Maybe the field was acting like a basin because water couldn't leave.
She didn't know whether opening the old route would be enough.
She wasn't an engineer.
And she certainly wasn't qualified to design a heavy-lift operation.
But she knew where the water used to go.
And she knew the recovery crews hadn't been given that information.
She gathered the maps.
Then found another notebook.
It contained her grandfather's notes about the 1953 John Deere.
He had described the old drainage implement.
Its limitations.
The conditions under which it could be used.
And the importance of keeping machinery away from unstable ground.
The girl remembered him saying that a small tractor could sometimes be more useful than a powerful machine simply because the job required precision rather than force.
She smiled.
Then looked toward the covered tractor.
Its green hood was visible beneath the canvas.
For the first time since her grandfather died, she felt the urge to hear its engine again.
She went outside.
Found her mother.
And explained what she'd discovered.
The older woman listened.
At first, she seemed too exhausted to understand.
Then she looked at the map.
"Sweetheart, where did you find this?"
"Grandpa's drawer."
Her mother studied the blue line.
The old outlet.
The notes.
Then the photograph.
For several seconds, she didn't speak.
The girl pointed toward the willows.
"The water used to go that way."
Her mother nodded slowly.
"I remember."
The daughter looked up.
"You do?"
"When I was younger, your grandfather used to keep that ditch clear."
The girl's eyes widened.
"Then why did we stop?"
Her mother looked toward the access road.
"Because the new culvert was supposed to handle it."
She examined the map again.
Her expression changed.
"Maybe it isn't."
The girl nodded eagerly.
"That's what I think."
Her mother looked toward the cranes.
Then back at her daughter.
"We need to show the recovery engineer."
The girl smiled.
Then hesitated.
"Can we bring Grandpa's tractor?"
Her mother frowned.
"Why?"
The daughter pointed toward the old photograph.
"His narrow plow might help make the drainage channel, if the engineers say it's safe."
The mother considered.
She knew the girl loved the tractor.
She also knew a flooded field surrounded by heavy recovery equipment was no place for an unsupervised child to operate machinery.
The mother's expression became serious.
"You're not going near the crane rigging or the unstable ground."
The girl nodded.
"I know."
"And the professionals decide whether that implement is useful."
"I know."
Her mother looked toward the shed.
Then smiled faintly.
"But we can bring the tractor down to the firm entrance and show them what it does."