“I know.”
Sam smiled.
“You sound like him.”
“I know.”
They worked until eleven.
New bearing next morning.
Used belt from another machine.
Rewired motor.
Clara constructed a feed chute from scrap sheet metal.
First test happened Saturday.
Margaret stood outside.
Sam held the switch.
Clara fed a small amount of husk into the hopper.
“Ready?”
“No.”
Sam started it anyway.
The motor screamed.
Hammer mill shook.
Dry husks disappeared.
Then an enormous cloud of dust exploded from the outlet.
Clara vanished.
Sam shut down.
Silence.
Dust settled.
Clara emerged looking completely gray.
Margaret laughed so violently she had to sit on a bucket.
Clara wiped her face.
“Useful.”
Sam coughed.
“Need dust collection.”
“You think?”
Margaret kept laughing.
Second attempt included a temporary fabric collector.
Better.
Still messy.
The shredded material looked promising.
Finer.
Softer.
Clara filled three livestock stalls.
One with straw.
One wood shavings.
One processed husks.
She measured quantities.
Added water experimentally.
Not scientific enough for a laboratory.
Enough for comparison.
The husks absorbed more than Clara expected.
Then collapsed.
She frowned.
Too fine.
They became dense.
She adjusted mill spacing.
Second batch.
Better.
She tried it beneath three dry cows.
Observed overnight.
The cows did not complain.
Useful.
Cleaning next morning was easy.
Also useful.
But loose husks occupied too much storage.
That was the main problem.
A truckload became a mountain.
Farmers would not buy a bedding product requiring half a barn to store.
Daniel had known that.
Need compression.
Clara needed a baler.
Not hay baler.
Something denser.
A commercial packaging press would cost more than her truck.
Impossible.
She looked around the farm.
Old equipment.
Scrap steel.
Hydraulic cylinder from a retired loader attachment.
Then she had an idea.
Sam hated it.
“No.”
“You haven't heard it.”
“I saw you looking at that cylinder.”
“Then you basically heard it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you plan to build a press out of objects that were never supposed to become a press.”
“That's how most farm equipment starts.”
“That is historically false.”
Clara explained.
Steel box.
Hydraulic ram.
Removable side.
Twine channels.
Compress shredded husks into rectangular bales.
Sam stared.
“Pressure?”
She told him.
“Too much.”
“Then less.”
“Frame will bend.”
“Then reinforce.”
“Hydraulic hose could fail.”
“Replace it.”
Sam frowned.
“You already decided.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we talking?”
“Because you weld straighter than me.”
Sam looked offended.
“I weld much straighter than you.”
The press took nine days.
First bale fell apart.
Second jammed.
Third compressed unevenly.