The Judge Set A Return Date Beside Each Brass Number

Russell wore a blue tie to the hearing. I knew it because I had once held a flashlight while he tied it in the van mirror.

He stopped beside me outside the Bannock County courtroom.

"A whole business," he said. "You're tearing down a whole business over a key."

"You can still agree to the return."

His lawyer touched his arm. They walked away together.

I kept the fox in my bag. On the bench in front of me, I lined up copies of the schedule, receipts, and sale offer.

The judge asked about the equipment numbers first.

Lena handed her a chart. Each row led from a personal payment to an import receipt, then to a brass plate and a line on Schedule B.

Russell's lawyer handed up an equipment list from the company books.

"These assets have supported company income for years," he said.

"Their use is not disputed," Lena said. "The agreement explains that use."

The judge turned a page.

"Is there a later signed transfer?"

"We have not located one," his lawyer said.

He did not claim that writing something in a ledger changed the signed schedule. He asked for time to review the records and any company spending on the machines.

The judge gave him time. She also barred sales or new claims against the listed equipment while the case went forward.

During a break, our lawyers worked out a written plan.

When the notice period ended, a neutral clerk would count the equipment. Insured movers would take it to a separate commercial bay I had rented. I could inspect and maintain it, but I could not sell or put it back to work until ownership was settled.

The school would arrange the return of the third furnace.

The company books would be made available to both partners and a neutral accountant.

"Does this mean I won?" I asked Lena in the hall.

"It means your machines won't be sold on Friday. The rest still needs doing."

That answer made sense to me. Heat work had stages, too. You could not skip the drying time because you liked the look of wet cement.

Nine days later, I stood in our shop beside the inventory clerk.

Russell had finally allowed me to collect my personal tools and papers. My sheets smelled of old coffee.

The top one held a brown ring across the cooling notes. I put it in a clean sleeve. Those figures had taken six hours to gather. I would not let a stain, or the man who made it, turn them into waste paper.

I put the fox beside the first one and checked its corner against my scanned copy at home.

"You scanned every service sheet?" the clerk asked.

"Every evening. Clay dust eats paper."

We counted the small furnace, MF-01, then MF-02. I read each number aloud. The clerk checked it against the order.

Two riggers eased the machines onto skids.

Russell watched from his office door.

"Careful with our floor," he said.

One rigger looked at the floor, then at his clean wheels. He said nothing.

We found all twelve molds. One had a fresh chip across its pouring lip. I could repair it, but it would take time and material.

The clerk photographed the chip.

My $46 torque wrench was missing. Russell said he had never seen it. A photo from our last stock check showed it hanging beside his desk.

"List it, please," I told the clerk.

"Forty-six dollars?" Russell said.

"Yes."

He looked embarrassed for me. I let him.

The cradle went out last. Without it, a person needed a safe rented lift to move those heavy shells. Russell had often called it my silly rocking chair.

The moving bill was $780. I kept the receipt.

At my rented bay near the rail yards, the riggers set everything on painted floor marks. I paid them and signed for delivery.

The place was small. A white sink stood by the door. There was enough power for lights and inspection tools, but I would need a licensed electrician before running a furnace.

I had already asked for a quote. I could plan without pretending the case was over.

Hugo arrived at four to witness the school furnace's return.

"Mae kept copies of the bill and the service emails," he said. "She wants your inspection report. Through the lawyers, if that's best."

"That's best."

The carrier backed in with MF-03 strapped to its skid. We checked the brass plate and took photos before cutting the straps.

I looked at the plug. Hugo's paper warning was still tied around it.

DO NOT USE. SERVICE RECORD IN QUESTION.

The driver lowered the skid. Something slid inside the furnace's lower tray with a soft cardboard scrape.

That tray should have held only a tool roll.

Then the driver handed me the service envelope the school had sent back with the furnace. Across its front was Russell's handwriting: New Control Installed.