And Kinley, at the rail, with Ivo beside her.
“Don’t watch the other kids,” Ivo said, low, while they ran the first heifer into the ring. “They’ll make you crazy. You watch me. When I nod, you bid. When I shake my head, you wait.”
“What if I miss it?”
“You won’t miss it,” he said. “And if you do, he’ll come back to you. That auctioneer’s got a granddaughter your age.”
The first heifer was the bigger, longer one. She walked the ring easy, just like the calf in Sterling had, and Kinley gripped the rail.
“Who’ll give me eight hundred for this good heifer,” the auctioneer started, “eight hundred, eight, eight, seven hundred then, seven, who’ll give seven.”
The tall boy in the FFA jacket raised his hand. Then the girl in the pink cap. Seven fifty, eight hundred, eight fifty.
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Ivo didn’t move. Kinley looked at him. He didn’t move.
“Nine hundred,” the auctioneer said. “Nine, nine, who’ll give nine.”
The boy bid nine. The two sisters looked at their dad and their dad shook his head, smiling, and they let it go.
Ivo nodded.
Kinley raised her card. “Nine fifty,” the auctioneer called. “Thank you, young lady.”
The girl in the pink cap went to a thousand. Ivo nodded. Kinley went to ten fifty. The girl looked back at her own mother, and her mother shook her head.
The boy in the FFA jacket thought about it a long time. Then he put his hands in his pockets.
“Sold, ten fifty,” the auctioneer said. “To the young lady at the rail.”
Kinley turned around and looked at me with her whole face lit up. I thought my heart would quit.
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Ivo said. “You’ve got another one coming, and you’ve got eight fifty left. Do your math.”
Kinley’s lips moved. “Eight fifty,” she said.
“Eight fifty,” he said. “That’s the number. You go to eight fifty and you stop.”
They brought the smaller, deeper heifer in. She was the better of the two, I thought, and Ivo thought so too. I saw him squint at her hips.
The bidding went quicker this time. The boy in the FFA jacket wanted this one. He’d let the first one go to save his money for her. He went to seven hundred, then eight, and Kinley went to eight fifty on Ivo’s nod.
“Nine hundred,” the boy said, out loud.
Kinley looked at Ivo.
I saw something cross that old man’s face. I don’t know what. Maybe he was thinking about the Sterling ring. Maybe he was thinking about a girl standing at a rail with her card in her lap.
He nodded once.
“Go on,” he said quietly. “I’ll stand good for the rest.”
Kinley stared at him.
“Go on,” he said again.
She raised her card. “Nine fifty,” the auctioneer said. The boy went to a thousand. Ivo nodded. Kinley went to ten fifty.
The boy looked at his own dad, who was standing up on a hay bale behind the crowd. His dad looked at Kinley, and at Ivo standing next to her, and then he gave his son the smallest shake of the head.