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“I inherited Finney’s equipment, and some of it’s been giving me problems. I have this old twenty-five-horse Kubota that stalls every time I try to use it.”
I shuffled the finished paper estimates into the file folder. “Probably blocked fuel lines.”
“Wow, youaregood! You can tell that just from what I told you?”
“Pretty common problem with old diesels, actually. Especially tractors.”
“Great! Well, what do you do about it?”
“Clean or replace the lines. Shouldn’t be too hard if you have the tools. How long since it was serviced?”
Conrad shook his head and laughed. “Finney didn’t exactly ‘service’ his equipment. It ran, or it sat. No in-between. Something is going on with the bucket hydraulics, too.”
“Sounds like it needs a thorough going-over, then.”
“I’m sure it does. So, should I drop the trailer? Or would it be better to unload the tractor and leave just that here?”
I squinted. “Leave it…? Oh, I don’t service tractors.”
He looked crestfallen. “You don’t?”
“No, you need someone with tractor experience, especially if the hydraulics are messed up. You probably have other problems you don’t even know about yet. Bobby Eckhart is your guy. Here, I have his card… somewhere.” I rummaged around in the desk until I found the clutch of business cards Dad kept in there for things like this. They were all scattered and out of order, so it took me a second to find the right one. “There, give him a call.”
He took the card and frowned at it. “You sure you can’t just clean the fuel lines?”
“I probably could, but I’d get in there and find a lot more that I can’t fix for you, and then you’d have a disassembled tractor to haul to Bobby. You’re better off just taking it to him before I crack it open and mess something up.”
He sighed. “Well, you’re probably right. Thanks for your time.”
“Sure thing.”
Conrad got up, and I returned my attention to my billing screen. He was halfway out the door when he stopped. “Is that your dog?”
I glanced down at Dakota, curled in his bed behind my chair. His ears flattened, and his stumpy tail wiggled when I made eye contact with him. “Yeah. He goes everywhere with me.”
“Beautiful dog. Blue merle Australian Shepherd?”
“Thanks, and yes, exactly.”
“Where did you get him, if you don’t mind?”
“I brought him back from Oklahoma. He knows all kinds of tricks.”
He smiled. Again, with the big smile. “Like what?”
I looked at my dog. “Dakota, turn off the light.”
Dakota jumped up and dashed to the switch, stretching his furry little body to reach it. He slapped at it several times, and the lights went out.
“Wow! What else can he do? Can he turn it back on?”
I got out of my chair. “He can, but it’s harder for him, and he scratches the heck out of the wall.” I came over to the door, bringing me to Conrad's range. He smelled nice—Stetson unless I missed my guess. Who wore cologne to drop his tractor off with a mechanic? Obviously new around here. I flicked the switch and went back to my chair.
“That’s… that’s quite a dog.” He fumbled with his hat.
“Thank you. He’s my buddy. Have a nice day!” I set my fingers back on the keyboard. I'd never get my work done if this guy didn’t take the hint.
“I, uh… I’m looking for a couple of dogs. To work cattle.”
