Russell turned the cap over one more time, then spoke so quietly I had to lean in. “Frank lent me six thousand dollars two years ago, Marlene. The county was about to take my land over back taxes, and I begged him not to tell you.” His voice shook. “I never paid him back.”

The truck door clicked behind me. Tyler had climbed out, standing in the yard with his gloves in his hand. Russell pulled something from his jacket, a dented coffee can, and pressed it into my palms. It rattled with coins and folded bills. “That fifty dollars you gave me is in there,” he whispered. “Every rental dollar is.” Mrs. Lindgren said nothing. Then Russell added the part that stopped my breath: “And there’s something Frank left in that splitter’s toolbox for you.”