I turned back to face the hay wagon and lifted card forty-seven.

“Two hundred ninety thousand,” Denny shouted.

“We’re at two hundred ninety thousand dollars.”

The man in the brown jacket frowned.

He slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and raised a gloved hand high in the air, giving up on his casual nods.

“Two hundred ninety-five thousand to the man in the back.”

The words echoed sharply across the gravel yard.

My jaw clenched.