"No."
"You spend too much time listening to broken engines."
"That makes me better at hearing them."
"It makes you paranoid."
Maybe.
The tractor continued working.
For another week.
Then, three days before they planned to begin field preparation, Thomas walked into the kitchen at 6:12 a.m.
He did not remove his boots.
Clara looked up from coffee.
Something was wrong.
"What's happened?"
Thomas held a rag.
Green coolant stained it.
Her stomach dropped.
"Where?"
"806."
She stood.
Neither said anything else.
They crossed the yard quickly.
The tractor sat outside the machine shed.
A narrow wet line ran down one side of the block.
Clara crouched.
Wiped it.
Waited.
Another bead formed.
She traced upward.
There.
A fracture.
Thin.
Several inches.
Almost elegant.
Clara stared.
For months she had imagined this exact event.
Preparation did not make it easier.
Thomas stood behind her.
"Can it be brazed?"
"Maybe."
"Welder?"
"Maybe."
"Replacement block?"
"Expensive."
"Used?"
"If we find one."
Thomas's voice sounded flat.
He already knew the math.
Spring waited for no machine.
Hiring fieldwork cost money.
Buying another tractor cost more.
Major repair meant time they did not have.
Clara touched the crack.
Then stood.
Thomas looked at her.
"What?"
"Don't call Earl yet."
"Why?"
"Because this is why I've been bringing his garbage home."
He stared.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"Clara."
"What?"
"This isn't a test block."
"I know."
"This is our tractor."
"I know."
"If you make it worse—"
"It already leaks."
"That's not what I mean."
Clara understood.
The 806 was not scrap.
It was their spring.
Their planting.
Their income.
Their margin.
Everything.
She looked toward the repair shop.
"Give me until tomorrow."
Thomas shook his head.
"We don't have time for experiments."
"We don't have money for the alternative."
That ended the argument.
Truth often did.
Thomas looked at the crack again.
Then toward the old shop.
"One day."
Clara nodded.
"One day."
Word reached Earl before lunchtime.
Clara still did not know how.
Possibly Dean.
Possibly the parts store.
Possibly farmers possessed some communication network faster than telephones.
At 1:30 p.m., Earl's pickup entered the lane.
Dean sat beside him.
Of course.
Thomas saw them.
"What are they doing here?"
"Enjoying our suffering."
Earl climbed out carrying coffee.
"Where's the patient?"
Clara crossed her arms.
"Who told you?"
"Town."