He understood production.
Hannah understood cost because she had no choice.
Dale sometimes gave advice disguised as insults.
“Your tire pressure’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“Rear’s hopping.”
Hannah checked.
He was right.
Another time:
“You keep dragging tops like that, you’re going to catch a stump and kill your cable.”
She changed rigging.
He was right again.
Hannah hated that.
She listened anyway.
One November afternoon, Dale called.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“What?”
“Busy?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Working.”
“Funny.”
“What do you need?”
Pause.
“I’m stuck.”
Hannah smiled slowly.
“Say that again.”
“Forget it.”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Where?”
Dale’s new grapple skidder had broken through an old wet depression hidden beneath frozen surface crust.
Not buried completely.
Bad enough.
One rear wheel sat nearly to the axle in black mud.
He had tried backing.
Forward.
Blade.
Logs beneath tire.
Every attempt dug deeper.
A dozer could recover it.
So could another large skidder.
The nearest available machine was two hours away.
Hannah was eighteen minutes away.
She arrived with the 648.
Dale stood beside his $316,000 machine.
Hannah climbed down.
Looked at it.
Then at him.
He raised one finger.
“Do not.”
She smiled.
“Do not what?”
“You know.”
“Take a picture?”
“Especially that.”
Mark, who had come along, quietly took one.
Dale saw.
“Delete it.”
“No.”
Hannah inspected ground.
She would not hook directly and yank.
Too much risk.
She positioned the Deere on firm ground farther uphill.
Set blade.
Ran winch cable through a snatch block around a large protected anchor tree using a wide tree-saver strap.
The geometry doubled control and redirected pull.
Dale watched.
“You’re taking forever.”
“Your machine costs more than my farm house.”
“I’m being careful.”
Dale shut up.
He eased his machine while Hannah winched.
The cable tightened.
The old Deere squatted slightly.
Engine settled into a heavy pull.
Mud moved beneath Dale’s tire.
Nothing.
Hannah stopped.
Repositioned.
Added material beneath tire.
Tried again.
The newer machine climbed six inches.
Then a foot.
Dale applied minimal power.
Hannah kept steady tension.
Another two feet.
Then the tire rose from the hole.
Within minutes the grapple skidder sat on firm ground.
Hannah released tension.
Dale climbed down.
Looked at his machine.
Then hers.
Mark said: