Again.
Nothing.
The Young Farmer swore.
“What?”
“Battery.”
They connected a booster.
The diesel cranked.
Caught.
Pressure began climbing.
Everyone exhaled.
Then the main electrical pump stopped completely.
The Young Farmer looked toward the dark panel.
“Grid?”
The lights in the barn remained on.
“No.”
The Extension Specialist arrived.
“What happened?”
“Motor overload.”
The retired technician pointed.
“Primary’s finished.”
“How long can backup run?”
The Young Farmer looked at the fuel level.
“Seven hours.”
“Maybe eight.”
The coldest period should end before then.
Should.
The Young Farmer checked the upper tank.
Water remained limited.
She made a decision.
“Cut the highest block.”
The teenager stared.
“That’s three acres.”
“I know.”
“We’ll lose it.”
“Maybe.”
She pointed toward the lower orchard.
“If we spread flow too thin, we can lose everything.”
He hesitated.
She looked at him.
“Close the upper valves.”
He did.
Three acres went dark.
The Young Farmer stood at the edge of the block.
Those trees had been planted by her father six years earlier.
They were among the best.
She could not protect everything.
That truth hurt more than she expected.
The Older Farmer appeared beside her.
“You shut this section down?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Not enough capacity.”
He looked across the road.
His own orchard lights flickered in the distance.
“I have a portable pump.”
She turned.
“What?”
“Old transfer pump.”
“How much flow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“Equipment shed.”
“Does it run?”
His expression told her the answer.
“Last time?”
“Two years.”
She stared at him.
“Bring it.”
Twenty minutes later, the pump arrived on a trailer.
It looked terrible.
Rust.
Old hoses.
A fuel tank with paint peeling away.
The retired technician grinned.
“I know this machine.”
“You do?”
“I told him to throw it away in 2012.”
The Older Farmer frowned.
“You also told me it would outlive both of us.”
“I was being dramatic.”
They worked on it.
Fuel line cleaned.
Battery replaced.
Hose patched.
Starter persuaded through equal parts skill and anger.
At three-twenty in the morning, the old pump started.
The sound was ugly.