Chapter 185: She Had Not Ordered a Runaway Tank

Dove shouted for the men to get clear of the rolling tank. One jumped aside. Another grabbed for the loose handle, missed, and fell against a low storage rack as the tank’s frame struck it. The crash stopped the load, but one wheel pinned his leg against the rack’s lowest bar.

Thorne ran toward the side of the frame. Edrik caught Dove’s sleeve when she followed, pointing at the slope beneath the tank. She moved to the flat loading area instead, out of the path it would take if it broke loose again.

The tank wasn’t empty. Water sloshed inside it as the damaged wheel bracket rocked, and a broad blue cover flapped from one end. Wind caught the loose cloth, tugging at a frame that already leaned toward the trapped man.

"Everyone clear of the slope," the elk leader called. "Don’t get behind it."

Thorne caught the exposed side rail. Metal curved under his power, slowly at first, then hooked around the rack’s sound upright and stopped the wheel. Edrik planted his palm against the stressed section and reinforced it. His touch held that metal firm while the water shifted; the broken ground beneath it remained dangerous.

Dove pointed the worker’s friends toward the level side. "Wait there until they say it’s safe. Don’t make them hold you up too."

Dove saw the blue cover jerk tight in another gust. Its trailing corner lay on the flat pavement, several feet clear of the wheels. She pointed it out and asked whether she could reach it from there.

"Only that corner," Edrik said. "Then come back."

She crouched on the open side, touched the fabric, and stored the loose cover. It vanished from the tank and her fingers at once. Without the cloth catching wind, the frame stopped rocking. Keeping his hand on the rail, Thorne reshaped its trapped end a little at a time until there was room to free the man’s leg.

Everyone nearby was watching the wheel. Dove moved back before anyone looked her way, breathing harder than the short action deserved. She kept her hand against her thigh until her fingers stopped tingling, glad she’d chosen the loose cover instead of trying to take the heavy tank.

The crew leaders pulled the injured man onto clear pavement while Edrik maintained his hold. Another worker secured the sound wheels before Thorne released the rail. Only when the tank stood still without their help did both husbands back away.

The broken bracket hung at an angle. The crew would drain the tank into sound containers before trying to move it. Dove made them say where the water was going; wasting a tankful after all that would finish her off.

Dove handed her husbands water as soon as they reached her. Thorne’s shirt clung to his shoulders, and Edrik’s expression was flat with effort rather than anger. She didn’t tell them to smile because the dangerous part had ended.

"Sit," she said, pointing to their own folding seats.

Edrik looked toward the injured worker first. The man was awake and being helped by a crew member with a proper first-aid kit. He had a bruised leg and needed to be checked back at the base. Dove wasn’t going to pour secret water over a stranger in front of two truckloads of men and hope nobody noticed.

Thorne sat. Edrik followed when she put a hand on his chest and gave him the look she saved for customers who expected her to repeat herself.

"You can be terrifying again after you’ve had something to drink."

He took the bottle. "You’re enjoying that tone."

"I work hard on it. Appreciate the effort."

His mouth curved, and she felt her own breathing settle. Sprout tallied startled respect and relief from eligible men nearby, then stayed quiet when she dismissed the notice. She wanted to hear that everyone was accounted for before looking at rewards.

Both groups checked their people. No one was missing. The injured worker would travel back with the first truck, and the damaged tank would stay where it was. The other tanks were sound enough to inspect and divide according to the separate lists.

Dove collected the empty bottles and set them where nobody would trip over them. Her knees felt weak now that standing still was allowed. Thorne noticed when she sat on the edge of the other chair and offered his hand, palm up, without pulling her into his lap in front of the crews.

She took it. "I didn’t enjoy that."

"Neither did I."

"Good. I’d hate to be married to somebody with terrible hobbies."

Edrik’s gaze moved from the damaged tank to her face. "We already know about your furniture habit."

She laughed, then let the silence stay for a moment. The worker’s friend was talking to him by the truck, and nobody was shouting anymore. She could hear herself breathe. She squeezed Thorne’s hand and stayed seated until her knees felt like hers again.

The argument that had seemed so important at the gate lost most of its energy. Dove spread both lists on the office counter while the crew leaders compared sizes and markings. They were not fighting over the same tanks after all. They had nearly turned confusion into a whole miserable day.

"I would like us to remember this next time anyone feels inspired to shout first," she said.

The elk leader looked embarrassed. The wolf leader admitted he’d expected an argument before getting out of the truck. Dove tapped the two different sizes on their lists. Next time, they could start with a ruler instead of a grudge.

By the time the wind eased, she had a list of the sound surplus goods her household could choose from. Folding shelves, clean serving pans, shade fabric, and a stack of large covered storage bins stood in the office annex, away from the loading accident.

She wanted all of it. She also wanted both men to get home without carrying a building on their backs.

Edrik watched her inspect the list. "Choose what matters first."

"That’s unfair. It all looks like future me having fewer problems."

Thorne leaned back in his chair. "Future you also likes us with working shoulders."

She kissed his forehead, then Edrik’s, and took the list back to the annex. Her three-item task was long finished. This was the part where she had to decide whether more was actually better.

At the back of the room, she found a wheeled serving counter with deep shelves and a solid top. She could prepare their own food and display salvaged goods beside the vending cabinet, without covering the payment tray every time she unpacked a find.

A stack of benches blocked it, and the nearest wheel sat crooked under its weight. Dove wanted to call her husbands over immediately, then looked through the door at the two men still resting after holding back a tank. Getting her best find home was going to take more than wanting it.