Elden turned.
“There used to be a lane here.”
Garrett laughed.
“This is a field.”
“Now.”
The old farmer walked diagonally toward the west.
His dog followed.
Twenty yards away he stopped.
Scraped mud aside with his boot.
Below the black soil was pale stone.
One worker came closer.
“Gravel?”
“Limestone.”
Elden nodded toward the tree line.
“Old farm lane ran through here.”
“When?”
“Before your mother knew your father.”
The worker laughed.
Garrett crossed his arms.
“This is interesting local history, but it doesn't move the truck.”
Elden looked at him.
“It might.”
That drew attention.
Garrett glanced at the Farmall.
Then back.
“You're serious.”
Elden did not answer.
He walked back toward the semi.
Looked under the trailer.
Examined the lower frame.
Then asked:
“Where've you been connecting?”
The crew chief pointed.
Elden nodded.
“Too high.”
Garrett sighed.
“We've got certified recovery operators.”
“Good.”
“Then maybe let them work.”
Elden stood.
“I've been watching them work since Tuesday.”
That silenced several men.
Garrett stepped closer.
“You think you can do better?”
Elden looked toward him.
“No.”
Garrett smiled.
Then Elden added:
“I think I can do different.”
The smile faded.
Elden pointed at the ruts.
“Truck drove itself into the mud north to south.”
“Yes.”
“You pulled it north to south.”
“Yes.”
“Every time.”
“Yes.”
“And every time the tires stayed in the channel they already dug.”
The crew chief looked at the field.
Elden continued.
“You aren't breaking the mud's grip.”
“You're helping it.”
Garrett laughed.
“So what's your plan?”
“Pull sideways.”
“With what?”
Elden looked toward the Farmall.
This time several workers laughed openly.
Garrett actually smiled.
“Come on.”
Elden waited.
Garrett pointed at the old tractor.
“That thing has what, thirty horsepower?”
“Probably twenty-six today.”
More laughter.
“And you're going to pull an eighty-thousand-pound semi with it?”
“No.”
Garrett stopped.
“What?”
“I’m going to move one side of it.”
The crew chief's expression changed.
Elden crouched again and pointed at the lowest frame connection.
“If I can get the rear axle to rise even a few inches and shift west, you can get it onto the old limestone.”
He pointed toward the forgotten lane.
“Then your trucks can do what they're built for.”
The crew chief walked to the west side.
He studied the ground.
Then the frame.
Then looked at Elden.
“Forty-five degrees?”
“About.”
Garrett shook his head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Elden removed his cap.
Scratched his head.
Replaced it.
“Probably.”
“You seriously expect me to let an antique tractor get involved in this recovery?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to keep failing if you don't.”
Someone behind Garrett coughed into his glove to hide a laugh.
Garrett turned sharply.
Then back to Elden.
“Three professional towing companies have looked at this.”
“That's a lot of people.”
“They know what they're doing.”
“Then why's the truck still there?”
That ended the laughter.
Garrett's face hardened.
Elden walked toward his Farmall.
He began unhooking the heavy chain mounted behind the seat.
Garrett followed.
“Mr. Croft.”
Elden kept working.
“This is not your recovery.”
“My field.”
“The access corridor is under Cresthaven control.”
Elden stopped.
Slowly.
He looked over his shoulder.
“No.”
Garrett stared.
Elden continued.
“Your people drove across my land.”
“We have right-of-way authority.”
“You have a letter.”
“We have historical rights.”
Elden looked at him.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“We'll see.”
Garrett lowered his voice.
“Is this about the agreement?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Elden lifted the chain.
“This is about getting a truck out of my field before the next rain.”
He walked back toward the semi.
Garrett stood motionless.
For the first time that morning, he looked slightly less certain.
The crew chief approached Elden.
“If we try this, we're not using that chain.”
Elden looked offended.
“What's wrong with my chain?”
The man picked up one rusty link.
“How old?”
“Don't know.”
“Older than me?”
“Probably.”
The crew chief smiled.
“We use ours.”
“Fine.”
“And nobody crawls under tensioned equipment.”
“I know.”
“You let my crew connect it.”
Elden nodded.
“Fine.”
Garrett called:
“We're not doing this.”
Nobody moved.
The crew chief turned.
“Garrett.”
“What?”
“We've spent two days doing it your way.”
The statement hung there.
Garrett looked from the buried semi to the men.
Then to the Farmall.
“Eight minutes.”
Elden said.
Garrett frowned.
“What?”
“Give me eight minutes.”
“Then?”
“If it doesn't move, you go back to whatever you were doing.”
Garrett laughed.
“And if it does?”
Elden looked at him.
“You stop laughing long enough to learn something.”
The old farmer climbed onto the Farmall.
The engine started on the second attempt.
It coughed.
Settled.
Low steady rhythm.
Travis Morgan sat inside the semi cab waiting for instructions.
The professional crew connected rated recovery chain to the lower frame.
The chain ran diagonally to Elden's tractor.
The Farmall sat on the forgotten limestone lane.
Its rear tires found something they had not had anywhere else in the field.
A base.
Garrett stood beside the Deere.
Tablet beneath his arm.
Expression halfway between irritation and amusement.
Elden eased forward.
The chain tightened.
Nothing happened.
A worker whispered:
“There goes eight minutes.”
Elden eased off.
Then forward again.
The chain tightened.
Relaxed.
Tightened.
Garrett frowned.
“He's rocking it.”
The crew chief nodded.
Elden did not pull continuously.
Forward.
Back.
Forward.
Back.
Small movements.
Controlled.
The Farmall never screamed.
Never spun wildly.
It simply worked the chain.
On the fourth cycle, mud around the nearest rear wheel trembled.
The crew chief saw it.
“Hold.”
Everyone froze.
Elden eased off.
The mud settled.
The crew chief looked closer.
“Again.”
Elden repeated the motion.
A wet suction sound came from beneath the semi.
Deep.
Ugly.
The nearest rear wheel lifted perhaps an inch.
One worker stepped forward.
“It's moving.”
Garrett stared.