Chapter 2

I knew exactly what was going on. Toby Finch was sore that I hadn't jumped his machine to the front, and Geoffrey Miles thought my rates were highway robbery.

Two of a kind.

So I just laid it out flat. "You want a rush job, fine. I've got three conditions. First, I don't work on machines with parts you bring me yourself."

I'd eaten the cost of a brand-new engine once, all because a customer insisted on supplying his own head gasket.

"Second, don't push me on the pace. Yeah, I'm slow on a harvester, but that's so you're not broken down in the middle of your field later."

"Third, labor's the same as what I charge in Sunnyvale. Eighty dollars an hour."

The second those three conditions were out of my mouth, the whole yard blew up.

"What? Bell, that's daylight robbery."

Miles's fat face went dark as a skillet bottom. "You always used to charge fifty. Now it's eighty? You're just jacking the price because you've got us over a barrel."

I cut him off. "You've got it backwards. I've never raised my rate. Eighty's the rush rate, the priority rate. You've all got working harvesters and you want to cut the line anyway, so I've got to treat everybody the same."

That shut Miles up for a second, but he was quick to start twisting things again.

"All right, so you say slow means careful. Truth is you're dragging your feet on purpose to pad the hours."

"And your parts aren't cheap either. A diesel filter costs you eighty and you sell it for a hundred and eighty. You think we're idiots?"

"A hundred bucks a filter, and with all these harvesters, how much are you raking in? Have you got any conscience at all?"

My chest gave a little jolt. How did Miles know what I paid for those filters?

But that was the price of the cheap ones. The genuine part cost me a hundred and forty.

I didn't want to explain. Explaining only digs the hole deeper.

Miles's words landed like a stone in a pond, and the crowd started cursing me for being a bloodsucker.

"This Bell, he's really something. Charging his own neighbors that much."

"And dragging his feet on purpose to squeeze us."

I didn't argue. I just added one more line. "One more thing. Rush jobs don't run a tab. Cash up front."

Toby Finch slapped a palm down on the front of his machine, a cold smirk pulling at his mouth. "Bell, don't you think you're going too far?"

"We're all neighbors here. Who ever stiffed you on money?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "You still owe me three thousand from your repair two years back. I've got it written down."

He choked on that instantly, his face flickering white and green, and the whole yard went quiet for a few seconds.

Miles was the first to break the silence.

He let out a couple of cold laughs. "Bell, I'll ask you one more time. Are you changing the conditions or not?"

I shook my head. "No. If you want the work done, leave it here. If you don't, drive it home."

Miles's face darkened, his voice gone icy. "Don't get smug. I'll tell you something, I've known for a while there's a mechanic over in the next village. Good attitude, low rates."

"If it weren't for the fact that we're all from the same village, I'd have gone to him long ago."

Miles had clearly come loaded for this. I wasn't going to coddle him. "Then go to him. No objection from me."

He turned around to face the crowd. "Everybody, come with me to Mr. James's place and see how a real mechanic does it."

"He only repairs, never swaps in new parts. Labor's forty an hour, and jump-starts are thrown in free."

"Never overcharges. A whole lot better than Bell here."

Toby Finch had been stewing ever since I'd exposed his old debt in front of everyone.

He jumped right in to back Miles up. "I'm going right now. Everybody come see for yourselves, come see how much dirty money some people have been making."

Miles glanced back, a smug little smile hiding in his eyes. "Bell, if Mr. James does right by us, you can kiss every job in this village goodbye."

I didn't answer, and I didn't stop them. I just watched them fire up their harvesters and pull away.

Complain that I'm slow, complain that I'm bleeding you dry. Fine. We'll see.

Some jobs don't get fixed with your mouth.

I bolted down a few bites of food and called Old Ralph Perry.

"Ralph, where are those three harvesters, yours and Phil's and Anthony's? I'll come fix them right now."

Ralph hemmed and hawed, and it took him a long while to get it out. "Max... Max, son, I'm real sorry... Miles just brought a mechanic by and got us squared away."