Chapter 2 #2
I had spent enough years at a top law firm in Aspen to know that the law doesn’t decide what’s right—it just decides who wins.
And I was very good at helping clients win.
I helped developers legally buy ranches, transfer water rights, and sometimes change that water from irrigation to more profitable uses.
I never took a case against tribal interests—not once did I cross that line—but I knew exactly how the game was played.
Mac waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve known Nokoni a long time. He’s not given to exaggeration.” Then he shrugged. “He’s been waiting for you to be done with that fancy Aspen. Maybe, Taya, it’s time for you to start fighting the people who want to take what isn’t theirs.”
Elder Nokoni had said the same thing to me on and off for the past couple of years. I countered by telling him that what I did was legal and above board. And he reminded me that, legal as it might be, it still often devastated rural communities.
“You mean I should start fighting the kind of people who used to be my clients?”
“Yes.”
I had been thinking about it for a long time, and even before the debacle at the law firm, a part of me had wanted to become more careful about who I helped win.
It was probably why Elder Nokoni kept at me—never pushing hard, but always reminding me that I could do better, not financially but spiritually.
And now all the seeds he had planted in soil he had prepared long before anyone else knew there was a garden were coming to fruition.
“Mac, I’ve never worked alone,” I told him. “I’ve always had a team and help, and this is…well, this will be a one-woman operation.”
“True,” Mac said. “Kid, I’ll help you. I’ll work with you on the big cases if you need it. I just have one demand.”
I pinned him with a look. “What?”
“I want you to argue with me! I can’t stand yes-people.”
I smiled then because I had made a decision I didn’t think I would. “I’ve never said yes to anything I didn’t believe.”
He smiled then, slow and dry. “Good. We’re going to get along fine.”
That evening, Elder Nokoni called me about my meeting with Mac. “Well?”
“I’m going to do it.”
“Excellent. How does the law firm look?”
“Law firm might be a slight exaggeration,” I muttered. “And it looks like it needs work.”
“Everything worth having does.”
So that’s how I ended up owning a building on Main Street and taking over all of Mac’s clients. There were many of them with very different needs.
Write me a will.
Read over this grazing lease.
My neighbor moved his fence—what do I do?
The bank says I’m in default—what does this mean?
Can my daughter build a house on the back forty?
They want an easement for a pipeline.
They want an easement for a road.
They want an easement for power lines.
The county says my well isn’t permitted.
The state says my water right was abandoned.
My brother and I don’t agree on who gets what after Dad dies.
The brand inspector says the bill of sale isn’t right.
The IRS sent me this letter.
My husband died, and I don’t know where to start.
In a small ranch town, being a lawyer didn’t mean specializing. It meant you were the person people came to when something in their life went wrong, and they didn’t know who else to ask.
It is the most satisfying and cleansing work I’ve ever done.
“You’re going to win it,” Aria assures me. “Clara’s going to keep her water.”
“If I can get the hydrology expert qualified in time for the hearing.” I straighten as I think through everything that still needs to be done. “And if opposing counsel doesn’t come in with something I’m not expecting.”
“Would they?” Joy wants to know.
I pick up my beer bottle and turn it slowly in my hands.
“They’re well-funded, which means they have options.
More experts. More filings. More ways to make this expensive and drag it out until Clara can’t afford to keep fighting.
” I glance at her. “I used to be a lawyer representing them. I know exactly how they think.”
“But you’re not them anymore,” Aria reminds me.
I shake my head. “No. But I know where they’ll search for leverage.
They’ll try to disqualify my expert. They’ll try to challenge the historic use.
They’ll try to bury us in motions, so we’re always responding instead of arguing.
And the judge on this case….” I exhale. “He tends to lean toward development. Everyone knows it.”
Aria’s mouth tightens. “So what will we do?”
We?
I meet her eyes. “We don’t give them a single mistake to use against us.”
And right then, it’s there again—the sensation of being seen with intention, not the casual drift of a gaze passing over a room, but the deliberate weight of attention.
The man in the corner.
His eyes graze mine.
He doesn’t seem familiar, not even a little—and still, my chest tightens.
The feeling is absurd and precise—that this isn’t the first time our paths have crossed. Just the first time I remember.
Wíitsin used to say some meetings are arranged for you.
I close my eyes.
Stop it, Taya. You’re just horny. The man is hot. That’s all this is.
When I open my eyes, he’s not watching me anymore. But the angle of his head is wrong, just slightly, for someone who’s simply sitting alone at a bar.
There’s something searching about it.
Hot guy on the prowl—maybe he’s just looking to get laid.
I hold the space where his gaze just was and feel the shape of my interest and the warning light of recognition.
I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before today.
And yet….
He picks up his glass, signals the bartender for another.
He does not look at me again.
New man in town. Not from here. Watching…me?
Order The Lonely Road now!