A Two Thousand Dollar Nebraska Land Purchase Leads to a Federal Fraud Case
“She is already working on it,” Henry said. “She called me before noon to tell me the board is throwing out the assessments.”
He looked down at his old dog, his fingers gently stroking the dog’s soft ear.
“They tried to tell me my fence was six feet over the line,” Henry said, his voice quiet. “I knew it wasn’t true, but when you get those legal letters with the official stamps, you start to doubt your own memory.”
“They counted on that, Henry,” I said. “They wanted us to be too confused to fight fight back.”
“We’ve been on this land a long time, Arthur,” Henry said, looking out at the bare cottonwood trees. “My father built that barn in nineteen thirty-four, and we never had a dispute with anyone until those two bought that house down the road.”
“The land has a way of outlasting people like them,” I said.
“I heard the Fairmonts’ lawyer is still in town,” Henry said.
“Robert?” I asked.
“He was down at the diner at noon,” Henry said. “He was asking where your western line was.”
