At the current rate, she could finish before the weather arrived, but only if the machinery continued operating without another serious problem.
She decided to begin earlier the following morning.
At four thirty, she was already in the machine shed, checking the combine's belts and lubrication points by flashlight.
Frank arrived twenty minutes later, carrying two thermoses of coffee.
"You planning to harvest the whole county today?"
"Just thirty acres."
Frank looked toward the dark field.
"That's ambitious."
"The weather isn't waiting for us."
They worked through the morning, moving steadily across the remaining rows.
By noon, the grain tank had been emptied several times, and the trucks were making regular trips to the elevator.
Emily noticed that the plants in the northern section had produced somewhat smaller heads than those in the central field.
She recorded the difference and adjusted her expected yield.
It was another reminder that a single average could conceal important variations within a crop.
In the afternoon, the wind began to strengthen.
Emily watched the clouds gathering in the northwest and checked the radio forecast.
The rain was approaching faster than expected.
She made a decision.
They would harvest until the light began to fade, then stop and secure the equipment.
Frank agreed.
The final hours were tense.
Emily kept the combine moving carefully, avoiding sections where the ground had become soft beneath the tires.
The machinery rattled, the grain tank filled, and the harvested rows expanded behind her.
At sunset, the last load of the day was transferred into the waiting wagon.
Emily shut down the combine and climbed out.
Her arms ached, her hair was damp with sweat, and her boots were coated in mud.
But the field was nearly finished.
She stood beside Frank, looking across the remaining rows.
"Tomorrow," she said.
Frank followed her gaze.
"Tomorrow."
Then the first cold raindrop landed on the back of her hand.
Within minutes, the wind was sweeping across the farm, and the rain began falling steadily.
Emily hurried toward the machine shed, relieved that they had stopped in time.
The harvest was almost complete.
And the most important load was still waiting to be weighed.
The rain continued through much of the night.
Emily slept lightly, waking several times to listen to the wind rattling the farmhouse windows.
At dawn, she checked the weather report and discovered that the storm had moved east, leaving behind a cloudy sky and wet roads.
The field was muddy, but the remaining sunflower heads were still standing.
She walked the rows carefully, inspecting the plants and checking whether the ground would support the combine.
Several sections were too wet to harvest immediately.
Rather than risk damaging the soil or becoming stuck, she decided to wait until the afternoon.
That gave her time to organize the delivery paperwork and reconcile the weights from the previous loads.
She spread the scale tickets across the kitchen table, arranging them by delivery date.
Each ticket represented another piece of the harvest.
She checked the gross weight, tare weight, and net weight, then compared the figures with the buyer's records.
A few discrepancies appeared, but they were minor and could be explained by rounding or differences in the recorded vehicle weights.
She noted each one and prepared to ask the elevator for clarification.
By lunchtime, the clouds had begun to break apart.
Emily returned to the field, where the soil had firmed sufficiently in the drier sections.
She harvested the remaining rows slowly, monitoring the combine and avoiding the wettest patches.
Frank worked beside her, helping transfer the last of the seeds into the grain wagon.