Chapter Two #2
Flooding was definitely a possibility. The ground was saturated, and while the levees would likely hold along the Red River to the north, the creeks that ran from the river all through the valley were already running high.
They could withstand an inch or two. The roads—all packed gravel leading in and out of their property—may be impassable because there were several sections damaged from last weekend’s rain and hail.
Just a little rain would cause the drainage ditches to overflow and create muddy spots where even four-wheel-drive trucks could get stuck.
She’d had the kids stay home from school today because while Ellen could probably drive them to the closest bus stop two miles away, she worried about them getting home.
Jake usually drove everyone to school, but today he had to check on the cattle and fix the run-in.
And she wouldn’t have wanted him driving in the downpour that was expected before school let out for the day.
At least once a year, someone got caught in a flash flood.
It had happened once to John’s brother Travis; he was lucky to be alive.
“Don’t let Clive and that eejit he’s been working with get into your head,” Penny said.
She sat down and began shelling peas. Ellen marveled that Penny could be so focused on her daily chores that she didn’t seem fazed that they could be trapped here for a couple of days—or that their fields could flood and wipe out all their crops.
Not to mention the truth of what Clive had said.
Their farm was struggling. She had crop insurance, like most farmers, but she didn’t want to lose the entire season.
They had the cattle—which was more than a lot of their neighbors had—but cattle prices were erratic, and this year already showed signs of stagnant prices.
John had always brought in labor during harvest, but he did so much himself both at harvest and in the winter.
Last season Ellen had paid out more than she’d earned; this year, except for the cattle, she would be in the same boat.
Those animals might be the only thing keeping them afloat.
“Do you believe him?” Ellen asked Penny.
“That the Coulters sold access rights to the utility company?” From what Ellen could piece together from the neighbors, the utility company was working with Verdacorp to buy narrow strips of land across the valley where they’d put up poles and cell towers, and Verdacorp would manage the mineral rights.
“I hope not,” Penny said, “and I don’t put it past Tom Garza to lie through his teeth.”
“I hear a but.”
“I haven’t talked to them since before last weekend’s storm,” Penny said.
The Coulters and McKennas had been neighbors for more than a hundred years. Why hadn’t they talked to her first? Had Ellen not explained the seriousness of the leases? The fine print that could damage their property as well as Ellen’s? Why did they do it? Were they in financial trouble?
“I need to know if Tom is telling the truth,” Ellen said. “Why would he lie when we can easily verify it?”
“Because he’s a lying, cheating piece of horse manure.”
Ellen had to smile. She loved Penny.
Penny put a hand on her arm, gave it a squeeze, her old fingers bony but strong. “You’re doing good, Ellie. I know it’s hard. But John would be proud of you. Pull up your bootstraps and be the woman my grandson married.”
She blinked back tears. Damn. “I’m trying.”
“It’s not weak to ask for help, Ellie. I miss him, too.”
Ellen knew she did; they all did. She needed a moment to collect herself before she went out again, so she headed upstairs. She didn’t want her kids seeing her teary-eyed.
Two weeks would mark the one-year anniversary of John’s death.
It was getting harder and harder to be the strong woman everyone expected her to be.
The pressure that Verdacorp had put on her neighbors and her family had been constant and soon would come to an impasse.
And Travis—her brother-in-law—was part of the problem.
He didn’t see the issue with selling rights to a fifty-foot-wide strip of land that cut through their property.
It wasn’t the utility poles and lines and towers that bothered Ellen; she wasn’t anti-progress.
It was the fine print that gave the company mineral rights.
When she and John first discussed leasing right-of-way, they thought it was a good idea.
They’d have needed money, money to grow and expand the farm even if they had to give up a strip of land.
But as they researched, they learned about problems with the same proposal in the Panhandle: The utility company put up the lines, but sold the mineral rights to Verdacorp.
Fields cut in half, fences put up, the ground destroyed putting in oil pipes and oil pumps.
Animals cut off from their pastures, or forced to cut through uneven land, risking injury.
And often the strip of land completely cut off easy access from one side to the other.
John knew Mitchell Robinson—they’d gone to school together. The Robinsons owned thousands of acres directly south of Whisper Creek Ranch. But the Robinsons and the McKennas weren’t friends.
Two generations ago, Mitchell’s grandfather and John’s grandfather—Penny’s husband—had been in a prolonged legal battle.
The McKennas refused to sell a parcel that Robinson wanted to connect to another farm he’d bought, so Robinson declared that he owned the roads because they cut through his land.
The McKenna family had an entire crop they couldn’t get to market because Robinson had hired armed goons to block the roads.
Then Penny had nearly lost her baby—John’s father—when she went into labor because the men wouldn’t let the doctor through.
Robinson eventually lost in court, but it took months.
Sour grapes blossomed between the families, but over time they learned to be cordial again.
They communicated only when they had to.
Then, a decade ago, when Mitchell’s father retired to Dallas, Mitchell created Verdacorp and turned the Robinson ranch into a major agribusiness.
Verdacorp fingers became entwined in projects all over north Texas and the Panhandle, and John hadn’t been surprised when he learned they were involved in cheating landowners out of mineral rights.
Now, Verdacorp was buying up farmland right and left in Cooke and Grayson counties, overpaying so the McKennas didn’t have a chance to compete.
Verdacorp practically surrounded them. John had spoken to every family farm in the valley, large and small, and some stood with him.
Some felt they could negotiate better terms. And some thought John was just being ornery, because of the history between the McKennas and the Robinsons.
Calmer now, with a mental list of everything she needed to do before the storm hit, Ellen was about to leave her room when her eyes grazed over her favorite picture framed on the top of her dresser.
She and John were sitting on the porch, the sun setting and casting a warm glow over their faces.
Her head was on his shoulder, her hand on her large stomach, John’s hand on top of hers—she’d been pregnant with Jake then.
They were so young, she thought. So full of hope and love and joy.
Even with the hard work operating a farm, they had joy.
Ellen was not going to lose this land.
“I’ll fight back, John,” she whispered as she caressed the still face of her husband behind the glass. “This is our land, now and forever.”
I miss you so much.
She pushed aside the tears and went back downstairs.