“That a technical term?”
“Yes.”
The tank held approximately 550 gallons.
Not enough to irrigate acres for weeks.
Enough to test a quarter-acre.
Della patched the crack with material recommended by Clifton Barr after she finally showed him the tank.
She positioned it on a compacted shelf just below the draw.
After storms, runoff could be diverted through a simple screened inlet into the tank.
A second salvaged tank allowed another several hundred gallons.
If the system worked, the tanks could supply slow drip irrigation to the test rows for hours.
Harlan discovered the plan accidentally.
He came behind the equipment barn looking for a grease gun and found Della drawing the entire layout with chalk on an old piece of plywood.
Two tanks.
Main line.
Reducer.
Drip header.
Rows.
He stood behind her for almost a minute before she noticed.
Della turned.
“Oh.”
Harlan looked at the drawing.
“So that’s what the pipe is for.”
“Some of it.”
“You’re irrigating the soybean field.”
“A little of it.”
“With what pump?”
“None.”
He crouched.
Della pointed to the upper draw.
“Water collects here.”
“I know.”
“The field is lower.”
“I know.”
“Nine feet lower.”
Harlan looked at her.
“You measured it?”
“Three times.”
“With what?”
“Water level.”
He tried not to smile.
“How much pressure?”
“Not enough for sprinklers.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“About four psi before friction.”
Harlan’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
But Della noticed.
“How much after friction?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then what do you know?”
“That bigger main pipe loses less.”
“Usually.”
“And drip doesn’t need as much pressure.”
“Depends on the drip.”
“I bought low-pressure tape.”
“With what money?”
“Egg money.”
Harlan stared.
“How much?”
“Twenty-seven dollars.”
He looked toward the pile of scavenged pipe.
“And all this?”
“Free.”
“You rode that bicycle around the county for free pipe.”
“Yes.”
“For a quarter acre of beans.”
“First.”
Harlan looked at the drawing again.
“You planning more?”
“If it works.”
There was that phrase.
If it works.
Harlan liked that more than Della knew.
Children often said when.
Della said if.
He stood.
“You need to move those tanks before you fill them.”
“I know.”
“You cannot support five hundred gallons on loose soil.”
“I know.”
“Five hundred gallons weighs more than two tons.”
“I calculated it.”
“How?”
“Eight point three pounds per gallon.”
Harlan stared.
“You been talking to Clifton?”
“Some.”
“Opal?”
“A lot.”
Harlan looked toward the farmhouse.
“I should’ve hidden those pamphlets.”
Della waited.
“So can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Build it.”
“You’ve already bought parts.”
“That isn’t permission.”
Harlan smiled slightly.
“Quarter acre.”
Della’s face changed immediately.
“Really?”
“One quarter.”
“Yes.”