My Father Brought a Locksmith to Sell the Ranch I Bought
The legal fees would take almost everything I had left. If the judge did not dissolve the injunction on the fifteenth, I would be broke and landless, standing in the cold with nothing but a truck and a box of old military records.
My father had spent thirty years building his name in this valley, and he was willing to destroy whatever was left of our family to keep his hold on it.
I stood up and went back inside the cabin.
I closed the heavy wooden door behind me. I turned the deadbolt, feeling the steel lock into place.
I stood in the dark hallway, listening to the rattle of the heater, and waited.
The blue lines of the graph paper ran under the tip of Rachel’s black marker. She drew four small circles at the corners of the page, labeling each one with a numeral.
“Camera one is on the well house,” I said. “It has a clear line to the gate, but the branches of the cottonwood block the left side.”
