“No.”
Harvest began two days later.
The Farm Girl started at dawn.
The Old Farmer arrived uninvited.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping.”
“With what?”
“Whatever breaks.”
She stared.
He lifted a toolbox.
“I have more experience breaking equipment than you.”
“That I believe.”
By noon, the header clogged.
He was useful.
By three, a belt failed.
He had the correct spare.
The Farm Girl narrowed her eyes.
“You planned this.”
“I farm next door.”
“That doesn’t explain why you brought my belt size.”
The Old Farmer shrugged.
“I looked.”
She smiled.
They worked.
Day one yield remained high.
Not as high as the test strip.
Still excellent.
Day two, lighter soil.
Yield dropped.
The Farm Girl’s anxiety returned.
The Old Farmer noticed.
“Still good.”
“Not record.”
“Who cares?”
She turned.
“You do.”
He looked surprised.
“You’ve spent seventeen years talking about yours.”
“Yes.”
“Everybody knows.”
“That was because I was insufferable.”
She laughed.
“At least you know.”
He became serious.
“Do not make the mistake I did.”
“What?”
“Letting a number become the proof you belonged here.”
The Farm Girl stopped.
That sentence stayed with her.
The Old Farmer looked toward the combine.
“Your crop doesn’t have to break anything to justify planting it.”
She nodded slowly.
“Did you believe that when you were thirty?”
“No.”
“Forty?”
“No.”
“Fifty?”
“Maybe.”
She smiled.
“Slow learner.”
“Very.”
The third day brought trouble.
The combine engine overheated.
Harvest stopped.
Weather forecast showed rain in thirty-six hours.
Mature sunflowers could tolerate some rain.
But high winds were predicted.
Lodging risk.
Seed shatter.
Bird loss.
The Farm Girl stood beside the machine while steam rose.
“No.”
The Old Farmer opened the engine compartment.
“Water pump.”
“You sure?”
“Almost.”
“Part in town?”
“Maybe.”
She stared.
He looked up.
“There’s that word.”
The dealer had no pump.
Nearest was two hours away.
The Old Farmer threw his truck keys to one of his sons.
“Go.”
The Farm Girl looked at him.
“I’ll pay fuel.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
His son left.
Repair took until midnight.
They harvested under lights afterward.
The Farm Girl’s mother brought sandwiches.
Neighbors arrived with grain carts.
No one asked.
They simply came.