"Town doesn't have ears."
"It has Dean."
Dean smiled.
"You're welcome."
Clara almost told them to leave.
Then she stopped.
Witnesses could be useful.
If the repair worked, somebody else should see it.
If it failed, they would see that too.
Either way, evidence.
She led them into the shop.
Prototype 12 sat on the bench.
It was the most refined version yet.
Steel frame.
Adjustable clamping feet.
Drill carriage.
Guide bushings.
Spacing index.
Nothing polished.
Nothing painted.
Built to work.
Earl stopped smiling.
Dean leaned closer.
"What is that?"
Clara answered.
"A repair fixture."
"For what?"
"Cast iron cracks."
Earl touched one clamp.
"You made this?"
"Yes."
His expression changed.
Clara had never seen Earl completely serious.
Until then.
"You've been taking those blocks to test this?"
"Yes."
Dean looked toward a repaired engine block sitting on the floor.
"That one?"
"Yes."
"You fixed it?"
"Test repair."
"With this?"
"Mostly."
Earl crouched beside the fixture.
"Mechanical pins?"
"And locks depending on crack."
"No weld?"
"No."
He looked up.
"Show me."
Clara hesitated.
Then pointed toward the 806.
"That's the plan."
Dean laughed once.
Not mocking.
Nervous.
"You're going to use a homemade tool on your main tractor?"
"Yes."
"That's crazy."
Clara looked at him.
"Finally something we agree on."
The repair began at two.
First, Clara cleaned the block.
Every trace of coolant.
Grease.
Paint.
Rust.
Then she located both visible ends of the crack.
One danger with casting fractures was believing the visible line told the whole story.
Clara used dye penetrant to reveal extension beyond what the eye saw.
The crack ran farther than Thomas expected.
He swore quietly.
Clara marked the ends.
Then drilled stop holes.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The fixture clamped across the irregular surface.
Prototype 12 fit better than any earlier version.
Not perfect.
Nothing ever fit perfectly on old machinery.
But stable.
The drill carriage held position.
Clara began laying out the repair path.
Earl stood behind her.
He had stopped talking entirely.
That made everyone nervous.
Dean leaned against the wall.
Thomas paced.
Clara worked.
Drill.
Clean.
Measure.
Pin.
Cut.
Fit.
Lock.
Repeat.
Hours passed.
The shop warmed from the space heater.
Outside, daylight faded.
By six, Clara's shoulders ached.
By seven, she had stopped noticing.
At eight-thirty, Thomas brought sandwiches.
Nobody ate much.