“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
She looked through the open door.
“You got a better idea?”
“That antique is four hundred pounds!”
“We have tractors.”
“It’s too slow!”
“The trailer isn’t going anywhere fast.”
Vernon waded toward her.
“Adah, that thing is junk.”
She started the engine.
“So far your four-thousand-dollar one is losing to junk.”
Nobody laughed.
Adah drove back to the farm.
The International tractor loaded the old winch onto the flatbed.
She grabbed two timber beams.
Chains.
Steel plate.
Tools.
By the time she returned, more people had gathered.
Rain continued.
Vernon stood with his arms crossed.
“This is insane.”
Adah climbed down.
“Then go home.”
Earl laughed.
Vernon did not.
They created a temporary anchor frame on high ground beside the road.
Timbers chained around two large cottonwoods.
Steel plate beneath the winch.
Three chains securing the frame.
Adah inspected every connection twice.
The old logging cable ran from the drum to a pulley block attached near the trailer drawbar.
Vernon watched.
“You trust that cable?”
“More than I trust your opinion.”
Earl coughed to hide a laugh.
Adah put both hands on the crank.
Water ran from her hat brim.
Her denim shirt was soaked.
Mud covered her jeans to the thigh.
She began turning.
One rotation.
Two.
Three.
The cable tightened.
The trailer did not move.
She continued.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Vernon shook his head.
“We’ll be here tomorrow.”
Adah kept turning.
Then the trailer shifted.
Half an inch.
The cattle moved inside.
Adah turned again.
Another inch.
Earl stepped closer.
“Hell.”
The machine made no dramatic noise.
No motor.
No hydraulic whine.
Only the slow scrape of gears and cable.
Adah stopped.
She released the handle.
Vernon yelled, “Don’t let go!”
He lunged for the crank.
Adah slapped his hand away.
“Back off!”
“The load’ll unwind!”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I tested it.”
The crank remained still.
The cable stayed tight.
The trailer did not slide back.
Vernon stared.
“No brake?”
“No.”
“No ratchet?”
“No.”
“That’s impossible.”
A voice came from behind them.
“No, it isn’t.”
Everyone turned.
An old thin man stood on the road shoulder beneath a dark raincoat.
He carried a brass oil can in one hand.
Gray hair stuck to his forehead.
His eyes were fixed on the winch.
Adah recognized nobody about him.
Vernon did.
His face changed.