That first day was hectic.
It seemed that nothing went right.
The detonator caps we had sent to Endicott Mines were faulted and we had to rush-ship replacements.
For the third time that year, Du Pont underbid us on a government contract for pressed cordite.
I spent half the day going over the figures and it finally boiled down to our policy on percentage of profit.
When I suggested that we'd better re-examine our policy if it was going to cost us business, Jake Platt protested.
My father, he said, claimed it didn't pay them to operate on a basis of less than twelve per cent.
I blew up and told Jake Platt that I was running the factory now and what my father had done was his own business.
On the next bid, I'd damn sure make certain we underbid Du Pont by at least three cents a pound.
By that time, it was five o'clock and the production foreman came in with the production figures.
I'd just started to go over them when Nevada interrupted me.
"Jonas," he said.
I looked up.
He had been there in the office all day but he was quiet and sat in a corner and I had even forgotten that he was there.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Is it all right if I leave a little early?" he asked. "I got some things to do."
"Sure," I said, looking down at the production sheets again. "Take the Duesenberg.
I'll get Jake to drive me home."
"I won't need it," he said.
"I left my own car in the lot." "Nevada," I called after him.
"Tell Robair I'll be home for dinner at eight o'clock."
There was a moment's hesitation, then I heard his reply. "Sure thing, Jonas. I'll tell him."
I was through earlier than I had expected and pulled the Duesenberg up in front of the house at seven thirty, just as Nevada came down the steps with a valise in each hand.
He stared at me in a kind of surprise.
"You're home early."
"Yeah," I answered. "I finished sooner than I thought"
"Oh," he said and continued down the steps to his car. He put the valises in the back.
I followed him down and I could see the back of his car was filled with luggage.
"Where you going with all that stuff, Nevada?"
"It's mine," he said gruffly.
"I didn't say it wasn't," I said.
"I just asked where you were going."
"I'm leavin'."
"On a hunting trip?" I asked.
This was the time of the year Nevada and I always used to go up into the mountains when I was a kid.
"Nope," he said. "Fer good."
"Wait a minute," I said. "You just can't walk out like that."
His dark eyes bore into mine.
"Who says I can't?"
"I do," I said.
"How'm I going to get along without you?"
He smiled slowly. "Real good, I reckon.
You don't need me to wet-nurse you no more.
I been watchin' you the last few days."
"But- but," I protested.
Nevada smiled slowly. "All jobs got to end sometime, Jonas. I put about sixteen years into this one and now there's nothing left for me to do.
I don't like the idea of drawing a salary with no real way to earn it."
I stared at him for a moment.
He was right.
There was too much man in him to hang around being a flunky.