The Judge Ordered Vance To Hand Over A Working Key

Vance wore a tie I had never seen before. He kept pulling its knot away from his throat.

Inez sat behind me in the courtroom, her brown envelope across her knees. I had told her she did not need to come.

"I have forty minutes," she said. "Use them well."

Our hearing took longer than that. She stayed.

Mara began with a narrow request. The company needed to serve its clients. Its equipment needed to stay put. Both members needed access to records while the money was traced.

Vance's lawyer said his client had carried the business through hard months and needed control to protect it.

The judge asked what showed that control belonged to Vance alone.

His lawyer offered the pickup title and copies of truck bills.

Mara offered our signed agreement and ledger.

I took the witness chair with my hands flat on my knees. I had tucked a short piece of blue twine into the ledger as a marker. Its frayed end showed above the page.

"Did you sign this?" Mara asked.

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Harlan sign it in your presence?"

"Yes. At our kitchen table, when we formed the company."

"Have you signed away any units since then?"

"No."

Vance's lawyer asked whether Vance owned the truck.

"Yes."

"Whether he drove to nearly every job?"

"Yes."

"Whether he handled most customer calls?"

"Yes."

I could give him all three answers. None changed the next page.

The agreement gave ordinary business decisions to a majority of units. Selling major equipment required both members' written consent. Removing a member required more than changing a lock.

Vance admitted signing the ledger when his turn came.

"But that was for the first setup," he said. "We replaced the chute."

The judge looked at the purchase receipt.

"Who is the buyer shown here?"

"Bent Wire. That was for financing."

"Where is the later ownership agreement?"

Vance glanced at his lawyer.

"We handled things between us."

"Do you have a signed transfer?"

"No."

I felt my shoulders drop a fraction. I did not look back at Inez.

Her contract came next. She took the stand and described the payment instructions, the canceled appointment, and the eighty head she had gathered for no reason.

"Did Mr. de la Cruz tell you he was leaving the company?" Mara asked.

"No. Mr. Harlan told me Emilio was help. I asked why the help had always done my trimming."

Nobody laughed. The judge was writing.

Vance said her money was safe and the new business would perform the work.

"With which equipment?" the judge asked.

"The rig."

"The rig you listed for sale yesterday?"

His lawyer asked for a moment to speak with him.

The temporary order left final damages for another day. It barred selling the company assets, required working keys and full company records, and allowed me to resume normal bookings under our agreement. It also restricted moving the disputed client funds while records were produced.

Mara explained the limits outside. I could operate the business. I could not empty accounts, throw Vance's personal property away, or treat a temporary ruling as the final judgment.

"I need a tow vehicle," I said.

"You need a rental agreement. Keep the receipt."

Vance handed over the keys in the hallway. His lawyer stood beside him.

"You're going to bend that chute without me," he said.

I closed my hand around the key.

"Then you should want the inspection logged."

That afternoon, a mobile mechanic checked the hoses, safety catches, and pump. The chute worked. I made photographs of its serial plate and every tool drawer before moving anything.

The mechanic's bill and the cost of retrieving the rig came to $400. I asked him to write what he had checked, not just put SERVICE on the receipt.

He raised one eyebrow, then filled in the lines.

"You want the pressure reading too?"

"Yes, please."

I also saved the $300 in filing and service charges Mara had itemized. I put those bills in their own folder. They weren't the same as wages I hadn't earned or feelings I couldn't price. They were costs the lockout had made us pay.

Vance's raincoat and lunch cooler went into a box for pickup. His truck stayed his.

I rented a suitable towing truck and called Inez with a firm date, eight days after our original booking.

"Seven o'clock," she said. "Cattle ready. Coffee optional."

I also hired an independent accountant, Ruth, to trace the payments. Her written estimate was $1,600. Mara asked for the bank records through the case rather than having me chase rumors.

On Monday evening, Ruth called while I was cleaning a grinder guard.

"The receiving account records came in," she said. "I can match all three payments."

"Is the money still there?"

"Some. You need to see where the rest went."