Earl finally spoke.
"You've done this how many times?"
"Successful?"
"Yes."
"Enough to be nervous."
He almost smiled.
"Good answer."
Near ten, Clara reached the last section.
She removed the fixture.
Inspected the repair.
Ground only where necessary.
Cleaned.
Checked again.
Then they waited.
Thomas looked at the clock.
"Can we fill it?"
"Not yet."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
He groaned.
Clara refused to hurry.
One rushed hour could waste three months.
She covered the block.
Everyone left except Clara.
She stayed another forty minutes.
Just looking.
The repaired line seemed small compared with what depended on it.
At five the next morning, Thomas entered the shop.
Clara was already there.
"You sleep?"
"Enough."
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
They filled the cooling system.
Waited.
No leak.
Thomas crouched.
Dry.
Clara started the engine.
The 806 coughed.
Turned.
Caught.
The entire shop seemed to shake with the old diesel.
Clara watched the repair.
Nothing.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Temperature rose.
Still dry.
Earl arrived.
Then Dean.
Then Marty.
Then two more farmers.
Thomas stared through the shop doorway.
"What is this?"
Earl shrugged.
"I told one person."
Dean said, "He told twelve."
Earl ignored him.
Clara kept watching the engine.
Thirty minutes.
No coolant.
Forty-five.
Nothing.
Thomas climbed into the seat.
Clara grabbed the fender.
"Where are you going?"
"Load."
"Not yet."
"We need to know."
He was right.
That annoyed her.
They hitched a disc.
The tractor moved into the yard.
Snowmelt had made the lane muddy.
Thomas drove slowly.
Then faster.
The engine loaded.
Temperature climbed.
Clara walked beside it.
Every farmer watched.
No leak.
Thomas made another pass.
Still nothing.
After twenty minutes he stopped.
Climbed down.
Touched the repaired area carefully.
Then looked at Clara.
"Dry."
She nodded.
"Today."
Thomas smiled.
"Your grandfather would slap you for saying that."
"He'd check it again first."
"Also true."
Behind them, nobody laughed.
That silence felt strange.
For three months, Clara had imagined satisfaction.
She expected to feel victorious.
Instead, she felt relieved.
Relief was quieter.
The story should have ended there.
Small farm.