Chapter 2 - The Horn and the Gate
The blaring horn pierced the hot valley air, breaking Goliath’s concentration just enough for his ears to flick backward. That momentary twitch relieved an inch of crushing pressure from Nora’s torso. It was all she needed. Slipping her work boot sideways into the loose dirt, she dropped flat beneath the arch of the bull’s front leg and scrambled into the dark safety of the barn hallway.
Cal slammed the heavy iron drop-pin into place just as Goliath whipped around, his horn tearing a three-foot ribbon out of the exterior siding. The crash rattled the rafters, raining decades of pigeon droppings and dry chaff down upon their heads. Nora lay on her side against the packed dirt aisle, clutching her cracked ribs and coughing until her mouth tasted like iron.
""You're alive,"" Cal muttered, dropping the two-by-four. His hands were shaking violently as he knelt beside her. ""Don't try to stand. Your ribs are definitely banged up.""
""The truck..."" Nora gasped, spitting blood-tinged dust onto the floor. ""Whose truck was that?""
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Through the open slats of the corral gate, the sleek, ink-black dually truck ground to a halt near the feed silos. The engine died, but the driver didn't step out immediately. Instead, two men stepped out from the passenger sides wearing matching canvas jackets bearing the insignia of the county sheriff’s reserve, accompanied by a lean man in a bespoke suit stepping out from behind the steering wheel.
The suit was Matthew Vance, the developer who had been buying up defaulted farm notes across the south basin since winter. He adjusted his sunglasses against the blinding glare and tapped a thick manila folder against his thigh. He didn't look at the trapped bull or the shattered fence. His eyes fixed straight upon Nora as she pulled herself upright using the wooden stall door, and he held up a document bearing a bright red court seal.
