed owners several times.
Part became storage.
Part became a trucking yard.
The original machine building was eventually demolished.
The shared spring remained.
The farms changed too.
Some became larger.
One became a housing development.
One stopped farming but preserved the watercourse under the easement.
Calvin Rusk expanded his business.
He eventually controlled more than eight thousand acres.
He and Eli never became friends.
But they became something close to respectful adversaries.
Calvin occasionally needed machinery repaired.
The first time he brought a tractor to Eli's shop, Eli stared at him.
Calvin said:
"Don't make this uncomfortable."
Eli smiled.
"What happened?"
"Hydraulics."
"That's unfortunate."
"You going to fix it or tell me about a forty-dollar safe?"
"Depends how much you complain about the bill."
Calvin laughed.
Years mellowed both of them.
Near retirement, Calvin admitted something Eli had always suspected.
"I knew the spring mattered."
They were standing near Eli's shop.
Eli waited.
Calvin continued.
"I didn't know about the old agreement."
"But I knew controlling the land around the source would give me leverage."
"That's why you wanted our farm?"
"Partly."
Eli nodded.
"Would you have blocked the water?"
Calvin thought.
"Probably not."
"Probably?"
"I would've charged for maintenance."
Eli laughed.
"There it is."
Calvin smiled.
"I was a businessman."
"You were greedy."
"Both can be true."
They stood quietly.
Then Calvin said:
"You know what bothered me most?"
"What?"
"I saw that safe before you did."
Eli looked at him.
"Did you?"
"Walked past it twice."
"I noticed the cut."
"But I had already decided it was junk."
Calvin shook his head.
"That stayed with me."
Eli smiled.
"Good."
"Don't enjoy it too much."
"I will."
By then, Ellis had been gone for years.
Eli missed him most when something mechanical refused to explain itself.
He could still hear the old man's voice:
Don't tell me what you think happened.
Show me what the metal says.
Margaret lived long enough to see Eli's own children become adults.
The Mercer farm remained in the family.
Not unchanged.
No farm stays unchanged.
More pasture became hay ground.
The old dairy shed disappeared.
A newer machine building replaced the barn.
But the sixty acres remained.
So did the creek.
So did the water channel.
Eli eventually mounted a copy of the 1928 survey in his office.
The original stayed in archival storage at the county historical society.
Henry Whitaker's duplicate went there too.
The brass survey plate remained with the county.
The iron marker Eli found stayed in his shop.
On the wall beside it hung the auction receipt.
Forty dollars.
Visitors always asked.
Eli never tired of telling the story, though he shortened it as he grew older.
By the 1990s, school groups occasionally visited his shop during agricultural history events.
Children preferred treasure stories.
Eli disappointed them.
"No gold?"
One boy asked.
"No."
"Money?"
"No."
"Diamonds?"
"Nothing like that."