The eastern irrigation gate leaked before the repair crew had finished unloading its tools.
Water slid under the wooden frame and into the lower field, turning one furrow into mud. Olan crouched beside it and touched the wet ground, then looked at the four landholders gathering on the bank. The gate had been patched once, but the new board sat unevenly against the channel.
Yan came with a rope and a pry bar. “I can lift it out. We can fit a new board before noon.”
Mera raised a hand. “Wait until the owners arrive.”
A grower named Hala turned toward him. “Last time a government crew said they would fix the channel. They diverted the water, broke the gate, and left us with the bill.”
“They aren’t here,” Yan said.
“No. But we still have to live with the repair after your company moves on.”
The words landed more sharply than the order. Yan looked at the gate again. Its hinge was bent. If he pulled it free before the owners agreed which plot should receive water first, he could make a sound repair that sent water to the wrong field.
