Chapter 147: Her Men Were Worth the Trouble

"Back through the shed," Dove said, pointing at the high doorway. "We know where that road goes. I’m not losing a husband and a pump in the same puddle."

Edrik turned the trolley while Thorne checked the rear threshold. A narrow metal ramp joined the concrete pad to the raised service path. One rail had bent, leaving the edge twisted above the gravel. Beyond it, the road stayed dry all the way to their carts.

Thorne pressed his palm to the damaged rail and worked it back toward its proper shape. Edrik reinforced the weakest section while keeping his palm on it. Dove moved loose boxes away from the approach so Thorne could guide the trolley straight onto the repaired ramp. Edrik would have to stay there until the weight was across.

The pump’s weight pressed hard on the small trolley wheels. Edrik steadied it from the low side while maintaining contact with the metal support. Thorne guided the handle, and Dove walked ahead carrying the hoses where nobody could trip over them.

"Slow," she said when a wheel caught near the top. "The clamp’s sticking out."

Thorne stopped instead of forcing it. Dove set the hoses down, moved the loose clamp clear, and stepped back before they continued. The trolley rolled onto the firm path with an ordinary ugly squeak that sounded wonderful after watching the ramp flex.

Edrik released his hand only when the weight was gone. He rolled his shoulder once, then looked at the pump as though considering whether he could finish the whole trip without resting. Dove held out the water bottle before he got ambitious.

"Sit down. You’ve already impressed me. Continuing until you drop would actually make you less attractive."

He took the bottle. "That’s a threat."

"That’s a wife. You’ll learn the difference eventually."

Thorne laughed and sat beside him on the concrete edge. Dove brought their packed food out: large meat sandwiches, fruit, and buns left from a grocery trade, enough that the men’s meal looked like a meal. She ate with them instead of hovering until somebody ordered her to stop working.

The raised pad faced the access road, with the flooded gravel yard below them. She could see the route home beyond the open gate. Knowing where the exits were helped. So did having both men within reach, warm and solid while the pump sat recovered beside them.

She touched Edrik’s wrist, checking the skin where he had held the rough rail. No new cut, just a red patch that eased while he rested. He turned his hand and caught hers.

"You don’t have to find damage to sit next to me."

Dove looked up at him, then laughed because he had finally used her own advice against her. "Fine. I wanted to fuss. Are you going to make that difficult?"

"Not at all."

Thorne leaned closer on her other side. "I moved the rail."

"Yes, you did, handsome. I’m very proud. Eat your sandwich."

He accepted a kiss against his cheek before obeying. Edrik looked at her with open pleasure, and Sprout finished the day’s Favor target without announcing every change in his heart rate. Dove let the extra notices gather while she sat between them. The pump was safe, their food was still warm, and she wanted ten minutes in which neither husband had to lift anything heavier than a sandwich.

They transferred the pump from its small trolley to their stronger cart on the firm path. The other cart carried hoses and dry salvage toward the pickup. At the tailgate, the men lifted the pump together while Dove kept its loose hose clear, then strapped it down. She climbed into the passenger seat for the return instead of trying to ride among heavy equipment.

They returned by the same raised road, stopping once to check the ties. Dove asked to search a dry roadside utility cabinet whose door hung open, but Edrik spotted the electrical warning and stopped her before she touched it. She left it alone without arguing. Looting everything useful did not include adopting electrocution.

At the base gate, the recovery slip kept the inspection brief. The guards checked the listed machine and waved them through. Dove was grateful that a sensible piece of paper could occasionally make the day easier instead of inventing another person she needed to impress.

The maintenance crew met them beside the closed street. Their leader checked the pump model, fittings, and hose, then had his own trained worker inspect it. Dove stayed behind the barrier with her husbands. Knowing where to find a machine did not make her qualified to operate it while strangers shouted advice.

She unpacked the approved surplus goods into a separate crate: two utility buckets, three glove packs, sealed rags, clamps, and a sound hose reel. Those belonged to the recovery share, not the pump payment. The man checked the list and signed it, leaving the goods in her custody. Dove returned his borrowed fitting separately. It had done its job without becoming another mystery object in their space.

She kept one pair of gloves in Edrik’s pack for carrying rough metal, leaving the rest with the shop goods.

During their break, Thorne sat beside her on the lowered tailgate. His hair had fallen over one scar, and she pushed it back before offering him the rest of her water. Edrik accepted the next drink without needing another threat. Progress came in strange forms, but she liked this one.

"If this works," she told them, "we’re buying dinner instead of cooking. Something somebody else had to peel."

"And if it doesn’t?" Thorne asked.

"We’re still eating. I’ll just complain more."

Edrik smiled, then looked toward the crew when the engine turned over. It caught, coughed, and stopped. Dove’s stomach tightened. Did delivering it count? Sprout reminded her that the job required a working pump. The worker checked the line and signaled for another try while the crew leader kept the payment slip unsigned.

They had brought the right pump all the way home. Now it had to work.