Chapter 24
Asher
Before I even answer Cade's call, I know there is trouble. Stepping out of the barn to talk to him.
"What's up?" I ask, hoping I'm wrong.
"The North pasture at the McCafferty spread," Cade answers.
"Two white pickups with magnetic logos that peel on and off, hard hats in the cab, a little rig that looks like a core sampler.
No one called it in. No permits posted. They were off the fence line like they knew exactly where the property pins were.
When I rolled by, they packed up fast. Way too fast."
My hand tightens around the phone until my knuckles sting. "Plates?"
"One had a temporary," he says. "The other had a dealer tag. Both mud-splattered in the exact same pattern that someone slapped it on. It looked staged. My gut is saying things aren't right."
I pace a path in the dirt that I have already worn this week, from the shade to the sun and back again. The barn swallows my shadow and spits it out again, unable to decide whether it will keep me. "You get a picture?"
"Blurry," he says. "But you can see the outline of the mast on the rig. That is not a soil auger for roses. They are testing depth and composition. And they knew where to put it, and they had maps."
Wind pushes the hot air across my face, bringing the smell of minerals, dust, and old wood.
I close my eyes and see Kassi at my sink last night with her hands wrapped around a glass of water and her mouth set in that line I’m starting to understand.
She would tell me to be careful. She would tell me to call someone who knows the law, and not to take this on alone.
Opening my eyes, I stare out at the south fence.
"Where are you now?" I ask.
"I'm headed toward the county road," Cade says. "I’ll be passing by the old Delaney property. Word is the developer bought the note last month. I want to see if the same trucks show up again. "
"Keep moving," I say. "Don’t let them pin you down to a spot. Send me the pictures. Be safe and don't approach them. I’m going to make a call."
"Ben?" he asks.
"Ben," I say.
Cade's breath hisses out. "Thought so. Call if you need me to double back."
The other night, Cade and I had a chat. He's seen the developer and their guys all over town.
They are always acting sketchy, as if they are trying to get away with something.
I haven't told him everything, only about how hard they have been hounding me, and for him to keep me informed of anything going on.
Apparently, I'm not the only rancher who thinks they aren't up to any good.
After hanging up, I don’t even pretend to go back inside. I scroll to Ben's number and hit dial. The line clicks, and his voice answers calmly. Somewhere behind him, I hear the hum of an office and the ding of a door. He must be at the county building or his place in town.
"Hey man, how's it going?" he asks.
I've known Ben so long that I don't even bother with the pleasantries.
"Cade saw two trucks out on McCafferty's back side," I say. "Temporary plates. A portable rig, fast exit, no posted permits. Looks like they are testing with no one watching."
"Not the first sighting," Ben says, and the gravity in his tone sets my teeth.
"Two ranches east of the lake reported tire ruts in their far fields and flags in the grass. One flag has posted a survey with a company name I can’t track to anyone local.
Another was blank. The county clerk has not logged any soil or mineral testing forms. My gut says they are moving quickly on thin ice and hoping no one notices until they have their data. "
"Well, I notice," I say.
"I figured you might," he answers. "And I figured you would call. Cade sent me what he had already. Give me what you have from your end. The department will want a case before moving toe to toe with them."
For a breath, I think about the deed scans and the call with Walton.
I think about the papers that we will sign in less than two days if nothing comes loose.
Then I remind myself how a secret works best when you keep it tucked tight until it can carry its own weight.
I decide what to share and what to keep in my pocket until the ink is dry.
"It feels like they are circling," I say. "I don’t have paperwork to throw at them yet, but I will soon."
"Good," Ben answers. "I’ll push on the clerk and the county attorney. Quietly. Also, I’ll ping a friend at Texas Parks to see whether any environmental notices have been filed near the lake. If they are sampling without the right forms, that’s a lever."
"Thank you. Please try to keep this quiet. I don't want them to know we are sniffing around just yet," I say.
"I will," he responds. "And Asher?"
"Yeah."
"Do not get into it with any of them on a back road. No shouting matches, no shoulders. Just take pictures, write down times and details, and then call me. I know you don’t go looking for a fight, but they may want one, so do not give them what they want."
I look at my hands. They are surprisingly steady. "I hear you."
We hang up, and the yard is too quiet. I grab my hat and a bottle of water and climb into the truck. Then, I drive the lane slow enough to mark new tracks if any show up.
I cut across the county road and take the route that runs to the back of our neighbors' pastures.
When I pass the Delaney place, I see what Cade meant.
The grass is pressed flat in a strange pattern near the far fence, and there are small flags poked at intervals that match a grid.
They are plain white, no logo, no notes, just small stabs of plastic that speak louder than any sign.
After stopping just beyond the gate, I take pictures through the wire.
A mile on, the McCafferty land opens wide and flat.
I ease onto the shoulder and bring the truck to a stop.
Through the heat shimmer, I catch the flash of something metallic moving slowly.
It takes me a second to pick out the shapes.
A pair of men in safety vests walking a line.
One carries a clipboard, and the other hauls a pole with a sensor on top.
They talk with their heads close. A third man stands near the white trucks.
He looks at his phone, then at the road, and then back at the phone like he is counting.
I don’t get out because I don’t need to.
Lifting my own phone, I take pictures. Then I roll forward with the momentum of someone done with this place, uncaring about whatever they’re doing.
The third man lifts a hand in a wave that’s not friendly, but not unfriendly.
It’s measuring. I keep my eyes on the road.
When I hit the turn for the county line, I pull off again and write down the time and the number of steps those men would have taken if they walked the distance between the last two flags I saw.
It is not exact, but it is better than guessing.
I text the pictures to Ben and Cade with a short note.
Then I sit with the truck idling, staring at the fenceline.
I think about calling Kassi. I can see her in my mind, standing in that little apartment making dinner, and I know they need protection too.
My hand is on the phone, but I pull it back.
Not yet, not like this, not while I am sitting on the shoulder of a dusty road feeding her a worry I’m carrying for her.
Ben's reply pings. He asks for the coordinates and the angle to the lake. After I send them, he lets me know it helps. Then he tells me to keep moving, to be where I am expected to be, so if anyone tries to make trouble, they don’t get to put me in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I drive on, taking the long way home. Every person I pass gets a small lift of my fingers off the wheel, and I get the same back because that’s how it is here, whether trouble is in town or not.
Back at the ranch, I pull out my phone and text Finn and Zach to check the remote cameras on the north trail and the back gate.
I tell them there have been trucks near other spreads.
I keep it simple. They do not need to know how close it feels.
Not yet. Finn sends a thumbs up and a picture of a salt block he is dropping in the west pasture.
It’s as if he knows I need to see something normal.
Zach replies with a question about whether I have eaten.
I answer yes because I did eat half a cold casserole at nine, and that counts.
By midafternoon, I go into the tack room and pull down a pair of trail cams I keep for coyotes and the occasional two-legged problem.
After checking the batteries, I walk the line of cottonwoods, placing them where the road narrows and where a man would step through if he didn’t want to be seen.
I set one to catch plate frames, and another higher to catch faces.
The green lights blink once to tell me they are working.
Cade pulls in as I get back to the barn. He hands me some photos of what he saw today. It looks like some software cleared up the blurriness from earlier.
"Ben called me," he says. "He is pulling the strings he can without making noise. He told us to keep our eyes open for any pallets of pipe or drums tucked behind outbuildings that do not belong to the folks who live there. They’re staging somewhere close.
They move them like chess on a board. One move at a time. "
"Thanks," I say. "You run into anyone you know on that side road?"
"Only the Widow Turner in her Buick," he says. "She waved as if we were at church and then told me to tell your mother the church raffle needs more pies. So that’s one corner of the world that’s still the same."
"Good," I answer, and I mean it. "You hungry?"
He shakes his head. "I need to get back and check a colt with a hot knee, but I wanted you to see the pictures, though I didn't want them anywhere that could be traced.
They are getting bold, which means they think they are close to something.
If we keep the light on them, that also means they will make mistakes. "
"We’ll keep watching," I say. "Thanks, Cade."
For a second, we stand there in the shade of the cottonwood and listen to the leaves talk. Then he claps my shoulder and goes. His taillights throw red into the dust plume, and then the road takes him.
Waiting until the air settles, I then go inside.
I add to the list I’ve been keeping since Kassi told me what she heard.
Names. Dates. Phrases. The bracelet the man with the gray tie wore.
The way the third man looked down the road twice before he waved.
I tuck it under the certificates and put it in a box in my closet.
Needing to talk, I call North. He answers from his barn, and I hear a horse stamping. It immediately steadies me.
"You got a minute?" I ask.
"For you, always," he says. "What do you need?"
I tell him as much as he needs to know. That there have been trucks near lines that do not belong to them.
I have seen flags where flags don’t belong.
That I am setting cameras and tightening gates, and I would be obliged if he kept his eyes open after dark and before dawn.
He listens the way he always does, no interruptions, no noise, just the click of his mind as he stacks the blocks in a shape that will stand.
"Consider it done," he says. "I’ll drive the back loop twice, and I’ll have Dash do the same on his side. I’ll make sure that Sky keeps the trailer backed up to the barn and ready to move. Not because we will need it, but because readiness is a prayer."
"Thank you," I say. "And North?"
"Yeah," he answers.
"Kassi and Emma," I start, and then I stop because I don’t want to say too much. "Please keep an eye on them, as I don't want to worry them."
"Understood," he says. He doesn’t ask for details, which is why I called him.
When we hang up, I finally breathe. Then I call Ben again. He picks up on the second ring and says my name like he was about to call me.
"I got a hit," he says before I can speak.
"A shell company filed a utilities inquiry for temporary service behind the old mill. That space is big enough to stage equipment without anyone seeing from the main road. I’m going to drive by and park in front of the bait shop for a minute.
If I angle my mirror, I think I can see the back lot from there. "
"Careful," I warn.
"I always am," he answers. "If this checks out, we can ask the city to require a temporary use permit. That pulls them into the open."
"Good. "I’ll keep my side tight."
He pauses. "You tell Kassi?"
I look at the pasture again. It throws the sun back in small, hard chips. "Not yet."
"She can handle the truth," he says, gentle but firm.
"I know," I answer. "I’m not hiding it. Just choosing my time. Tonight, I’ll build the plan, and tomorrow, I'll give it to her with the fear softened. She has carried enough."
"That’s fair," he says. "Call if you need company for any of this."
"I will," I say.
After dinner, I finally sit with a pad of paper and write the list of things I need to do so I don’t forget.
Call the clerk at nine. Meet the lawyer at eleven.
Confirm with Walton at noon. Hardware at three.
Lights. Screws. Two more locks. A camera at Kassi's front door.
A second for the parking lot. Cade and Ben are on call.
Loop my brothers in on the cameras. Mom told nothing until the papers are signed, because not telling her is a kindness right now.
Besides, telling her would invite the whole town to carry a load it does not yet need to shoulder.
I can feel how fast everything will move tomorrow. How a plan tightens when time starts to shrink.