The Easement at Dry Creek

Start reading

Tomas Reyes parked just inside the cattle guard and walked in with the envelope held flat against his leg. Del watched him from the porch. He had left his engine running. Nobody who meant to stay did that. She set the fencing pliers on the rail. A strand of loose wire lay across her boot, waiting for the staple she had been about to drive. "County business," Reyes said. "I can see the envelope." He stopped below the first step. Dust had whitened the toes of his shoes. Behind him the track curved toward the ridge, where the stock-water corridor crossed Stroud's parcel on its way to the spring-box. Thirty feet wide. Enough room to move the herd without pushing the calves against the wire. On the map in the envelope it would be less than the width of a thumbnail. "The hearing date has changed." "To when?" "Thursday. Nine in the morning." Del took the envelope standing. The old date had given her another month. She worked a finger under the flap, tore the corner and read the notice through the opening. Garrett Stroud's name sat above hers. Under his was Hollis Whitcomb, counsel. Under hers was the ranch address. "Today is Friday." "Yes." "Six days." Reyes lowered his eyes to the…