Tao months latter
Billy and Jake were elbow-deep in the engine compartment of the old John Deere tractor, while Billy Jr. lay on his back underneath it on a sliding pad, wrench in hand.
"Uncle Jake, can you hand me that socket wrench?" Billy called out, sweat dripping from his forehead in the Texas heat.
Jake reached for the tool, then slammed his hand on the fender in frustration. "This fucking thing is dead, Billy. Completely shot."
"Language around Junior," Billy warned half-heartedly, though he knew it was a lost cause.
Billy Jr. slid out from under the tractor, wiping grease off his hands. "The engine block's cracked, Uncle Billy. I can see it from underneath—there's coolant mixing with oil all over the pan."
"Damn it," Jake muttered. "Thirty years we've had this old girl. She's older than us!"
"Hell, she's older than both of us put together when we started working on her," Billy added with a rueful laugh.
Billy wiped his hands on a shop rag. "Well, that's that. She's done."
The three of them trudged into the house, defeat written on their faces. Sarah looked up from her kitchen work as they entered.
"How's the tractor?" she asked, though their expressions already told the story.
"Dead as a doornail," Billy said, slumping into a chair. "Completely shot."
Tom looked up from his newspaper. "That old tractor's been with us since Josh was a toddler. Hate to see her go."
Pops shuffled in from the living room, brandy glass in hand. "Thirty years," he said quietly, his voice heavy with memory. "Bought that tractor thirty years ago when your daddy and I were still running this place together. Cost us a fortune back then, but she was worth every penny."
Jake sat down heavily. "Problem is, we can't afford a new one right now. Gonna have to look for something used."
They all sat there for a moment, mourning the loss of their faithful workhorse.
That's when Billy Jr. burst through the kitchen door, iPad in hand and eyes bright with excitement.
"Uncle Billy! Uncle Jake! I found the perfect replacement!" he announced breathlessly.
Both brothers looked up with mild interest.
Billy Jr. set his iPad on the table triumphantly. "John Deere 6M Series Utility Tractor!"
"One-twenty-five horsepower, PowerTech PSS engine, AutoPowr transmission, advanced hydraulic system..." Billy Jr. read off the specifications like a seasoned farm equipment dealer. "Ground clearance of 18.2 inches, wheelbase of 94.5 inches, weighs about 13,000 pounds."
"Damn, that sounds perfect," Jake said, his interest piqued.
"Remote diagnostics, JDLink telematics, precision agriculture features," Billy Jr. continued enthusiastically. "Final Tier 4 emissions compliant, reversible fan technology..."
"Okay, okay," Billy laughed. "What's the damage, Junior?"
Billy Jr.'s face lit up. "About a hundred thousand dollars."
The excitement drained from both brothers' faces instantly.
"Shit, Junior," Tom said, setting down his newspaper. "We better start looking for a good used one."
"But Grandpa, it's new!" Billy Jr. protested. "Brand new 2025 model with full warranty!"
"Son, a hundred thousand might as well be a million right now," Billy said, patting his nephew's shoulder. "Come on, let's finish lunch. Maybe we can find something on the used market."
They were finishing their leftover pot roast when they heard a car pulling up the driveway.
"Who's that?" Sarah asked, looking out the window. "Oh my, it's that FBI agent. What was her name? Martinez?"
Agent Sarah Martinez knocked on the front door, looking official but friendly.
"Agent Martinez!" Tom said, opening the door. "This is a surprise. Come in, come in."
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, stepping into the kitchen. "I was in the area and wanted to stop by."
"Nonsense," Sarah said immediately. "Sit down, I'll get you some dessert. We've got peach cobbler."
Agent Martinez accepted the cobbler gratefully and made small talk for a few minutes before getting to the point.
"Actually, I came here on official business," she said, reaching into her briefcase. "The FBI wanted to thank your family properly for your role in bringing down the Lone Star Development organization."
She pulled out an official-looking document and what appeared to be a government-issued debit card.
"There's a federal reward for information leading to the conviction of organized crime operations. Problem was, we couldn't figure out the best way to distribute it, so we loaded it onto a US Treasury debit card for Billy, Jake, and Billy Jr.—the direct victims and the one who provided the crucial intelligence."
Billy Jr.'s eyes went wide as he spotted the card. Without thinking, he snatched it from Agent Martinez's hand.
"Holy shit! SHIT! SHIT!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"BILLY JUNIOR!" came the immediate chorus from Sarah, Rebecca, and Mary Nelson, who had just walked in.
"Language, young man!" Rebecca scolded. "I don't care if—"
"IT'S FOR A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!" Billy Jr. shrieked, waving the card above his head like a battle flag.
The kitchen fell dead silent.
"What did you say?" Tom asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"A hun— A hundred—" Jake stammered, his face going white.
"No fucking way," Billy breathed, then immediately looked guilty as the ladies glared at him.
"Billy Junior, are you reading that right?" Sarah asked, her voice shaking.
"One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars!" Billy Jr. repeated, still waving the card. "Look! Look at it!"
Tom grabbed his reading glasses and peered at the card. "Jesus H. Christ," he whispered.
"Thomas!" Sarah scolded automatically, but her voice was weak with shock.
Agent Martinez smiled. "One hundred thousand dollars. For Billy and Jake as the kidnapping victims, and Billy Jr. for his intelligence work that broke the case."
"I think I'm gonna pass out," Jake said, sitting down hard.
"Holy mother of God," Pops said, shuffling closer to see the card for himself.
Billy just stared, mouth hanging open. "We can buy that tractor."
"We can buy TWO of those tractors," Jake said, his voice still stunned.
"We can buy the whole damn John Deere dealership," Tom added.
The silence stretched for another long moment as the reality sank in.
Then Pops shuffled into the kitchen, took one look at the stunned faces, and started singing in his gravelly voice to a familiar tune: "We're off to see John Deere, the wonderful tractor of green..."
And suddenly everyone was laughing, crying, and hugging all at once.
Because sometimes, just sometimes, the good guys really do win.
THE END
THE END
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