For the first time, Maggie began to suspect that the wooden pieces were connected to farm machinery.
She took them home.
And she did not throw a single one away.
Instead, she contacted Leon Pike.
Leon was seventy-three years old, a retired blacksmith and machinist who had worked on more farm equipment in the county than almost anyone still living.
He had repaired machinery during the years when replacement parts were difficult to obtain, and he understood equipment that younger mechanics had only seen in photographs.
His shop stood behind his house, filled with old tools, steel stock, and machines that had outlived the companies that manufactured them.
When Maggie arrived, Leon was working near the window.
She placed several wooden pieces on his bench.
"Can you tell me what these are?"
Leon picked one up.
He studied the curve.
Turned it toward the light.
Examined the holes.
Then turned it over.
His expression changed.
He read the writing on the back.
Then he looked at Maggie.
"Where did you get these?"
"From Dad's tool chest."
Leon lowered the piece slowly.
"Your father didn't make parts with these."
Maggie frowned.
"Then what did he make?"
Leon looked at her.
"He made the parts from these."
He laid the wooden shape flat on the bench.
Then he explained.
The pieces were templates.
Patterns Walter had used to reproduce broken farm machinery components.
A farmer would bring him a damaged planter shoe, cultivator bracket, seed plate, or other metal part that could no longer be purchased.
Walter would measure it.
Trace its shape.
Cut a wooden pattern.
And use that pattern to fabricate a replacement from steel or other available material.
The wooden pieces allowed him to reproduce the shape accurately without having the original part in front of him every time.
Leon picked up another template.
"See this curve? That's not decoration. That's the profile of a working edge."
He pointed to a set of holes.
"And these are bolt positions."
He turned the piece over.
"Your father wrote down the machine, the farm, and the measurements because he needed to know exactly what each pattern was for."
Maggie stared at the workbench.
She had expected Leon to identify a few old woodworking tools.
Instead, he was describing a system her father had used to keep farm machinery operating.
Leon continued arranging the templates.
He pointed out the consistency in Walter's notation.
The measurements followed the same method.
The names were recorded in the same places.
The corrections were written in small pencil marks near the edges.
Nothing was random.
Walter had developed an organized collection of repair patterns.
And he had preserved them long after the machines they served had become obsolete.
Maggie looked at the dates again.
1942\.
1943\.
1944\.
1945\.
Leon nodded when she mentioned them.